Written By Alex Matthews
ADVENTURES IN THE HEART OF THE FEDERATION
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As he cast his gaze around the Chimera Lounge, the main center of rest and relaxation of Starbase 134, Captain Morgan Bateson looked for one officer in particular.
The crowds of officers and enlisted personnel had gathered to celebrate the news that with the upswing in positive relations between the Federation and the United Rigel Worlds, Starbase Chimera would not be decommissioned. It had been a long night of back-slapping and merriment, with Bateson breaking out his own private stash of genuine, non-replicated, and fully alcoholic Saurian brandy. But now, the group was thinning as people retired to their bunks to face the challenges another day on Rigel IV would inevitably bring.
After many hearty congratulations from what felt like every member of his stalwart and dedicated starbase crew, Bateson was glad to finally have a moment to himself. To collect his thoughts on the mammoth task that sat before him. Kirsten Clancy, the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet herself, had given him a no-holds-barred and characteristically blunt assessment of just how difficult a job he had.
But Bateson was a man who craved challenges, as befitting a man of his upbringing in the mid-23rd century. He had a tough-as-nails crew and a command staff of seasoned and experienced officers and advisors who told him what he needed to hear, not what they thought was best.
The newest recruit to the group was currently standing on the balcony edge of the Lounge. He wasn't alone, either. Leaning against the railing, Darren Tel's eyes were captivated not by the sight of all the twinkling lights that dominated the night sky, but instead focused exclusively on the face of his companion. From Bateson's current vantage point, Jason Bush's gaze was likewise just as mesmerized by Darren's. Neither of them paid any attention to a sky that was already beginning to fill with morning light, thanks to Rigel's two suns. Their hands were interlaced on the railing, fingers caressing slowly, caught up in each others' presence in the beginnings of a blossoming attraction that had been obvious from the second they'd met on Darren's first day on Rigel IV.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" The voice of Gabe Bush, Starbase 134's First Officer, was filled with paternal pride. Bateson stole a quick look, catching the almost wistful faraway look in the mustached man's eyes as Bush took a sip of his club soda. "Kinda makes you long for the days of first love again."
A casual listener might not have picked up on the mild undercurrent of pain that tinged Bush's words. But Bateson had known this man for more years than he cared to think about and remember. He had helped Bush pull himself together not once, but twice, because of the grief of losing a cherished lover. It was something he hoped that he would personally never have to endure.
Taking a sip of his own drink, a glass of real Saurian brandy from his private stash, Bateson decided to move the subject on to other, more frivolous topics. "It's just good to see people enjoying themselves. Letting their hair down."
Bush let out an amused snort into his own drink, "Literally as well as figuratively." He indicated a couple dancing the night away on the main floor. With a start, Bateson realized who it was. Good Lord, how much have those two had to drink?!
Larreka and Chris Rivers, their bodies intertwined with nary a picometer of space between them, danced frivolously to the Betazoid jazz thumping through the lounge's sound system. True to Bush's words, the Romulan science officer had indeed let her caramel-blonde hair loose from the updo she normally wore it in. Both had loosened their uniform jackets, their torsos pressed together as they danced the night away.
"They're going to be feeling it tomorrow," Bush commented. He shot a sly look towards his superior officer. "I told you that sharing the 'good stuff' wasn't the best idea."
Bateson grimaced. You may have been right, old friend. Saurian brandy wasn't as potent as Romulan ale, but it had a quick kick if you weren't ready for it. Given their good news, it had felt like the right time to break one of his bottles out of storage, but perhaps he should not have been as generous as he had been.
Bidding his X.O. a good night as Bush called it and made his exit, Bateson left Larreka and Rivers to their energetic dance moves to get back to the business at hand.
As he walked out onto the balcony, Bateson felt a small stab of embarrassment and guilt for interrupting what was clearly a private moment. But as much as he was a romantic at heart himself, and was beyond pleased to see a possible young love forming before his eyes during such troubled times, Bateson was also a practical man who understood that duty would often rear its head at the most inopportune times.
Politely clearing his throat as unobtrusively as he could, Bateson stepped forward as both younger men turned to face him in mild surprise, "Apologies for interrupting, gentlemen." He offered a soft smile as he met Darren's curious gaze, "But I'm afraid I need to speak to Commander Tel for a few moments."
Having known Jason Bush for almost the entirety of the young man's life, Bateson knew just how whip-smart and savvy he was. Whether it came to warp theory, quantum physics, or, thankfully, interpersonal communication. He knew Bateson wanted to have some private time of his own with Darren. But it was only with reluctance as he pulled his hand away from Darren's. "I'll go grab one final drink before they finally shut down the bar."
Bateson nodded a thank-you, allowing a disappointed Darren a moment to watch as Jason walked away. Finally, he turned his gaze back toward his commanding officer, "Is there something I can do for you, Captain?"
"I wanted to personally say well done to you," he began, enjoying the look of surprise on the young man's face. "Being sent into the lion's den, as it were, surrounded by hostile politicians and soldiers is not exactly everyone's cup of tea."
Darren felt a familiar heat of embarrassment at the praise. The mild blush only made him look younger than his 27 years. "You and Commander Rivers are the ones who flew a runabout into a massing armada ready for battle with unknown forces, sir." He smirked, "Having that going on, along with Admiral Jellico yelling in your ear, isn't what I'd call an easy route, in comparison."
He's right about that. Bateson allowed a mild chuckle, "How you survived even a short time on the Yamato with him, I'll never know." He cleared his throat, making a point of looking at least a little contrite, "Though, far be it for us to speak ill of a superior officer, eh?"
"Of course, sir." He knew it was the alcohol he'd imbibed, but Darren couldn't help but feel like he could relax around Morgan Bateson. He was nothing like Admiral Jellico, a man who seemed to delight in keeping his crew at arm's length.
Probably going to have a hell of a hangover, I doubt he's used to the real thing, Bateson couldn't help thinking, at the slightly-glazed eyes and conspiratorial smile.
"I have high hopes for you and your career while you're with us here, Mr. Tel." he offered. He waited a moment, hoping the pause would lend some extra weight to his next words, "I know you want to make your mother eat her words."
Darren's good mood and his wide smile vanished so abruptly that it took Bateson by surprise. A horrible chill ran through his spine, like a trickle of ice water, as he stammered a response, "You-- you're aware that..?"
Bateson nodded, "Yes, I know who your mother is." Daniella Reese, the recently appointed Chief of Starfleet Tactical, had made many waves in recent years. Her hawkish attitude to Federation defense was becoming something of the standard of late. "I am also aware that you and she had some rather heated debates regarding your posting here."
The sting of shame Darren felt at that moment almost physically hurt. Seeing just how embarrassed his words were making the assistant chief tactical officer, Bateson changed his approach, "But that has not and will never affect the status of your assignment. You have a place here for as long as you want it."
Darren coughed, clearing his throat as a transparent cover for how awkward he was feeling at his superior officer's words, "I-- I appreciate that, Captain."
Offering what he hoped would be seen for what it was, a comforting smile and encouraging nod, Bateson bid the young man goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning."
Turning, he wasn't at all surprised to see Jason eagerly waiting in the wings to sweep back in and resume their previous 'discussion'. Finishing the last of his drink and plopping the glass down on the nearest empty table, Bateson headed out, looking forward to the comfort of his bed and the bliss of restful sleep.
Tomorrow was a new day.
* * *
The primary of the two Rigel stars rose high that morning, its light heralding the beginning of the day. The smaller twin, a mere pinprick compared to its larger sibling, was visible in the clear blue sky. The light caressed the collection of buildings and structures that were collectively known as Starbase Chimera, and for the most part, was welcomed by all.
But one particular resident, forced awake as the brightness hit his face through the open window, wasn't too thrilled. Waking reluctantly, Darren Tel rubbed at itchy, burning eyes, as what felt like a herd of Berengerian dragons marched through his cranium. Urgh... what the Hell did I drink last night?
Wanting nothing more than a glass of water to ease the sandpaper rubbing his throat, Darren shifted his weight on his bed, blinking as he looked around. He spotted the chronometer in the wall display above the desk, grimacing when he realized he was due on duty in less than an hour. I need coffee.
Hungover, muddled thoughts grew more confused. Where'd that vase come from? Wait, this isn't my apart--
"Morning." The sleepy but content voice of Jason Bush is enough to grab Darren's undivided attention. But the teasing glint in Jason's eyes fades as he sees the look of bewilderment in the eyes of the person currently sharing his bed.
The memories of last night, frighteningly crystal clear to Darren's chagrin, came rushing back. "Oh..." He didn't need to look under the covers to know that neither he nor Jason was wearing any lick of clothing. In fact, the majority of what they'd worn the night before now covered the bedroom floor. "Fuck..."
Jason cleared his throat, trying to maintain his dignity, all warm and fuzzy feelings he'd been nursing since awakening 20 minutes ago gone. "Yes, we did. Several times." He heard how sharp he sounded, but frankly, he didn't care right now. It had been a while since he'd woken up next to anyone. This isn't how he'd imagined it going.
Darren's face turned a brighter shade of red, as he practically scrambled from the bed, grabbing at what he hoped was his uniform. Pulling it on as fast as he could, he tried to say something - anything - to cover how chaotic his thoughts were, only managing to mumble, "I-- I don't usually do this. We were--"
"Yes, we were," Jason interrupted, trying to tamper down his own growing embarrassment and ire, "But we're both adults. You didn't force me, and I certainly didn't--"
"No, God! No, not at all!" Darren was mortified, realizing he was sending all the wrong signals, to a guy he really, really liked. "This is just coming out all wrong," he finally admitted.
Seeing just how worked up and upset Darren was becoming helped bled away Jason's anger, at least partially. "Look, why don't you sit down? We can talk--"
"I-- I have duty soon, I'm sorry." Darren backed away, holding the rumpled pile of clothing he hadn't managed to pull on yet in front of him defensively. "Maybe later..?"
Given the lack of conviction in his voice, it wasn't clear who he was trying to reassure. But Jason just nodded slowly, "Sure. Okay."
They stared at each other for a few long, arduous seconds before Darren finally turned his back on Jason and made as hasty an exit as he could. Sitting up in bed, all alone, still feeling the heat from where Darren had been laying only moments ago, Jason pulled the covers up close.
That could have gone a lot better, he commiserated morosely. Feeling far too alone, and far too exposed. Neither of them had done anything to feel ashamed or guilty about.
So why had Darren reacted like that?
* * *
Bateson sat at his usual place at the head of the rectangular master situation workstation, which doubled as a briefing and conference table for the senior staff in Central Ops. With his regular cup of coffee in hand, the aroma wafted through his nostrils and banished the final vestiges of last night’s intoxication as he continued listening to his officers give their department reports and updates.
Allissa finished her report by bringing up an away mission she would be leading, "The oceanography research team to study the undersea ridge formations is due for their standard 30-day medical and mechanical check-up."
Larreka, in her role as Science Officer, then briefed them about the work being conducted by the team from the Rigellian Science Institute. She didn't look any worse for wear considering her 'antics' of the night before, and was exuding excitement as she explained what the purpose of the team's research was, "They're here to see if Rigel IV is a good place for a possible application of the Atlantis Protocol."
It was an incredibly intriguing and ambitious concept. The Atlantis Protocol was so named after the man-made geoformed continent back on Earth. Given the number of refugees that still flooded into the system since the Iconian and Borg incidents, an extra landmass or two to settle them was appealing, even if it would take at least several years to take effect.
As Larreka finished her summation, Bateson listened with half an ear. Part of being a commanding officer was being able to keep an eye on an overall situation at all times, even when performing other duties of command. Given all his years in the role, Bateson was experienced and keyed into things around him. So, as he outlined various tasks for officers to see to, and listened to reports from the department heads, he noticed two things.
The first was that the light-hearted and cheerful air of the previous night's celebrations had begun to fade somewhat. Now that Chimera was staying put, the hard work and daunting task they had - to fly the Federation flag in a system where trust in the UFP was at an all-time low, hung heavy. But Bateson had a strong degree of faith in his crew and what they could - and would - deliver.
The second thing was the somewhat overt formality and stiff demeanor Darren Tel was projecting. Gone was the affable but dedicated man that had arrived not so long ago. Something was definitely eating at the young man, but he was doing his damnedest to show a professional and dedicated front.
Add to that the marked absence of Jason Bush from the morning huddle. Although not technically part of the command hierarchy, Jason's role as Liaison for the Advanced Starship Design Bureau and his involvement in operational decisions within Chimera was part and parcel of everyday life on Rigel IV. For him to miss a huddle wasn't like him.
The meeting came to an end, and everyone went off their separate ways, each to their own tasks. Bateson watched as Darren headed to a free workstation. It was like the proverbial dark cloud was hanging over his head. Even if he hadn't seen how close the two young men had grown so quickly for himself, Bateson could still do the math in these kinds of situations.
Still, if it was that kind of situation, his best action would be to stay out of it for now. Don't worry about it, until you have to...
* * *
