The newest of her four rank pips shone a little brighter than the others, but it was of no consequences to Captain T'Velah. What did matter was clearly delineated in her thoughts as she took her place in the command chair of the starship Yassim for the first time. Her crew, her ship, and her mission weighed foremost on the Vulcan officer's mind.
No matter that the vessel was understaffed due to the end of Starfleet's wartime stop-loss program, an unfortunate necessity that had extended a full year after the end of the conflict. They would accomplish their assigned tasks to the best of their ability. They had sworn to do no less years (or in some cases only months) before as they had taken their individual oaths upon graduating Starfleet Academy.
That she was not the first person selected to command this ship was immaterial. Circumstances had changed, a vacancy had been created, and the opportunity had been offered to her. Thus her career path had been unexpectedly accelerated and T'Velah had been given the chance to challenge her formidable intellect in a new and unfamiliar environment.
The Norway-class vessel stood poised to begin its first mission, an escort assignment to safeguard relief supplies to the Federation colonies savaged in the recent border incursion by the Talarians. A 'milk run' her new XO had called it. Perhaps so, but the mission would still give T'Velah occasion to observe her crew at work, to judge how best she might encourage them to collaborate more effectively and gel into a functional whole more easily and more quickly than they might otherwise.
"Operations, inform docking control that we are ready to depart. Engineering, secure from umbilicals and moorings. Helm, prepare to engage thrusters at fifty kph. You may accelerate to three-hundred kph at the one-kilometer boundary marker. At the outermost marker initiate one-quarter impulse drive."
The communications panel at the Ops board chirped suddenly. "Incoming transmission, Captain."
"Source?" T'Velah asked.
"The starship Gibraltar, sir."
T'Velah indicated that the communication should be routed to the main viewer as she stood smoothly.
A middle-aged male human clad in a Starfleet uniform sat at what T'Velah presumed to be his ready room desk. A brief flicker of discomfort seemed to flash across the man's features before he inclined his head. "Captain T'Velah, I presume?"
"I am she," T'Velah replied dispassionately. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Captain...?"
"Sandhurst," he replied softly. "Donald Sandhurst."
"Is there something you require, Captain Sandhurst?"
He smiled fractionally at T'Velah's no-nonsense inquiry. "I simply wanted to offer my congratulations on your new command, Captain, and to wish you and your crew safe journeys."
T'Velah raised a curious eyebrow even as she remarked, "Such gestures are always welcome, Captain, most especially at the beginning of any new endeavor." Her mind raced as she sought to divine why this particular man, whom she had never met, would extend such a kindness so randomly.
She examined a host of potential factors, ticking through them quickly as each was found wanting. Finally, almost at random, the associative factors coalesced. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she grasped the meaning behind this transmission. This was to have been her ship, T'Velah surmised silently.
"I believe I understand, Captain Sandhurst." She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. "Know that I grieve with thee. I will endeavor to honor both her commitment, as well as my own."
Sandhurst's eyes gleamed with intensity as his silent message was received. "I am grateful. Your dedication honors us both." He raised his hand to answer her salute in kind. "Peace and long life, Captain."
"And to you," she answered simply. The link terminated and T'Velah observed the confused expressions of her senior staff as they whispered to one another at their posts. She resumed her seat fluidly. "Status?"
"Traffic control signals we are clear to depart, Captain."
T'Velah settled into the chair. Her chair. "Helm... " she paused a beat to savor the moment, "...engage."
No matter that the vessel was understaffed due to the end of Starfleet's wartime stop-loss program, an unfortunate necessity that had extended a full year after the end of the conflict. They would accomplish their assigned tasks to the best of their ability. They had sworn to do no less years (or in some cases only months) before as they had taken their individual oaths upon graduating Starfleet Academy.
That she was not the first person selected to command this ship was immaterial. Circumstances had changed, a vacancy had been created, and the opportunity had been offered to her. Thus her career path had been unexpectedly accelerated and T'Velah had been given the chance to challenge her formidable intellect in a new and unfamiliar environment.
The Norway-class vessel stood poised to begin its first mission, an escort assignment to safeguard relief supplies to the Federation colonies savaged in the recent border incursion by the Talarians. A 'milk run' her new XO had called it. Perhaps so, but the mission would still give T'Velah occasion to observe her crew at work, to judge how best she might encourage them to collaborate more effectively and gel into a functional whole more easily and more quickly than they might otherwise.
"Operations, inform docking control that we are ready to depart. Engineering, secure from umbilicals and moorings. Helm, prepare to engage thrusters at fifty kph. You may accelerate to three-hundred kph at the one-kilometer boundary marker. At the outermost marker initiate one-quarter impulse drive."
The communications panel at the Ops board chirped suddenly. "Incoming transmission, Captain."
"Source?" T'Velah asked.
"The starship Gibraltar, sir."
T'Velah indicated that the communication should be routed to the main viewer as she stood smoothly.
A middle-aged male human clad in a Starfleet uniform sat at what T'Velah presumed to be his ready room desk. A brief flicker of discomfort seemed to flash across the man's features before he inclined his head. "Captain T'Velah, I presume?"
"I am she," T'Velah replied dispassionately. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Captain...?"
"Sandhurst," he replied softly. "Donald Sandhurst."
"Is there something you require, Captain Sandhurst?"
He smiled fractionally at T'Velah's no-nonsense inquiry. "I simply wanted to offer my congratulations on your new command, Captain, and to wish you and your crew safe journeys."
T'Velah raised a curious eyebrow even as she remarked, "Such gestures are always welcome, Captain, most especially at the beginning of any new endeavor." Her mind raced as she sought to divine why this particular man, whom she had never met, would extend such a kindness so randomly.
She examined a host of potential factors, ticking through them quickly as each was found wanting. Finally, almost at random, the associative factors coalesced. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she grasped the meaning behind this transmission. This was to have been her ship, T'Velah surmised silently.
"I believe I understand, Captain Sandhurst." She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. "Know that I grieve with thee. I will endeavor to honor both her commitment, as well as my own."
Sandhurst's eyes gleamed with intensity as his silent message was received. "I am grateful. Your dedication honors us both." He raised his hand to answer her salute in kind. "Peace and long life, Captain."
"And to you," she answered simply. The link terminated and T'Velah observed the confused expressions of her senior staff as they whispered to one another at their posts. She resumed her seat fluidly. "Status?"
"Traffic control signals we are clear to depart, Captain."
T'Velah settled into the chair. Her chair. "Helm... " she paused a beat to savor the moment, "...engage."
Hmm, I've read this somewhere...
Amen.
. 
