[LEFT] Hello everyone. You may remember that some months ago, I posted the beginnings of a story which was never completed for a new series entitled Star Trek: Daedalus. However, thanks to the hard work an effort of new writer, Talon Lardner, we can now bring this story too you in full. More will be following over the coming weeks, so sit back and hopefully you will enjoy [/LEFT] -------- New Frontiers... USS Daedalus (NCC-74310) Galaxy-class January 14th, 2376 Grief. Such a Human emotion. When one passes on you take note of their absence and continue on in life. It was the logical thing to do. It was the Vulcan thing to do. But not for Selok, first officer of the USS Daedalus. It had been four months since the Breen attack on Earth in which the Daedalus had become involved. Four months since many fine officers, including Captain Janice Stenton, had been killed, and yet Selok still mourned their passing. By all rights, he should have also perished when the Daedalus's bridge module came under attack, but the valiant efforts of Nurse Maria Bennett had ensured that he was pulled to safety. Unfortunately, his survival led to another Human emotion: survivor guilt. A foolish emotion, yet one which still gripped his soul. Selok was also feeling a degree of anger at Starfleet's actions in assigning command of the Daedalus to a man named Christopher Mackenzie. A controversial officer who had resigned from the service some seven years previously, and yet Starfleet thought it would be a good idea to give him command of this ship. Technically command should have fallen to Selok, as Stenton's right-arm for several years, through the harrowing battles of the Dominion War would have ensured him command of the ship. Yet, Starfleet decided to assign Mackenzie. Still, Selok retained command until the Daedalus arrived at Deep Space 9 to receive its new assignment and replacement officers, including the new commanding officer. Of the new officers that had joined the ship at Utopia Planitia, Selok was most impressed by Lieutenant Joseph Tyler, the new flight controller, and Lieutenant (J.G.) Jessica Cruz, operations officer. Both officers came with distinguished service records; Tyler having served aboard the Ticonderoga with distinction before the war, and later in the Starfleet Starfighter Corps throughout the war. Brown had come highly recommended by Captain Jeremiah Cox of the USS Al Batani. The final crew replacements bound from Earth were being brought to the ship via shuttlecraft. These new crew members were fresh out of the Academy, and it would be Selok's job to oversee their progress in tandem with their department heads. As the captain was not available, it would be his responsibility as commanding officer to greet the newly assigned crew members as they boarded the ship. It wasn't a typically Vulcan thing to do, but Selok had always been extended that courtesy by his previous commanding officers, so he felt compelled to do the same. He also felt compelled to do so, because he would have the opportunity to meet Ensign Jikra Lar, a promising Trill science officer who had published a fascinating scientific paper on wormholes while at the Academy. From his vantage point in the Daedalus's aft lounge he could observe the shuttlecraft making a final approach into the shuttlebay and predicted that the call from the bridge would come any second. “Bridge to Commander Selok." Ensign Reece Myers voice spoke out over the intercom system. "Go ahead, Ensign." “Sir, you asked me to inform you when the Icarus had returned. It's pulling into Shuttlebay 4 as we speak, sir. " "Indeed. Thank you ensign. Inform Lieutenant Tyler that I am en route. Selok out."
Ready Room “Forgive the mess, sirs, I've haven't had a chance to get the ready room prepped for you, I've been receiving alerts of lighting failures all day.” Lieutenant Halen Aericson apologized as she opened up the Ready Room. The room reeked of carpet shampoo and ozone, the bi products of an extensive repair and clean-up operation. Portraits lay against the wall on the floor, what once depicted stunning landscapes of Earth's Rocky Mountains were now charred and yellowed from the heat of the fire that once consumed the bridge. But this did not seem to phase Captain Christopher Mackenzie as he and Commander James Maxwell walked into the new Ready Room. “It'll do, Lieutenant, a worn out room, for a worn-out Captain, neither of whom even want to be here, right Doc?” he smirked over to his friend, his hands stuffed into a worn out canvas jacket, his communicator stuffed into a breast pocket. He inspected the desk with concern, a few scorch marks still visible along its wooden trim. “A bit rough around the ages, but good captaining desks must be in short supply in Starfleet, right Lieutenant? I mean, there can't be any desks left in all those mothballed Oberth-class ships or even a simple surplus freighter? Not one to spare?” Lieutenant Aericson looked completely shocked and flustered, her mind sent reeling for answers. “Well, sir... I'll see what I can do, I'm sure it was just an unfortunate oversight, I'll get a new one for you as soon as possible.” she replied, visibly shaken. “I'm sorry, Captain, it will never happen again, I assure you.” Mackenzie just shook his head, glaring at her with the scorn that many of his fellow captains only wished they had. “Don't let it happen again, Lieutenant.” he stated before sliding himself into the worn-out chair, rubbing its arms as he inspected the roughed up desk. As soon as she left, he let off a sigh of relief, immediately putting his feet on his desk, leaning back in his chair and preceded to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Folded like a 3, 8 Poker hand, she did.” he sighed. “I was hoping she'd put up a fight, defend herself, and not treat me like my happiness is her only hope of getting a promotion. “You know, getting a captain's table replaced is bad luck.” James warned as he took a seat in the nearby couch, and brushed off a bit of dust from the couch's arm. “The table's not for me, it's for you, Doc.” Mackenzie replied as he slid into a chair opposite of James. “Consider it a gift. Besides, I love apologist officers, you get to exploit them when you can so you can get extra stuff done. On the other hand, I'm starting to worry that none of the officers here that came with this ship have any backbone, you know? This is going to be a long couple of years...” “You've been only aboard for two hours, relax...” James scolded with a smile on his face. “I'm sure there are a few officers on board that you will like. Maybe you'll meet them on the ship's opening ceremonies?” “Well, there is that... Finally, I get the chance to stand in front of the crowd instead of standing at the side of some blow hard captain as a senior officer, or stuck in the back row, barely able to hear. I got it all planned out too. Poor suckers have no clue what they are in store for.” he smirked. “speaking of which, how is this crew looking? I'm noticing that there aren't as many humans on board as my days back on the Madrid.” James shrugged a little. “We only make about half the crew on board... it seems that nowadays you can't get away with having a ship with mostly humans on board, yet the Vulcans get away with having all-Vulcan crew like the T'Kumbra. I've been spending the past few days cramming up on non-human anatomy. We've got a handful of Caitians, a few Gorn on officer-exchange from the Hegemony, we've got Betazoids, Bolians, Vulcans, Bolians, and even an Andorian or two, and I know I'm forgetting a few. I don't know how I'm going to keep up with it all, to be honest.” He gave a worried work to Christopher, then shook his head before he could interrupt. “No no, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, I'll cope, even if it means having an xeno-anatomy book glued to one hand while performing my duties.” The Captain nodded politely as he shifted over to pull the computer off the desk, propping it up on the couch as he checked a few files. “Speaking of duties, we've got a doozey of a first mission. I hope you've been studying Cardassian anatomy, we'll be running cargo and escort duty for a aid run to the Cardassian Union. I don't know the specifics, Colonel Kira will brief us about it when we get back to DS9 tomorrow.” Christopher said with a slight bit of annoyance in his voice, shifting out of the couch and headed to the desk.”Not my idea of a first mission at all... pathetic, really, sending the very ship that fought against the Cardassians to help aid them. James nodded politely as he too stood up, taking a wander to the dusty replicator. “Computer, Bourbon on the rocks, aged six years.” He looked over to Christopher. “And you?” "Saurian Brandy, of course... and I swear, first thing I'm going to do after the briefing is to spend my entire shore leave allotment buying as much real booze from Quark as I can.” "I don't blame you a bit..Starfleet replicated synthehol and alcohol just isn't the same on the tongue as the real thing...” James remarked as he retrieved the drinks from the replicator. “I keep a bottle of authentic Tennessee Whiskey in one of the drawers of my desk in my office. Just for those harder times. Age doesn't make loosing patients easier, you know... and I just lost a great deal of them in that last attack.” "Remind me never to get hurt near the end of your ship, old pal.” was the reply as Christopher leaned over to take his glass. “And don't worry, I've got your back. You earned that much for me over the years, and you're the only reason why I agreed to take this assignment.” "I'm an off-duty drinker, I just spend my off hours in the lab so I can keep an eye on the nurses.” James warned, taking slight offense at the jab. “You know I take my work seriously.” “I'll have to ask the women whom you give physicals for.” he smirked with a sip of his shot glass. He took a worrisome look at the shot glass, then downed the rest. “Yep, definably need to get the real stuff when we arrive. This stuff tastes like it was stored in an open tin glass on the deck of a Klingon ore freighter for fifteen years. I'll have to get Siram Elbry to program in some better booze after Quark's Stock runs out.” "Who now?” James asked, taking a drink, coming to the exact same conclusion on the taste, and set the rest aside. ”Siram Elbry. She's a fantastic counselor. She can drink me under the table and has one hell of a poker face.” Christopher spoke as he walked back to the replicator, setting his glass within it to be recycled. “Betazoid too, an incredible track record... Well... it's the least I can do for her, bringing her aboard and giving her a break from the space station life and see the stars.” “Sounds a good deal, I'm good enough with helping someone at bedside, but I'm no counselor. I can fix the body, I can fix the brain, but I'm too old to fix minds. I think I like it that way anyway... I don't know how they can take that frustration.” Christopher shrugged, walking over to his window now, where he could peer into Earth Station McKinley's numerous windows, almost dismayed that none were of people's personal quarters. He loved people watching, and during his time off of Starfleet, he often would spend hours sitting on a park bench, watching the passers by, seeing what he could learn from just sampling a few candid moments of their lives. “If things went differently, I could have become a counselor. But then I discovered that it's just easier to use that knowledge to play people like cards." “Dr. Maxwell, please report to Sickbay.” The computer's voice chirps, interrupting their conversation. “Duty calls, alas...” James sighs, shifting off the couch. “It's probably some security grunt who threw out his back when he was lifting some equipment for his girl.” Christopher sighed a little, giving a dismissive nod to James, returning his gaze back to the window. His talk with James did nothing to ease his mood about his command coming up in just a short week, the nagging churning in his gut reminding him of that he no longer has anyone he can defer his frustrations of authority now, he is the top of the mountain on this vessel, and maybe it is time for him to take that step of responsibility.
Shuttlebay 4 Closing the channel on his combadge, Selok strode out of the lounge and made his way to the shuttlebay. He raised an eyebrow in slight disapproval as the newest crop of crew disembarked the shuttlecraft, each carrying their gear in duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Ensign Jikra Lar caught his interest in particular, the Vulcan noting her obviously experienced posture compared to the giddy nervousness of Ensign Steven Rose and the awestruck, wide eyed Cadet H'Lanna. However, he couldn't help but feel a strange ping of envy at those greenhorns, how they have yet to see anyone die, nor have yet to become jaded by the wars that their parents fought with the Borg and the Cardassians, something only Lieutenant Tyler had experienced. "That's the last of them by shuttle” Lieutenant Tyler called out as he lifted the Icarus's ramp into its closed position. “They keep making them younger and younger.” he commented. Selok raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Sir, minimal age and biological maturity requirements has remained consistent for Academy Graduation and promotion guidelines since 2359.” he recited. He knew that his knowledge of Starfleet rules and guidelines would not be appreciated by the lieutenant, but Selok thought it pertinent that he know the fallacy of the statement. He looked over at the fresh crewmembers who stood nervously, then turned back to Tyler. “Although, a choice of sending crewmembers with minimal experience in conflict zones was not a wise one.” "That's not what I meant, but I can agree agree, they were nowhere near the front during the Dominion war, they seen less combat than a Mizarian” Joseph Tyler replied in slight frustration. If there was anything he was regretting about staying in Starfleet, it was having to deal with Vulcans. “This is what I mean.” he starts, then whistles over to the leaving crew members. “Cadet, Report in!” "Cadet Kelli H'Lanna, reporting!” She replied, going straight into a textbook attention posture. Back straight, eyes forward, nose parallel to the ground, tail limp and perpendicular to the ground... she thought, forcing herself through each mental check. She was a promising Caitian cadet on her Senior internship, and would spend the next six months aboard the Daedalus before returning for graduation. "Where were you... when the Enterprise–D was launched?” Tyler asked. "I.. I don't know, I was only two or three at the time... on my parents' freighter, I think.” she replied honestly. “I can message my parents and find out, sir.” she replies honestly. "See, Selok, that's what I mean.” Tyler smirked to Selok. “She was in primary schooling when the Borg threat was discovered. She was a pre-teen when the Cardassians withdrew from Bajor. That is why I say they're making them younger.” From the lack of a response from both the Vulcan and the Cadet, he added “Worse of all, she wasn't even born when Three Long Palmettos made their farewell tour before retiring.” "Perhaps it is us who are getting older, Lieutenant.” Selok scolded. He found it always curious how Humans had looked fondly upon their youth with fondness, yet envied and scolded others for being young. “This is an inevitability you must learn to accept.” Tyler just rolled his eyes. “I liked my theory better...” he replied, then smiled over to the cadet, offering his hand in a sign of respect. “No offence meant, of course. The name's Tyler, and yours?” "Kelli H'Lanna, sir.” She replied, her body keeping her body in strict attention. These were not the Starfleet officers she had heard about from classmates whom had returned from their own tours of duty and internships. She took his hand cautiously, trying to maintain eye contact, her classes on officer conduct seeming to be less and less relevant as time goes on. “Kelli H'Lanna... The last name sounds Caitian enough, but your first name sounds oddly human.” “Aye, sir, my parents served under a human civilian captain named Kelly Hanson” She replied stiffly, though a tilt of her ears and a twitch of the corner of her lips betrayed her slight frustration at having to remain at attention for so long, something that did not go unnoticed to Joseph. Selok stepped forward, sensing the discomfort of the cadet. “You will report to Lieutenant Polera as soon as you are settled into your quarters. She's the chief Science officer aboard this ship, and will be responsible for teaching you what you will need to know for the duration of your stay here.” “Polera... lucky gal!” Joseph smiled, stepping forward to pat Kelli's back, resulting in a rather surprised yelp from the cadet. “You'll be fine serving under her. Have you a speciality yet?” He asked, kneeling down to take one of her bags. “I'm debating between Xeno-Computational Systems, or New Species Coordination.” The Caitian smiled, walking out of the shuttlebay with Joseph and Selok, her confidence boosted significantly, feeling much more “accepted” with her future crew members. “I'm not familiar with you two, though... “ she admitted. “You've never actually formally introduced yourselves to me.” “Well, about time we fix that, eh? I'm Lieutenant Joseph Tyler, flight controller for this ship, and do the odd piloting gig every now and then as you seen. And this stiff fellow's Commander Selok, first officer, and a pretty decent guy.” he said, giving a friendly elbow to the Vulcan's side. “Don't let his rank fool you, he'll talk to you if needed. Why don't Selok and I get you a drink at Ten Forward, and we'll tell you all there is to know about this crew.” Joseph offered as they stepped into a nearby turbo lift. “Deck Ten.” “I'll pass... 'bridge.' “ Selok countered. “Unlike you, I have duties that need attending to.” He even tucked in his uniform a bit to accentuate what he felt was a more fitting posture to his rank than Joseph's casual leaning against the side of the turbolift. He didn't appreciate being volunteered to play councillor either, but he had to admit, he wouldn't exactly turn down an offer for advice from a fellow officer. “And I'm sure that our Cadet here has some too.” Kelli looked up to the Vulcan with a bit of frustration. “Tell me about it, I got a ton of homework that I need to turn in. Lieutenant Polera made me write a whole thesis paper on Klingon interface design, as well as write an emulator for a Cardassian Freighter's Master Control Unit. My fingers are still aching from all that typing.” Selok rose an eyebrow with concern. “Lieutenant Polera can be... difficult, Cadet. Approach her with caution.” Lieutenant Polera was another hot topic for the Vulcan, but he never explained why, nor gave anything resembling an answer when asked. Joseph leaned over to whisper into the cadet's ear, a big grin on his face. “He's just upset that she can put up with non-Vulcans far better than he can.” “That's not true.” Selok replied flatly, having clearly overheard. “Then why are you in such a feud with her?” Joseph countered. “Even a Tiberian Bat can read between your words.” “Vulcans do not feud.” Selok insisted in just as flat of a tone as before. “There is no anger between Polera and I, and I'd advise you not to suggest otherwise.” He'd hate to admit it, but even he knew that was awfully close to a lie for comfort. The truth of the matter was, there was so much that could not be explained to outsiders between Selok and Polera that neither could even begin to really explain the rivalry that exists between them. Only the sudden arrival at Deck Ten brought him an escape from their questions, although a new wave of self-doubt flooded his mind anew.
Captain's Quarters, January 16th, 2376 “Cadet Newton to Captain Mackenzie, this is your wake-up call.” Cadet Sam Newton said for about the fifth time. “Sir, please... wake up. We're at Deep Space Nine, and the briefing's only in a hour.” This was not a grand start for the cadet at all. He was assigned to be the Captain's personal page for his senior internship, normally one of the highest honors one can be assigned to save being in Red Squad, but in times like this, he now feels like he must have gotten someone very important very angry to be assigned to this man. “I'm not Captain of the Daedalus yet, Selok is...” a voice finally replied, heavily slurred by tiredness. “At least not until the launching ceremonies. Give me a second, I'll be out in a moment.” Mackenzie was not an early riser, and the handful of years off of active duty had spoiled him on flexible wake-up time. That, and last night's alcohol-aided trip down memory lane had gifted him with a rather persistent headache and dry-mouth. After standing up, Christopher added dizziness to his condition. “You know what... just come in.” he ordered. “Help me get ready for this meeting.” Sam entered the room with a bit of caution, he knew well the stories that hung around Mackenzie wherever he goes. However, he found himself surprised about how normal his quarters looked. Granted, he had only been on board for a week, but instead of the chaotic belongings of a man familiar with spontaneity and a lack of respect to authority, he found a well-kept room with a portrait of Dizzy Gillespie hanging on one end of the wall, furniture arranged tastefully, and even a rather tame Bolian sculpture resting in the corner. Even the man himself seemed presentable, if a bit rough around the edges, clad in simple grey silk sleeping pants. “Good, you're in, now fetch me a monkey suit from my dresser.” Christopher added, sending Sam Newton right back into fearing for his future career for his career. “Yes sir...” Sam replied as he popped open the dresser drawers, pulling out the various parts of the uniform, undershirt, overcoat, slacks, socks, and shoes. “You will be meeting with a Colonel Kira of the Bajoran Provisional Government to discuss the Aid mission. Among those who will be attending are Commander Tiris Jast, Captain Hilary Preston , and Captain Ingolb, at the very least.” “Seems pretty simple....” Mackenzie replied as he pulled his frame out of the bed, heading straight into his bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “There's got to be a catch... there's gonna be brass there, isn't there?” He added, shouting through the thin interior door. “Brass, sir?” “Admirals.” He replied simply. “And if I ever become one, it is your duty to shoot me. No court will convict you, as I'd clearly would not be in my right mind.” Sam just stayed silent as the captain did his morning routine. He tried to busy his mind by polishing the Captain's shoes, but found the inventory tag still attached, not even a single crease on the leather that he could fill in with shoe shine. Instead, he just busied himself by rubbing out the creases in the uniform. Someday....he thought to himself, I'll be out of this cadet uniform, and into one of these. He perked his head in confusion as he noticed the uniform still bore Commander's pips. “Hey sir... one of your pips is missing. Need me to run out to get another from the Quartermaster?” he shouted back. “It ain't missing, I never put it on.” he yelled back. “It's on my night stand.” And sure enough, it was, resting next to an empty glass and an old portrait of what seemed to be his family, taken when he was young, of his mother and father and two kids on the bridge on the father's freighter. He couldn't tell whom was who in the portrait, the two boys seeming roughly three to five years apart, and they seemed surprisingly happy about having their picture taken. He smirked a little, remembering how as a child, he hated having his portrait taken, having to dress up all nice and smile... and here he is, having to do the exact same thing for a living. With a roll of his eyes, he set the picture frame back down and grabbed the small brass pip, returning it to its rightful place on the collar of the uniform. “Got it.” he shouted back, adjusting the collar sightly to make sure the pips were in the regulated position on the collar, using a literal rule of thumb to make sure each pip is the proper distance apart. “Need any errands run beforehand, sir?” “Why yes, I do, actually...” Christopher suggested as he walked back out of the bathroom, towel-clad. “Could you write my dedication speech for the launch ceremony when leave Deep Space Nine? It'd be most helpful, sir.” “I will, sir...” he responded, the disappointment evident in his voice. He had been hoping to enjoy some time on the station, but from the looks of it, he'd have to spend the next few hours in front of a terminal typing up a speech that Mackenzie would get the credit for. “Anything else?” he asked, trying to at least obey his assignment so he can graduate and get off of this ship. “You'll be the first to know when it comes to me. Dismissed.”
“Vic's”, Holosuite B, Quark's, Deep Space Nine Vic Fontaine couldn't be helped but to be impressed at the turnout tonight. While it didn't match the post-war celebrations by far, the influx of crew from the Aid rendezvous at the station made for a healthy flow of fresh, real faces. Not only that, but one of those new faces was behind the piano. She had incredible talent, and a live musician was always better to sing with than his holographic band mates. She was a Vulcan Starfleet officer, and if he remembered correctly, a science officer. And best of all, she had herself and her whole group decked out in period wear. “And that was your very own Lieutenant Polera of the Daedalus on the piano, give her a round of applause! We'll be taking a short break to switch sets, so please, enjoy your meals, and tip your waiters.” “Go Polera!” Jikra Lar, a joined Trill whistles out from a nearby table, waving her over to the table where the a handful of her science officers sat. “You were great!” Vic helped Polera down off the stage, leading her back to Jikra's table. “It was nothing, Ensign, it's all about pressing the keys in time with the beat of the percussionist, while maintaining volume to not drown out the amplified voice of the singer.” Lieutenant Polera replied in that Vulcan calmness and detachment, pulling back on her long cotton gloves that had accompanied her dress. “If that were the secret, then why am I giving my current session man so much money?” Vic chimed in, leaning in to take a better look at this group of guests. “I must admit, it's not too often that I can get Starfleet officers out of uniform and something more fitting of this joint. Bonus goes for you in the fur, most of the cats in this joint aren't as literal as you.” He smiled, referring to the Caitian cadet. “But no worries, this gig's desegregated, anyone's welcome.” The cadet couldn't help but smile at the charm of the hologram, she had never seen a hologram so aware of both his setting and how to adapt new things like her race to the setting. “I appreciate the welcome, sir!” she smiled. “I must admit, we actually came to meet you in person after hearing about you from Chief Miles O'Brien.” “And by 'we' , you mean?” “My staff of the science department of the USS Daedalus.” Polera clarifies. “I thought it wise to introduce some of my new officers to an advanced hologram as yourself, a chance to wear period-appropriate formal wear, as well as to familiarize themselves with their co-workers.” “A girls night out, in other words.” Vic simplifies, patting Polera's back. “And they say Vulcans are cold. But there's noting special about me that can't be said about the Voyager's doctor, I work on the same principle. Well, except he's got the equivalent of a PH.D in every medical degree known to Starfleet, and I got, well, I've just got a tux and a good voice.” “Isn't that all we need in life, though?” M'Alli teased, though visibly distracted in thoughts. Lieutenant Polera honestly didn't seem so bad so far, so why would Commander Selok dislike Polera so much? She seemed so normal, maybe too normal. She did seem to fit the normal Vulcan philosophy of mastering and repressing one's emotions, but the way she played that piano seemed to convey some form of emotion that, if she wasn't playing old Earth tunes, could have really come out in force. “I do admit, for a dress of human design, the replicator adapted it quite well, how did you do it, Polera?” “I programmed the adaptation program myself, Cadet, and if you do well under my internship program, you'll learn how I did it.” Polera affirmed. “I got your measurements from your service profile, and knowing those, I could adapt the standard 1960's era dress into appropriate dimensions and cuts for your body's needs.” M'Alli couldn't help but smile, perhaps what she knew of Vulcan ways were completely unbased; her assumptions on inter-species relationships put more weight on what her dorm mates went through than what her textbooks and instructors taught her, and even then, both sources didn't seem to apply. Heck, even Vic Fontaine was an unexpected surprise, she was used to being seen as Human in her friends' holonovels, yet he seen her species and adapted it to fit the point of view of a 50's human whom had heard of aliens. Vic gave the crew one last look over. “Best of luck in this Aid mission, I expect to see all of you again now, you hear? Command and Security personnel may seem like the hero to others, but we all know Science officers tip the best. And Polera, keep up the practice, I could use a session pianist when you are in town” M'Alli waited until Vic had left before finally breaking the ice. “Hey, um, Polera? Do you know anything about Commander Selok? He greeted me when I got off the shuttle, but he seemed distracted. Do you know what's up with him?” Polera froze a beat when she heard his name... She thought that she could get away with avoiding being connected with him on a vessel as large as a Galaxy-class ship. But of course, she knew that eventually, she would have to deal with him, and their rather strained rivalry. “I can't really comment on him. He's the first officer of the ship, and that's all I can comment on at this time.” Eventually, of course, does not mean that it has to be taken care of today. Perhaps her crew would leave her be on this particular topic, or her resistance would only encourage their curiosity. Either way, she could only wait and see what time would bring her.
Meeting Room 1, Deep Space Nine “This aid mission will be the first contact with the Cardassian home world since the end of the Dominion War. Emotions will be high in your crew, but I trust you can control them.” Colonel Kira Nerys spoke from the head of the table. Those words felt strange coming from her lips, but the news of there being eight hundred million dead on that planet had humbled her former fury, at least until the aid mission is done. Anarchy wasn't something she wished on civilians, she experienced first hand what it brings out in people. “And of course, as the faces of the Federation and Bajoran Alliance, I expect you all to treat them with civility and respect, we need the Cardassian populace to stay on our good side as they rebuild.” Of course, no one dared counter her opinion, they could only pray that the whole thing went down smoothly. There were still ships stacked 4 months long in repair queues, and only the very last of the hulls of destroyed hulls being recovered and the dead inside being their overdue rest. “Of course, with the area being politically unstable, you'll be needing support ships like mine to escort the freighters from here to Cardassia Prime.” Mackenzie pitched in. “Yes, the Daedalus will be the primary escort, and the Marvick and Tucker will be providing backup, as well as setting post in orbit to assist in reconstruction efforts.” Commander Tiris Jast, a female Bolian Starfleet officer and current First Officer of the station clarified as she walked over to turn on a display, showing the flight plan that was to occur. “At 1430 today, the Daedalus will lead the convoy, with the Tucker at midpoint, and the Marvick at the rear. There will be six freighters, three federation, two Ferengi, and a Talarian. The Daedalus will conduct a survey of the surrounding systems while the Tucker and Marvick assist the freighters with unloading. When that is done, the Daedalus will escort the freighters back while the Tucker and Marvick will stay behind to assist in the rebuilding.” “This will be the Daedalus's first mission, correct?” Captain Ingolb of the Marvick asked politely. “And It would be correct to assume that we'll have the secondary objective of making sure that ship doesn't have any overlooked bugs.” “Correct.“ Tiris Jast confirmed, looking over to Christopher. “I assume that your crew will be able to handle any problems, so that you won't have to distract the Corps of Engineers with patching up blown coolant valves and defective power transfer units.” Christopher just glared at Jast, visibly frustrated with his off-hand comment. “I approved of every engineer on that ship, and half of them are the reason why I'm flying the Daedalus and not the Dauntless, the Constitution, or the myriad of other surplus Galaxy-class ships out there. So watch the slings there, I can handle my ship, you handle this station, and the Corps of Engineers will do their thing, and we'll handle things just fine, does that meet your approval?” “Easy, folks, this is an aid mission, not a proving run.” Nerys warned. “Now, Mackenzie, you'll also serve as our emergency contact at Deep Space Nine for the duration of this mission, so I want you to keep an ear open for us at all times. If your comm systems go down, we want to know somehow immediately.” “I'll get you our schedule of unscheduled outages as soon as we can, Colonel.” Mackenzie smirked. “Any other annoying, irrelevant questions before we leave?” “None here.” Ingolb replied. “Save if you don't mind me swinging by the launching ceremony?” “It's BYOB, my Bolian friend.” Christopher smiled. “BYOB?” “Bring your own Booze. I only have access to what Quark happens to have on stock, and what's left won't wet a fly's tongue.” Well, the last part was a bit of a truth-stretcher. Christopher was notoriously strict on sharing his personal supply, “Anyone's invited, really, it'll be short and sweet, I assure you.” “It'd better be, remember having to sit through the dedication ceremony for Starbase 39 when we were still Junior Officers? That's two hours robbed out of the whole Third Fleet's lives.” Ingolb joked. “ “I thought we snuck out of that one...” “The official record says we attended, we would NEVER skip out on Admiral Keller's trademark mandatory speeches.” Christopher reminded with a wink. “And on a unrelated note, playing Hand-Ball in the Enterprise's cargo bay leaves no logs... fancy that!” “A pleasant fact indeed!” The Bolian joked as he stood up, the rest following suit, signaling the end of the meeting to the others in attendance.
Cargo Bay 1 Sam watched nervously as he stood in the hall just outside the cargo bay, where the rest of the available, not on duty crew stood in assembly. He watched Christopher, back in his preferred outfit of his brown leather jacket and khaki pants, page through his launching ceremony speech with keen interest, mumbling sounds of approval at various points, laughing at a few jokes he tossed in, and even rubbing his chin at a few clever allegories Sam had brewed up. “It took me all day, sir.” he beamed in pride. “I even researched old Earth speeches such as those by Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt for inspiration.” Christopher nodded politely. “I agree, this is a superbly written speech, it'll serve for key inspiration for my own!” he smiled, handing the PADD back to the stunned cadet. He didn't stick around to see how the cadet would react, since he had his own speech brewing in his mind for quite a while... the cadet's work just solidified the ideas in his mind. The Cargo bay had been converted perfectly to Christopher's request by Alison Hughes, with the packed bleachers on one end, his podium on the other, and the finishing touch, an extra Helm console placed by the podium, with senior flight controller Lieutenant Joseph Tyler standing at attention beside it. As he stepped into the the cargo bay, Ensign Reece Myers blew an electronic Boatswain's whistle, patching the whole ship's communication's system to broadcast the speech for those on duty. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and the ungendered...” The captain began, staring down his new crew members in the stand. The bleachers stood about 575 of the crew's 700 members, a healthy mix of officers, enlisted, family, and civilian experts. “This ship has a lot in common with its namesake, the Greek craftsman Daedalus. Both have been through its fair share of scrapes and bruises, and both have lost something they care greatly for, the Greek his son, the ship most of its crew defending Earth from the Breen. “And like the Greek Daedalus, I too, carry out the orders of those above me. Daedalus the Greek was ordered by King Minos to construct the Labyrinth of the Minotaur, as I have been ordered by Admiral William Ross to captain this ship. But of course, like the Greek Daedalus, I always have an ace up my sleeve. “As you can plainly see, I am no ordinary captain. I do not wear the uniform of a captain, only the badge of Starfleet against my left chest pocket. Why? Because I can. Well, besides that, it is because this ship, the USS Daedalus, is to be my home. I plan on living, breathing, and caring for this ship as if it were my home because it is my home. I hand-picked each of you to serve on this ship. Like this ship, each of you are survivors. Some of you served on this ship defending Earth. Others survived the Dominion war in their own ways. And two of our crew members, they are surviving the Academy. “Our first mission, is the very definition of what we should be as a people. We are leaving to Cardassia Prime, where the ships we will be escorting will be providing aid to Cardassians who have fallen to the same people who have attacked Earth. They may have been our enemies during the war, but they were betrayed. And now, their planet lays in ruins. We come not in anger, but in hope that with our help, Cardassia Prime may rise again, a peaceful, strong, and independent Cardassia, free from the Dominion at last. “Beyond that first mission lays numerous possibilities. I do not believe in fate, but I do believe that with this crew, we are destined for great things. It is a tough place in the universe, but this crew is tougher. With that, I ask our helm officer to lay in a course to Cardassia Prime, warp five, and engage.” And with a few keystrokes, the ship takes flight, destined towards Cardassia Prime. Many things await the crew, familiar faces will visit and be visited, of young, old, and timeless. From the far reaches of federation space, to the Earth's surface, the Daedalus will see and hear new sights, and even establish first contact with a new species. All this and more will be continued in Star Trek: Daedalus. Next Episode: “... Old Enemies”
Okay, I'm getting worried now. Either this story is so bad that people can't find the words to express their distaste or its so good that their breaths have been taken away.
No worries, bok! You’ve got to give folks a little time to notice your story here. There’s been quite a lot of activity on this board of late, and you also posted just a day before the US elections, so people’s attention might be a bit divided at the moment. I’ll give it a read and share my thoughts.
Apologies for being impatient, its just that this is our first completed story and I'm just eager to read feedback about the story. Any and all is welcome
Just about half way through. I like it so far. It is more polished than your earlier attempt that's for sure. The characters seem interesting enough and I got a bit of a kick of seeing the return of a real captain's yeoman, shinning shoes and all. You have a tendency to mix up your tenses however which is a bit irritating. You should try to stick to past tense in the prose.
I'm liking your story so far and I hope you'll continue with it. Saying that Mackenzie is an unconventional captain doesn't quite do him justice. The guy's mercurial and impulsive, and I'm still not sure what to think of his refusing to wear a uniform. The doctor's a good foil for Mackenzie, and it's going to be interesting to see who the captain ends up getting along with his traumatized Vulcan XO. One thing is clear, the crew of the Daedalus have their work cut out for them on Cardassia. I have it on good authority that ships escorting humanitarian convoys into post-war Cardassian territory have a hell of a time.
Thank you both for the feedback and the good advice. I've reedited our master copy of the story and have removed the typos and tense issues that you have both pointed out. Unfortunately, you can't go back and edit the previous posts on here. Anyway, I'm glad that you're liking the story so far. Mackenzie is definitely shaping up to be an interesting character and, as Gibraltar said, is definitely mercurial and impulsive. Obviously there are reasons for this which will obviously be revealed over the course of the series. Of course Mackenzie's greatest asset are the people he has surrounded himself with, who can guide him and try to contain his erratic personality. Well, hopefully the next story should be up in the next couple of weeks.
Hmmmm I'll watch this one. It felt 'sloppy' in the middle but tightened up nicely. Perhaps that was simply me attempting to understand the Captain. Interesting character, you've set yourself a challenge.