CAPTAIN SAVALYA IRINA RAMIUS, her shapely backside perched on an unsteady, timeworn barstool, motioned to the equally-timeworn bartender for another Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. This would be her third, but oddly, she didn’t feel even slightly buzzed. Time to ask for something stronger. Is there anything stronger? Oh Hell, I’ll finish this off, she thought, as the wizened barkeep shoved the drink at her. No point in letting good booze go to waste. Hell, I’ve never let bad booze go to waste. Savalya took a long pull on the tall, chilled earthenware that her drink came in. Like everything else in the bar, it had obviously seen better days.
Just like me, Savalya thought bitterly. No point in asking where it all went wrong, because I know exactly where and when I sent a quantum torpedo squarely at my shuttle-train wreck of a career. Savalya was half Sao’Xan, and had inherited that race’s almost pathological need for physical intimacy. Thanks, mom. Savalya’s behavior at the Academy had raised a few eyebrows, but she’d been able to keep her drive under control. Once she’d graduated, it had gotten worse, the constant need. Frequent holodeck use had helped, and she channeled any unspent ‘urges’ into her career. Savalya’s rise through the ranks was nothing short of meteoric, if not without a few hitches of the sexual variety. Still, her indiscretions proved to be temporary hindrances, and in short order she found herself promoted to captain. Not only that, but she was at the top of a very short list to command one of Starfleet’s crown jewels.
Until she slept with the wrong man.
Oh, she’d dallied with married men before, and even got caught once. This time, though, not only was she caught in flagrante delicto, but the man’s wife was the aide-de-camp to the admiral who ultimately decided which captain got which ship. Rather than demote Savalya as punishment, she was assigned captaincy of the USS Gorky Park, an aging, neglected Block II Excelsior-class retrofit. The irony of putting Savalya, whose father was of Russian descent (and who could trace his family line to before the last tsar, Nicholas II, thank you very much) in command of a ship named for a Russian amusement park was not lost on her. The Gorky Park’s duty patrol consisted of babysitting automated ore-carrier drones from the mining colony on Nuar V to the outsystem point where they were retrieved by the warp tug that hauled them to distant processing centers. The Nuar system was referred to as ‘Nowhere’ by anyone with enough sense to never want to go there. Not only was it in one of the most remote corners of the Federation, but it was a career dead end.
There were two kinds of people on board the Gorky Park: those who had the misfortune of drawing her as their first billet, or those who requested assignment to the ship because they just didn’t care anymore. Capt. Ramius put a pre-approved transfer request in every crewmember’s service jacket; these were known throughout the fleet as ‘get out of jail free’ cards. Those poor souls who through some cosmic joke were assigned to duty on the Gorky Park served their time and left the ship as fast as possible. Most of the others just deleted their ‘get out of jail free’ cards outright and got busy doing just enough to avoid getting cashiered out of Starfleet but not much else.
Eventually, the ship got to a point where the spit, bailing wire, and prayers that had been holding her together just didn’t cut it, so Capt. Ramius ordered the Gorky Park to Starbase 283 for repairs. Starbase 283 was in orbit of a dusty little frontier world whose seemingly sole purpose for even existing was to provide a shore leave venue to passing and visiting starships. There were some incredible shopping malls, boasting wares from every corner of the galaxy, five-star hotels, even a few museums and an exquisite Art Deco-style theatre. Mostly, though, there were casinos, less-than-savory holo-palaces, and bars. Lots and lots of bars.
Leaving the ship in the hands of the gamma-shift helm officer, Savalya headed to the surface along with nearly the entire crew. She bar-hopped for a while with some of the engineering staff (those guys know how to party, she thought), but then remembered something she’d heard about a place called the Captain’s Table. Bidding her fellows farewell, she set out to find the fabled tavern.
After two hours of wandering the streets, Savalya decided to just stop at the next bar she found at get absolutely sauced. As if in response to her unvoiced resolution, a neon sign (wow, do they still make those?) cut through the twilight gloaming: Dereliction of Duty. As she got closer, the building revealed itself, styled apparently after an old Earth bar circa mid-twentieth century. What a dump, Savalya thought; that thought was followed by a barely-audible voice in the back corner of her mind. You don’t belong here. The voice, as usual, was promptly and resoundingly ignored.
Savalya finished her drink and took a minute to look around the bar. There was a haze in the air, almost like tobacco smoke but thicker and ever-so-slightly oily, with a smell like burned shuttle lubricant. It made the faces of the bar patrons difficult to distinguish, though she could easily see that most of them were wearing Starfleet uniforms from varying eras. There was a smattering of beings from other races, all of them apparently ship commanders of one sort or another.
What is this place?
Just like me, Savalya thought bitterly. No point in asking where it all went wrong, because I know exactly where and when I sent a quantum torpedo squarely at my shuttle-train wreck of a career. Savalya was half Sao’Xan, and had inherited that race’s almost pathological need for physical intimacy. Thanks, mom. Savalya’s behavior at the Academy had raised a few eyebrows, but she’d been able to keep her drive under control. Once she’d graduated, it had gotten worse, the constant need. Frequent holodeck use had helped, and she channeled any unspent ‘urges’ into her career. Savalya’s rise through the ranks was nothing short of meteoric, if not without a few hitches of the sexual variety. Still, her indiscretions proved to be temporary hindrances, and in short order she found herself promoted to captain. Not only that, but she was at the top of a very short list to command one of Starfleet’s crown jewels.
Until she slept with the wrong man.
Oh, she’d dallied with married men before, and even got caught once. This time, though, not only was she caught in flagrante delicto, but the man’s wife was the aide-de-camp to the admiral who ultimately decided which captain got which ship. Rather than demote Savalya as punishment, she was assigned captaincy of the USS Gorky Park, an aging, neglected Block II Excelsior-class retrofit. The irony of putting Savalya, whose father was of Russian descent (and who could trace his family line to before the last tsar, Nicholas II, thank you very much) in command of a ship named for a Russian amusement park was not lost on her. The Gorky Park’s duty patrol consisted of babysitting automated ore-carrier drones from the mining colony on Nuar V to the outsystem point where they were retrieved by the warp tug that hauled them to distant processing centers. The Nuar system was referred to as ‘Nowhere’ by anyone with enough sense to never want to go there. Not only was it in one of the most remote corners of the Federation, but it was a career dead end.
There were two kinds of people on board the Gorky Park: those who had the misfortune of drawing her as their first billet, or those who requested assignment to the ship because they just didn’t care anymore. Capt. Ramius put a pre-approved transfer request in every crewmember’s service jacket; these were known throughout the fleet as ‘get out of jail free’ cards. Those poor souls who through some cosmic joke were assigned to duty on the Gorky Park served their time and left the ship as fast as possible. Most of the others just deleted their ‘get out of jail free’ cards outright and got busy doing just enough to avoid getting cashiered out of Starfleet but not much else.
Eventually, the ship got to a point where the spit, bailing wire, and prayers that had been holding her together just didn’t cut it, so Capt. Ramius ordered the Gorky Park to Starbase 283 for repairs. Starbase 283 was in orbit of a dusty little frontier world whose seemingly sole purpose for even existing was to provide a shore leave venue to passing and visiting starships. There were some incredible shopping malls, boasting wares from every corner of the galaxy, five-star hotels, even a few museums and an exquisite Art Deco-style theatre. Mostly, though, there were casinos, less-than-savory holo-palaces, and bars. Lots and lots of bars.
Leaving the ship in the hands of the gamma-shift helm officer, Savalya headed to the surface along with nearly the entire crew. She bar-hopped for a while with some of the engineering staff (those guys know how to party, she thought), but then remembered something she’d heard about a place called the Captain’s Table. Bidding her fellows farewell, she set out to find the fabled tavern.
After two hours of wandering the streets, Savalya decided to just stop at the next bar she found at get absolutely sauced. As if in response to her unvoiced resolution, a neon sign (wow, do they still make those?) cut through the twilight gloaming: Dereliction of Duty. As she got closer, the building revealed itself, styled apparently after an old Earth bar circa mid-twentieth century. What a dump, Savalya thought; that thought was followed by a barely-audible voice in the back corner of her mind. You don’t belong here. The voice, as usual, was promptly and resoundingly ignored.
Savalya finished her drink and took a minute to look around the bar. There was a haze in the air, almost like tobacco smoke but thicker and ever-so-slightly oily, with a smell like burned shuttle lubricant. It made the faces of the bar patrons difficult to distinguish, though she could easily see that most of them were wearing Starfleet uniforms from varying eras. There was a smattering of beings from other races, all of them apparently ship commanders of one sort or another.
What is this place?
