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ST C.O.E Mission to Bajor, Book One, The Monarch

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Big Tom

Lieutenant Junior Grade
Star Trek Corps of Engineers Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

By T. M. Flavin

Forward to the story as told by Chief Warrant Officer Michael Thomas, Retired

My story is about a time of peace, at a time when peace meant recovering from the last war and preparing for the next conflict.

I never considered myself a warrior, if anyone in this day and age can be called that, I was and still am an engineer.

I had been content in my engineering career to assist in rescue operations, repairs to stranded space craft and even an occasional construction projects at various outposts throughout Federation Space.

Although I had seen the casualties of collisions, system breakdowns and pirate raids, I was not really prepared for the first big conflict that I was involved with.

That was the battle with the Borg at Wolf 359 in the year of 2367.

The battle between the United Federation of Planets and the Borg collective lasted only a few hours.

40 Starfleet starships were gathered near Wolf 359 to intercept a Borg cube ship traveling to Earth.

The Borg, having assimilated Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his knowledge of Starfleet tactics and technology into its collective consciousness, obliterated the Starfleet force, 39 ships were destroyed, with the loss of over 11,000 lives.

Following its victory, the Borg ship continues on its course to Earth, where with skill and luck, the crew of the Enterprise-D rescued Picard and stopped the cube.

Most of the Corps of Engineers in the quadrant was mobilized for rescue, salvage and cleanup.

That kind of mission can change a man.

I know it changed me.

As a result of the personnel losses many of the Corps officers were transferred to Starfleet defense vessels.

Some of the senior enlisted personnel like myself were commissioned as warrants to command the smaller repair tenders.

My ship was a Cle Dan Class VI Repair Tender.

It normally operated with a crew of twenty four experienced engineers.

My ship came directly from training command with twelve engineers and twelve senior students from the Earth Engineer Training center at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, North America.

The tender was supposed to have four Type 9-A, or its equivalent, shuttle craft, we had two for safety reasons, because there are no escape pods on this type of tender.

In addition I had two Type M-1 Work pods, and four work bees with manipulator arms, for grappling.

Our job, after an area survey, was to bring major salvageable ship components to a Pearl Class VII Mobile Repair Facility.

Two to four Cle Dans operated out of a Pearl.

Once the major components were gathered to meet a plausible repairable ship; they were tacked together within the Pearl then towed to the nearest star base for rebuilding.

Most of ours went to Earth or Mars facilities.

A little over half were rebuilt; the rest of the parts and components went into fabrication of newer and smaller cruisers, to rebuild the fleet.

Our secondary mission was to recover the dead and smaller debris.

Most of the smaller debris was bundled and pushed, with enough velocity, for it to reach the local star.

The dead and pieces of bodies were collected and sent in storage pods to the Pearl.

From there they were picked up by a Starfleet cruiser that was assigned for security.

The dead were then identified, and placed in burial torpedo shells and given a funeral onboard with full military rights.

The burial torpedoes were then taken to an area outside the debris field and fired into the sun for burial.

Wolf 359 has no planets in orbit.

After eighteen months we had towed, or pushed, five composite ships to the Sol system.

I don’t know what their status was after the rebuild or the names they were re-commissioned to.

Many were probably lost in the subsequent battles with the Klingons, the Romulans and lastly the Dominion, where in that wars’ aftermath my story begins.

Michael Thomas, CWO (Ret)
[FONT=Calibri] [/FONT]
 
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Star Fleet Corps of Engineers, Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

By T.M. Flavin

Table of Contents

Forward

SF C.O.E. Advisor Team Roster

Klingon crew roster, of the merchantman, ‘SS Monarch’.

Chapter One - On the Beach, a new offer, a new beginning?

Chapter Two - Finding a niche.

Chapter Three - Crew calls and a Ferengi?

Chapter Four - The Moon call.

Chapter Five - Introduction to a day dream.

Chapter Six - Crew call, do you speak Klingon?

Chapter Seven - Who needs who and what?

Chapter Seven - The loves of my Life; Tehk, Tash, and a Type 9B Cargo Shuttle.

Chapter Eight - Being pleased with myself.

Chapter Nine - Love, Drugs; and a history lesson?

Chapter Ten - Old friends and a false start.

Chapter Eleven - Off to the Moon

Chapter Twelve - The Monarch, a pig in a Polk?

Chapter Thirteen - How to scam a Klingon.

Chapter Fourteen - How to scam a Klingon, part two.

Chapter Fifteen - Introduction to Klingons and security.

Chapter Sixteen - What buying unseen gets you.

Chapter Seventeen - Making do with the Monarch mess.

Chapter Eighteen - Night watch on a former slave ship.

Chapter Nineteen - Dealing with pon farr, a Ferengi shuttle and our antique food re-sequencer.

Chapter Twenty - Hooray for flush toilets; and a take charge wife?

Chapter Twenty One - House keeping on the Monarch.

Chapter Twenty Two - Be’nen and Staunn’s shopping trip.

Chapter Twenty Three - Progress on the Monarch

Chapter Twenty Four - Refugees, what refugees; and why my wife smacked me good.

Chapter Twenty Five - Be’nen’s dilemma.

Chapter Twenty Six - Staunn’s story, with love and drugs.

Chapter Twenty Seven - Be’nen’s solution to her dilemma.

Chapter Twenty Eight - Be’nens’ new assignment, as my new boss!

Chapter Twenty Nine - Preparations for Be’nens’ new position.

Chapter Thirty - The Ambassadors’ goodbye’

Epilogue

This book can also be read at Wattpad.co and Wordpress.com (Blog) under T.M. Favin
 
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Star Fleet Corps of Engineers, Mission to Bajor

By T.M. Flavin

Book One – The Monarch

Appendix One - Manning Charts

(1)
Manning roster for the Star Fleet Engineers Advisory and Assistance Group (SFAAG) – CIV, for the Bajor Provisional Government, Bajoran Ministry of Commerce, Salvage and Recovery.

Command and Operations

Michael Thomas, CWO (Ret), Civ SF 14 - Chief Advisor/Chief Engineer - Human Male

Be’nen Tash, Civ SF 14, Admin Asst - Vulcan-Romulan female

Staunn Tehk, MD, Civ SF 5, Med Tech - Ferengi-Vulcan-Romulan mix female

Og, Civ SF 6, Supply Tech - Ferengi male

Sunbeam, Civ SF 3, Supply Clerk - Dabo female

Teacup, Civ SF 3, Supply Clerk - Dabo female

John Hirst, Civ SF 5, Steward - Human Male

James Mathys, Civ SF5, Steward - Human Male

Flight Engineers

Peter Murray, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 9, Flight Engr/Maintenance/ Supervisor - Human

Donald Murdoch, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 9, Flight Engr/ Maintenance - Human male

Dwayne Barkley, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Engr tech - Human male

Mona Freeman, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Engr tech - Human female

Larry Comet, LtJG (Ret), Civ SF 6, Com Tech - Human male

Nichelle Bushong, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 6, Computer Spec - Human female

Alesia Campbell, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Computer Tech - Human female

Diane Murray, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Computer Tech - Human female (W)

Recovery and Salvage Team

Ronald Thornton, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 9, Salvage Tech/Supervisor - Human Male

Jenny Thornton, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Engr Bee Opr - Human female (W)

Carol Murdoch, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Engr Bee Opr - Human female (W)

James West, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Recovery Spec - Human Male

Joshua Bopp, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Recovery Spec - Human Male

David. Thomas, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Demo/UXB Sp - Human Male

Reed Dunn, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Demo/UXB Sp - Human Male

David Jeffers, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Armorer - Human Male

Robert Good, CPO (Ret), Civ SF 5, Decon Spec - Human male

Security

Officer Fleming, SGT SFMC (Ret), Civ SF5, Security Officer (SGT) - Human Male

Officer Carney, CPL SFMC (Ret), Civ SF4, Security Officer - Human Male

Officer Flanagan, CPL SFMC (Ret), Civ SF4, Security Officer - Human Female

Changes and substitutions

Be’nen Tash - Re-appointed to Vulcan Intergalactic Foreign Service, subsequently appointed Senior Administrator for the Joint
Services Administration for the Star Fleet Assistance Group on Bajor.

Larry Comet - Promoted to Commander, Transferred to Ambassador Be’nen Tash’s staff as chief of staff

Nichelle Bushong - Transferred to Senior Communications Tech, replacing L. Comet

Dan Fleming (*) - Transferred to Ambassador Tash’s staff as a Marine Security officer

James Carney (*) - Transferred to Ambassador Tash’s staff as a Marine Security officer

Jane Flanagan (*) - Transferred to Ambassador Tash’s staff as a Marine Security officer

T’Androma – Vulcan, hired as Ambassador Tash’s personal administrative assistant

Alvin Smith, SGT SFMC (Ret), Civ SF-5, Security Officer/ SGT - Human Male

Patricia Jones, CPL SFMC (Ret), Civ SF-4, Security Officer - Human Female

John Johnson, CPL, SFMC (Ret), Civ SF-4, Security Officer - Human Male

Officer Fleming, SGT SFMC, Security Officer (SGT) - Human Male - Trf Amb Tash Sta

Officer Carney, CPL SFMC, Security Officer - Human Male - Trf Amb Tash Staff

Officer Flanagan, CPL SFMC, Security Officer - Human Female - Trf Amb Tash Staff

(2)

Klingon Crew Roster for Monarch Class Merchantman

B’rel class Bird of Prey personnel

Command Grades

Commander - D’Ghor Kahlest (Capt Kluge)

Executive Officer - Tichar K’Eheyer

Interrogation Officer - Paghal Hon’Tihl

Ordnance Specialist - Divok Gorkon

Crew

Helmsman - Azetbur Ja’Rod

Science Officer - Ch’Targh Karana

Navigation - Kerla Koboa

Chief Engineer - Keedera Hon’Tihl

Engineer’s mate - Dhivael Deletham

Weapons Master - Brota Gorrod

Jr. Weapons Master - B’Elanna Katrene

Transporter Specialist - B’Elanna Yatron

Family and extra crew postings

Captains’ wife - Kalitta Kahlest - Helmsman

Captains’ mother–in-law - Onnak Konmel - Comunications

Captains’ daughter (18) - Serella Kahlest - Comm/computer tech

Execs’ wife - Shenara K’Ehleyr - Navigation

Execs’ son (16) - Ja’Rod K’Ehleyer - Engr Tech

Execs’ daughter (infant) - J’Dan K’Ehleyer - None

IOs’ companion - Kadra Unagroth - None

Helmsman’s wife - Grilka Ja’Rod - Steward

Chief Engr’s wife - Tichar Hon’Tihl - Steward

Chief Engr’s son (17) - Martok Hon’Tihl - Engr Tech

Chief Engr daughter (19) - Karana Hon’Tihl - Engr Tech

Transporter Spec companion - Azethur Katrene - Steward

Science Officer’s wife - Katerene Karana - Navagation

Science Officer’ son (15) - Morath Karana - Weapons

Science Officer’s daughter (17) - K’Trelan Karana - Science mate

(3)

Monarch-class IX Deep Space Freighter – Revised for recovery mission

Primary crew formed with Klingon personnel from a B’rel- class Bird of Prey with family members included.

The ship is leased to Star Fleet Engineers Advisory and Assistance Group (SFAAG) – CIV, for the Bajor Provisional Government, Bajoran Ministry of Commerce. Salvage and Recovery

Command Grades – Bridge Officers

Captain/Commander - D’Ghor Kahlest (Capt Kluge)

First Officer/Executive Officer - Tichar K’Eheyer

Load Master/Interrogation Officer - Paghal Hon’Tihl

Environmental Serv./Ordnance Specialist - Divok Gorkon

Helmsman/Helmsman - Azetbur Ja’Rod

Science Officer/Science Officer - Ch’Targh Karana

Navigation/Navigation - Kerla Koboa

Purser/Captains’ wife - Kalitta Kahlest, also a Helmsman

Medical Tech - Science Officer’s daughter (17) K’Trelan Karana, also a Science mate

Engineering

Chief Engineer/Chief Engineer - Keedera Hon’Tihl

1st Engineer Asst./Engineer’s Mate - Dhivael Deletham
2nd Engineer Asst. - Chief Engr's daughter (19), Karana Hon’Tihl, also an Engr Tech

3rd Engineer Asst. - Execs’ wife, Shenara K’Ehleyr, also in Navigation

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Transporter Specialist/Transporter Specialist - B’Elanna Yatron

Communications - Capt. Mother-in-law, Onnak Konmel

Comm/computer tech - Captains’ daughter (18), Serella Kahlest

Environmental Services

Env. Serv. Mate/Weapons Master - Brota Gorrod

Env. Serv. Mate/Jr. Weapons Master - B’Elanna Katrene

Env. Serv. Mate - Vacant

Cargo

Handler/clerk - Science Officer’s wife, Katerene Karana, also in Navigation

Handler/clerk - Vacant

Handler/clerk - Vacant

Transporter Specialist - Transporter Spec companion, Azethur Katrene, also a Steward

Security

Guard Sgt - Vacant

Guard - Vacant

Armorer - Vacant

Stewards

Steward - Helmsman’s wife, Grilka Ja’Rod

Steward - Vacant

Steward - Vacant

Recovery Team - One (Rhino)

Shuttle pilot - IOs’ companion, Kadra Unagroth None

Navigation Mate - Chief Engr’s wife, Tichar Hon’Tihl, Steward

Engineer Mate - Chief Engr’s son (17), Martok Hon’Tihl, Engr Tech

Recovery Team - Two

Shuttle pilot - Vacant

Navigation Mate - Vacant

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Recovery Team - Three

Shuttle pilot - Vacant

Navigation Mate - Vacant

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Recovery Team – Four

Shuttle pilot - Vacant

Navigation Mate - Vacant

Engineer Mate - Vacant

Mortuary Team – (3) - Vacant

Chaplain - Vacant
 
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Star Fleet Corps of Engineers, Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

By T.M. Flavin

Chapter One - On the Beach, a new offer, a new beginning?

Day One

The Cape Canaveral Legion Club was quiet, only the bartender and one patron, me, sitting at the bar.

Both were trying to watch the video, and not paying particular attention to it, or to each other.

“So where is Mabel, has she got the night off,” I asked the bartender?

“Yeah, she said had something she had to do tonight, and asked me to fill in for her.” The bartender replied.

“Funny she didn’t tell me. I was hoping we could have dinner together.”

“Yeah, well sorry about that, but she didn’t really say what was going on, and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t doing anything tonight anyways, so here I am,”

“Yup, just the two of us,” I replied.

Damn! I thought, it sounds like the brush off to me.

I kind of figured she wanted something more permanent in our relationship, much more than I am able to deliver.

So much for divorcee to divorcee affaires, but damn it, she sure was really accommodating.

Gayle, my last wife, sure left her mark on me, fifteen years is a long time.

What an ass I was, I should have stayed retired like I promised.

Living through the Borg threat and its’ aftermath was enough for anybody.

I know it sure left its’ mark on me.

Six months at Houston Medical center putting my head back together, will certainly change your perspective.

I thought I’d had enough.

Twenty five years was a long time.

Retirement from the Engineers seemed like the best option to stabilize our marriage.

She had put up with a lot while I was active service.

A Starfleet marriage usually doesn’t last too long. Ours lasted longer than most.

Fortunately most of my missions were months long, not years long like the long range exploration missions.

I loved Gayle, I loved my job and I especially loved returning to Earth to be with her.

Too much concern about my job I guess; and the Borg action at Wolf 359, the rescue operation, if you could call it that, and the vessel recoveries, broke something in me.

The almost two years of literally picking up the pieces from that Borg attack, the towing of the disabled, and sometimes demolished Starfleet ships to Moon base Alpha and Mars Sol VI stations for refit, reassemble or scrapping, took its toll.

I was glad I wasn’t with the graves and internment section.

There were bodies floating everywhere as it was.

What we found inside the ships and debris areas was bad enough.

We only had to bag’em and tag’em.

After the cleanup mission was completed, the night mares started.

I then spent six months at Huston Medical, to help clear my mind.

I was glad Gayle was a nurse practitioner.

Her transferring to Huston immediately had greatly supported my therapy.

That was the most time I had ever spent with Gayle since we were married.

Damn it all, I wasn’t the only one there though. A lot of my fellow engineers were there.

Ship and command counselors just couldn’t handle the work load.

Six months is a lot of time to think.

You try to reassess your priorities. Gayle and I opted for my retirement.

Well now it’s eight years later and I’m sitting on a bar stool by myself.

Mabel, my date, has probably said sayonara.

Gayle, my ex-wife, after divorcing me, is still living in Huston.

I’m now living in a three room apartment that’s just large enough to keep my suit cases in.

I’m lucky I still have my shuttle pilot’s license.

The United Space Ways, moon shuttle ops, where I work now, is where I catch up on my sleep, but at least I still have a job.

There is a girl friend on Alpha Base, Luna, that I get to see once in a while, when they let me land, about once every third trip.

Hip, Hip, hooray!

Harriet can be real accommodating when her husband goes on the six months tour for the in-system resupply and freight pickup, “with that Orion bitch”.

Evidently he would stay home for thirty days between tours, ignoring his frustrated wife, and then leave on the next tour call, to fly with his female Orion co-pilot.

Must be he didn’t mind loosing half of his pay to support Harriet, because he had been doing it for years; at least as long as I knew Harriet.

He must have something going for him with the ‘Orion bitch’, because they usually don’t hang around long enough to establish a lasting relationship.

As for me, I had to listen to Harriett complain about her husband, for about two hours, then it was off to bed with us for two, or three days.

She would always cry her eyes out when I left and I felt like a cad for about two days as I piloted the shuttle back to Earth.

Then I would start thinking about meeting Mabel again, and forget about Harriet, that is until my next run to the Moon.

Well, sitting here on a bar stool wasn’t doing me any good, so I said to hell with it; I can do my drinking alone at my apartment.

I asked Terry the bartender to relay a message to Mable “to give me a call when she gets a chance”.

I said Good night and walked the six blocks to my Seaside Resort hotel room.

It sat just a half a block from the ocean right behind a twenty story real “Seaside Resort” hotel.

When I entered my room I noticed the message blinker going at my terminal.

Damn, maybe I was being too harsh with Mable; Gayle usually only calls me during day time, while she was on duty, just to check up on me occasionally.

The message was from Commander Pete Turner.

I knew him since he was an Ensign, and I was an enlisted engineer.

He was one of the smart ones.

He finally made it to staff at Star Fleet when I became a Warrant officer, and stayed operational in the Rescue and Recovery fleet.

He wanted me to call him about a mission that I might be interested in.

That got me thinking.

The last time he called me was during the Dominion war fracas.

He asked me to come out of retirement to assist in training missions in Rescue and Recovery operations at the Missouri Training school.

When I said yes, Gayle hit the ceiling and we had a huge fight.

I left for Missouri, Gayle headed for Houston, and after three months of trying to get her to move to Missouri, I was served with the divorce papers.

I couldn’t say I blamed her much, but I sure missed her and her loving.

Gee she was good to me.

I was the idiot.

All I did was give lectures to Officer Cadets.

I felt like Grandpa Moses.

I ate in the mess hall instead of the Officers mess because I didn’t want to be alone.

I had the social life of a monk.

It seemed everyone knew about my divorce within three days, and felt “tut tut” sorry for me.

As soon as the Dominion War stopped after the fleet action off Cardassia, I quit again and moved to Florida, with nothing but a suit case and the rest of my goods in storage.

I decided to sleep on Pete’s message until the next morning.

There were no calls from Mabel or from Gayle either, for that matter.

In the morning, after a good long shower and a breakfast of toast and coffee, I called up Pete. Commander Turner that is.

I was routed through a few secretaries (?), and then Pete answered;

“How’s it going Chief?”

“Not too bad,” I said

“Are you very busy now days?”

I knew that was a goofy question because he probably already looked up my work record before he called in the first place.

“Not so much, I still keep my hand in operating shuttle to the moon and back, other than that, nothing special, why what’s up?”

“Well you know it’s been almost a year since the Dominion war stopped,” he informed me.

“You don’t need me for more instruction work do you?” I interrupted.

“The Engineers should have plenty of training personnel by now, after all the fleet actions and the reoccupation of Deep Space Nine by Sisco”.

“No, it’s an Advisor position.”

“A what! You know that I’m only a Chief, not a big wig like you now. Who the hell would take advice from me?”

“I would Chief, and did.”

“We operated well together on the old Sedan.”

“Plus you impressed a lot of the brass with your work at the Missouri Engineer Academy.”

“You know we were better prepared for recovery operations, both physically and mentally, after the Dominion actions.”

“But someone else needs your help and expertise.”

“Who,” I asked?

“The Bajorians,” he replied, “and in some ways the Cardassians too.”

“What do they want me to do and why?”

“I’m retired now you know. I’m not Star fleet anymore; I don’t get what you’re asking me Pete”?

“Chief”, he started off, “the Bajoran Government wants to do the recovery work on what’s left of the Cardasian Fleet that is now littering their shipping lanes.”

“You know what damage can be made on a vessel traveling at warp speed.”

“They want to salvage what they can and clean up the debris fields”

“The Cardasian home world is in such a bad state of devastation from the fighting there that they also can’t afford to even try it either.”

“The Bajorans also want to establish a parts recovery operation for their own fleet, which is mostly based on Cardassian technology.”

“Seeing as they also haven’t recovered completely from the Cardasian occupation; we agreed to try to assist.”

“Well what do you want me to do about it?” I groused.

“Like I said I’m only a retired Engineer Chief Warrant Officer, and you’re giving me a bad feeling Pete.”

“Look Chief we are in a bind.”

“Star Fleet lost almost half of our fleet in the past ten years. We even had to raid our reserve fleet.”

“Command even has two cadet ships puling patrols now.”

“We want to help Bajor, but even our resources are limited.”

“To do this mission means going to the bone yard.”

“Jesus Pete, what do you want me to do?”

“They need your expertise Mike.”

“They will furnish the crews and laborers for the ship upon arrival at Bajor.”

“We will furnish them a ship and try to equip it as much as possible from reserve stocks.”

“Your first job will be to get the ship to Bajor, and assist in their recovery operations.”

“By the way you will be listed as a civilian advisor, paid by the Bajorian government.”

“How long is this mission supposed to be for, Pete, with only one ship it’s going to take an awfully long time?”

“As for being paid for by Bajorian; I can imagine that if I could get there now, I could live there for about two hundred and fifty credits a year. Great!”

“We estimate it will be a three year mission, give or take a few months.”

“Plus free Bajorian lands that will be available to you, and your crew, for settlement.”

“Great! Three years is a long time Pete.”

“You know that most of our missions only averaged a month, except for Wolf 359.”

“I’m not going to be stuck out in space for the whole three years am I?”

“If I wanted to do that, I could have transferred to long range explorations, long ago.”

“No. The Bajorian have a basing agreement with Cardassia, it will be some place between Deep Space Nine and Cardassia.”

“The depot and storage facilities will be located near there too.”

“All you have to do is make sure the recovered materials get there.”

“You mean the bits and pieces don’t you,” I rebutted.

“What ship do we get; the pick of the fleet?”

“My, you are turning into a cynic Chief. You get a Grayson Class Tender.”

“A Grayson!”

“Jesus Pete, she must be a hundred years old, at least an antique, and a buoy tender at that.”

“It’ll take a year to get to Bajor, let alone do a mission.”

“Damn Pete you are asking a lot, and on Bajoran wages too.”

“Chief, she is a beacon repair tender, note I said repair tender,” Pete rejoined.

“She was retired to the reserve fleet five years ago and was pretty much up to date when retired.”

“She should be able to be on station within three months.”

“Of course you will have to reequip her with shuttles and such. That’s why we need your expertise.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Pete,” I replied warily.

“Those buoy tenders were the last chance for Star Fleet personnel.”

“They served as nice long punishment tours from one to three years too.”

“Well I really don’t have anything going on here, Pete, you already know that. But I do have a few conditions I want before I make my decision.”

“I see, well I guess if they’re within reason, I’ll see what I can do. What are they?”

“I’ll need about twenty crewman, Star fleet or ex-Star Fleet to get the ship up and running.”

“I will call a few old friends.”

“I also want myself and my crew members paid in Earth credits, not Bajoran.”

“The crew will be strictly advisor instructors, not worker bees”.

“I will also need free access to the bone yard, in fact I want an office for a couple of months there, so I can keep an eye on things, and a name at the Bajorian Embassy that I can complain to.”

“Done, Chief!”

“By the way I was very sorry to hear about the breakup between you and Gayle. I hope she is doing well”.

“I will make the necessary arrangements with Chuck Norstad at the Nellis bone yard.”

“I will inform the Bajorian Embassy of your decision.”

“They may want to meet you anyway in San Francisco, to answer any questions.”

“By the way you might have some Bajoran passengers who will work for passage for their return home.”

“Thanks Chief, you are going to help them a lot.”

“Well Pete you know I’ll need some help too. I want you to keep in touch.”

“I do remember that we did have some good times together, before all these wars began.”

“We both lost too many friends.”

“Yes we did Chief, Good luck and take care; Turner, out.”

That settled that, back to the corps as a civilian.

A retired chief, with a retired ship, with a mission to pick up space junk probably for the rest of my life, what more could a man ask for.

I looked for my suit cases, and packed my travel pack.

I placed a call to Mabel, there was no answer, so I left a message, “I’m off to Bajor, see you when I get back”.

I dragged everything down to the front desk, checked out, and paid my bill.

I then called a cab to take me to the airport for a hop to Las Vegas.

While at the air port I called United Space Ways Freight, and informed them that I was resigning and to forward all pay and mail to the Nellis Star Fleet Depot, Nevada.

I thanked them for the employment, but now I had a real job to do.

Goodbye to Florida.
 
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Star Trek Corps of Engineers Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

Chapter Two - Finding a niche.

Day Two.

Flying to Vegas was the easy part, getting out of Vegas cost me a hundred credits in the slot machines, plus a car rental.

The Nellis Starfleet Depot was one of the largest salvage and equipment storage facility in North America.

It has been so for hundreds of years.

Their museum alone covered hundreds of acres.

Most of the material on site was dated from the Eugenic Wars.

The more modern storage facilities were for surplus aircraft, both military and civilian.

There were space shuttles and runabout craft, some launch assist vehicles, plus the gigantic parts storage warehouse, where
parts were stripped off of recycled craft.

Because of the recent wars the newly salvaged materials recovered, is from those battle damaged, and destroyed, star craft.

Most of the ships, and materials, that I helped recover after the battle at Wolf 359, of the Borg intrusion, was now being utilized in the fleet.

The recent Dominion War recovered ships, and materials, mostly went to the Mars station, Sol III.

Some of the larger pieces were stored with the reserve fleet, waiting to be picked over.

At the depot I met Chuck Norstad, the chief civilian in charge.

We talked a little bit about old times.

He had already received orders from Star Fleet Engineer Headquarters about my mission.

He then showed me to my cubby hole of an office, directed me to the bachelor’s officer quarters, where I would lodge and where I would stow my bags.

In the old days I used to stay in Vegas, and commute, with a nice per diem allowance, but now I had a real job and had to pay my own way.

The first thing I did in my quarters was call and ask Fleet headquarters for a crew call, on the open net, for personnel willing to crew the old Grayson Tender.

I needed at least twenty five people qualified for recovery operations, and the manning of the ship to Bajor.

They were to act as instructors, and over seers.

Retired personnel were welcome.

I didn’t expect a big rush to my door, especially if they took the time to read the fine print on this deal.

Three years in an old buoy tender with about as much accommodation as a moon shuttle was not a choice assignment.

I also put out a call to a couple of people who worked with me on the old Sedan, the Cle Dan Class VI repair tender that I was in command of, for the Wolf 359 recovery mission.

Ron Thornton was a great recovery operations man, and Pete Murray, along with Donald Murdoch were the best warp engine engineers that I knew, and served with.

I knew they retired lately and if they weren’t pushing freight, like I was, I hoped that they could give me a call.

I then checked with Norstad’s office with my list for the requirements of re-commissioning the Grayson, and if any supplies were available on site.

I figured the Starfleet budget set for Bajor was strictly to be within the bone yard only capability.

That meant used, and or obsolete, but serviceable equipment only.

Any upgrades had to come from what we could salvage on site, like replicators.

I knew that the Grayson had none; it was strictly food packs, or re-sequencers, from station to station.

I also had to see if they had a serviceable shuttle craft to get my crew to the Reserve fleet sites.

The Grayson was supposed to carry eighteen shuttle craft, probably the old Mark 12B models.

I also needed Work bees, with grabber sleds, that were used for retrieving the space beacons for repair.

With a ship’s cargo capacity of 250 space cargo units (SCUs), one half of the work bees would have to have cargo train attachments for up to eight SCUs.

So to start with, I figured I’d have to acquire two Type 9A Cargo shuttles, more if I could get them, to accommodate my crew.

They’d have fold down seats in them, to get all the crew to the reserve fleet stations.

Damn! I don’t think they would like it traveling in a shuttle with only emergency ration packs.

I was starting to get one of my headaches.

Next I sent my wish list to Depot headquarters.

I could imagine what they were saying about the extra help they will need to get all this stuff up and running, and then get it up to a ship in space.

My eyes were starting to bug out from looking at computer screens so I signed off and took the base shuttle over to my quarters, at the BOQ.

Then I walked down to the base club for dinner, and a drink.

Man, I was starved; I had nothing but a coffee and a bagel all day.

When I got back to the BOQ, I was beat.

Tomorrow was a new day, and with it a fresh outlook.

I just wished I could switch off my head as simply as turning off the computer, no such luck.

Welcome to management.
 
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Star Trek Corps of Engineers Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

Chapter Three - Crew calls and a Ferengi?

Day Five.

It’s a new day and I was in a good mood.

After haunting the Depot for two days, I was starting to see some daylight on the list of supplies and equipment I needed.

Chuck told me everything will be processed smoothly if I furnish the two hundred and fifty men to get all of the equipment serviced, loaded and ready for transport.

Ha!

I had to call the Bajoran embassy to see if they had any suggestions as to how we could get things rolling in the labor department.

So far I hadn’t gotten one application for crew assignments.

I suggested to them that we list on the civilian Space Crew Employment Net, for crew assignments of people wishing to travel to Bajor, Deep Space Nine, or other unusual places within the Bajoran sector.

Vedic Tre Lan, of the Bajoran Embassy staff, said he would see what he could do.

Later in the day I got an encouraging call from Ron Thornton.

He said he might be interested if he could bring his wife along.

She was a former Star Fleet tech and they were both getting itchy about getting back into space.

I said “Its fine with me Ron, and if you know of any others with the same idea of bringing their spouse, it was okay with me.”

“If they’re qualified, Ron; I’ll find a position for them, but I will need people who were willing to assist in training, and overseeing, the Bajorans for at least three years.”

Ron said “Okay, Mike, sign us up. Do we meet at the Depot, or shuttle out of San Francisco?”

I explained to Ron that he had to make out an on-line application through Star Fleet Engineers for approval.

When he was approved he, and his wife, were to come with his tools.

They would both be working for me right away helping me in getting all this stuff in the Bone yard prepared.

They would have to fly into San Francisco, or Las Vegas, and shuttle to Nellis.

There were no commercial flights allowed in to the Nellis Depot.

Ron explained that me they would be there in about a week.

He would try to track down Don and Pete because they were talking about signing onto a freighting business themselves.

He would get back to me as soon as he could.

After the call I was feeling a little more optimistic.

That went well for the morning anyway, time for lunch.

I was just about to go out the door when a rental car pulled up.

I could tell it had been rented from a “Rent a Wreck” outfit because the model was almost ten years old.

Out stepped three humanoids.

I say humanoids because (while they resembled humans, they were definitely a different species) they sure weren’t Earthers.

Two of the other worlders were shapely females, of a species I’d never seen before.

They seemed to be the type you would ogle at the Vegas casinos frequently these days.

These females were scantily dressed, and adorned with feathers no less.

Even though I didn’t recognize the species, they were very pretty and had yellowish hue to their skin.

The dwarf they had between them, I did recognize. He was Ferengi.

The first thing I did was put my hand on my wallet.

He was short, overdressed by my standards and had a big toothy grin like a barracuda that wanted to sell me a used car.

The Ferengi weren’t pirates, at least what I knew of them, but they were opportunists as some of the biggest scavengers that the Star Fleet Engineers had to deal with.

Some of the Fleet’s crews spent as much time chasing and recovering what the Ferengi were pilfering from both the Borg and Dominion battle sites, as they did with recovery operations.

They were as persistent as mice after a five pound cheese, what they couldn’t carry away they nibbled at.

I was wondering if I should alert depot security.

He spoke up directly and asked if he could speak to me about the possibility of traveling to Bajor and Deep Space Nine, on the re-commissioned Grayson.

Frankly I was a little put off.

I felt I was getting an invitation from the fox to raid my hen house.

Be that as it may, in the spirit of interstellar relations and the dire need of crew, I invited them into my office cubby for an interview.

The Ferengi introduced himself as Mr. Og.

The two lady friends, Daboe Girls he called them, Sunbeam and Tea Cup.

Now that was a set of names if I ever heard of one.

The gist of Mr. Og’s request was, after much bowing and scraping, with a few your Excellency’s’ thrown in, was he was in a little financial difficulty.

He desired a fast and cheap travel to the nearest destination that would improve on his present circumstances.

Bajor and Deep Space Nine weren’t his first choice, but he knew of at least some Ferengi trade colonies there and he was sure he would get a job there and pay for his passage.

I got the impression the Daboe Girls with him were on their own.

I asked him if he had prior experience as a spacecraft crewman.

The answer went something like, “I’ve owned and piloted numerous private Ferengi trading vessels, on numerous trading ventures, many very successful and profitable”.

I took that with a grain of salt and entered in his passport card into the computer just to make sure there was no criminal record.

The reading showed that he arrived on a Ferengi freighter six months ago, and the ship left Earth without him two weeks later.

All his paperwork looked legit; pilot, loadmaster, fourth officer (cargo and supplies).

Over twenty years of flight experience, but what was the reason he was stranded on Earth?

I asked him that question.

“It was all a misunderstanding,” He bleated.

“They said I was incompetent in dealing with Earthers.”

“There was not enough profit, the captain told me, to pay my way to are next port.”

“It was most embarrassing, but I assure you your Excellency I will guarantee you an excellent profit on record when we reach Bajor.”

I told him it was Mr. Thomas, not your Excellency.

I didn’t need an immediate profit to get to Bajor, but I needed a loadmaster and supply tech.

All officer positions would be eventually filled by Bajoran Fleet Officers.

So if he was interested in taking a position as a SF Civilian grade five, Supply Specialist, he could work his way to Bajor, or to Deep Space Nine, for that matter.

“But Captain I have over twenty years experience in trade and commerce, surly that must be worth much, much, more.”

“Well Mr. Og, I figure you were stranded here on Earth because you couldn’t con, cheat or steal enough to satisfy your fellow crewmembers, so they voted you off the boat.”

“Am I right?”

Both Daboe Girls were shaking their heads yes behind his back.

“I gather you had some bad luck in Vegas trying to recoup your losses; by the way how much are you in debt to the casinos?”

“I owe about twenty thousand credits, plus hotel bills and other miscellaneous expenses,” he replied.

“Miscellaneous expenses?”

“Show Girls!” The girls said in unison.

“My, my Mr. Og. I am amazed that you lasted this long.”

“Are you sure there is no contract out on you with some debt collectors?”

“We think there is, that’s why we are here,” the girls said.

They must be twins.

“That’s an exaggeration Captain. I’m sure as soon as I accept this job, everything can be worked out.”

“You said accept, right,” I interrupted him?

“Yes, but that’s because you have me at a disadvantage, sir,” he said glumly.

“I will do my best in whatever position you put me into.”

“Okay, Mr. Og. Just fill out this SF Civilian job application form, for Supply and Cargo tech, grade Five, and submit it to SF Engineer HQS, Attn: Commander Peter Turner, everything will be fine.”

“You can use this terminal here,” I directed.

I expected Pete would have a heart attack when he got this application, but I knew the computer system Mr. Og would be working with would watch his checks and balances.

Plus the fact the Ferengi had a business brain that thought anything within his inventory control was theirs, so I’m sure he’ll definitely keep an eye on everything.

“What are we going to do, captain?” The two Daboe Girls asked.

“Why, what do you mean, don’t you work in Las Vegas,” I asked?

“Yes sir, we do, but we must go with Mr. Og. We are his companions.”

“Companions; just what do you mean by that?”

“Well sir, we are a gift from the queen mother, and we are bound to him for life,” said Sunbeam.

“Yes sir,” added Tea Cup.

“Mr. Og performed a great service for the queen mother, and our species.”

“Is this true Mr. Og.?”

“It was only a minor thing, nothing at all, surely the girl’s exaggerate.”

Mr. Og seemed to squirm in his seat and try to duck under the counter.

“What was this great service, girls?”

“Mr. Og and his fellow crewmembers donated his DNA, and sperm, to help design us, as the Daboes we are today.”

“We can all walk upright and vocalize like the humanoid races.”

“It is so much easier for off world travel you see.”

“Walk upright?”

“Oh yes, captain. On our home planet we used to have a physical appearance of what some of your people would call insectoid, although we had mostly mammalian characteristics.”

“The Ferengi were hunting us for food as well as seeking planet minerals,” piped up Tea Cup.

“The queen mother asked her children to capture some of these Ferengi, for study and communication.”

“The Ferengi are not susceptible to mental telepathy, so we had to find out a way to communicate with them to stop them from killing our sisters for food.”

“They only killed females?”

“Captain we are all females in a sense.”

“Only the queen mother can create a male for breeding purposes.”

“Tea Cup, and I are pod mates; we serve the queen mother.”

“We are all female and we are all sterile. Only the queen mother can birth the pods.”

“Mr. Og was thoroughly studied by the queen mother.”

“It took an extensive mind probe to discover what the Ferengi physiology, and psychology was.”

“We are almost his perfect woman.”

“After the first pods had grown enough to communicate with Mr. OG, he was able to stop the hunting of us Daboes.”

“We now have a written language, and can now trade with the Ferengi.”

“The Ferengi take us everywhere with them as helpers and companions.”

“We have returned with so much knowledge to the queen mother, that the Ferengi can no longer cheat us.”

“Well now that is saying something,” I stated.

“I suppose that means you know if your boss is cheating someone.”

“Yes Sir, much to our dismay. We are such a burden to Mr. Og.”

“When he is with other Ferengi we can’t tell what is going on between them, but with non Ferengi, we seem to sense if something is a little risky.”

“Why doesn’t he fire you and send you home?”

“He cannot insult the queen mother!” They both exclaimed.

“The Grand Negus would crucify me and my whole family if I so much as slighted the queen mother, let alone insult her,” interjected Og.

“Besides that she would kill these two she gifted to me.”

“How the hell can she do that? Can’t you protect these two girls?”

“Well if anything happens to me, like death, or if I renege on my promises to the queen mother, they would return to Dabo and the queen mother would eat their heads off.”

“What?”

“Yes I’m afraid so, but that is how the queen mother gains all her knowledge.”

“It is then transferred to the next generation of pods that she lays. It’s all so biological you see.”

“I see, so I must hire these two Dabo girls or I’m sending them to their deaths.”

“Is that correct?”

“I’m afraid so your Excellency, it out of my hands and I seem to be doomed to a life of poverty unless we get back into the hands of my Ferengi brethren.”

“Plus I can’t find a mate with these two hanging around, but that’s another story.”

“I just need to get back to Ferenganar and I’ll be rid of these two.”

The two girls giggled.

“We told you, you were traveling in the wrong direction.”

“It was away from Ferenganar, Mr. Og.”

“Things will be better when you are rich again.”

“See what I mean Captain, the burden they put on me and so little respect.”

“They should be tasked for the hardest and dirtiest job in your Star Fleet. It would serve them right.”

“Okay Sun Beam and Tea cup, if that is your real names I can offer you a couple of clerical jobs.”

“Not much money, but you can keep an eye on your lord and master here.”

“Oh yes,” they both chimed. “We accept.”

“The two positions are Supply Clerk and Load Master Clerk, both SF Civ. grade threes.”

I just made them up.

“Get on the terminal after we have lunch.”

“I’m starved and Mr. Og hasn’t even started his application yet.”

“He can stay here and get it done, then go to lunch later, or whatever Ferengi do for meals.”

“Oh yes Captain! We are hungry too,” both girls announced.

“We have not eaten for two days.”

“We were so glad for him to see the opening on the employment net.”

“Okay girls, but its Mr. Thomas, not Captain.”

“I am a retired Chief Warrant officer and you can address me as Mr. or Chief. I will answer to both.”

“Yes Cap—Mr. Thomas, chief sir. We understand perfectly, Mr. Chief Sir.”

This brought on another round of giggling.

“Let’s go to the mess hall ladies, and have lunch.”

“This time it’s on me.”
 
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Star Trek Corps of Engineers Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

Chapter Four - The Moon call.

Day Five

When I finished having lunch with the two Dabo girls, we returned to my office to see how Mr. Og was getting along.

The lunch with the Daboe girls was a real experience in off world eating habits.

At the Officer’s Mess buffet, both girls had about eight link sausages apiece, covered with pancake syrup, about three glasses of fruit juice topped off with about three table spoons of sugar.

Talk about a sweet tooth.

Og had finished his work application.

He also cruised the net trying to get assistance from the Frengi ambassador, of course none was given.

On top of that he was charged by the ambassador for the service call, from funds that he did not have. Nice people.

Og’s work application was bounced back from headquarters for an endorsement from me as to why a Ferengi was even allowed an application at all.

The application was resubmitted and forwarded with my approval, subject of course to the Bajoran Embassy’s approval.

I had to inform the Bajoran Embassy of my reasoning behind hiring the Ferengi, and requested approval, because experienced help was, and is turning out to be, hard to find.

Otherwise it could take months to get the recovery operation off and running.

I was sure the Bajoran Embassy would do a records check on Og, verifying his certificates, and making sure he wasn’t persona non grata on Bajor.

I sent the whole crew over to base housing with temporary orders for lodging.

I told Og; that after he had his lunch, to make peace with his creditors, or the Bajorans wouldn’t approve his application.

I really didn’t know if it would make any difference, and he wasn’t sure either.

I gave him my PADD file on the requirements for re-equipping the Grayson, from the bone yard stocks.

I wanted him to start working on them with base supply as soon as possible.

He grumbled something about not being a slave, but promised to do his best.

I told him I wanted an initial report in forty eight hours.

“Yes, you’re Excellency, Good day, Sir,” was his sarcastic reply.

The Dabo girls’ chirped; “Good day, Captain, Mr. Sir.”

One down and ninety nine more tasks to do until Bajor, I thought.

It was time for me to recheck on crew applications.

Ron Thornton called in and informed me that he had six engine room personnel that he had collared.

Three more wives, besides Ron’s wife Holly, would also be hiring on board.

That showed me some progress.

I didn’t know how Ron got hooked up with Holly, but I knew she was a good impulse engine tech.

I replied that they needed to send in their applications to Fleet Headquarters for civilian tech positions on the Grayson.

They should be rated as eights or nines and if there was any problem with their ratings in the applications, Ron was to give me a call.

In my office computer mail I found a flag from a Commander Hayes on Luna port.

This should be interesting, I thought.

It would be a good guess on how he would suggest how I was going to get personnel from the moon, to here on Earth, on a Bajoran budget.

Contacting Commander Hayes was easy; it was on his personal comm. link.

I introduced myself, I knew him from way back when I was first made Warrant Officer.

“Hello Chief. I’m glad you called. I have a problem that I hope you can help me out with,” he started off with.

“Me help you Sir? I’m the one who’s looking for the hired help.”

“What could be your problem that’s worse than mine?”

“You know the score on the Grayson, and her mission, don’t you?”

“Yes Chief, I know all about it and by the way have you ever worked with Klingons?”

“Klingons! I know the Federation is on peaceful terms with them now, but what the hell do you want me to do with Klingons?”

“Personally the big bastards scare the hell out of me.”

“They smell like month old laundry and they drink like fish.”

“We had to clean up a lot of their messes after Klingon pirates hit some of our freighters.”

“I’m sure as hell not lovey dovey over the prospect of having to associate with them either, Sir.”

“With that background, what’s your proposition?”

“Well they would make up a readymade crew for you Chief,” was his answer.

“Commander, I’m supposed to get the Grayson to Bajor.”

“If I let any Klingon near that ship they’ll hijack it for sure.”

“Hold on and listen to me for a second will you Chief,” he interjected.

“I think we can work out a deal with these Klingons if we play our cards right.

“They have an old Monarch Class IX Deep Space freighter that has seen its better days.”

“They almost flat landed here about six months ago.”

“The ship needs a refit and they don’t have any credit.”

“Their cargo didn’t cover much of expenses when they sold what they could.”

“All the ship, and them, have been doing is taking up space, in orbit over my launch areas.”

“Since they off loaded their crews, they have been drinking up all their wages, and now half of their crew are in the brig for fighting, and public disturbances.”

“And you want me to take these birds off your hands, Commander?” I exclaimed.

“Now wait a minute Chief, just listen to me and let me finish.”

“I was an Engineer myself at one time.”

“I remember you from the cleanup at Wolf 359.”

“I captained one of those recovery ships too, remember?” the Commander continued.

“After that I too started looking for a nice steady base job with no bodies floating around.”

“I read your record, and I know about the Grayson, so I have for you a plausible suggestion.”

“Yes Sir, sorry I interrupted.”

“You need something with mass to move the scrap that’s floating around out there by Cardassia”.

“You also know there were two big engagements out there in those shipping lanes.”

“Well these Klingons have a P-type freighter.”

“It’s a piece of crap now and has only half a crew, but I think their Captain will be ready to bargain.”

“It’s a clan ship as far as I can tell, and they’re probably afraid of their own raiders in its present condition.”

“Why don’t you talk to your people at staff headquarters to allow you to try and make a deal.”

“A pusher type you say,” I thought out loud.

“It could be a great help Sir.”

“Up till now I was planning to have to work with modified shuttles, and work bees.”

“I’ll talk to the Bajoran Embassy and see what they would like to do.”

“Hopefully they will agree to a leasing agreement with the Klingons.”

“Look Chief, if I have to I can refit her enough to get her to Bajor.”

“With all that crap floating around out there, you should have enough spare parts to make that old freighter last a thousand years.”

“I just need someone to pay their bills and get them out of my traffic lanes.”

“See what you can do.”

“I’ll even bail out the bastards that are in the brig, to get them out of here.”

“I’d really appreciate it Chief,” Commander Hayes continued.

“Okay Sir. Ask that Klingon captain take a look at our mission, it’s listed on the net.”

“See if you can convince him that this is in his, and his crew’s, best interest.”

“Have him give me a call, or send me a notification on the net, that he is interested.”

“I’ll notify the Bajoran Embassy about what we are suggesting.”

“You did give me a few ideas about suggesting the contract for their services.”

“Thank you for your interest in our mission, sir.”

“You are welcome Chief.”

“I wish you good luck, and I’m glad I’m not going with you.”

“As soon as our Captain Kluge sobers up in his holding cell, I’ll explain to him his alternatives and have him notify you within twenty four hours.”

‘This is Hayes out.”

Blazes; I really had to do some smart thinking now.

I called the base lodging office where Og, and the Dabos, were staying to see if they were settled in, they were.

I then called their separate rooms to see if they wanted some dinner.

They all said yes, but again it would have to be on me, because no one had any credits.

Mr. Og asked when could he start getting paid.

I told them that was task number 22 of my 100 task list in the preparations for the mission to Bajor.

“As for now, he and the Daboe girls would have to meet me at the base’ main mess hall, let’s go eat”.
 
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Star Fleet Corps of Engineers, Mission to Bajor

Book One – The Monarch

By T.M. Flavin

Chapter Five - Introduction to a day dream.

My next morning work load felt as long as last night’s run around.

After reporting to the Bajoran Embassy and asking them to contact Commander Hayes, at Luna port; I gave them my recommendations about the Klingon freighter and its crew.

I also updated them on my slow progress of recruitment for the Grayson team advisory crewmembers.

It seemed that I had just gotten to sleep, when it was time to head back to my office.

After two cups of coffee, and a bagel, in my base office cubby, I was ready to start handling all the messages that were flashing on my terminal.

One was from Don Murdoch to say that he, and Pete Murray, and nine more people would be reporting in within a day or two.

They would then be able to start assisting with ground preparations for the Grayson’s refit, and stocking, right away.

I expected a lot of the shuttles and equipment we needed has been sitting here at the depot for a couple of years.

They probably all needed to be inspected and repaired as required.

Don reminded me that we needed more help than just the advisory crew, to do all the work that he thought needed to be done.

I told him I mentioned that when I contacted the Bajoran Embassy with my daily status report.

I would inform them again that they should start rounding up their returning Bajorans, and send them to the Depot for some kind of in-processing.

That way we could see what they could actually do besides lifting, and hauling, in assisting us in getting the Grayson’s equipment up and ready.

Another message was from Ron Thornton.

He told me almost the same thing about getting additional salvage and recovery personnel.

He had no additional volunteers to date.

I replied, and asked him to contact Engineer headquarters and ask Commander Turner for permission to recruit personnel from the Star Fleet separation station at San Francisco, and if need be the disciplinary barracks section, as long as they were minor offenses, such as base AWOL, and unable to cope with military discipline.

Maybe even some personnel with minor physical problem, that wouldn’t allow them stay on active duty, would be eligible.

Ron later replied that he would give Commander Turner a call to try to get as many able bodies as he could and get back to me.

He also suggested that someone else will have to give the new hires, a more through psyche testing, than he would be able to do.

The rest of the message mail was from personnel in the various sections at the Depot, all wanting to know who the hell Mr. Og was, and what was he doing ordering and requisitioning all sorts of things.

I replied to all queries that Mr. Og was my acting Supply Officer, and that he was only supposed to be checking his requirements list with base availability and serviceability.

They were told not to issue anything to him without a request with my signature on it, which would probably mean, not until the Grayson is in orbit.

Any further questions about Mr. Og they were to give me a call.

I reasoned that if anything was issued to Og beforehand it would probably end up on the black market, because he was in debt up to his eyeballs.

I was starting to get another head ache.

I was beginning to feel like a one legged man at a polka party.

My agreement to be a technical advisor was turning into a large managerial problem way above my pay grade.

I was leaning back in my swivel chair pondering the wonders of my universe on the room ceiling, when someone knocked on my office door.

That was strange because everybody else just barged right in.

I yelled, “Come in”.

Boy was I in for a surprise.

In walked a long legged beauty, wearing a red dress and a small jacket that didn’t hide her figure one bit.

She had on a pair of sunglasses and had a small brief case.

At first I thought this lovely lady it was a bill collector from Vegas looking for Mr. Og.

Boy was I wrong.

It was Be’nen Tash, a member of the Vulcan Embassy Public Relations staff.

I’ve seen her off and on for about twenty years on the video, on the net and in magazines and in what newsprint we had today, but I never had the pleasure of meeting her.

She was a leading spokes person on just about any subject the Vulcans cared to share with Earth and the rest of the Federation council.

She had been on more video talk shows than I could really remember.

While she was at least as old as I was, Ms. Tash was in great shape.

Her photos didn’t do her justice.

What I wouldn’t give to have seen her in a bikini, she was that great.

Of course that would never happen with most Vulcans.

All things aside, if there was a woman that got a man’s’ juices flowing it was her.

I was really impressed.

She first asked if I was Captain Thomas of the Grayson/Bajoran project.

I manage to say that I was Michael Thomas, technical advisor for the Bajoran salvage and recovery project.

The Grayson’s captain would be a Bajoran, and that I wasn’t sure who that was at the moment.

“Can I help you, ma'am,” I asked?

“Yes sir. My name is Be’nen Tash, I am a member of the Vulcan Embassy Public Relations Staff, in San Francisco;” and she shook my hand as she introduced herself

“I would like to submit my application for a position on the Grayson.”

I must have goggled.

“You what; I don’t understand, could you please explain what this is all about?”

To say that I was a little taken aback was to say the least. I had to sit down.

“You better have a seat Ms. Tash and tell me what this is all about?” I asked.

“There are certain times when a person needs to make changes in one’s life, Mr. Thomas. For me this is one of them.”

“Please review my resume.”

“I have seen that you are trying to fill positions on the Grayson. I am qualified for most of them.”

She then handed me her PADD, sat down in the chair in front of my desk, crossed her legs beautifully, placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and with her hand under her chin she displayed her amused smile that she was so famous for.

She was not called the smiling Vulcan for nothing.

Normally you just could never catch a Vulcan smiling. Yet there she was looking like Mona Lisa.

I examined her PADD.

Her resume was as impressive as I expected.

A Vulcan Academy graduate with degrees in Interplanetary Relations and psychology, a licensed interplanetary shuttle pilot, a Lieutenant Commander in the Vulcan Militia, member of the Vulcan representative to the United Federation of Planets, public relations staff.

She also studied linguistics at University of California at San Francisco.

She obviously had been a very busy Vulcan.

I took another long look at her and said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you”.

“First of all Ms. Tash this is a Bajoran mission, The Grayson is a Bajoran ship and I am only their technical advisor.”

“All the ships regular officers will be Bajoran and I personally think they will not want to hire a Vulcan for what is essentially a trash collection mission”.

“You are probably more qualified than their mission Captain would be, Ms. Tash.”

“It would be an obvious conflict of personality’s right from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t forward your request to the Bajoran embassy with my recommendation. I’m positive it would be rejected.”

The smile on her face disappeared for a moment.

She then cocked an eyebrow, reset her smile and said sweetly;

“Are you sure you couldn’t find any place for me to serve, Captain?”

“It would mean,” she hesitated, “such an opportunity for change for me.”

She then leaned forward over the desk and smiled sweetly to me and said;

“I would appreciate any of your efforts in my behalf.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Tash.”

“I’m only hiring engineering advisory staff that will act as a skeleton crew to get the Grayson to Bajor.”

“The only way I could see you being allowed on board now is if you were married to one of the crew members.”

“And what does that mean Sir!” she asked.

“Well I am allowing married couples on board for the three year mission,” I countered.

“Spouses will be given positions that they can reasonably fill, or be trained for.”

“Jobs like service techs, med techs and yeoman duties; it’s nothing special in that, I assure you.”

“I see,” she said. “A very interesting proposition if I had ever heard one”.

“Well Captain, thank you for your time and your consideration in this matter,” she said as she stood up and came around my desk and picked up her PADD.

She then took me by surprise.
She leaned against the desk and looked down at me with an intense expression on her face; then leaned down, looked me in the eyes as if to be looking for something.

She then placed her right hand against my cheek and said; “I have a question for you Mr. Michael Thomas about being “married to one of the crew”, would that include you too, sir?”

I stammered, “I guess so, but aren’t you sort of out of my league?”

The smile came back on. “Thank you Mr. Thomas, and good day to you too sir.”

She then picked up her PADD and briefcase and walked to the door.

I hurried to the door behind her and expressed how sorry I was I couldn’t help her out, and I how I hoped she would find what she was looking for.

She waved goodbye without turning back and got into her new Vulcan runabout.

Blazes, I thought, and she had a new car too and I didn’t even get an autograph.

* * * * * * * * * * *
Ms. Be’nen Tash was not only disappointed when she drove back to her hotel in Las Vegas, she was furious.

She had to make a special effort to put her emotions under control.

She needed to think more clearly and being half Romulan sometimes made that extremely difficult.

She didn’t expect to be completely rejected by that human Mr. Thomas.

It just never happened to her before.

Her un-Vulcan like amiability and attractiveness to humans, especially the males, had always allowed her to achieve what she required in her professional and personal life.

It was a big blow to her ego.

Unlike a true Vulcan her emotions were closer to the surface, well hidden but subject to explosions.

She was about to have one now.

At her hotel where she stayed with her daughter, Staunn Tehk, she was in a slow boil and needed to talk.

“I can’t believe he rejected me Staunn, he said I was over qualified.”

“An old retired Star Fleet Engineer, starting on a mission with a worn out ship, with no crew as yet and he reject me.”

“It escapes even my logic.”

“What does he look like,” her daughter asked?

“He is around fifty I guess, according to the net he retired a few years ago, after twenty five years in Star Fleet.”

“A Chief Warrant Officer no less, not even a fully commissioned officer.”

“He was probably jealous of my out ranking him, humans are like that you know.”

“You didn’t sense he was attracted to you,” asked her daughter?

“Now that I can verify,” she answered.

“He wasn’t just a little attracted; I’m sure he pictured me naked.”

“You know I told you how messy human males can be with their emotions”.

“Do you think he would like me too?” her daughter asked

“Yes, positively Staunn, but what are we going to do?”

“He said I was to overqualified to be acceptable, and I’m not married to a crewmember that would be qualified”.

“What did you say mother?”

“Did I hear you right, that he would take you if you were married to a qualified crew member?”

“Yes. Are you suggesting I find a qualified crew member and marry him?”

“I don’t think we have enough time Staunn.”

“That recall notice is back at my office in San Francisco, I know it.”

“We can’t go back to Vulcan, Staunn; it’s not healthy for us, not now.”

“Not just any crew member mother; the boss, Mr. Thomas,” her daughter suggested.

“We’ll seduce him, and then marry the man.”

“He is single isn’t he?”

“Divorced for three years I gather,” she replied.

“He’s a prime customer then mom.”

“If you don’t want to, then let me try; maybe I can try and use a little of my magic on him.”

“Then when we get married I’ll tell him he has to take his mother-in-law, or I won’t be happy.”

“People here on Earth here do it all the time.”

“Oh yea, Stauun, that settles your problem with Pon Farr, but what about me?”

“We’re both due now and it will be a three year mission we will be on”.

“Then we’ll both plan to marry him.”

“Are you sure you want to share a husband, he is a human you know.”

“He may not be up to a Vulcan woman, let alone a half Ferengi like you.”

“What does he look like mother; he’s not in his dotage is he,” Staunn asked?

“You can see his profile on the net if you want to, for a human he looks well set up.”

They both went over to their com terminal and looked up Mr. Michael Thomas, Retired Star Fleet Chief Warrant Officer.

“He looks okay to me mom, better than most than that old fart Admiral Broderick used to assign to us.”

“Come to think of it maybe we can get the old fart to pull some strings for us.”

“I figure he owes us.”

“If we get sent back to Vulcan were done doing those little side jobs we were doing for him.”

“What do you say mom, let’s do this.”

“We work together, marry this guy and ship off to Bajor and live happily ever after.”

“Okay Staunn if you can live with it, I can too.”

“Just remember Dr. Tehk, our Mr. Thomas must come to no harm, I don’t want him dying from a heart attack trying to satisfy two females that are under the influence of Pon Farr.”

“Don’t worry mom, I know my business that’s why you paid for my medical education for isn’t it.”

“Besides that mom I’m not getting any younger, maybe you can have children until you are a hundred years old, but I can’t.”

“Maybe with a little luck we can settle on Bajor and I can have a family; I’m ready mom.”

“Yes Staunn, I know well enough, you are always ready, and that’s always been a problem since you were fifteen.”

Staunn laughed a little, but didn’t comment.

“I’ll make that call to Admiral Broderick now and see where we can go from there”.
 
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I deleted the three parts of this story you posted here for a reason. At least parts 2 and 3 were basically erotic stories with some other stuff in between. This is a PG-13 board and those stories would have crossed the line even before the change in rules. They had slipped through.

When I saw you starting the thread again yesterday I gave you the benefit of the doubt, thinking that maybe you're rewriting it to be within the rules. However, this doesn't seem to be the case, judging by the direction it's already taking.

I'm closing it now. There are plenty of outlets on the net where restrictions are looser (e.g. fanfiction.net) and where you can post this story.

Don't try to post this story yet again, please. There will be an infraction otherwise.

Comments to PM.
 
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