So, I wrote this after posting the thread about opening lines. I guess I liked the opening paragraph enough that it inspired more.
Anyway, for those of you that have read the Guardian Force book, which mistral I think you have, this is that same story but from the Admiral's point of view.
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A standard issue Starfleet PADD had a hard life. In battle, the PADD was always getting knocked around as it would fall off tables. PADD 0717843-A was the last of its kind. Not the last PADD mind you, but the last of a particular serious of PADD which had been boxed up and shipped to the Gamma Quadrant. There, 0717843-A would be used by the staff of Miranda Outpost and eventually come to the hands of Admiral Julia Hera. If 0717843-A had feelings, or perceptions of the world around it, then this quiet little PADD would probably be quite scared about what was going to happen to it. It was the same thing that had happened to PADD 0717759-B, all the way up through PADD 0717842-Z. None of them knew it, none of them could understand as each one in its own time began to sail through the air, on a collision course into the bulkhead. 0717843-A didn’t feel any pain as its crystalline display shattered into a cloud of dust, nor did it feel sadness as its broken components rattled to the floor. It didn’t have any questions about what would happen next as its pieces were picked up and discarded, and a new crate of PADD’s were opened, and distributed as needed.
Admiral Julia Hera cursed. She cursed at the broken pieces of the PADD that she was now throwing away. She cursed at the message that was on the PADD. She cursed at Starfleet Command for not being able to make a quick decision. And then, just to make sure she didn’t miss anyone, she cursed at the universe.
Once the pieces had been discarded, Hera returned to her desk and hit the comm button.
“Lenir, get your boneheaded ass in here,” she ordered. It was going to be one of those days today, she just knew it.
Moments later her office doors opened as Captain Lenir shuffled in. He was shorter then Hera, which always surprised her, and had no hair on his skull. What he did have was a bone protrusion that covered the back of his skull, and came forward to just above his ears. In his hands he delicately held a cup.
“Tarkelian Tea Captain?” he asked as he set the cup down in front of her. “As usual?”
“Keep it comin’ Lenir,” she grunted, taking the cup and smelling the contents for a moment. “I swear, this whole situation is going to force me into the old admiral’s home.”
Lenir laughed as he took a seat across from the Admiral. “Oh, I doubt that very much. The combined forces of the alpha quadrant couldn’t get you to back down.”
“How about a several thousand year old empire of bugs?” she questioned dryly.
“Just get a flyswatter.”
The Admiral smiled at Lenir. “You know, for not being human you sure talk like one.”
“One of many mysteries in the universe Ma’am,” he replied. “If you are feeling better, you have a subspace message from Deep Space 9. It seems the Ferangi Ambassador wants to speak to you.”
“Who? Quark?” she asked. “That’s a laugh. He’s only ambassador because his brother is the Nagus.”
“Be that as it may Admiral,” he said calmly. “He is still on record as ambassador, and as much as we don’t like it, we must treat him as such.”
Hera rubbed two fingers against her temples, already feeling the headache that the little troglodyte was bound to give her. “Very well, route it in here.”
Lenir nodded and left the room, a moment later signaling that the call was being sent to her office. The desktop computer on her desk popped open as the emblem of the Ferangi Alliance appeared on the screen. A moment later, it was replaced with the ugliest damn smile the admiral had ever seen.
“Admiral!” the smile squealed as the face backed into view. “How good it is to finally get to speak with you. I trust you received my gift?”
“Cut the crap Quark, what do you want?”
“Well I never; Admiral, is that any way to speak to someone in my position?”
“Time is money Quark,” she said, returning his smile. “The more you talk, the less you get.”
“Here I am, trying to be nice,” he whined, attempting to sound personally insulted by her words. “To think I would only call because I want something.”
“You wouldn’t call your own mother unless you wanted something Quark,” she replied, getting tired of the usual rigor moral between the two of them.
“Oh… Fine!” he huffed, glaring at her for a moment. “You know what I want anyway.”
“You’re not opening a casino on my station Quark.”
“Not a casino Admiral,” he corrected. “An embassy. There would of course be certain… recreational facilities, but I wouldn’t call a science ship with phasers a warship.”
“And a Borg drone without a ship as still dangerous.”
“You’d compare me to the Borg?”
Admiral Hera couldn’t help but smile as the short figure seemed to actually turn colors, and she expected to see steam come out of his ears.
“That’s it Admiral,” he exclaimed. “I won’t tolerate these insults. I promise you, Starfleet’s diplomatic corpse will here of this!”
Instantly, the screen went dark, and the Admiral was alone. So what if the Diplomatic corps got mad at her? She didn’t want a Ferangi casino on her station.
A short time later Hera stood on the CNC deck of Miranda Outpost; the Alexandria class, deep space station in orbit of Miranda Prime. The colony below plodded along with no problem, and supplied the station with most of the resources they needed. Anti-mater still had to be delivered of course, along with a few other things, but for the most part the system was self supporting. The station itself on the other hand was, in the admiral’s opinion, a dilapidated mess from hell. Half the systems were state of the art, something that in her experience meant they never worked.
At that very moment, as if to prove her feelings right, the holo-display was acting up. The image of some Lt on board the USS Chimera flickered in and out, refusing to take form.
“Chimera, can you here me?” she asked, about ready to kick the console.
“Admiral, thi-….ins. We are……ress ca-…..”
“Damn it, when is someone going to fix this thing?” she slammed her hand down, and in one of the greatest technological traditions dating back to the early 20th century, the image cleared up.
“Miranda, do you read?”
“Yes Lt., what’s going on?”
“Admiral, we’re receiving a distress call from a civilian freighter.” He explained as he read a couple things from the command console. “They are under attack, and I don’t think they will last very long. We need to take the ship out now.”
“What about your command crew?” she asked. While Hera knew Kaziarl had worked with each member of his crew, making sure they new what they doing, she would rather not send the ship out staffed by Lieutenant’s.
“No time Admiral, we have to move now!”
“Very well,” she conceded. “God speed Chimera, we’ll keep an eye on you on the long range.”
The holo-image vanished as CNC went quiet. She stood there for a moment, considering the situation.
“Contact Captain Kaziarl, have him meet me in The Den,” she ordered as she made her way to the turbolift. “I need to get something to eat.”
The Den, or rather The Dragons Den, was Miranda Stations version of the Ten Forward lounge that most Galaxy and Sovereign class ships were known for. This one, however, was personally designed by the Admiral to be a perfect replica of an Irish pub from Earth. She found it relaxing, a refreshing escape from the grey bulkheads that filled the rest of the station. She had even insisted on installing genuine, red oak hardwood floors, and brass tipped beverage taps.
As she entered, several crew members waved at her, and even greeted her by her first name. She smiled at them, remembering one time when a visiting admiral had came down here with her. He had gone off on one crewman, and Hera had to step in and explain she had created a specific policy that while in The Den, everyone was on a first name basis. She had found that the majority of the brass didn’t understand the concept, but she felt it promoted loyalty among the crew.
As she stepped up to the bar, she waved her hand at the barkeep.
“Jimmy, the usual,” she said as she smiled.
“One Tamarian Sunrise, comin’ right up Boss,” he replied as he grabbed a glass and began mixing several different types of Synthahol, then placed the glass in front of her. Every time she took a sip, she quietly thanked whoever it was that came up with Synthahol. While the taste was slightly off, she could have a glass with lunch and have no ill effects. About the time she had placed an order of chicken strips and fries, Captain Kaziarl had walked in to join her.
“Julia, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting down on a barstool next to her. “And where in Gre’thor is my ship?”
“Well that would depend on how well trained Lt. Crane is,” she replied with a smile. “He could be on his way to a distress call, or he could be half way to earth by now.”
“Cranes a good officer, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Hera sighed, taking another sip. “She picked up a distress signal. I’m sorry Kaz; there was no time to get you to the ship.”
He just nodded, as Jimmy placed a goblet of Blood Wine in front of him. He was adamant about them keeping a keg of the real stuff for whenever he was around, and since his ship had left without him he guessed that meant he was off duty.
“I trust Crane,” he said confidently. “I just wish I was on my ship.”
“Every captain is like that old friend,” she replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “Hell, you remember how I was on the Whitestar, don’t you?”
“Don’t remind me,” he laughed. “I couldn’t keep you off the bridge when it wasn’t your duty shift. I had to get the doctor to threaten to confine you to quarters on more then one occasion.”
“My point is, when you did get me to let you have all the fun, you turned out alright.”
“Yeah, I guess your right,” he sighed, taking a drink from his goblet. “Crane is up for promotion you know; I was going to send you the paperwork next week.”
“Well, I don’t foresee any problems there,” she replied, picking at the food that had just arrived. “If you recommend them, I’m sure they deserve it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, stealing some of her food. “But how are you? The station isn’t exactly working as well as we’d hoped.”
“Oh, she’ll get there. I’ve been informed by the SCE that once the advanced computer core arrives most of the system failures will be a thing of the past.”
“The posatronic core?”
“Yes, although it won’t be nearly as complex as Picard’s android crewman,” she explained. “Don’t ask me how the dam thing works though, I just hope it does.”
“If not, kick it,” he said with a smile. “You’re good at that.”
“Oh har har,” she replied, pushing him slightly. “How about a game of pool? Then I have to get back to CNC.”
“Sure,” he said as he pushed away from the bar. “Not like I have much else to do at the moment.”
Later, both Admiral Hera, and Captain Kaziarl had made their way to the CNC deck where they awaited a call from his ship. Kaziarl was getting nervous, and was starting to realize that his apprehension was getting worse.
“Anything yet?” he asked, turning towards the communication officer.
“Nothing yet sir,” the officer replied. “All subspace communication lines are cl- Wait a minute.”
“Well, spit it out,” he demanded. “What is it?”
“Signal coming in now, it’s the Chimera.”
“On screen!” ordered Kaziarl.
“Um, Captain,” Hera said sternly. “I think that’s my job.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, nodding apologetically. “I guess I got a little excited.”
“Quite understandable,” she replied as she turned towards the communications officer. “On screen please.”
A moment later Lt. Crane appeared on the Holo-viewer, this time with no complaints from the machine. Kaziarl could see some signs of battle damage; however it didn’t appear to be too serious.
“Chimera to Miranda Station, do you copy?”
“We’re receiving you Lt,” Hera replied calmly. “Your captain is here too.”
“Good to see you in one piece Lt,” Kaziarl interjected. “Mind telling us what happened?”
“Yes sir, we’re sending you some sensor data now,” he explained, and even as he did so the screen shifted to show a holographic representation of a ship Kaziarl had never seen. “We found this ship attacking a civilian ship. They have identified themselves as the Tryesharan Alliance. And Captain? I don’t think their friendly.”
“And the civilian?” asked Kaziarl.
“We have them in tow sir, but it’s slow. All we can manage is Warp 1 safely.”
“Lt.” the admiral interrupted. “I want a full report by the time you get back. You’ll brief your captain on the situation, and then he’ll fill me in on the good parts. Get here as soon as you can.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he replied. “Chimera out.”
The image of Lt. Crane vanished, but the ship was still there.
“Anything in the database matching that ship?” she asked.
“Checking now Admiral,” replied Captain Lenir as he moved to the tactical station. “There is no record of any ship matching that design within the Starfleet Database.”
“What about the Dominion Database?” Kaziarl inquired.
“None, it seems to be a new race.”
“Wonderful,” the admiral grumbled. “Just how I wanted first contact to happen.”
Two hours later, the USS Chimera had arrived with the Buried Treasure in tow, and Captain Kaziarl sat in his ready room with Lt. Crane. Crane had just finish explaining his idea regarding the drop in strength of the enemy vessels shields, to which Kaziarl was listening intently. Once he had finished, Kaziarl congratulated him on a job well done, and sent him on his way while he keyed the comm system to call Admiral Hera.
“What have you got Captain?” she asked waiting, but not so patiently for the answer.
“A problem Admiral,” he replied solemnly. “And a big one too. The reason the ship didn’t appear in any database, was because there aren’t any ships to record.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, it seems that this alliance hasn’t been around for nearly half a millennia. Now they are pretty much a myth, so any information there is to gain is more then likely highly inaccurate.”
“Still, wouldn’t hurt looking into,” she replied thoughtfully. “Once the Chimera is repaired, and the new paint dries, I want you to take her out and look for clues.”
“Yes Ma’am, I’ll have a search pattern for you after the briefing in an hour.”
“Very well, Miranda out.” The image vanished as Hera turned to Lenir. “Let’s go for a walk captain.”
“Yes ma’am, Commander Solange,” he said, turning towards his XO. “You have the CNC.”
Lenir and Hera made their way to the turbolift, not really paying attention to where the turbolift took them.
“What’s on your mind Admiral?” he asked.
“This new… enemy…” she replied gravely. “We don’t even know anything about them, and they are already being called the enemy.”
“They’ve fired on one of our ships,” he explained calmly. “Does that not logically make them an enemy?”
“Oh please don’t do that,” she said, again rubbing her temples. “Last thing I need is a Vulcan point of view.”
“Still Admiral, they’ve shown themselves as hostile,” he replied. “How should we react to hostile intent?”
“I don’t know, but I really don’t want to get involved in another war.”
“I understand Admiral, but what can we do? I’ve noticed that there are some humans, especially following the war who felt that pacifism was the answer.”
“Really?” she replied, hearing the same argument from people herself. “And how do you feel about it?”
“While I do feel there is some aspect of bravery in choosing not to fight, I do not feel it is always the right choice.” He explained. “I feel that when war is unavoidable, and the opposing force refuses to listen, then it is more cowardly to choose a pacifist way of thinking.”
“How is it cowardly?”
“If someone points a phaser at you and says ‘I’m going to shoot, and there is nothing you can do about it,” then you have a choice. If you move, the person fires and has a chance to miss. If you stand still, then you know the person will hit you. Most races seem to take comfort in knowing what will happen, even if it’s not in their best interest.”
“So then the question is, do we let the Tryesharans have what they want, whatever that is; or do we fight back.”
“I believe that is what I said Admiral.” Lenir replied with just a slight twinge of smugness.
“I swear, one of these days I’m going to pry that bone off your head and see if you have pointed ears underneath.”
“I assure you Admiral,” he said with a grin. “It’s quite attached.”
“Well, in any case I want to make sure we’re ready,” she said, putting her admiral face back on. “Coordinate engineering teams, I want as much running on this bucket of bolts as possible.”
“Yes admiral, I’ll get right on it,” he replied.
“Also, have the tactical officer run some readiness drills. Some of the crew has only been here a few weeks, and it’s a big station. I don’t want anyone getting lost at a critical moment. Have all department heads submit status reports by 1130 Hours.”
“Aye captain, where will you be?” he asked, sensing she was going to spirit herself away somewhere.
“I’m going to go break things,” was all she said as she walked away, leaving him alone in the corridor to carry out his orders.
Anyway, for those of you that have read the Guardian Force book, which mistral I think you have, this is that same story but from the Admiral's point of view.
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A standard issue Starfleet PADD had a hard life. In battle, the PADD was always getting knocked around as it would fall off tables. PADD 0717843-A was the last of its kind. Not the last PADD mind you, but the last of a particular serious of PADD which had been boxed up and shipped to the Gamma Quadrant. There, 0717843-A would be used by the staff of Miranda Outpost and eventually come to the hands of Admiral Julia Hera. If 0717843-A had feelings, or perceptions of the world around it, then this quiet little PADD would probably be quite scared about what was going to happen to it. It was the same thing that had happened to PADD 0717759-B, all the way up through PADD 0717842-Z. None of them knew it, none of them could understand as each one in its own time began to sail through the air, on a collision course into the bulkhead. 0717843-A didn’t feel any pain as its crystalline display shattered into a cloud of dust, nor did it feel sadness as its broken components rattled to the floor. It didn’t have any questions about what would happen next as its pieces were picked up and discarded, and a new crate of PADD’s were opened, and distributed as needed.
Admiral Julia Hera cursed. She cursed at the broken pieces of the PADD that she was now throwing away. She cursed at the message that was on the PADD. She cursed at Starfleet Command for not being able to make a quick decision. And then, just to make sure she didn’t miss anyone, she cursed at the universe.
Once the pieces had been discarded, Hera returned to her desk and hit the comm button.
“Lenir, get your boneheaded ass in here,” she ordered. It was going to be one of those days today, she just knew it.
Moments later her office doors opened as Captain Lenir shuffled in. He was shorter then Hera, which always surprised her, and had no hair on his skull. What he did have was a bone protrusion that covered the back of his skull, and came forward to just above his ears. In his hands he delicately held a cup.
“Tarkelian Tea Captain?” he asked as he set the cup down in front of her. “As usual?”
“Keep it comin’ Lenir,” she grunted, taking the cup and smelling the contents for a moment. “I swear, this whole situation is going to force me into the old admiral’s home.”
Lenir laughed as he took a seat across from the Admiral. “Oh, I doubt that very much. The combined forces of the alpha quadrant couldn’t get you to back down.”
“How about a several thousand year old empire of bugs?” she questioned dryly.
“Just get a flyswatter.”
The Admiral smiled at Lenir. “You know, for not being human you sure talk like one.”
“One of many mysteries in the universe Ma’am,” he replied. “If you are feeling better, you have a subspace message from Deep Space 9. It seems the Ferangi Ambassador wants to speak to you.”
“Who? Quark?” she asked. “That’s a laugh. He’s only ambassador because his brother is the Nagus.”
“Be that as it may Admiral,” he said calmly. “He is still on record as ambassador, and as much as we don’t like it, we must treat him as such.”
Hera rubbed two fingers against her temples, already feeling the headache that the little troglodyte was bound to give her. “Very well, route it in here.”
Lenir nodded and left the room, a moment later signaling that the call was being sent to her office. The desktop computer on her desk popped open as the emblem of the Ferangi Alliance appeared on the screen. A moment later, it was replaced with the ugliest damn smile the admiral had ever seen.
“Admiral!” the smile squealed as the face backed into view. “How good it is to finally get to speak with you. I trust you received my gift?”
“Cut the crap Quark, what do you want?”
“Well I never; Admiral, is that any way to speak to someone in my position?”
“Time is money Quark,” she said, returning his smile. “The more you talk, the less you get.”
“Here I am, trying to be nice,” he whined, attempting to sound personally insulted by her words. “To think I would only call because I want something.”
“You wouldn’t call your own mother unless you wanted something Quark,” she replied, getting tired of the usual rigor moral between the two of them.
“Oh… Fine!” he huffed, glaring at her for a moment. “You know what I want anyway.”
“You’re not opening a casino on my station Quark.”
“Not a casino Admiral,” he corrected. “An embassy. There would of course be certain… recreational facilities, but I wouldn’t call a science ship with phasers a warship.”
“And a Borg drone without a ship as still dangerous.”
“You’d compare me to the Borg?”
Admiral Hera couldn’t help but smile as the short figure seemed to actually turn colors, and she expected to see steam come out of his ears.
“That’s it Admiral,” he exclaimed. “I won’t tolerate these insults. I promise you, Starfleet’s diplomatic corpse will here of this!”
Instantly, the screen went dark, and the Admiral was alone. So what if the Diplomatic corps got mad at her? She didn’t want a Ferangi casino on her station.
A short time later Hera stood on the CNC deck of Miranda Outpost; the Alexandria class, deep space station in orbit of Miranda Prime. The colony below plodded along with no problem, and supplied the station with most of the resources they needed. Anti-mater still had to be delivered of course, along with a few other things, but for the most part the system was self supporting. The station itself on the other hand was, in the admiral’s opinion, a dilapidated mess from hell. Half the systems were state of the art, something that in her experience meant they never worked.
At that very moment, as if to prove her feelings right, the holo-display was acting up. The image of some Lt on board the USS Chimera flickered in and out, refusing to take form.
“Chimera, can you here me?” she asked, about ready to kick the console.
“Admiral, thi-….ins. We are……ress ca-…..”
“Damn it, when is someone going to fix this thing?” she slammed her hand down, and in one of the greatest technological traditions dating back to the early 20th century, the image cleared up.
“Miranda, do you read?”
“Yes Lt., what’s going on?”
“Admiral, we’re receiving a distress call from a civilian freighter.” He explained as he read a couple things from the command console. “They are under attack, and I don’t think they will last very long. We need to take the ship out now.”
“What about your command crew?” she asked. While Hera knew Kaziarl had worked with each member of his crew, making sure they new what they doing, she would rather not send the ship out staffed by Lieutenant’s.
“No time Admiral, we have to move now!”
“Very well,” she conceded. “God speed Chimera, we’ll keep an eye on you on the long range.”
The holo-image vanished as CNC went quiet. She stood there for a moment, considering the situation.
“Contact Captain Kaziarl, have him meet me in The Den,” she ordered as she made her way to the turbolift. “I need to get something to eat.”
The Den, or rather The Dragons Den, was Miranda Stations version of the Ten Forward lounge that most Galaxy and Sovereign class ships were known for. This one, however, was personally designed by the Admiral to be a perfect replica of an Irish pub from Earth. She found it relaxing, a refreshing escape from the grey bulkheads that filled the rest of the station. She had even insisted on installing genuine, red oak hardwood floors, and brass tipped beverage taps.
As she entered, several crew members waved at her, and even greeted her by her first name. She smiled at them, remembering one time when a visiting admiral had came down here with her. He had gone off on one crewman, and Hera had to step in and explain she had created a specific policy that while in The Den, everyone was on a first name basis. She had found that the majority of the brass didn’t understand the concept, but she felt it promoted loyalty among the crew.
As she stepped up to the bar, she waved her hand at the barkeep.
“Jimmy, the usual,” she said as she smiled.
“One Tamarian Sunrise, comin’ right up Boss,” he replied as he grabbed a glass and began mixing several different types of Synthahol, then placed the glass in front of her. Every time she took a sip, she quietly thanked whoever it was that came up with Synthahol. While the taste was slightly off, she could have a glass with lunch and have no ill effects. About the time she had placed an order of chicken strips and fries, Captain Kaziarl had walked in to join her.
“Julia, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting down on a barstool next to her. “And where in Gre’thor is my ship?”
“Well that would depend on how well trained Lt. Crane is,” she replied with a smile. “He could be on his way to a distress call, or he could be half way to earth by now.”
“Cranes a good officer, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Hera sighed, taking another sip. “She picked up a distress signal. I’m sorry Kaz; there was no time to get you to the ship.”
He just nodded, as Jimmy placed a goblet of Blood Wine in front of him. He was adamant about them keeping a keg of the real stuff for whenever he was around, and since his ship had left without him he guessed that meant he was off duty.
“I trust Crane,” he said confidently. “I just wish I was on my ship.”
“Every captain is like that old friend,” she replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “Hell, you remember how I was on the Whitestar, don’t you?”
“Don’t remind me,” he laughed. “I couldn’t keep you off the bridge when it wasn’t your duty shift. I had to get the doctor to threaten to confine you to quarters on more then one occasion.”
“My point is, when you did get me to let you have all the fun, you turned out alright.”
“Yeah, I guess your right,” he sighed, taking a drink from his goblet. “Crane is up for promotion you know; I was going to send you the paperwork next week.”
“Well, I don’t foresee any problems there,” she replied, picking at the food that had just arrived. “If you recommend them, I’m sure they deserve it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, stealing some of her food. “But how are you? The station isn’t exactly working as well as we’d hoped.”
“Oh, she’ll get there. I’ve been informed by the SCE that once the advanced computer core arrives most of the system failures will be a thing of the past.”
“The posatronic core?”
“Yes, although it won’t be nearly as complex as Picard’s android crewman,” she explained. “Don’t ask me how the dam thing works though, I just hope it does.”
“If not, kick it,” he said with a smile. “You’re good at that.”
“Oh har har,” she replied, pushing him slightly. “How about a game of pool? Then I have to get back to CNC.”
“Sure,” he said as he pushed away from the bar. “Not like I have much else to do at the moment.”
Later, both Admiral Hera, and Captain Kaziarl had made their way to the CNC deck where they awaited a call from his ship. Kaziarl was getting nervous, and was starting to realize that his apprehension was getting worse.
“Anything yet?” he asked, turning towards the communication officer.
“Nothing yet sir,” the officer replied. “All subspace communication lines are cl- Wait a minute.”
“Well, spit it out,” he demanded. “What is it?”
“Signal coming in now, it’s the Chimera.”
“On screen!” ordered Kaziarl.
“Um, Captain,” Hera said sternly. “I think that’s my job.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, nodding apologetically. “I guess I got a little excited.”
“Quite understandable,” she replied as she turned towards the communications officer. “On screen please.”
A moment later Lt. Crane appeared on the Holo-viewer, this time with no complaints from the machine. Kaziarl could see some signs of battle damage; however it didn’t appear to be too serious.
“Chimera to Miranda Station, do you copy?”
“We’re receiving you Lt,” Hera replied calmly. “Your captain is here too.”
“Good to see you in one piece Lt,” Kaziarl interjected. “Mind telling us what happened?”
“Yes sir, we’re sending you some sensor data now,” he explained, and even as he did so the screen shifted to show a holographic representation of a ship Kaziarl had never seen. “We found this ship attacking a civilian ship. They have identified themselves as the Tryesharan Alliance. And Captain? I don’t think their friendly.”
“And the civilian?” asked Kaziarl.
“We have them in tow sir, but it’s slow. All we can manage is Warp 1 safely.”
“Lt.” the admiral interrupted. “I want a full report by the time you get back. You’ll brief your captain on the situation, and then he’ll fill me in on the good parts. Get here as soon as you can.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he replied. “Chimera out.”
The image of Lt. Crane vanished, but the ship was still there.
“Anything in the database matching that ship?” she asked.
“Checking now Admiral,” replied Captain Lenir as he moved to the tactical station. “There is no record of any ship matching that design within the Starfleet Database.”
“What about the Dominion Database?” Kaziarl inquired.
“None, it seems to be a new race.”
“Wonderful,” the admiral grumbled. “Just how I wanted first contact to happen.”
Two hours later, the USS Chimera had arrived with the Buried Treasure in tow, and Captain Kaziarl sat in his ready room with Lt. Crane. Crane had just finish explaining his idea regarding the drop in strength of the enemy vessels shields, to which Kaziarl was listening intently. Once he had finished, Kaziarl congratulated him on a job well done, and sent him on his way while he keyed the comm system to call Admiral Hera.
“What have you got Captain?” she asked waiting, but not so patiently for the answer.
“A problem Admiral,” he replied solemnly. “And a big one too. The reason the ship didn’t appear in any database, was because there aren’t any ships to record.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, it seems that this alliance hasn’t been around for nearly half a millennia. Now they are pretty much a myth, so any information there is to gain is more then likely highly inaccurate.”
“Still, wouldn’t hurt looking into,” she replied thoughtfully. “Once the Chimera is repaired, and the new paint dries, I want you to take her out and look for clues.”
“Yes Ma’am, I’ll have a search pattern for you after the briefing in an hour.”
“Very well, Miranda out.” The image vanished as Hera turned to Lenir. “Let’s go for a walk captain.”
“Yes ma’am, Commander Solange,” he said, turning towards his XO. “You have the CNC.”
Lenir and Hera made their way to the turbolift, not really paying attention to where the turbolift took them.
“What’s on your mind Admiral?” he asked.
“This new… enemy…” she replied gravely. “We don’t even know anything about them, and they are already being called the enemy.”
“They’ve fired on one of our ships,” he explained calmly. “Does that not logically make them an enemy?”
“Oh please don’t do that,” she said, again rubbing her temples. “Last thing I need is a Vulcan point of view.”
“Still Admiral, they’ve shown themselves as hostile,” he replied. “How should we react to hostile intent?”
“I don’t know, but I really don’t want to get involved in another war.”
“I understand Admiral, but what can we do? I’ve noticed that there are some humans, especially following the war who felt that pacifism was the answer.”
“Really?” she replied, hearing the same argument from people herself. “And how do you feel about it?”
“While I do feel there is some aspect of bravery in choosing not to fight, I do not feel it is always the right choice.” He explained. “I feel that when war is unavoidable, and the opposing force refuses to listen, then it is more cowardly to choose a pacifist way of thinking.”
“How is it cowardly?”
“If someone points a phaser at you and says ‘I’m going to shoot, and there is nothing you can do about it,” then you have a choice. If you move, the person fires and has a chance to miss. If you stand still, then you know the person will hit you. Most races seem to take comfort in knowing what will happen, even if it’s not in their best interest.”
“So then the question is, do we let the Tryesharans have what they want, whatever that is; or do we fight back.”
“I believe that is what I said Admiral.” Lenir replied with just a slight twinge of smugness.
“I swear, one of these days I’m going to pry that bone off your head and see if you have pointed ears underneath.”
“I assure you Admiral,” he said with a grin. “It’s quite attached.”
“Well, in any case I want to make sure we’re ready,” she said, putting her admiral face back on. “Coordinate engineering teams, I want as much running on this bucket of bolts as possible.”
“Yes admiral, I’ll get right on it,” he replied.
“Also, have the tactical officer run some readiness drills. Some of the crew has only been here a few weeks, and it’s a big station. I don’t want anyone getting lost at a critical moment. Have all department heads submit status reports by 1130 Hours.”
“Aye captain, where will you be?” he asked, sensing she was going to spirit herself away somewhere.
“I’m going to go break things,” was all she said as she walked away, leaving him alone in the corridor to carry out his orders.
