Star Trek: The Quarterdeck Breed
- Thread starter McCovey Cove
- Start date
I noticed. I reviewed a couple of your stuff.
Thanks for the kind words.
-- ZC
Thanks for the kind words.
-- ZC
This story takes place just after the Dominion War. Like Gibraltar, I wanted to tell a story about a ship pulled out of decommission for the duration of the war, and then put back in once it wasn't needed anymore. My choice was an Ambassador-class, because I figured using a Constitution-class would be too far reaching (no offense to Gibraltar, of course). So, here's the sad tale of the starship Exeter:
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Star Trek: The Quarterdeck Breed
by Michael D. Garcia
Part Five: Exeter
NCC-26531 (USS Exeter)
Federation Sector 013
En route to Starbase 6.
Stardate 53285.81
"Good morning," said the soft alto voice of the computer. "The time is oh-five-thirty."
When the computer repeated itself a second time, she swung her legs out to touch her feet against the deck. "Computer, cancel alarm," she called out. After hearing the computer's signature response tone, she pushed herself up from the bed and flexed as she did every morning. The surprise was the fact that she was somehow able to sleep an entire night without being woken by one of her colleagues.
Approaching the replicator, she ordered herself a mug of coffee and then asked the computer for a summary of events during the night shifts. Exeter was on course for Starbase 6, as it had been when she retired for the night. Other than a minor course correction suggested by the ship's navigational computer and confirmed by the officer of the deck, nothing unusual had occurred. Nor would it, travelling well within the heart of Federation territory at the restricted speed of warp five.
The ship was one of the first products of the Ambassador-class, constructed over fifty years ago and mothballed ten years ago during the brief peace between the Cardassian and Dominion wars. Starfleet brought the ship back into active service when the constant fighting with the Dominion forced the Federation to leave no stone unturned in the search for resources to maintain the war's high levels of readiness. Exeter, along with five of her sister ships, were turned out from the reserve shipyards at Antares and pressed into service in a high priority upgrade queue.
Indira Sukhija was among the officers assigned to the ship when it was brought back to life five years ago. A senior lieutenant at the time, she served under the officer-in-command, Grith. It was quite the occasion as Grith was the highest-ranking Gorn officer in Starfleet. He was a lieutenant commander, leading a crew of eighty-three as the ship was being transferred from Antares to Starbase 375 to report for duty in one of the tactical fleets being assembled for the push to Deep Space Nine. Since then, she continued to serve in various capacities, including chief of operations and ultimately as the executive officer.
The Dominion war caused a lot of field promotions by admirals in the field. Indira herself was the benefactor of a promotion to lieutenant commander following her first fleet action. By the end of the war, she reached the rank of full commander. Field promotions in wartime were the result of rapid advancement due to a lack of experienced officers serving. Grith and Indira both proved to be capable officers in command positions. Captain Grith eventually rose to his current appointment as commanding officer of the Exeter. His promotion to captain was announced as a permanent promotion by Admiral Necheyev on the last day of the war.
Indira was not as lucky; she was reduced in rank to lieutenant commander the same day. Admiral Ross, the sector admiral, assured her that he would look into a promotion within the month, but Indira knew the upper echelons of Starfleet enough to know lip service when she heard it. By the time she was completed prepared for duty, the intercom called her attention away from that thought.
"Sukhija, here," she said, after touching the Starfleet insignia upon her chest.
"Commander," replied hissing voice of her commanding officer, Captain Grith, "report to my quarters."
In spite of having served together for nearly five years, the underlying hissing to the Gorn voice still sent a momentary chill down the back of her spine. Even through the sound of the universal translator, the heavy hiss resounded through the sanctuary of her stateroom. "Aye, sir," she informed him. "I'm on my way."
---- Scene Change ----
The small number of crewmembers walking through the ship reflected the early morning hour. Before oh-six-hundred on any day without combat saw two-thirds of the crew enjoying their off-duty time by using the ship's recreational facilities or sleeping. The other third manned their stations during the final two hours of their shift. Indira enjoyed the feeling of moving between decks without seeing another person, but that feeling was squashed the moment she reached the turbolift.
She gave her customary warm smile toward the ensign standing within the turbolift car, and worked her memory to recall his name. With a crew compliment of just over eight hundred people, her ability to recall everyone's first name at the drop of a hat reached its limit quite often. She knew he was a member of the ship's security forces, but his first and last name eluded her.
Luckily, it never came up. They rode in the turbolift together wordlessly, until the car came to the sixth deck of Exeter's saucer section. She left the ensign behind and moved amongst the VIP staterooms located on the deck. The captain, in his wisdom, occupied one of the VIP staterooms as his own. He opted not to reside amongst the other senior officers on deck eight. Although his reasoning had been to chose a location closest to the bridge, he did not allow any of the other senior officers to follow suit. Indira knew, only due to her research, that it was the Gorn practice to separate a commander from his subordinates.
Immediately after she touched the door chime, the captain called out to the computer to allow her entry. She braced herself against the environmental change from the ship's normal operating condition, to the personal settings of Grith. His homeworld's idea of a beautiful morning felt like a brick wall of humidity against her skin, and she felt the effects of her morning shower melt away as a sheen of sweat and mist formed on the exposed areas of her skin.
"Computer," said Captain Grith, "return environment to Terran normal."
Indira raised her hand and said, "Sir, you don't have to do that."
The captain's left eye moved toward her, and his tongue began to move. "It is no annoyance. Do you wish to repeat your morning water ritual?" A croaking sound began to emit from his mouth; it sounded as though an animal was being skinned alive.
She recognized the captain's laughter and gave him a warm smile. In spite of his quirky sense of humor, filtered through the algorithms of the ship's universal translator, it was unusual that he would accommodate her like that. "What's the special occasion?" she asked as she moved toward his desk.
"In honor of the last meeting."
"Sir?" Though the universal translator tried its level best to reform the Gorn tongue into Standard, it tended to follow the succinct pattern of his speech. Gorn spoke in short, commanding phrases. Sometimes, it made normal conversation hard to follow.
"We will arrive at the starbase in two hours. I will be removed."
Of course, she knew, he did not mean that as others might have heard it. Indira understood his intent. "You mean you will be relieved of command, sir?"
"Correct."
"I'm very sorry to hear that. I hope you this means they will appoint you in command of another ship."
His large head moved up and down in a nodding motion. She always thought it looked more like he was trying to cough up something, but without the appropriate sound. "New ship. New crew. I am sorry."
Looking down at her feet briefly, she understood his words. He will be moving on, but she will not be following him to his new command. "I understand, sir. There's no need to apologize to me. I go where Starfleet points." A wave of betrayal washed over her, even as she spoke.
"I am sorry," the captain insisted. His tone began to rumble, as he attempted to approximate the Standard method of speaking softly. It never had that effect, but their working relationship overrode the immediate impact of his words. "I will speak with the admiralty. For you."
"With all due respect, sir," Indira said, not quite believing the words she spoke, "please don't."
He rumbled once more. "I will speak with the admiralty." Grith placed a padd upon his desk. "Orders for the new captain."
She picked up the padd and scanned it with her eyes. When he said "new captain," she assumed he meant his appointment orders from Starfleet for his new ship. It was not out of the ordinary for Grith to share his orders with her, especially during combat when it was likely that she might have to assume command if he fell in battle. However, the orders were not addressing his new command, but his old one.
"'Upon arrival at Starbase 6, you are ordered to relinquish command of USS Exeter to Lieutenant Commander Indira Sukhija, and arrange high priority transportation to Antares Ship Yards.'" Indira looked up at her captain, wearing a look of disbelief. "They're placing me in command?"
"Correct."
That was a highly unusual move for Starfleet. Ambassador-class ships required a ranked captain in command. As a lieutenant commander, she could receive an appointment to command a much smaller class of ship, such as an Oberth or Defiant-class vessel. During wartime, appointing an officer of lower rank to command a large ship would not have been out of the ordinary, given the lack of available command officers in Starfleet. Now that the war was over, Starfleet's practices returned to peacetime procedure.
It meant there was only one reason why she would be placed in command. "They're retiring the ship, aren't they?"
"Correct."
"How many of the crew will be rotating off?"
"Seven hundred."
She felt her stomach knot up, but she did not understand why. "That leaves me with one hundred and eleven in crew. A skeleton crew to bring her home before they put her out to pasture?"
Baring his teeth in his own version of a smile, Grith told her, "We return to the beginning."
Indira opened her mouth to say something true to her emotions, but decided against it. Instead, she offered her soon-to-be former captain a small smile and agreed. "Indeed, we do, sir."
---- Scene Change ----
The mass exodus of crew to Starbase 6 brought a sense of eerie finality to the last voyage of the starship Exeter. Following a change-of-command ceremony performed by Captain Grith, the remaining crew of the ship enjoyed a brief reception held in the ship's lounge. Indira did not enjoy it at all, knowing full well that her tenure as captain would be very brief. After leaving dock, the fact that the ceremony was even held seemed to mock her status as captain.
Reduced to just over one hundred people, the amount of open space on the ship increased five times. The journey from the starbase to their final destination of Earth would take a mere day at warp eight. The increase in speed beyond the Federation restriction communicated the desire for the ship to be returned quickly.
Rather than sit on the bridge as a useless stand-in, Indira was given to touring the ship. A nostalgic feeling settled over her as she meandered from deck to deck. As she approached the second junction on deck eighteen, she recalled the first time she set foot aboard the ship, and the state it was in…
---- Scene Change ----
Stripped of any sense of luxury, the corridor of the Exeter looked like it had seen better days. Lieutenant Indra Sukhija moved out of the main corridor and into a service crawlway. She looked for a way around an emergency bulkhead blocking her path to the engineering compartment, using the layout she downloaded to a padd. Crawling down two decks from the shuttlebay, she finally reached a point where she could use the corridors again.
They had come aboard with a crew of eighty people, mostly engineering crewmen and women. They were tasked with bringing the ship out of mothballs and into a serviceable state for the Antares Ship Yards to equip her with tactical systems and supervise upgrades to put her into the fight against the Dominion. No vessel in the reserve fleet was being overlooked in this endeavor to keep the war from dwindling their capacity to fight it.
Lieutenant Michael Hawking, the resident engineering officer, met her at the corridor junction. He appeared to be approaching from the opposite direction. "Hey," he said.
"Where the hell did you come from?" she asked with wide eyes.
"Well, I, uh…" he started, looking around at the location. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and gave her a sheepish look. "I got lost," he admitted with a shrug. "It was dumb luck that you got here when I did. I think I've been circling this junction for the past five minutes."
Indira could not contain her amusement. She shot him a wry grin. "You didn't think a map would help?"
"I did, but then that would force me to admit that I didn't know where I was going."
"You didn't."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to say I don't know."
"No, of course not," she said sarcastically.
"So where are we?"
She took a look around, but rather than admit her own loss of orientation, Indira consulted the padd containing the ship's organization. "Junction One-Eight-Two. We need to head aft a section and then down four more decks to reach engineering."
Hawking nodded as they began to walk in that direction. "Have you seen Grith around?"
"Not since we split up, no. I assume he's making his way up to the bridge."
"Good."
She fixed him with a glare. "'Good'?"
With a feigned shiver, he told her, "He gives me the creeps."
"What do you mean?"
"I know he's the first Gorn in Starfleet and all, but the hissing noise he makes when he talks…"
Indira chuckled. "I know. It takes some getting used to, doesn't it?"
Before he could respond, the voice of Lieutenant Commander Grith spoke over his communicator. "Grith to Hawking."
Hawking made it visibly clear that the Gorn's voice irritated him by shivering slightly as he touched his badge. "Hawking, here. Go ahead, sir."
"Where are you?"
Indira quickly shower her padd to give him his bearings. "I'm aft of junction two on deck eighteen."
"Go to engineering."
"We're on our way, sir."
"Who is with you?"
"Lieutenant Sukhija."
"Good. Out."
"Not much for words, is he?" asked Hawking, once Grith closed the channel.
"It's how they communicate," she told him. "Gorn leaders do not believe in mincing words or worrying about their command image."
He rolled his eyes as they entered the service hatch and climbed down the ladder to the deck below. "He's not going to get far with an attitude like that."
"I'm pretty sure that's the last thing on his mind right now," she said as she jumped down from the ladder and hit the deck with a resounding thud. "Ow."
Hawking stared down at her, wearing a wry grin. "That was pretty stupid."
She shot him an annoyed glare. "Shut up. Help me up, would you?"
He offered her his hand, and she used it, pulling herself up off the deck while rubbing at her backside.
---- Scene Change ----
Mike Hawking died during their first fleet action, Operation: Return, to take back Deep Space Nine when the ship took a direct hit to the engineering hull. Reports from the survivors of that conflict state that he died as he was assisting an injured crewman evacuate the compartment once the bulkheads began to activate. Unable to move himself out of the way of the emergency bulkhead, he was severed at the shoulders. The crewman survived as he was pushed out of the way at the last moment.
Then-Commander Grith recommended him for the Starfleet Cross, the second-highest honor one can earn in wartime. His recommendation was reduced to the Silver Star, along with a promotion to lieutenant commander, posthumously. She recalled how well Grith spoke of Hawking's career during the memorial service they held aboard the ship after Defiant drove the Dominion away from Deep Space Nine. That action had been her first taste of fleet combat during the war. It had also served as the first time she lost someone close to her in the line of duty.
To her, Hawking was more than just a friend; he had served with her on two previous starships prior to the start of the war with the Dominion. They were promoted together to junior grade lieutenant, and then again to full lieutenant aboard the Galaxy-class starship USS Venture. Serving under Captain Hastur, they cut their teeth on the border, defending civilian traffic from pirates and the wayward Ferengi ship, looking to salvage a ship before they qualified available for such an activity. When war broke out, Starfleet made a general appeal for officers to volunteer for combat duty. They mutually agreed to do so, hoping to net the same assignment.
Although she knew he had no regrets in saving that life, Indira regretted their decision to transfer to the same ship. For months following his death, she lingered on their impudent assumption that they would be fine no matter what. Faced with the grim prospect of mortality, she withdrew her friendships in the hope of sparing herself the pain of losing another close friend. Starfleet's mandate to protect the Federation from military threats meant that they all risked their lives for their citizens. Intellectually, she knew what that meant, but the lesson learned impacted the emotional side of her.
She felt the sting of the memory play at her heart as she entered the mess hall, noting strangely that it was devoid of any crew. Even with the lights dimmed, the royal blue flag of the United Federation of Planets installed above entrance and exit to the main corridor on that deck. The memory of how it got there struck her, as she stared at its lines...
---- Scene Change ----
The war with the Dominion forced the Federation and its allies to retreat. They gave up far more territory than they gained, and the overall morale of the crew began to wane with every report from the front. Exeter neared the completion of her necessary upgrades and they had planned to installed the remaining systems en route to link up with the fleet gathering at Starbase 375. Grith received a battlefield promotion to captain and appointed in command of the ship when the starship carrying their intended commanding officer was destroyed in battle on their way back from the front. He was ordered to make haste with the upgrades and proceed with all due speed.
Indira was appointed as the new executive officer after they got underway, seeing as she was the next most senior officer aboard ship. So, ranked merely as a full lieutenant, she approached her new duty as best she could. The lingering thought she had was to improve their morale, first. Otherwise, they would face their first battle with the possibility they would have an unfocused crew or worse... one that might defeat themselves before the first shot was fired.
When she addressed her concerns with Captain Grith, he took the information in stride and told her in his own way, that he would address it shortly. By the time the ship departed from the shipyards, he ordered her to assemble the crew in the mess hall for a brief announcement.
She arrived last, making certain that everyone heard her order and corralled them into the mess hall. Grith stood near the replicators and galley access, with a piece of royal blue cloth draped from his right arm. It shimmered as it moved with him, as the cloth caught the light within the mess hall.
"I came to the Federation long ago," he said. "My ship dealt with Orions but my crew died. I alone survived." He reached to the cloth and pulled it with his claw across the length of his uniformed arm.
"Starfleet ship Victory rescued me, but my ship was lost. I joined Starfleet to repay a great debt of thanks. My people reject myself and my decision. It is hard to think that I cannot go back home." He stared out at his crew, those huge eyes seemingly focused on each of them as they could see their reflection within the mirrors that scattered across them. "This is my home. You are my family.
"Our family is under threat of destruction by a powerful enemy. An enemy that travelled a great distance to seek our end. But we are too strong to be taken so easily because of how we work. Our family frightens them. We do not bend to the will of those who would scare us. Our family is strong."
He unraveled the flag of the United Federation of Planets and held it out within both of his claws. "This is the symbol of our family. Everyone who lives under it, shall have Starfleet's protection. We do not seek violence, but we will use it if there is no other way. We fight!"
Indira could feel the spirits of the crew lifting, as they all had looks of determination on their faces. It was working, and she had to admit, it was working for her, as well.
"We fight for them, and I fight for you," he said. "Lieutenant, some assistance, please."
She approached her captain and helped him place the flag above the entrance and everyone in the mess watched as they did so. Once they were done, they both stepped down from the stepladder and turned to face them.
Grith spoke once more. "This will be here to remind us. Remind us to remember why we are here. And why we cannot fail! We fight for them, and I fight for you!"
"We fight for them," repeated the crew, "and I fight for you."
Indira joined in, but raised her voice louder. It incited a response in kind from them, and soon they repeated the phrase over and over again until the voices could reach no higher without losing their composure. It soon dissolved into a rowdy applause.
As they were dismissed from the meeting, they all wore smiles and patted each other on the back. Indira looked at Grith and acknowledged his efforts with a smile of her own. "Well done, sir."
He said nothing. Grith turned and left the mess hall as he arrived, but he reached up and grazed the bottom of the cloth with his hand as he did so.
So did she.
And so did everyone else who left. Now, and throughout the rest of the war.
---- Scene Change ----
The flag hung there, though it looked a little less luminescent than it had been when it was first placed. A year and a half of people reaching up and touching it ritually might have drained some of its lustrous quality, although she mused that it might have something to do with the fact that the room's illumination was at quarter-standard.
As she departed the mess hall, she reached up out of habit. She made a mental note to preserve it for sentiment before they decommissioned the ship. After all, once the ship is removed from the active list, it can no longer legally fly the flag of the Federation.
She approached the junction toward main engineering. With a as warm as smile as she could muster, she waved away the junior grade lieutenant acting as the temporary chief engineer for their short voyage. A mere six people worked at the stations within the compartment. On any given shift during the war, engineering would have no less than fifty-four people working there. There was a time, during the war, when the number of people dropped dramatically...
---- Scene Change ----
The wail of the battlestations klaxon gave way to the alarm that informed the ship's crew that intruders had arrived. Exeter and the Excelsior-class Repulse were caught in a supply transfer of weapons near the Cardassian border when a fleet of Jem'Hadar vessels reached out across the line and attacked. Heavily damaged, Repulse had no choice but to leave them behind and move out of range of the subspace jamming to send for help. Grith antagonized the Dominion forces to keep their interest on Exeter.
Eventually, the ship's defense systems were compromised by energy weapons and torpedo fire. This allowed the shock troops entry aboard the Starfleet ship. Though the initial forces numbered five, the combined firepower of Exeter and Repulse reduced the odds significantly. The remaining two enemy ships centered their attack upon the engineering section enough to take the warp drive offline, crippling the ship's ability to defend itself.
The next logical step would be a boarding party. Hand weapons were distributed to those that did not already have them, and the security forces were distributed to the sensitive sections of the ship. Indira joined the crew defending engineering, as the ship's executive officer. Captain Grith remained behind to defend the bridge. The problem with defending against the Jem'Hadar was the simple fact that their stealth technology allowed them to appear from anywhere. There was no way to set up a defense, if the direction of the attack was uncertain.
As promised, the first sign of an attack turned out to be a scream from one of the security officers. Even though his weapon was drawn and ready for use, they managed to kill him with a quick slash across his neck. Phaser fire followed soon after, but Indira could not see clearly enough to know if she hit them or not. The environment within engineering heated up quickly as the air was exposed to more and more energy weapons. She felt the burn of a phaser beam hit the bulkhead near her arm, and she moved to her right to avoid being hit.
The wildness of the phaser fire from the collected group increased the danger tenfold, she realized. Just before she could order them to move against the bulkhead to fire in at the enemy, she felt the grasp of a Jem'Hadar soldier hard against her shoulder. Grimacing through the pain, Indira tried to leap to the right, but the vice-like grip he had her in prevented movement. She brought her phaser to bear on him, but he knocked it away with his free hand and then smiled as he took her wrist in his hand and squeezed hard enough to crack the bones there.
Feeling the fear course through her, she brought her knee up to the junction of his legs, hoping to injure him enough to free her from his painful ministrations. Impacting against his crotch, the force was enough to push him back and away from her, but he did not seem to be injured. A quick glance around at the melee within the compartment confirmed her suspicion; half of the team assembled there were already dead or mortally wounded. A phaser was within her reach.
She dove for it, falling down on her bruised shoulder hard. Screaming out in pain, she made contact with the weapon and without checking its settings, brought it around to point it in the direction of her assailant. She fired without aiming, trying her best to keep her eyes open and focused in spite of the stinging tears forming at the corners. The beam lanced out and touched the soldier's forehead, shooting clean through as it exploded under the power of the phaser.
Dispatching her attacker, she remained in the prone position, as more fire lanced out over her. Indira began to crawl toward the exit, hoping the contain the attacking party within and protect the rest of the ship. If need be, she could vent the atmosphere and stop the onslaught before other sections would be in danger. That was assuming they were not already, of course.
A pair of hands laid upon her back. She screamed in surprise and stopped when she turned over to fire her weapon at whoever it was. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of the security petty officers. The petty officer helped her to her feet, but kept her low as they both fired at the Jem'Hadar soldiers.
---- Scene Change ----
They survived the day, and she won herself the first of two Purple Heart medals. The firefight in engineering marked the first time she took a life in defense of her ship. At least, the first time in hand-to-hand combat. She remembered how long it took to come down off of her adrenaline rush and the moment she did, she collapsed under the care of the ship's medical officers. Indira folded her arms as she leaned against the bulkhead that took fire; the evidence residing there as they never managed the replace the panel.
The entire ship carried its battle scars from within and without. Starfleet lacked the resources to put a true spit-and-polish on the old girl. Sections of the external hull simply had hull patches replacing damaged ones. When she saw the ship from the view of the dockyard at Starbase 375, she remarked that it looked like they put half the ship in bandages. What she did not say was how much the ship looked like the crew felt... barely held together. It was not until they made the decision to make that final push to Cardassia that they decided to reinforce the armor plating.
Her hand ran against the side of the bulkhead where the Jem'Hadar weapon scored it. A small smirk played over her lips, but disappeared when the dark scar gave way to a faint red streak. She left out a shaky sigh as she pulled her hand back quickly.
Sukhija moved away from the engineering compartment, her hands clasped behind her.
---- Scene Change ----
The junior grade lieutenant seated in the center seat stood up as soon as he saw Sukhija step onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge," he announced clearly.
"As you were," said Sukhija, immediately. "There's certainly no need for that." She looked around at the bridge. All the stations were empty. "Especially since there's no one here."
Lieutenant (jg) Hansen, the ship's next senior officer, grinned. "Sorry, sir. I hope you'll forgive my indulgence."
"I suppose I'll overlook it, this time." She broke into a smile and asked for a report.
"The shipboard automation program is operating within cruise mode parameters," replied the ship's computer, before Hansen could speak. The computer continued with a full report of their course, speed, and sensor contacts.
Hansen shrugged with his hands outstretched.
"So what have you been doing while the computer's doing all the heavy lifting?" she asked him as she wandered over toward the helm.
"I have been efficiently applying heat to accelerate this surface, here," he patted the seat, "to a more comfortable temperature."
She shook with silent laughter. She liked Ulysses "Uli" Hansen, ever since he stepped aboard as an ensign less than a year ago. "Well done, Lieutenant."
"Will you be taking the bridge, sir?"
Sukhija looked around once more, taking it all in. "It's hard to believe that by this time next week, it'll be back to the way it was when we found her."
"Sir?"
"We rescued her from the Antares mothball fleet. Brought her back to life and put her into the fight."
Hansen shook his head. "You never told me that."
"Well, you were just a newly-commissioned ensign. I think you were more wide-eyed about the fact that you had to report to a Gorn captain than anything else. Not much time spent getting to know people while we took fire from the Dominion."
"I suppose you're right," he said. He stepped down, taking a seat at the helm station next to her. He did not touch any of the controls, instead swiveling the seat around to face her. "Do you know what you're going to do when we get home?"
She thought about it, looking away from him and at the deck. Finally, she admitted, "I don't know." She returned her gaze to Hansen. "Do you?"
He folded his arms. "The Bureau of Personnel transmitted a fleetwide bulletin that anyone seeking retirement or transfer to the reserves could do so within the next ninety days," he replied. "I've been thinking about whether or not I want to stay."
Hansen wasn't a regular. He was a reserve officer, pressed into service by the needs of the Federation. He didn't even graduate from Starfleet Academy, like she did. He was a product of the Reserve Officer Training Command, set up by Starfleet to recruit and train baccalaureates to be officers during the war. Demand was so high for skilled people, sometimes they would even forgo the college diploma. "Have you thought about transferring into the regular fleet?"
"I have. I mean, when I first got here, I wondered what the hell I was thinking..."
She grinned.
"Starfleet wasn't really my first choice. But, you know, with the war on and the patriotic call to duty... it was hard not to make a good case for joining and fighting for what I believe in."
She tilted her head to one side. "Starfleet isn't all about fighting, though. It's just one of our functions."
"I know."
Looking away from him again, she placed a hand on her chest. "I certainly didn't join to fight. I joined to explore."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," she said with a succinct nod. "But, when you're an explorer, you've got be ready to defend yourself and your ship against anything that might want to bring harm. The unknown isn't all Betazoids and Deltans. The unknown has Romulans, Breen..."
"The Dominion," he added.
"Right."
Hansen appeared to consider her words. "Do you think I'd do well on an explorer?"
Sukija smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. He came aboard with a degree in astronavigation, hoping to land himself a job on a commercial vessel as a pilot. In their time serving together, he learned combat flight so quickly that his talents became indispensible aboard Exeter. "Let's just say that if I ever command a ship, you'd be one of the first people I'd want as my crew."
"Thanks, sir," Hansen said with a large smile. With an extended index finger, he said, "I'm going to hold you to that."
---- Scene Change ----
"Attention to orders," announced Sukhija. The skeleton crew assembled in the ship's large mess hall. With the tables cleared away and stored, there was enough room for four times that many people, but group of one hundred remained behind to decommission their home.
The dockyard lieutenant stood next to her as the ceremony dictated. She carried the orders from Starfleet's Bureau of Ships to Sukhija, and presented them upon her arrival.
"By the order of Starfleet Command, Naval Construction Contract Two Six Five Three One is stricken from the active list and decommissioned, effective this stardate," she read the order aloud to the crew. "The ex-Exeter is to be transferred to the McKinley orbital facility for dismantling and recycling." Her throat threatened to close up as she read the new name of the ship. She would no longer fly the flag of the Federation on her decks. "Signed, Rear Admiral Grant Edward Markham, Starfleet Bureau of Ships."
The lieutenant turned toward her and nodded. "I relieve you, sir."
She turned to face the young woman. "I stand relieved." The ceremony completed, the crew began to break up. She called out, "Before you all go..."
They turned their heads to look at her. Some of them with a question in their eyes. This was not a part of the usual procedure.
"Before you all go... I just wanted to say..." she started, feeling the back of head get tight along with her throat. "I just wanted to say that these past two years, serving with all of you..." She wrung her hands out, not sure of what to say next. She wanted to tell them that she didn't want the family to break up like this. She didn't want to put Exeter out to pasture. She enjoyed their time together, but how could one enjoy being at war? Would that sound too callous, in spite of her sentiment? "It has been a privilege to serve with every one of you. I'm glad... that I got a chance to be here. That we were here to see the old girl home for the last time."
Sad smiles broke out across the crowd. A few shook each others' hands, some hugged. Hansen stepped forward from within them and reached out with his hand to her.
She gripped it firmly.
"Good luck to you, sir." He said, pulling her into the crowd.
Everyone began to pat her back or shake her hand. Words of good luck and good bye were uttered as they all seemed to coalesce in camaraderie. Eventually, they all began to leave, in pairs and groups, until Sukhija and Hansen remained behind.
He shook her hand again and reminded her of her promise.
"I won't forget, Lieutenant," she told him.
And then she was alone on the deck.
The flag of the Federation had been taken down, but the spot where it sat remained. It was Captain Grith's idea to hang it there to remind all of them what they stood for, and why they fought to protect it. Every morning before her scheduled shift, she would enter the mess hall, look up at that flag, and remember how Mike Hawking would reach up and touch it on his way out of the door.
When the ship was removed from active service, the act of taking down the flag was called, "striking the colors." It was folded ceremoniously, and then offered to the commanding officer of the ship being decommissioned. It was supposed to be an honor granted to the final captain.
Now it was gone, forever.
She damned herself for not speaking up. Instead, she realized that she said what she needed to say. With a final glance around, she left the mess hall and made her way down to the airlock.
All of the ship's lights were reduced to allow just enough light to navigate the corridors. The turbolift sighed as it reached her deck, and she ran her hand along the side of it until it reached the control panel. She entered in her destination, not trusting her voice to speak at all.
The doors parted again, to allow her to step off. The deck containing the airlock did not have carpet on it; instead, her heels clicked loudly against the metal deck. They echoed down the corridors in every direction. The sound reminded her that she would be the last of the crew to depart the ship.
However, Lieutenant Hansen stood just inside the airlock, waiting for her. He had something in his hands behind him, but she could not see it.
"What are you still doing here?" she asked.
"I was waiting around for you."
"Why?"
He pulled around a triangle-shaped object in front of him and presented it to her. "I hope you don't mind. I had a couple of the crewmen take it down before the dockyard people got to it."
"I don’t' understand."
He gestured with it, for her to take it. "I believe, sir, that as the last captain of the Exeter, the honor goes to you."
She looked down at it, and when she saw the gold letters spelling out the United Federation of Planets, she grinned. "Thank you, Lieutenant." Sukhija accepted the flag with both hands, and then placed her right hand on top of it... feeling the thick fabric move under her fingers. "Thank you."
"No, sir," he said with a slow shake of his head. "Thank you."
---- Scene Change ----
"Good morning, Commander," said Rear Admiral Jana Fleming as she rose from behind her desk. Her office on the executive floor of Starfleet Headquarters overlooked a stunning view of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, facing toward the bay from the old grounds of the American military base formerly known as "The Presidio." She wore dual gold pips inside what was known as the "flag box," denoting her rank as a rear admiral (upper half).
Indira accepted the offered hand of the admiral and shook it gently before releasing it. "Good morning, Admiral," she replied in kind. "How may I be of service to you, sir?"
Wrinkles around the green eyes of the rear admiral formed as she smiled. "I understand from the Bureau of Personnel that you turned down their retirement offer." Fleming reseated herself behind the desk and gestured for Indira to take a seat herself.
Irritation bubbled up inside her. "Yes, sir," said Indira, trying her best to keep an indignant tone out of her voice as she spoke. "And with all due respect, sir, I can spare both of us a lot of time by reiterating my commitment to serving."
"Please don't misunderstand, Commander," said the admiral with a raised hand. "This meeting is not about convincing you to stand down. It's to ask you to step up."
"I'm all ears, sir."
"We would like you to consider an assignment to a deep space exploration mission into the Beta Quadrant." Admiral Fleming keyed in a few commands into her desktop terminal to call up a mission profile on the large viewscreen in her office. "An extended multi-ship mission carried out by a number of ships, varying in size from Galaxy-class to Intrepid-class."
Her eyes looking over the mission specifics, she saw that it would be twenty ships sent into the unexplored territory. "This mission profile reminds me of the old five-year missions in the twenty-third century."
"The profile drew a lot of inspiration from those old missions; especially with the level of effectiveness it had on Federation resources in the years following the end of that program."
If the admiral wanted her to make some sort of contribution, the mission profile certainly did not illustrate that. "I see, sir. If I may be so bold, how would I fit into those plans?"
Fleming grinned. "They told me you were the kind of woman to get to the bottom line."
"'They,' sir?"
"Admiral Ross and Captain Grith. Both of them contacted my office this week, asking me to consider you for placement within the new program."
Indira fought the blush as much as possible, but lost the battle. "I asked them not to go through any trouble on my behalf, sir."
"Nonsense," Fleming said immediately. "They communicated to me that they felt you had been overlooked. I've read your service record. It's very rare to have an officer with your level of combat experience survive the war for as long as you did. Captain Grith spoke very highly of you and your ability to adapt to every situation the Dominion threw at you."
"I must remember to thank them for their kindness."
"Come now, Commander. No false modesty."
Feeling her blush deepen, Indira kept herself from sinking into the chair as the admiral maintained her stare. "It's not false, sir. I did what was required of me."
"Well, be that as it may, I believe we have need of a officer like yourself for this program."
"Yes, sir."
Admiral Fleming looked down at her terminal. "I would like you to find transportation to Utopia Planetia after taking some administrative leave of one week to enjoy some downtime," she ordered. "I understand that you have not had an opportunity to indulge in recreation since the end of the war?"
"Actually, sir, I think the last time I had leave was before the war started."
"Then this will be your big chance, Commander."
"Aye, sir. To what ship will I be reporting once my leave is over?"
"New construction," replied the admiral. "Intrepid-class light cruiser."
As she was a lieutenant commander, Indira sighed. She would serve as an executive officer once more. Light cruisers required no less than a full commander in permanent command. "Has the captain been selected, yet, sir?"
"In fact, she has. However, she has not yet been informed of her appointment."
Indira gave the admiral a nod. "Understood, sir."
Fleming reached for a padd and handed it to Indira. "For you, Commander."
"Thank you, sir." Indira read the screen casually, not really letting the words sink in. She assumed it was simply her duty orders for transfer following leave. "Will there be anything else, Admiral?"
The admiral cocked her head. "Did you not read it?"
Embarrassed that she had not, Indira quickly gave the padd her undivided attention. When she finished reading, she snapped her head up to fix the admiral with a wide smile. "Thank you, sir!"
Admiral Fleming offered her hand and said, "Congratulations, Captain Sukhija."
TO: LCDR I. Sukhija
FR: VADM J. Fleming
RE: PCU Exeter
Lieutenant Commander:
1. You are hereby selected for promotion to the rank of Commander.
2. You are requested and required to assume command of NCC-78770 (PCU Exeter), presently located at Construction Yard Gamma, Utopia Planetia Ship Yards, Mars.
Signed,
Jana I. Fleming,
Rear Admiral (upper half),
Starfleet Command
----------------
Even though Sukhija gets her new command, I felt like the story needed to be told. In the end, although we personify the ships, it's the characters who make the story. I hoped to prove that in the last scene where I wanted to provide a happy ending.
Thanks for reading. Farragut is next.
-- ZC
----------------------
Star Trek: The Quarterdeck Breed
by Michael D. Garcia
Part Five: Exeter
NCC-26531 (USS Exeter)
Federation Sector 013
En route to Starbase 6.
Stardate 53285.81
"Good morning," said the soft alto voice of the computer. "The time is oh-five-thirty."
When the computer repeated itself a second time, she swung her legs out to touch her feet against the deck. "Computer, cancel alarm," she called out. After hearing the computer's signature response tone, she pushed herself up from the bed and flexed as she did every morning. The surprise was the fact that she was somehow able to sleep an entire night without being woken by one of her colleagues.
Approaching the replicator, she ordered herself a mug of coffee and then asked the computer for a summary of events during the night shifts. Exeter was on course for Starbase 6, as it had been when she retired for the night. Other than a minor course correction suggested by the ship's navigational computer and confirmed by the officer of the deck, nothing unusual had occurred. Nor would it, travelling well within the heart of Federation territory at the restricted speed of warp five.
The ship was one of the first products of the Ambassador-class, constructed over fifty years ago and mothballed ten years ago during the brief peace between the Cardassian and Dominion wars. Starfleet brought the ship back into active service when the constant fighting with the Dominion forced the Federation to leave no stone unturned in the search for resources to maintain the war's high levels of readiness. Exeter, along with five of her sister ships, were turned out from the reserve shipyards at Antares and pressed into service in a high priority upgrade queue.
Indira Sukhija was among the officers assigned to the ship when it was brought back to life five years ago. A senior lieutenant at the time, she served under the officer-in-command, Grith. It was quite the occasion as Grith was the highest-ranking Gorn officer in Starfleet. He was a lieutenant commander, leading a crew of eighty-three as the ship was being transferred from Antares to Starbase 375 to report for duty in one of the tactical fleets being assembled for the push to Deep Space Nine. Since then, she continued to serve in various capacities, including chief of operations and ultimately as the executive officer.
The Dominion war caused a lot of field promotions by admirals in the field. Indira herself was the benefactor of a promotion to lieutenant commander following her first fleet action. By the end of the war, she reached the rank of full commander. Field promotions in wartime were the result of rapid advancement due to a lack of experienced officers serving. Grith and Indira both proved to be capable officers in command positions. Captain Grith eventually rose to his current appointment as commanding officer of the Exeter. His promotion to captain was announced as a permanent promotion by Admiral Necheyev on the last day of the war.
Indira was not as lucky; she was reduced in rank to lieutenant commander the same day. Admiral Ross, the sector admiral, assured her that he would look into a promotion within the month, but Indira knew the upper echelons of Starfleet enough to know lip service when she heard it. By the time she was completed prepared for duty, the intercom called her attention away from that thought.
"Sukhija, here," she said, after touching the Starfleet insignia upon her chest.
"Commander," replied hissing voice of her commanding officer, Captain Grith, "report to my quarters."
In spite of having served together for nearly five years, the underlying hissing to the Gorn voice still sent a momentary chill down the back of her spine. Even through the sound of the universal translator, the heavy hiss resounded through the sanctuary of her stateroom. "Aye, sir," she informed him. "I'm on my way."
---- Scene Change ----
The small number of crewmembers walking through the ship reflected the early morning hour. Before oh-six-hundred on any day without combat saw two-thirds of the crew enjoying their off-duty time by using the ship's recreational facilities or sleeping. The other third manned their stations during the final two hours of their shift. Indira enjoyed the feeling of moving between decks without seeing another person, but that feeling was squashed the moment she reached the turbolift.
She gave her customary warm smile toward the ensign standing within the turbolift car, and worked her memory to recall his name. With a crew compliment of just over eight hundred people, her ability to recall everyone's first name at the drop of a hat reached its limit quite often. She knew he was a member of the ship's security forces, but his first and last name eluded her.
Luckily, it never came up. They rode in the turbolift together wordlessly, until the car came to the sixth deck of Exeter's saucer section. She left the ensign behind and moved amongst the VIP staterooms located on the deck. The captain, in his wisdom, occupied one of the VIP staterooms as his own. He opted not to reside amongst the other senior officers on deck eight. Although his reasoning had been to chose a location closest to the bridge, he did not allow any of the other senior officers to follow suit. Indira knew, only due to her research, that it was the Gorn practice to separate a commander from his subordinates.
Immediately after she touched the door chime, the captain called out to the computer to allow her entry. She braced herself against the environmental change from the ship's normal operating condition, to the personal settings of Grith. His homeworld's idea of a beautiful morning felt like a brick wall of humidity against her skin, and she felt the effects of her morning shower melt away as a sheen of sweat and mist formed on the exposed areas of her skin.
"Computer," said Captain Grith, "return environment to Terran normal."
Indira raised her hand and said, "Sir, you don't have to do that."
The captain's left eye moved toward her, and his tongue began to move. "It is no annoyance. Do you wish to repeat your morning water ritual?" A croaking sound began to emit from his mouth; it sounded as though an animal was being skinned alive.
She recognized the captain's laughter and gave him a warm smile. In spite of his quirky sense of humor, filtered through the algorithms of the ship's universal translator, it was unusual that he would accommodate her like that. "What's the special occasion?" she asked as she moved toward his desk.
"In honor of the last meeting."
"Sir?" Though the universal translator tried its level best to reform the Gorn tongue into Standard, it tended to follow the succinct pattern of his speech. Gorn spoke in short, commanding phrases. Sometimes, it made normal conversation hard to follow.
"We will arrive at the starbase in two hours. I will be removed."
Of course, she knew, he did not mean that as others might have heard it. Indira understood his intent. "You mean you will be relieved of command, sir?"
"Correct."
"I'm very sorry to hear that. I hope you this means they will appoint you in command of another ship."
His large head moved up and down in a nodding motion. She always thought it looked more like he was trying to cough up something, but without the appropriate sound. "New ship. New crew. I am sorry."
Looking down at her feet briefly, she understood his words. He will be moving on, but she will not be following him to his new command. "I understand, sir. There's no need to apologize to me. I go where Starfleet points." A wave of betrayal washed over her, even as she spoke.
"I am sorry," the captain insisted. His tone began to rumble, as he attempted to approximate the Standard method of speaking softly. It never had that effect, but their working relationship overrode the immediate impact of his words. "I will speak with the admiralty. For you."
"With all due respect, sir," Indira said, not quite believing the words she spoke, "please don't."
He rumbled once more. "I will speak with the admiralty." Grith placed a padd upon his desk. "Orders for the new captain."
She picked up the padd and scanned it with her eyes. When he said "new captain," she assumed he meant his appointment orders from Starfleet for his new ship. It was not out of the ordinary for Grith to share his orders with her, especially during combat when it was likely that she might have to assume command if he fell in battle. However, the orders were not addressing his new command, but his old one.
"'Upon arrival at Starbase 6, you are ordered to relinquish command of USS Exeter to Lieutenant Commander Indira Sukhija, and arrange high priority transportation to Antares Ship Yards.'" Indira looked up at her captain, wearing a look of disbelief. "They're placing me in command?"
"Correct."
That was a highly unusual move for Starfleet. Ambassador-class ships required a ranked captain in command. As a lieutenant commander, she could receive an appointment to command a much smaller class of ship, such as an Oberth or Defiant-class vessel. During wartime, appointing an officer of lower rank to command a large ship would not have been out of the ordinary, given the lack of available command officers in Starfleet. Now that the war was over, Starfleet's practices returned to peacetime procedure.
It meant there was only one reason why she would be placed in command. "They're retiring the ship, aren't they?"
"Correct."
"How many of the crew will be rotating off?"
"Seven hundred."
She felt her stomach knot up, but she did not understand why. "That leaves me with one hundred and eleven in crew. A skeleton crew to bring her home before they put her out to pasture?"
Baring his teeth in his own version of a smile, Grith told her, "We return to the beginning."
Indira opened her mouth to say something true to her emotions, but decided against it. Instead, she offered her soon-to-be former captain a small smile and agreed. "Indeed, we do, sir."
---- Scene Change ----
The mass exodus of crew to Starbase 6 brought a sense of eerie finality to the last voyage of the starship Exeter. Following a change-of-command ceremony performed by Captain Grith, the remaining crew of the ship enjoyed a brief reception held in the ship's lounge. Indira did not enjoy it at all, knowing full well that her tenure as captain would be very brief. After leaving dock, the fact that the ceremony was even held seemed to mock her status as captain.
Reduced to just over one hundred people, the amount of open space on the ship increased five times. The journey from the starbase to their final destination of Earth would take a mere day at warp eight. The increase in speed beyond the Federation restriction communicated the desire for the ship to be returned quickly.
Rather than sit on the bridge as a useless stand-in, Indira was given to touring the ship. A nostalgic feeling settled over her as she meandered from deck to deck. As she approached the second junction on deck eighteen, she recalled the first time she set foot aboard the ship, and the state it was in…
---- Scene Change ----
Stripped of any sense of luxury, the corridor of the Exeter looked like it had seen better days. Lieutenant Indra Sukhija moved out of the main corridor and into a service crawlway. She looked for a way around an emergency bulkhead blocking her path to the engineering compartment, using the layout she downloaded to a padd. Crawling down two decks from the shuttlebay, she finally reached a point where she could use the corridors again.
They had come aboard with a crew of eighty people, mostly engineering crewmen and women. They were tasked with bringing the ship out of mothballs and into a serviceable state for the Antares Ship Yards to equip her with tactical systems and supervise upgrades to put her into the fight against the Dominion. No vessel in the reserve fleet was being overlooked in this endeavor to keep the war from dwindling their capacity to fight it.
Lieutenant Michael Hawking, the resident engineering officer, met her at the corridor junction. He appeared to be approaching from the opposite direction. "Hey," he said.
"Where the hell did you come from?" she asked with wide eyes.
"Well, I, uh…" he started, looking around at the location. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and gave her a sheepish look. "I got lost," he admitted with a shrug. "It was dumb luck that you got here when I did. I think I've been circling this junction for the past five minutes."
Indira could not contain her amusement. She shot him a wry grin. "You didn't think a map would help?"
"I did, but then that would force me to admit that I didn't know where I was going."
"You didn't."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to say I don't know."
"No, of course not," she said sarcastically.
"So where are we?"
She took a look around, but rather than admit her own loss of orientation, Indira consulted the padd containing the ship's organization. "Junction One-Eight-Two. We need to head aft a section and then down four more decks to reach engineering."
Hawking nodded as they began to walk in that direction. "Have you seen Grith around?"
"Not since we split up, no. I assume he's making his way up to the bridge."
"Good."
She fixed him with a glare. "'Good'?"
With a feigned shiver, he told her, "He gives me the creeps."
"What do you mean?"
"I know he's the first Gorn in Starfleet and all, but the hissing noise he makes when he talks…"
Indira chuckled. "I know. It takes some getting used to, doesn't it?"
Before he could respond, the voice of Lieutenant Commander Grith spoke over his communicator. "Grith to Hawking."
Hawking made it visibly clear that the Gorn's voice irritated him by shivering slightly as he touched his badge. "Hawking, here. Go ahead, sir."
"Where are you?"
Indira quickly shower her padd to give him his bearings. "I'm aft of junction two on deck eighteen."
"Go to engineering."
"We're on our way, sir."
"Who is with you?"
"Lieutenant Sukhija."
"Good. Out."
"Not much for words, is he?" asked Hawking, once Grith closed the channel.
"It's how they communicate," she told him. "Gorn leaders do not believe in mincing words or worrying about their command image."
He rolled his eyes as they entered the service hatch and climbed down the ladder to the deck below. "He's not going to get far with an attitude like that."
"I'm pretty sure that's the last thing on his mind right now," she said as she jumped down from the ladder and hit the deck with a resounding thud. "Ow."
Hawking stared down at her, wearing a wry grin. "That was pretty stupid."
She shot him an annoyed glare. "Shut up. Help me up, would you?"
He offered her his hand, and she used it, pulling herself up off the deck while rubbing at her backside.
---- Scene Change ----
Mike Hawking died during their first fleet action, Operation: Return, to take back Deep Space Nine when the ship took a direct hit to the engineering hull. Reports from the survivors of that conflict state that he died as he was assisting an injured crewman evacuate the compartment once the bulkheads began to activate. Unable to move himself out of the way of the emergency bulkhead, he was severed at the shoulders. The crewman survived as he was pushed out of the way at the last moment.
Then-Commander Grith recommended him for the Starfleet Cross, the second-highest honor one can earn in wartime. His recommendation was reduced to the Silver Star, along with a promotion to lieutenant commander, posthumously. She recalled how well Grith spoke of Hawking's career during the memorial service they held aboard the ship after Defiant drove the Dominion away from Deep Space Nine. That action had been her first taste of fleet combat during the war. It had also served as the first time she lost someone close to her in the line of duty.
To her, Hawking was more than just a friend; he had served with her on two previous starships prior to the start of the war with the Dominion. They were promoted together to junior grade lieutenant, and then again to full lieutenant aboard the Galaxy-class starship USS Venture. Serving under Captain Hastur, they cut their teeth on the border, defending civilian traffic from pirates and the wayward Ferengi ship, looking to salvage a ship before they qualified available for such an activity. When war broke out, Starfleet made a general appeal for officers to volunteer for combat duty. They mutually agreed to do so, hoping to net the same assignment.
Although she knew he had no regrets in saving that life, Indira regretted their decision to transfer to the same ship. For months following his death, she lingered on their impudent assumption that they would be fine no matter what. Faced with the grim prospect of mortality, she withdrew her friendships in the hope of sparing herself the pain of losing another close friend. Starfleet's mandate to protect the Federation from military threats meant that they all risked their lives for their citizens. Intellectually, she knew what that meant, but the lesson learned impacted the emotional side of her.
She felt the sting of the memory play at her heart as she entered the mess hall, noting strangely that it was devoid of any crew. Even with the lights dimmed, the royal blue flag of the United Federation of Planets installed above entrance and exit to the main corridor on that deck. The memory of how it got there struck her, as she stared at its lines...
---- Scene Change ----
The war with the Dominion forced the Federation and its allies to retreat. They gave up far more territory than they gained, and the overall morale of the crew began to wane with every report from the front. Exeter neared the completion of her necessary upgrades and they had planned to installed the remaining systems en route to link up with the fleet gathering at Starbase 375. Grith received a battlefield promotion to captain and appointed in command of the ship when the starship carrying their intended commanding officer was destroyed in battle on their way back from the front. He was ordered to make haste with the upgrades and proceed with all due speed.
Indira was appointed as the new executive officer after they got underway, seeing as she was the next most senior officer aboard ship. So, ranked merely as a full lieutenant, she approached her new duty as best she could. The lingering thought she had was to improve their morale, first. Otherwise, they would face their first battle with the possibility they would have an unfocused crew or worse... one that might defeat themselves before the first shot was fired.
When she addressed her concerns with Captain Grith, he took the information in stride and told her in his own way, that he would address it shortly. By the time the ship departed from the shipyards, he ordered her to assemble the crew in the mess hall for a brief announcement.
She arrived last, making certain that everyone heard her order and corralled them into the mess hall. Grith stood near the replicators and galley access, with a piece of royal blue cloth draped from his right arm. It shimmered as it moved with him, as the cloth caught the light within the mess hall.
"I came to the Federation long ago," he said. "My ship dealt with Orions but my crew died. I alone survived." He reached to the cloth and pulled it with his claw across the length of his uniformed arm.
"Starfleet ship Victory rescued me, but my ship was lost. I joined Starfleet to repay a great debt of thanks. My people reject myself and my decision. It is hard to think that I cannot go back home." He stared out at his crew, those huge eyes seemingly focused on each of them as they could see their reflection within the mirrors that scattered across them. "This is my home. You are my family.
"Our family is under threat of destruction by a powerful enemy. An enemy that travelled a great distance to seek our end. But we are too strong to be taken so easily because of how we work. Our family frightens them. We do not bend to the will of those who would scare us. Our family is strong."
He unraveled the flag of the United Federation of Planets and held it out within both of his claws. "This is the symbol of our family. Everyone who lives under it, shall have Starfleet's protection. We do not seek violence, but we will use it if there is no other way. We fight!"
Indira could feel the spirits of the crew lifting, as they all had looks of determination on their faces. It was working, and she had to admit, it was working for her, as well.
"We fight for them, and I fight for you," he said. "Lieutenant, some assistance, please."
She approached her captain and helped him place the flag above the entrance and everyone in the mess watched as they did so. Once they were done, they both stepped down from the stepladder and turned to face them.
Grith spoke once more. "This will be here to remind us. Remind us to remember why we are here. And why we cannot fail! We fight for them, and I fight for you!"
"We fight for them," repeated the crew, "and I fight for you."
Indira joined in, but raised her voice louder. It incited a response in kind from them, and soon they repeated the phrase over and over again until the voices could reach no higher without losing their composure. It soon dissolved into a rowdy applause.
As they were dismissed from the meeting, they all wore smiles and patted each other on the back. Indira looked at Grith and acknowledged his efforts with a smile of her own. "Well done, sir."
He said nothing. Grith turned and left the mess hall as he arrived, but he reached up and grazed the bottom of the cloth with his hand as he did so.
So did she.
And so did everyone else who left. Now, and throughout the rest of the war.
---- Scene Change ----
The flag hung there, though it looked a little less luminescent than it had been when it was first placed. A year and a half of people reaching up and touching it ritually might have drained some of its lustrous quality, although she mused that it might have something to do with the fact that the room's illumination was at quarter-standard.
As she departed the mess hall, she reached up out of habit. She made a mental note to preserve it for sentiment before they decommissioned the ship. After all, once the ship is removed from the active list, it can no longer legally fly the flag of the Federation.
She approached the junction toward main engineering. With a as warm as smile as she could muster, she waved away the junior grade lieutenant acting as the temporary chief engineer for their short voyage. A mere six people worked at the stations within the compartment. On any given shift during the war, engineering would have no less than fifty-four people working there. There was a time, during the war, when the number of people dropped dramatically...
---- Scene Change ----
The wail of the battlestations klaxon gave way to the alarm that informed the ship's crew that intruders had arrived. Exeter and the Excelsior-class Repulse were caught in a supply transfer of weapons near the Cardassian border when a fleet of Jem'Hadar vessels reached out across the line and attacked. Heavily damaged, Repulse had no choice but to leave them behind and move out of range of the subspace jamming to send for help. Grith antagonized the Dominion forces to keep their interest on Exeter.
Eventually, the ship's defense systems were compromised by energy weapons and torpedo fire. This allowed the shock troops entry aboard the Starfleet ship. Though the initial forces numbered five, the combined firepower of Exeter and Repulse reduced the odds significantly. The remaining two enemy ships centered their attack upon the engineering section enough to take the warp drive offline, crippling the ship's ability to defend itself.
The next logical step would be a boarding party. Hand weapons were distributed to those that did not already have them, and the security forces were distributed to the sensitive sections of the ship. Indira joined the crew defending engineering, as the ship's executive officer. Captain Grith remained behind to defend the bridge. The problem with defending against the Jem'Hadar was the simple fact that their stealth technology allowed them to appear from anywhere. There was no way to set up a defense, if the direction of the attack was uncertain.
As promised, the first sign of an attack turned out to be a scream from one of the security officers. Even though his weapon was drawn and ready for use, they managed to kill him with a quick slash across his neck. Phaser fire followed soon after, but Indira could not see clearly enough to know if she hit them or not. The environment within engineering heated up quickly as the air was exposed to more and more energy weapons. She felt the burn of a phaser beam hit the bulkhead near her arm, and she moved to her right to avoid being hit.
The wildness of the phaser fire from the collected group increased the danger tenfold, she realized. Just before she could order them to move against the bulkhead to fire in at the enemy, she felt the grasp of a Jem'Hadar soldier hard against her shoulder. Grimacing through the pain, Indira tried to leap to the right, but the vice-like grip he had her in prevented movement. She brought her phaser to bear on him, but he knocked it away with his free hand and then smiled as he took her wrist in his hand and squeezed hard enough to crack the bones there.
Feeling the fear course through her, she brought her knee up to the junction of his legs, hoping to injure him enough to free her from his painful ministrations. Impacting against his crotch, the force was enough to push him back and away from her, but he did not seem to be injured. A quick glance around at the melee within the compartment confirmed her suspicion; half of the team assembled there were already dead or mortally wounded. A phaser was within her reach.
She dove for it, falling down on her bruised shoulder hard. Screaming out in pain, she made contact with the weapon and without checking its settings, brought it around to point it in the direction of her assailant. She fired without aiming, trying her best to keep her eyes open and focused in spite of the stinging tears forming at the corners. The beam lanced out and touched the soldier's forehead, shooting clean through as it exploded under the power of the phaser.
Dispatching her attacker, she remained in the prone position, as more fire lanced out over her. Indira began to crawl toward the exit, hoping the contain the attacking party within and protect the rest of the ship. If need be, she could vent the atmosphere and stop the onslaught before other sections would be in danger. That was assuming they were not already, of course.
A pair of hands laid upon her back. She screamed in surprise and stopped when she turned over to fire her weapon at whoever it was. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of the security petty officers. The petty officer helped her to her feet, but kept her low as they both fired at the Jem'Hadar soldiers.
---- Scene Change ----
They survived the day, and she won herself the first of two Purple Heart medals. The firefight in engineering marked the first time she took a life in defense of her ship. At least, the first time in hand-to-hand combat. She remembered how long it took to come down off of her adrenaline rush and the moment she did, she collapsed under the care of the ship's medical officers. Indira folded her arms as she leaned against the bulkhead that took fire; the evidence residing there as they never managed the replace the panel.
The entire ship carried its battle scars from within and without. Starfleet lacked the resources to put a true spit-and-polish on the old girl. Sections of the external hull simply had hull patches replacing damaged ones. When she saw the ship from the view of the dockyard at Starbase 375, she remarked that it looked like they put half the ship in bandages. What she did not say was how much the ship looked like the crew felt... barely held together. It was not until they made the decision to make that final push to Cardassia that they decided to reinforce the armor plating.
Her hand ran against the side of the bulkhead where the Jem'Hadar weapon scored it. A small smirk played over her lips, but disappeared when the dark scar gave way to a faint red streak. She left out a shaky sigh as she pulled her hand back quickly.
Sukhija moved away from the engineering compartment, her hands clasped behind her.
---- Scene Change ----
The junior grade lieutenant seated in the center seat stood up as soon as he saw Sukhija step onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge," he announced clearly.
"As you were," said Sukhija, immediately. "There's certainly no need for that." She looked around at the bridge. All the stations were empty. "Especially since there's no one here."
Lieutenant (jg) Hansen, the ship's next senior officer, grinned. "Sorry, sir. I hope you'll forgive my indulgence."
"I suppose I'll overlook it, this time." She broke into a smile and asked for a report.
"The shipboard automation program is operating within cruise mode parameters," replied the ship's computer, before Hansen could speak. The computer continued with a full report of their course, speed, and sensor contacts.
Hansen shrugged with his hands outstretched.
"So what have you been doing while the computer's doing all the heavy lifting?" she asked him as she wandered over toward the helm.
"I have been efficiently applying heat to accelerate this surface, here," he patted the seat, "to a more comfortable temperature."
She shook with silent laughter. She liked Ulysses "Uli" Hansen, ever since he stepped aboard as an ensign less than a year ago. "Well done, Lieutenant."
"Will you be taking the bridge, sir?"
Sukhija looked around once more, taking it all in. "It's hard to believe that by this time next week, it'll be back to the way it was when we found her."
"Sir?"
"We rescued her from the Antares mothball fleet. Brought her back to life and put her into the fight."
Hansen shook his head. "You never told me that."
"Well, you were just a newly-commissioned ensign. I think you were more wide-eyed about the fact that you had to report to a Gorn captain than anything else. Not much time spent getting to know people while we took fire from the Dominion."
"I suppose you're right," he said. He stepped down, taking a seat at the helm station next to her. He did not touch any of the controls, instead swiveling the seat around to face her. "Do you know what you're going to do when we get home?"
She thought about it, looking away from him and at the deck. Finally, she admitted, "I don't know." She returned her gaze to Hansen. "Do you?"
He folded his arms. "The Bureau of Personnel transmitted a fleetwide bulletin that anyone seeking retirement or transfer to the reserves could do so within the next ninety days," he replied. "I've been thinking about whether or not I want to stay."
Hansen wasn't a regular. He was a reserve officer, pressed into service by the needs of the Federation. He didn't even graduate from Starfleet Academy, like she did. He was a product of the Reserve Officer Training Command, set up by Starfleet to recruit and train baccalaureates to be officers during the war. Demand was so high for skilled people, sometimes they would even forgo the college diploma. "Have you thought about transferring into the regular fleet?"
"I have. I mean, when I first got here, I wondered what the hell I was thinking..."
She grinned.
"Starfleet wasn't really my first choice. But, you know, with the war on and the patriotic call to duty... it was hard not to make a good case for joining and fighting for what I believe in."
She tilted her head to one side. "Starfleet isn't all about fighting, though. It's just one of our functions."
"I know."
Looking away from him again, she placed a hand on her chest. "I certainly didn't join to fight. I joined to explore."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," she said with a succinct nod. "But, when you're an explorer, you've got be ready to defend yourself and your ship against anything that might want to bring harm. The unknown isn't all Betazoids and Deltans. The unknown has Romulans, Breen..."
"The Dominion," he added.
"Right."
Hansen appeared to consider her words. "Do you think I'd do well on an explorer?"
Sukija smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. He came aboard with a degree in astronavigation, hoping to land himself a job on a commercial vessel as a pilot. In their time serving together, he learned combat flight so quickly that his talents became indispensible aboard Exeter. "Let's just say that if I ever command a ship, you'd be one of the first people I'd want as my crew."
"Thanks, sir," Hansen said with a large smile. With an extended index finger, he said, "I'm going to hold you to that."
---- Scene Change ----
"Attention to orders," announced Sukhija. The skeleton crew assembled in the ship's large mess hall. With the tables cleared away and stored, there was enough room for four times that many people, but group of one hundred remained behind to decommission their home.
The dockyard lieutenant stood next to her as the ceremony dictated. She carried the orders from Starfleet's Bureau of Ships to Sukhija, and presented them upon her arrival.
"By the order of Starfleet Command, Naval Construction Contract Two Six Five Three One is stricken from the active list and decommissioned, effective this stardate," she read the order aloud to the crew. "The ex-Exeter is to be transferred to the McKinley orbital facility for dismantling and recycling." Her throat threatened to close up as she read the new name of the ship. She would no longer fly the flag of the Federation on her decks. "Signed, Rear Admiral Grant Edward Markham, Starfleet Bureau of Ships."
The lieutenant turned toward her and nodded. "I relieve you, sir."
She turned to face the young woman. "I stand relieved." The ceremony completed, the crew began to break up. She called out, "Before you all go..."
They turned their heads to look at her. Some of them with a question in their eyes. This was not a part of the usual procedure.
"Before you all go... I just wanted to say..." she started, feeling the back of head get tight along with her throat. "I just wanted to say that these past two years, serving with all of you..." She wrung her hands out, not sure of what to say next. She wanted to tell them that she didn't want the family to break up like this. She didn't want to put Exeter out to pasture. She enjoyed their time together, but how could one enjoy being at war? Would that sound too callous, in spite of her sentiment? "It has been a privilege to serve with every one of you. I'm glad... that I got a chance to be here. That we were here to see the old girl home for the last time."
Sad smiles broke out across the crowd. A few shook each others' hands, some hugged. Hansen stepped forward from within them and reached out with his hand to her.
She gripped it firmly.
"Good luck to you, sir." He said, pulling her into the crowd.
Everyone began to pat her back or shake her hand. Words of good luck and good bye were uttered as they all seemed to coalesce in camaraderie. Eventually, they all began to leave, in pairs and groups, until Sukhija and Hansen remained behind.
He shook her hand again and reminded her of her promise.
"I won't forget, Lieutenant," she told him.
And then she was alone on the deck.
The flag of the Federation had been taken down, but the spot where it sat remained. It was Captain Grith's idea to hang it there to remind all of them what they stood for, and why they fought to protect it. Every morning before her scheduled shift, she would enter the mess hall, look up at that flag, and remember how Mike Hawking would reach up and touch it on his way out of the door.
When the ship was removed from active service, the act of taking down the flag was called, "striking the colors." It was folded ceremoniously, and then offered to the commanding officer of the ship being decommissioned. It was supposed to be an honor granted to the final captain.
Now it was gone, forever.
She damned herself for not speaking up. Instead, she realized that she said what she needed to say. With a final glance around, she left the mess hall and made her way down to the airlock.
All of the ship's lights were reduced to allow just enough light to navigate the corridors. The turbolift sighed as it reached her deck, and she ran her hand along the side of it until it reached the control panel. She entered in her destination, not trusting her voice to speak at all.
The doors parted again, to allow her to step off. The deck containing the airlock did not have carpet on it; instead, her heels clicked loudly against the metal deck. They echoed down the corridors in every direction. The sound reminded her that she would be the last of the crew to depart the ship.
However, Lieutenant Hansen stood just inside the airlock, waiting for her. He had something in his hands behind him, but she could not see it.
"What are you still doing here?" she asked.
"I was waiting around for you."
"Why?"
He pulled around a triangle-shaped object in front of him and presented it to her. "I hope you don't mind. I had a couple of the crewmen take it down before the dockyard people got to it."
"I don’t' understand."
He gestured with it, for her to take it. "I believe, sir, that as the last captain of the Exeter, the honor goes to you."
She looked down at it, and when she saw the gold letters spelling out the United Federation of Planets, she grinned. "Thank you, Lieutenant." Sukhija accepted the flag with both hands, and then placed her right hand on top of it... feeling the thick fabric move under her fingers. "Thank you."
"No, sir," he said with a slow shake of his head. "Thank you."
---- Scene Change ----
"Good morning, Commander," said Rear Admiral Jana Fleming as she rose from behind her desk. Her office on the executive floor of Starfleet Headquarters overlooked a stunning view of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, facing toward the bay from the old grounds of the American military base formerly known as "The Presidio." She wore dual gold pips inside what was known as the "flag box," denoting her rank as a rear admiral (upper half).
Indira accepted the offered hand of the admiral and shook it gently before releasing it. "Good morning, Admiral," she replied in kind. "How may I be of service to you, sir?"
Wrinkles around the green eyes of the rear admiral formed as she smiled. "I understand from the Bureau of Personnel that you turned down their retirement offer." Fleming reseated herself behind the desk and gestured for Indira to take a seat herself.
Irritation bubbled up inside her. "Yes, sir," said Indira, trying her best to keep an indignant tone out of her voice as she spoke. "And with all due respect, sir, I can spare both of us a lot of time by reiterating my commitment to serving."
"Please don't misunderstand, Commander," said the admiral with a raised hand. "This meeting is not about convincing you to stand down. It's to ask you to step up."
"I'm all ears, sir."
"We would like you to consider an assignment to a deep space exploration mission into the Beta Quadrant." Admiral Fleming keyed in a few commands into her desktop terminal to call up a mission profile on the large viewscreen in her office. "An extended multi-ship mission carried out by a number of ships, varying in size from Galaxy-class to Intrepid-class."
Her eyes looking over the mission specifics, she saw that it would be twenty ships sent into the unexplored territory. "This mission profile reminds me of the old five-year missions in the twenty-third century."
"The profile drew a lot of inspiration from those old missions; especially with the level of effectiveness it had on Federation resources in the years following the end of that program."
If the admiral wanted her to make some sort of contribution, the mission profile certainly did not illustrate that. "I see, sir. If I may be so bold, how would I fit into those plans?"
Fleming grinned. "They told me you were the kind of woman to get to the bottom line."
"'They,' sir?"
"Admiral Ross and Captain Grith. Both of them contacted my office this week, asking me to consider you for placement within the new program."
Indira fought the blush as much as possible, but lost the battle. "I asked them not to go through any trouble on my behalf, sir."
"Nonsense," Fleming said immediately. "They communicated to me that they felt you had been overlooked. I've read your service record. It's very rare to have an officer with your level of combat experience survive the war for as long as you did. Captain Grith spoke very highly of you and your ability to adapt to every situation the Dominion threw at you."
"I must remember to thank them for their kindness."
"Come now, Commander. No false modesty."
Feeling her blush deepen, Indira kept herself from sinking into the chair as the admiral maintained her stare. "It's not false, sir. I did what was required of me."
"Well, be that as it may, I believe we have need of a officer like yourself for this program."
"Yes, sir."
Admiral Fleming looked down at her terminal. "I would like you to find transportation to Utopia Planetia after taking some administrative leave of one week to enjoy some downtime," she ordered. "I understand that you have not had an opportunity to indulge in recreation since the end of the war?"
"Actually, sir, I think the last time I had leave was before the war started."
"Then this will be your big chance, Commander."
"Aye, sir. To what ship will I be reporting once my leave is over?"
"New construction," replied the admiral. "Intrepid-class light cruiser."
As she was a lieutenant commander, Indira sighed. She would serve as an executive officer once more. Light cruisers required no less than a full commander in permanent command. "Has the captain been selected, yet, sir?"
"In fact, she has. However, she has not yet been informed of her appointment."
Indira gave the admiral a nod. "Understood, sir."
Fleming reached for a padd and handed it to Indira. "For you, Commander."
"Thank you, sir." Indira read the screen casually, not really letting the words sink in. She assumed it was simply her duty orders for transfer following leave. "Will there be anything else, Admiral?"
The admiral cocked her head. "Did you not read it?"
Embarrassed that she had not, Indira quickly gave the padd her undivided attention. When she finished reading, she snapped her head up to fix the admiral with a wide smile. "Thank you, sir!"
Admiral Fleming offered her hand and said, "Congratulations, Captain Sukhija."
TO: LCDR I. Sukhija
FR: VADM J. Fleming
RE: PCU Exeter
Lieutenant Commander:
1. You are hereby selected for promotion to the rank of Commander.
2. You are requested and required to assume command of NCC-78770 (PCU Exeter), presently located at Construction Yard Gamma, Utopia Planetia Ship Yards, Mars.
Signed,
Jana I. Fleming,
Rear Admiral (upper half),
Starfleet Command
----------------
Even though Sukhija gets her new command, I felt like the story needed to be told. In the end, although we personify the ships, it's the characters who make the story. I hoped to prove that in the last scene where I wanted to provide a happy ending.
Thanks for reading. Farragut is next.
-- ZC
Before I get to the final entry of The Quarterdeck Breed, I wanted to thank those of you who've dropped by and left some really kind words for me to read. Writing TQB really forced me to explore the many facets of life in Starfleet, within the universe we've all come to love and enjoy so much. It seemed fitting to this series with a ship that really started my career in fanfic writing, Farragut.
During the years of The Next Generation, I wrote a series of short stories about a Galaxy-class starship Farragut under the command of Captain Krystine Leone. I was in middle school at the time, and my writing was horrid, but I always remembered those characters because, let's face it, you never forget the first time.
As a tribute to that, and I guess also to kickstart Full Speed Ahead, I give you Farragut.
This story takes place at the end of the "First Season" of Full Speed Ahead. You don't need to read FSA to enjoy this.
-------------------------
The Quarterdeck Breed
by Michael D. Garcia
Part Six: Farragut
NCC-60597 (USS Farragut)
En route to Wolf 359
Stardate 43999.1
Main Bridge
The viewscreen showed the faster-than-light distortion of the field of stars outside the ship. As the ship continued toward its destination, the stars would pass by in a long white line. Farragut's engines accelerated the ship over fifteen thousand times the speed of light, and her captain had yet to be satisfied..
Captain Leone's eyes drifted down to the right-side panel; the speed indicator remained constant at warp nine-point-five. It was the maximum emergency speed for the Nebula-class, and they would not be able to sustain it indefinitely. She stayed the urge to call down to engineering; order them to do whatever they could to boost the ship's engines. They were already providing the very best possible speed they could.
She looked back up at the viewscreen. Every so often, she would see the portside warp nacelle of the Ambassador-class USS Excalibur drift over the edge and then back out. Making course corrections at high warp was never a good thing to do, but the situation warranted making desperate decisions. On the port side of the Farragut was the sister ship, Lexington. The three ships were in tight warp formation for the benefit of approaching Wolf 359 quickly. As the nacelle drifted back and forth again, Leone hoped they wouldn't try anything reckless or hasty, as they might collapse the warp fields of all three ships.
"Incoming transmission from the Excalibur," announced Lieutenant Nieves from the tactical position.
"Put him through," ordered Leone.
The bridge of the Excalibur replaced the warp-distorted stars. Captain Estrada stood next to his executive officer as they hunched over the flight controller's console. He snapped his head up to look at her. "Captain Leone, I'm afraid we're going to need to drop out of formation and take a breather."
Leone rose from her seat and nodded. "I understand, Captain. How long?"
"From what my chief engineer tells me, we'll be out for two to four hours."
She winced inwardly. They needed Excalibur's firepower, badly. "Is there anything we can do?"
He stared at her, hard. "Get in a couple of shots for us, Captain. Excalibur, out."
"Mister Nieves, raise the Melbourne. Get me Admiral Hanson."
"Aye, sir," replied Nieves. He entered in a few commands and then informed her, "Sir, Admiral Hanson is on another channel, speaking to the Enterprise. It'll be a moment."
"I'll wait," she said. She did not want to sit down again, feeling the freedom of walking around on her bridge. Of course, pacing would not help her officers and crew, either. Even if it did make her feel like she was doing something. Her bridge was not dissimilar from a Galaxy-class bridge; with the distinctive horseshoe-like tactical station behind three command chairs. She walked up one side of the bridge and stopped at the engineering console, peering at it over the shoulder of the ensign standing there.
Then she strode down the other side, with her arms folded across her midsection and then stopped behind the officer seated at the conn, Ensign Gregory Aspinall. She sighed, blowing some of the air up toward her dark red bangs. It was then that Nieves broke the tense silence.
"I have the admiral, sir."
"On screen," she said, immediately.
J. P. Hanson reminded Leone of her great Uncle Antonio when he smiled. And he always had a warm smile, even in these dire circumstances. "Captain Leone, Commander Kincaid."
Her first officer stood as the admiral appeared. Both of them acknowledged the greeting in kind.
"What's your estimated time of arrival, Captain?" asked Hanson.
Her eyes darted down to the helm display briefly. "At current speed, we should arrive at Wolf 359 in just under thirty-six hours, sir."
"I see," he sighed. "There have been a few developments since the last time we spoke. The weapon developed by the Enterprise failed the stop the Borg as we had hoped, but it did delay them. The cube has returned to its previous course and shall be here within the day. So far, we've assembled a fleet of thirty-nine starships."
"That's outstanding, sir."
"Hopefully, we can keep them occupied until you get here. We could certainly use an addition three ships-"
"Two, sir," she interrupted.
Hanson tilted his head. "What?"
She explained Excalibur's predicament.
"Then we will have to make do with what we can get."
"Aye, sir."
"One other thing, Captain."
"Yes, sir?"
"Captain Picard has been assimilated by the Borg. He goes by the name of 'Locutus,' and he seems to be acting as a spokesman for them."
Leone and Kincaid shared a brief look. "Understood, sir."
"We've lost a great officer and good friend. We're going to make sure they pay for it."
She vowed, "We'll be there, sir. Even if I have to pull this ship with my bare hands."
"We'll be waiting." An officer moved into view of the screen, and handed him a padd. Hanson looked at it and nodded. "We're sending you the latest information we have on the most recent Borg encounters, including the Enterprise sensor data and mission reports. If you or your crew happens to come up with any ideas..."
"You'll be the first to know, sir."
---- Scene Change ----
The senior staff sat around the conference table in the bridge observation lounge, located aft on the deck. Commander Jesse Kincaid sat to her right, as he always did, while she sat at the head of the table. "All right, I'm not going to bother with saying anything. Who here has an idea?"
Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis, the ship's Chief Operations Officer and third-in-command, looked right at Lieutenant Petra Bartlet. "Mister Bartlet had a few questions."
Leone looked at the chief engineer, expectantly.
Bartlet nodded. "Sir, the information regarding the high band burst from their deflector dish... I mean, how in the hell did they adapt so quickly? Not even the Borg could've covered the band before the cube would've been reduced to a square."
Kincaid spoke up. "It's in one of the mission commentaries..." he trailed off as he quickly browsed the index of reports. "Ah, here it is. Commander Data suggests that when the Borg assimilate Captain Picard, they assimilated not just his body, but his knowledge and experience, as well."
"It wasn't just suggested, Commander. The Borg made it clear in their last transmission," said Leone. "So, we are dealing with the fact that they know exactly how we would respond to an incursion into the core sectors, as well as how our fleet tactics work. Weapon strengths, deflector frequencies."
"Then there's nothing the fleet can do, right?"
The words hung in the air without any further comment. Leone looked at her officers, recognizing the painful look of defeat in their eyes. "Enough of that. We can't be at the fleet to lend our firepower, but that doesn't mean we cannot help them from here. I want each of you working on the problem, and submit your ideas to me within the next two hours. We have nineteen hours until the Borg get to Wolf 359."
That seemed to dampen the dreary mood a bit. Kincaid smiled at her, almost knowingly.
"You heard the captain," he said. "Dismissed."
Kincaid remained behind, as the rest of the senior officers filed out of the lounge. He made a steeple of his hands atop the table and looked down. "Do you really think they'll come up with something?"
"I hope so, Jess," she sighed. "I would really hate to have to retake Earth if they do assimilate it."
Nieves called into the lounge. "Captain, incoming transmission from the Lexington."
"Put it through, here."
Captain Justine Wilder appeared on the small screen. She did not look happy.
"What's wrong?" asked Leone.
"Remember when Andy Estrada told you he would have to drop out of warp soon?"
"Yeah."
"We're not far behind that. We're not going to make it the full thirty-six."
"How far can you go?"
"Another twelve hours, and then we need to cool down for two before we can stress the engines again," replied Wilder with a frown. "I'm sorry we're not going to be able to go the distance."
There was more to her tone; that barely restrained frustration behind the thin veneer of calm on Wilder's face. She looked like she wanted to put her fist through the display, and Leone felt some of it, too
Farragut was on her own.
---- Scene Change ----
"Dominic is fine. He's playing with the neighbor's children right now," said her mother. "It's been all over the news nets. Starfleet's is making a stand at Wolf 359."
Captain Krystine Leone nodded. "Have any of your friends kept you in the loop?"
Vice Admiral Angelina Leone, retired, tilted her head and smiled at her daughter. She had been the former head of Starfleet Tactical before Vice Admiral Hanson took over. "For the most part. And for what it's worth, I think J. P. is a fool for assembling a fleet at Wolf 359. He pulled a majority of the Sol defensive units to make up his fleet. If they fail..."
"That's not a kind thing to say, Mom. You should know better than to play armchair quarterback."
Her mother's expression hardened. "And you should know better than to chastise me, Captain."
Leone bristled inwardly. "I hate it when you pull rank on me." She expected a rebuke.
Instead, her mother grinned. "I may not get another chance to."
Captain Leone looked down at the deck, trying to hide her own smile. "Yes, sir."
Admiral Leone chuckled. "By the way, Dominic managed to pull his grades up during his summer studies. He'll be able to take the secondary school exams with everyone else next month."
"Really? That's wonderful," said Leone, elated. "I thought he might have to suffer a semester of remedial study, but this is good news." Worried that her son might be developmentally challenged, she feared that he would be relegated to a substandard training regimen than his friends. Children could be so cruel to their peers.
"Yes, it seems your son inherited some genes from our side of the family."
"Mom," she warned.
"What? I didn't say anything." Her mother's dislike of her husband managed to find its way into every conversation they had.
"John's a good man."
"And a lousy father."
"You promised not to disparage him in front of Dominic."
"He's outside."
"Or me."
Admiral Leone pressed her lips together. "If perhaps you might convince him to spend a little time with his son. I'm afraid that Dominic will forget what he looks like."
That much was true, she couldn't deny. But she was as guilty as he, being away for long periods of time. "I'm never around, either. Does that make me a lousy mother?"
"You're in Starfleet, Krystine," replied her mother, matter-of-factly. "He is not."
She brought a hand to her head, forcing down the many thing she wished to say to her. "You know..."
"How far away from Wolf are you?" interrupted her mother.
"Thirty-one hours."
"Are you going to make it?"
She shook her head. "Not by a long shot, but that's not going to stop us from trying."
"Warp engine status?"
"My chief engineer is keeping her eye on them. We'll be forced to drop out of warp in ten hours."
"You're running at maximum emergency speed, for more than twenty-four hours. You should jog the engines."
"Sir?"
"Jog the engines. Drop to low warp, like say warp two or three, so you're not at a standstill. While the engines are at that speed, your chief engineer should be able to cycle the coils one by one and drive the coil heat through the plasma vents."
"We can't open the plasma vents while at warp, Mom."
"Captain, I know what I'm talking about. Just do it. That should get you another full day of max speed." Without waiting for her daughter to response, she asked, "Now, would you like to speak with your son?"
---- Scene Change ----
Lieutenant Petra Bartlet hunched over the chief engineer's station in main engineering as Captain Leone walked in. "C-Captain," she stammered. "What can I do for you?"
With a motion of her thumb, the captain replied, "I just got done speaking with my mother and my son-"
"Oh, how are they?"
"A little too calm, for my liking, actually."
"Really?"
"That's not really what I came down here to discuss."
"Oh, sorry."
"It's all right. Listen, have you ever heard of a... 'warp jog'?"
"A what, sir?"
The captain explained the procedure. "It's not possible, is it?"
Petra turned to access a station behind her, and began entering in parameters for it. "The safety protocols won't allows us to disengage the vent locks on the nacelles. Basically, the ship vents the coil heat into the vacuum to bring the coil temperature down to acceptable levels..." she trailed off as she noticed the annoyed expression on the captain's face. "Which you already know, of course."
Captain Leone smiled thinly. "Is my mother crazy?"
"Not entirely. I mean, your mother was a starship captain, too. Back in the days when procedure and regulation were more like flights of fancy," Petra said with a smile, but dropped it immediately when she realized what she said. "N-Not that I'm implying that your mother is old or anything, sir."
"It's okay," assured the captain. "She is."
"Yes, sir," Petra agreed immediately. "I mean, I understand."
"Can it be done, Lieutenant?"
"I think so. We'd have to drop to warp two, though. I wouldn't want to try it at a higher speed. Maybe warp one would be better."
Leone nodded. "You're the chief engineer. I'll go with your recommendations. How long would it take to cycle through all the coils?"
"Fifteen to thirty minutes, barring any unforeseen problems."
"I'll take a full hour over two to four hours."
"Yes, sir."
"We have a little under ten hours of max speed," noted Leone. "How long to come up with a procedure for this?"
Petra thought it over. "I could start running some simulations on the holodeck right now."
"Good."
"But, sir?"
"Yes?"
"What about the ideas for the fleet?"
"Have you come up with any?"
Petra frowned. "Not exactly, sir. But we're working on it. Would you like us to work on the 'warp jog,' instead?"
Leone began to walk back toward the turbolift. She replied over her shoulder, "Two teams, Lieutenant. One for this, and the other for that."
"Aye, sir." She relaxed when the captain disappeared into the lift. Turning around to look at her team, she nodded. "You heard the lady, and you know what to do, so let's get it done."
Her department began to come together, taking the two projects and forming the teams efficiently. Petra smiled, knowing that she had the best people working for her, and watched them with a sense of pride out of the corner of one eye.
The other eye was working on the problem.
---- Scene Change ----
Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis raised her arms above her head to stretch, while a yawn crept up at the same time.
Leaning over her station, Commander Kincaid smiled. "Tired?"
"It's been a long day," she said through the yawn. "You?"
"Not yet. But you know that part of the day when you know you should be tired..."
Ariel nodded as she tapped in a few commands to run a diagnostic. "Yeah."
"I keep waiting for me to start feeling tired, but it doesn't come."
"Maybe it's adrenaline?"
"Nah."
"Excitement before a battle?"
Kincaid shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Did you sleep a lot last night?"
He chuckled. "Define 'a lot.'"
She smiled. "Good point."
"I think it was all that coffee I had earlier. I was drinking it like water."
"It is water."
"You know what I mean."
"So, you're saying your super-caffeinated?"
Kincaid shrugged. "I guess so."
Ariel opened her mouth, but closed it again as the turbolift closest to the viewscreen opened its doors to deposit the captain onto the bridge.
Kincaid removed his foot from the base of the operations console and returned to his seat to join the captain in the command center.
"How're we looking, Jess?" asked Captain Leone.
"Still on course for Wolf 359 at max warp, sir."
Leone did not turn her head as she spoke to the tactical officer behind her. "Any comm traffic, Wilson?"
"Starfleet TacNet traffic. The Borg cube is on long range sensors of the fleet, and they expect to engage in less than five hours."
"Any word on the Enterprise?"
"No, sir."
Leone sighed. "All right. Bridge to engineering."
"Engineering. Bartlet, here, sir."
"We're going to start the jog thing. Keep an eye on the speed."
"Aye, sir."
"Helm, slow us to warp two."
Ensign Gregory Aspinall turned in his seat to stare back at the captain. "Sir?"
"Warp two."
He continued to stare at Leone, incredulously.
"The old lady hasn't lost her mind, Ensign," said Leone with a smile. "Carry out my order."
The ensign and the executive officer shared a look, before Aspinall turned back around and announced, "Slowing to warp two, aye, sir."
Kincaid leaned over and lowered his voice. "What jog thing were you referring to, sir?"
"You'll see in a moment," she replied in a similar tone. She raised it again, to address the air. "Engineering?"
Bartlet's stammer carried over the bridge intercom. "Y-Yes, sir. We're starting o-our jog procedure now."
"Thank you." Leone stood up and addressed the bridge. "I had a rather interesting conversation with an old starship captain not too long ago." She explained what her mother had said.
Kincaid shook his head. "That's rather innovative, Captain. But opening the vents at warp-"
She raised a hand. "I know. But Petra is confident it will work, and hopefully we don't lose more than a half-hour."
Ariel swiveled around in her seat to face the captain and executive officer. "Tell your mother, thanks."
Leone smiled. "I will." It was no secret to the bridge crew that Ariel and Leone had been friends for more than ten years, ever since they served together on the USS Victory. They were like long-lost sisters after they met and hit it off. Both had been only children in their respective families.
"Sir, incoming communication from the Enterprise on the TacNet. They're on the move, again. Making their way to Wolf 359," said Lieutenant Nieves with a pleased voice. The mood on the bridge brightened considerably.
"Nothing can keep them down," said Kincaid proudly.
The captain asked, "Any word from Lexington or Excalibur?"
"Excalibur is reporting that they've fifteen minutes before they jump back into warp. Lexington still have another hour and a half."
"Transmit the instructions for Lieutenant Bartlet's variation on the warp jog to them, please."
"Aye, sir. Transmitting, now."
"Thank you, Wilson."
As soon as Nieves finished transmitting the information, another signal appeared on his console. "Captain, there's a TacNet signal coming through from the Melbourne. I think it's Admiral Hanson."
Leone stood up, immediately. "On screen."
The bridge of the Melbourne had its alert status indicator lights flashing a bright red. Admiral Hanson stood near the tactical station, and he looked up at the viewscreen. "Farragut, the Borg will be arriving at the Wolf 359 system in just under thirty minutes. Have you any tricks you might want to share with us?"
Her heart sank. "Admiral, I'm so sorry, sir. We've reviewed the data you provided us as much as possible, but there was little we could do in such a short amount of time. Especially given the circumstance of Captain Picard's knowledge now being an asset to the Borg."
Hanson pursed his lips together in frustration. "I still refuse to admit that Jean-Luc Picard would ever assist the Borg."
"Sir, with all due respect..."
He waved at her impatiently. Gone was the soft smile that she loved; there was no room for pleasantry or courtesy, now. "I don't have time to worry about that, Captain. This fleet will either stop the Borg... or die trying."
She wished they could be there with them, right then. All she could do was accept the fact that she failed him. "Understood, sir. We're still a good twenty hours away."
"As I told Captain Riker on the Enterprise, I'm sorry you'll miss the party."
Captain Riker? Of course, she thought. It was only logical that he received a battlefield promotion. "Yes, sir. We'll make a fashionably late entrance."
"I'm sure you will, Captain Leone. Godspeed."
"Good hunting," she replied.
"Hanson, out." The viewscreen blanked and returned to the warp-distorted stars as it had before the communication.
Down in the pit of her stomach, a tight knot formed and she reseated herself slowly.
Kincaid leaned over and expressed his concern. "Captain?"
"Yes?"
"Are you all right, sir?"
"I'm fine, Jess." She crossed her legs and tried her best to shake off the feeling, but she could not. Leone turned to her executive officer. "It's just that..."
"What, sir?"
"I feel like that's the last time I'm ever going to get to talk to him."
---- Scene Change ----
The news of the loss of all communications with the fleet woke her from her fitful sleep only two and a half hours later. They were still sixteen hours away from the system, but she wandered up to the bridge nonetheless to witness the final transmission from the Melbourne. Admiral Hanson was addressing the Enterprise directly when he gave the order for the fleet to fall back and regroup. Unfortunately, those orders were cut off as the transmission was lost at the source.
Whether the Borg began jamming all communications or the Melbourne's inability to send due to damage or destruction, no one could say for certain. All Leone knew, at the point, was that news of the fleet's inability to send a signal did not brighten their spirits any. With a heavy sigh, she retreated back to her stateroom in an attempt to sleep, but knew she would only stare at the upper bulkhead for another hour or so before the next call from the bridge summoned her back.
With the warp engines sufficiently cooled enough to risk stressing them continuously, Farragut jumped out to an enormous lead over her previous travelling companions. The deafening silence from Wolf 359 took its toll on the ship's morale, and when Leone visited the large ship's lounge on the tenth deck, she could see that no one was in the mood to relax.
The person in charge of the lounge was a young woman named Caryn Johnson. Caryn always welcomed new people to the ship when they chanced the lounge, made them feel at home, and even prepared meals for those who might feel a little homesick. Although they carried a talented counselor aboard ship, there were many who availed themselves of Caryn's understanding ear and her legendary discretion.
When Leone entered, Caryn looked up from the bar. She sat upon a stool behind it, but got to her feet and showed off her pearly whites. "Captain. You're my first customer today."
"God, is it really that bad?" asked Leone, letting her guard down. Caryn never seemed to mind treating her as a peer, rather than as a superior officer.
"Can I get you something?"
"No, thanks. Just came to see if anyone was enjoying the calm before the storm."
The bartender shrugged. "Everyone's feeling a little off their game right now. They don't know what's going to happen to them."
Leone settled into a stool in front of Caryn, and placed her elbows on the bar. "Honestly, I don't know, either."
"I'm glad you're admitting it. But be sure to keep those thoughts to yourself."
"I'm intending to. I see how they look at me for a reaction every time a bit more bad news comes our way. It's hard not to notice."
"I imagine command to be very lonely."
"You have no idea."
"Is it what you always wanted?"
"Ever since I was a little girl, playing with scale model starships that my mother would bring me when she had a few days' leave to spend with me," said Leone, her eyes gazing up into the corner of the lounge.
Caryn smiled. "Your mother's on Earth, isn't she?"
Leone nodded.
"Do you talk to her often?"
"We write to each other. We call every so often." Leone explained, "She and my dad are looking after my son, Dominic."
"You know, Captain, I've always wondered why you never decided to move your son to the ship. It's designed to carry families, just like the Galaxy-class, isn't it?"
"There's not a day that goes by where I don't consider it, believe me."
"But...?"
"But, I think it's better for him to grow up on Earth while he can. Enjoy it for what it is so that maybe someday he might get the notion that he wants to protect it with his life."
"Keep up the family business?"
"Yeah."
"Don't you think he would benefit from being with his mother?"
Leone sighed. "Maybe. But... I think it would make life difficult for him to have to grow up on a ship where he would receive some special attention."
"Because he's the captain's son?"
"Exactly."
"Weren't you the captain's daughter?"
"Sure, but I didn't live on the ship with my mom. I would visit sometimes..."
"And?"
"And I loved it. It was a lot of fun to wander the decks. Officers would us a wide berth when we would take a tour of the ship. I felt like I was related to royalty or something, they way they treated her."
"You wanted that, too."
Leone blushed. "I don't know if I wanted the respect, but I remember that I really wanted to serve with her on the same ship. I wanted to be one of the people she could turn to and give orders, knowing they would be carried out."
Caryn grinned.
"I used to fantasize about going off into the unknown with her."
"I'll bet."
"By the time I made captain, she was already retired a year."
"Vice Admiral Leone, correct?"
"I guess a lot of people know her."
"Even Admiral Necheyev respects her, and that's saying a lot."
"Alynna's an old friend of the family."
"We rub shoulders with admirals?"
"She served under my mother on a couple of occasions. I've known her most of my life."
"I guess that comes from being a Starfleet brat."
Leone chuckled. "Well, that's the way it was in my family. My father also served, but he didn't seek the political challenge of the admiralty like my mother did."
"Your parents served. Your grandparents served?"
"My mother's parents did. My father's dad did, too."
"And what about before then?"
"Two of my great-grandfathers did, and a great-grandmother."
"You're fourth generation Starfleet."
"Yeah, I guess I am."
"And you know, somehow, I think that your son will follow in your footsteps, and so will his children, and theirs..."
"Even knowing what we know?"
"You mean the Borg?"
Leone nodded.
"I'm not that worried about the Borg, Captain. That's your problem."
"I kind of thought it was a shared dilemma."
"It is, but there's not much I can do about it. I have to put my faith in you and your officers."
"Well, that's awfully generous of you, Caryn."
"Comes with the territory. I've been aboard this ship ever since you assumed command," she pointed toward the viewports, "right over there on that very spot." She put her hand back down on the bar. "We've been through some interesting times together, and I'm still here to reminisce about them. Something tells me that I'll be telling stories about Wolf 359 for years to come."
"And what if you're wrong."
"I'm not."
Leone rolled her eyes. "Hypothetically speaking, then."
"If I'm wrong, then we die."
"I suppose that's a rather candid way of looking at it," she said, trying to offer a wry grin.
Caryn put both hands down on the bar and look at Leone. "You are Krystine Leone and this is Farragut. If we fail, I'll die secure in the knowledge that you did everything in your power. I'm here, just like you. I'm breathing the same recycled air, eating the same replicated food... and sharing in the same consequences like everyone else."
Leone felt a chill run down her spine as Caryn spoke with such conviction. She said nothing in response.
"We may not be the ship of miracles, like Enterprise. But I'll just say that my assignment here was not because this was my second choice. You know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"So, go on, now. Write to your son. Get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead of all of us tomorrow."
---- Scene Change ----
"Now entering the Wolf 359 system, Captain," reported Ensign Aspinall from the helm.
"Battle stations." The computer automatically sounded the wail of the klaxon.
"Shields activated, all weapon systems are online," reported Lieutenant Wilson Nieves.
"Any signs of battle, Wilson?" asked the captain, her eyes scanning the viewscreen for anything.
"No, sir. I'm reading no weapons fire or any traffic on TacNet. Not since we lost the Admiral's transmission."
"Ariel."
"I'm already extending the lateral array as far out as it can go, sir. I'm not seeing any- wait a minute. There's a debris field approximately three million kilometers directly ahead."
"Picking up distress calls on emergency frequencies," said Nieves. "Escape pod beacons overlapping shuttle calls. There's quite a few of them out there."
"Any sign of the Borg?"
Ariel shook her head. "No, sir. Reading a warp trail and a graviton wake. I think one's the Enterprise and the other is the Borg cube. Nothing matching the size and configuration within this system."
"Stand down battle stations," ordered Leone. "Jess, organize search and rescue."
"Right away, sir." Kincaid rose from his seat. "Greg, you stay here. All other available pilots, report to the shuttle bays for SAR duty." He departed the bridge, being one of the pilots.
"Ariel, coordinate the transporter rooms. Start recovering escape pods."
Ariel moved away from her station, and another officer from her department took her place. A junior grade lieutenant whose name escaped the captain.
They continued to approach the field at full impulse, and it grew larger on the screen. Broken ships hung in space like toys discarded by an angry child. The breaks in the hull sparked into the vacuum, while gas poured out of the cracks. She knew it was atmosphere escaping through to the void. "Wilson, any life signs aboard those... wrecks?"
Nieves met her gaze, but all he could do was shake his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, sir."
Farragut was the only operational ship in the system. She knew her duty was clear. "I'm going to need to speak to Starfleet Command."
"Yes, sir."
Leone walked to her ready room and gestured to him. She wanted the call to be routed in there. By the time she entered, her desktop terminal chirped with the active call. Admiral Alynna Necheyev's face appeared on the viewscreen. "Admiral."
"Report." Her tone suggested she was in no mood for the usual pleasantries. Leone searched for any hint of the friend she grew up with, but Necheyev was all business.
"I regret to report that all starships in the Wolf 359 system have been destroyed. As far as we can tell, the Borg are en route to Sector Zero-Zero-One."
To her credit, Necheyev took the news in stride. "Understood. What's your current status?"
"Fully operational, sir. We can depart for Earth right now." Leone hoped her would give the order.
"Negative. You are ordered to perform search and rescue operations for any survivors you might find."
She hid her disappointment with a quick nod. "There are quite a few, sir. We've already started recovery operations and launched shuttles for SAR duty," replied Leone. "However, Excalibur is not far behind us. Another three hours before they arrive and I'm sure we could be of service to the defense of Earth."
Necheyev gave her a wry grin. "It would take you thirty-six hours to reach us, Captain. But I appreciate your offer. Regardless of what happens, it looks like Enterprise is our only hope."
She decided to try a little humor. "Oh, sir. If only we had a bar of gold-pressed latinum for every time someone said that." Was it too much?
To her surprise (and relief), the admiral chuckled slightly. The levity was obviously needed. It lasted for all of two seconds. "Pick up whatever survivors you can and make for Starbase 6, unless you hear from us otherwise."
Leone nodded soberly. Starbase 6 was located near Betazed, which was the rally point for Starfleet if Earth should fall. "Understood, sir. I hope that I hear otherwise, soon."
"So do I, Captain."
"Admiral," said Leone quickly, hoping to catch her before she ended the transmission.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"Aunt Alynna..." she softened her tone considerably. "Does Starfleet have any kind of defensive plan in place?"
Necheyev looked off screen, her eyes focused on someone or something. "I can't get into that right now, Krystine. Suffice to say that we won't go down quietly."
Leone nodded slowly. "Then, don't let this be the last time we see each other."
With that determined grin Leone remembered from all the times she would talk with her "Aunt" Alynna, the admiral replied, "I'll do my best. Starfleet Command, out." Just like that, the desktop terminal's display screen blinked to show the insignia of Starfleet Headquarters before powering down.
The captain stared at the blank screen for a long time, not sure of what to do next. If Enterprise failed, then the Borg would have Earth, Mars, the Jupiter station, and all of the outposts in the system. Starbase 6 would become the new headquarters facility under Rear Admiral Owen Paris.
Outside the slim, tall viewport of her ready room, shuttles flittered about as they went after escape pods to tow them back to the ship. Some of the survivor shuttles set up a quick and dirty convoy to provide protection against the Borg. The convoy of pods paraded toward the rear of her ship to land in one of the shuttle bays safely.
The first set of shuttles and pods landed a few minutes later, and shortly after, she had a visitor.
"Enter," she said, once the door chime sounded.
A junior grade lieutenant entered, wearing the gold color of the support services. Her reddish-brown hair was matted in places that blood had seeped from an injury on her head. She stood at attention and announced herself. "Lieutenant January McKenna, formerly of the USS Roosevelt, sir."
The Roosevelt was one of the Excelsior-class starships that made it to the fleet in time. They had to identify the ship's presence there by mere chance; the marking outside survived a core breach that consumed the entire ship.
"Do you need medical attention?" asked Leone. Without waiting for a response, she sent for a medic to visit the ready room. "Would you care to have a seat, Lieutenant?"
McKenna was shaken, but she was holding it in. "Thank you, sir."
Down to business. "You're were in command of the Roosevelt, Lieutenant?"
"Most of the senior officers were killed when we lost shields and the Borg struck the hull at its weakest point. I was the next in line, and I assumed command," replied McKenna. "Let's just say that my tenure was very brief, sir. I gave the order to abandon ship."
Leone sighed. The medic arrived and tended to her wound. "Can I offer you something to drink?"
"No, thank you, sir." McKenna's response was terse. "May I ask a question?"
"Certainly."
"Are you intending to take this ship to Earth, to fight the Borg?"
"I'm afraid not."
"May I ask why not, sir?"
Leone regarded the lieutenant in a new light. The tone she was using to address an officer who clearly outranked her was bordering on insolence. Rather than take issue with her over it, she decided to let it go. "I petitioned Starfleet Command to allow me to enter the fight, but our orders were to perform SAR duty."
"Then the Borg are approaching Earth unimpeded?"
"The Enterprise is giving chase, as I understand it."
"They'll need help."
"I know."
"Then may I suggest we do so?"
She liked McKenna, but could not express her admiration through a smile lest it be misinterpreted as patronizing the young woman. Instead, she forced a look of disdain. "You may suggest all you like, Lieutenant, but I was given a direct order and I intend on following it. No matter how much I may disagree with it."
"Are there any other ships en route, Captain?" Gone was the respectful 'sir' she used before.
Again, she chose not to take it as an insult. "Excalibur, and also the Lexington."
McKenna rose from her seat and stood at attention once more, fury boiling within her gaze. "Then I should like to request to be transferred to whichever ship will be joining the fight at Earth, Captain."
"You are not attached to my command, so I don't see any reason to deny you your revenge, Lieutenant." As soon as she said it, Leone wished she could take back her words. Her sarcasm went too far.
The slap of McKenna's hand atop the desk startled Leone. She flinched in her seat.
"Damn you, sir! I lost nearly everyone I knew to the Borg, and you're sitting here drinking coffee and enjoying the view?"
The medic had no idea what to do, as he looked between the two officers.
Leone forced an air of calm, but she still felt the guilt of her transgression. "Thank you, medic. You're dismissed." Once they were alone within the ready room, the captain stood to face the fuming lieutenant. "I won't try to understand the immense loss you feel right now. I have family on Earth and there's nothing I want more right now than to rush to their defense. Even if it's just me running with a bow and an arrow in my hand."
"Then why the hell-?"
"Because you and I are wearing the same damned uniform. The uniform comes with rules and responsibilities, Lieutenant. And unlike you, I'm not willing to throw everything out the airlock just because I'm hellbent on getting my revenge," hissed Leone. "We're on the same team. That means we trust the other members of that team to get the job done."
McKenna balled her hand up into a fist, and slammed it hard against the desk. The impact cracked loudly. The woman began sobbing violently, slumping into the seat she previously occupied. Her arms folded around her midsection, holding herself as she shook.
The intercom sounded, and Lieutenant Nieves asked if the captain was all right.
Leone moved to place a comforting hand on McKenna's shoulder. She answered the call. "I'm fine, Wilson. But please, have the counselor come to my ready room. I expect someone here needs to talk to her, immediately."
---- Scene Change ----
By the time Excalibur arrived, news the the Borg cube arrived at Sector 001 reached them both. The Enterprise trailed behind them, and all of them had nothing more to do but see to the recovery of the escape pods still wandering around the system. Eventually, Farragut's capacity was reached, and they had to jettison some of the pods to make room for the others.
The effect of the battle on the Starfleet personnel was apparent, but the civilians who miraculously survived the destruction of their respective ships were devastated and more vocal. Leone walked through the cargo bay that had been setup as a makeshift medical facility as the sickbay's facilities were overrun with wounded. The wail of people crying openly echoed against the bulkheads and she felt the need to be somewhere else.
How many lives could Farragut have saved if only they had made it there in time? Leone's question repeated in her mind. Could they have been that one ship that would have made the difference? Or would history have merely recorded them as the forty-first ship to be destroyed by the Borg at Wolf 359?
Leone exited the cargo bay, moving quickly to reach the turbolift in order to find some peace and quiet on her ship. She could not see retreating to her stateroom as an option, but it seemed like a good idea. Instead, she opted to return to the bridge and hope that there was some good news.
"Captain," said Ariel. She was sitting in the center seat, but stood up to relinquish it. "Lexington is about to enter the system."
That was good news. "Get me Captain Wilder."
"One moment, sir," replied Nieves. "I've got her."
The main viewscreen winked and the bridge of the Lexington appeared. It looked like a duplicate of the Farragut's bridge, though the green trim was replaced by a blue trim. "Greetings, Captain Leone," said Wilder.
Leone smiled. "Justine, am I glad to see you."
"Likewise."
"We could use your help in taking on some wounded as soon as you get within transporter range."
"Of course. I'll alert my medical teams to stand by." After she did so, Wilder turned her attention back to the viewscreen. "What's the word?"
Captain Leone filled her in on the situation so far.
"Damned shame to lose that many ships," spat Wilder. "Any word from Enterprise?"
"Not as of yet. We're all in a holding pattern right now. We can't even get a signal through to Starfleet Command."
"Then, I guess we start making our way to Starbase 6?"
"Andy Estrada and I believe that we should wait a little while longer. Or until we hear from Admiral Paris that Earth..." Leone trailed off. She could not bring herself to say it.
Wilder nodded. "Agreed. We should be able to rejoin formation in five minutes. We'll be happy to render aid in any way we can."
"Thanks." Leone stepped forward, as if to continue the conversation with some privacy, but she knew it was futile. "Andy's asked me to have dinner with him aboard the Excalibur. I'm sure he meant to extend the invitation to you."
"I'm sure he did. But I'll wait until he does. He is the senior officer."
Andrew Estrada earned his promotion a full month before Justine Wilder, and a year and a half before Leone. Although he had no official appointment, he was technically the commanding officer of their little flotilla. "I'll see to it that he does, then."
Wilder allowed herself a small smile. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Captain. Lexington, out."
--- Scene Change ----
Leone was glad that she could speak to the other two captains with some privacy. The cover of having dinner may have seemed odd under the circumstances, but at least it was enough to shield them from what they were really planning.
Captain Andrew Estrada sat across from her, while Captain Justine Wilder stood looking out at the wreckage that floated around their ships. Shuttles flittered to and fro as they continued their rescue and recovery operations.
"I can't ask either of you to do this," said Estrada, his gaze leveled upon the table in his stateroom.
Wilder smiled. "That's the beauty of it, Andy. You won't have to."
"Exactly," Leone agreed. "And I think I should be the one to go."
"Hold on a moment, Krys," said Justine. "Why do you get to go?"
"Because my ship was first on the scene, and Andy is senior. He has to remain behind to see to the rescue operations. His ship is the biggest and has a higher carrying capacity," explained Leone quickly.
"I'm glad you pointed out that I'm senior, Krys. It save me the trouble of having to do it, myself."
Justine turned her head to look at him. "We're talking about disobeying orders, so I doubt holding seniority over either of us will work in this particular case."
"No kidding," Leone said, folding her arms.
"Then I'm going to make this simple for the both of you. I'll go. You two stay and get as many people as you can to Starbase 6," ordered Andy. The other two captains opened their mouth to protest, but he managed to silence them with a flick of his wrist. "That's final."
The stateroom's silence was deafening as Andy's words hung in the air between the three of them. Leone broke it with a question. "You think one ship will have enough firepower to take on a Borg cube?"
"I had hoped that we would be joining Enterprise."
"What if they're destroyed?"
"Then we'll do our best to give Earth a fighting chance, all by ourselves."
"We're wasting time," hissed Justine. "If we're going to do this, now's the time."
"She's right," said Leone.
"Fine. Return to your ships, both of you."
Captains Leone and Wilder offered their best wishes to Andy Estrada before leaving his stateroom. On their way to the transporter room, Wilder turned to Leone. "You should go with him."
"All right."
"What about Andy?"
"He might be senior, but if he's disobeying orders, then he's not really in any position to complain, is he?"
Justine grinned. "I've always liked you, Krystine."
---- Scene Change ----
In spite of Captain Estrada's protests, the news that Enterprise managed to destroy the Borg cube in orbit of Earth reached them as they were entering the Sol system. The perimeter sensors near Jupiter picked up the pair of starships on their high-resolution display and Admiral Alynna Necheyev was among the first to make her displeasure known.
"I gave specific orders not to approach Earth," said Necheyev in her most unpleasant tone. "Did I not, Captain Leone?"
"Yes, sir, you did."
"And did you pass that order on to Captain Estrada?"
"Yes, sir, she did," said Estrada, not giving Leone a chance to respond. "However, given the fact that the Enterprise was facing a cube by itself, it seemed prudent to divide our resources at Wolf 359 to provide them with as much support as possible, while also seeing to the effectiveness of your orders, Admiral."
"Pardon me, Captain? Did I hear you correctly?"
"You did, sir."
Necheyev narrowed her eyes, as though she were looking at Estrada as if he were an insect standing before her. "Very well, Captain Estrada. You will wait outside while I deal with Captain Leone."
"Sir, I gave a direct order to Captain Leone to escort Excalibur to Earth."
Leone wanted to shoot Andy a shocked stare, but she knew better than to to that while Necheyev's blood was up.
"She had higher orders."
"I made it clear that Starfleet Command had been cut off, and at the time, I was the highest authority available in a timely fashion."
"Did you, indeed?"
"I did, sir."
The drum of Necheyev's fingernails resounded against her office's walls within the Starfleet Command complex in San Francisco. Through the large windows, the rust-colored spires of the Golden Gate Bridge peeked through a particularly heavy cloud of fog that seemed to cling to the bay like moss on a rock. The nails kept drumming against the surface of the desk as the admiral considered her options.
"Fine," she said, finally. "Captain Estrada, you are relieved of command pending charges of failure to obey a direct order from a superior officer and whatever else JAG can throw at you."
Leone broke her stance of attention. "Sir!"
"Yes, Captain Leone? You have something you wish to add?"
Estrada spoke up. "No, sir, she does not. I take full responsibility for my orders. Captain Leone was in no position to disobey a direct order."
"With all due respect to Captain Estrada-" began Leone.
"Admiral, by your leave, sir?"
Necheyev harrumphed. "Get out. Both of you."
As soon as they were in the elevator to return to the building lobby, Leone turned on him. "What the hell was that? You never gave me any order. In fact, you gave me orders to stay put and I disobeyed you."
Andy didn't answer her.
"Who the hell do you think you are, jumping on the grenade like that? I have some punishment coming my way, too, damn you."
Still nothing.
"Answer me!"
"Halt," ordered Andy. The turbolift car slowed to a stop. He turned to look at her. "I knew what I was getting into. And I knew one of you would try to follow me. I actually guessed it would be Justine, but whatever. Point is, Starfleet can't afford to lose both of us right now."
It was her turn to say nothing. She stood there, stunned.
"The fleet's been decimated. It's going to take us who know how long before we're back up to operating levels and that means that ships are going to need particularly good captains right now. So... yeah. I'll gladly fall on my sword if it means one of us gets to keep on going." Andy looked up at the ceiling and ordered, "Resume."
The car began to move once more, and Leone looked down at her feet, feeling even worse. "But you sacrificed your career, Andy."
"I was willing to sacrifice so much more that my career. So were you." He sighed. "I'm sorry that it comes down to a by-the-book bitch like Necheyev, but that's the way it goes." Andy raised a hand to his balding head and winced. "I'm sorry... I know she's like... family to you..."
Leone shook her head. "It's all right. I think, in this case, I have to agree." She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You want me to talk to her?"
"No, don't. Then you'd have to explain the whole thing, and knowing her, it'll be for naught... plus I'd be caught in a lie. Don't make things worse, Captain."
Leone let out a deep breath. Frustration washed over her like high tide at North Beach. Andy was right, and there was nothing she could do about it. The minute she opened her mouth, he was suffer for his dishonesty, however noble it might've been. In that moment, as the lift opened to allow them to go their separate ways, she didn't know which frustration was worse: Wolf 359, or knowing that Captain Andrews Estrada would be forced into retirement.
----------------------
And there you have it. Not a complete story by any means, but then again, you have to remember that these are more like character sketches than fully-realized episodes. I'm sure, once I get to the end of the first season, there will be a wrapping point for this one.
For the last time on behalf of The Quarterdeck Breed, I thank you so much for reading through these six stories. And I hope to return the favor on the BBS during my tenure here.
-- ZC
During the years of The Next Generation, I wrote a series of short stories about a Galaxy-class starship Farragut under the command of Captain Krystine Leone. I was in middle school at the time, and my writing was horrid, but I always remembered those characters because, let's face it, you never forget the first time.
As a tribute to that, and I guess also to kickstart Full Speed Ahead, I give you Farragut.
This story takes place at the end of the "First Season" of Full Speed Ahead. You don't need to read FSA to enjoy this.
-------------------------
The Quarterdeck Breed
by Michael D. Garcia
Part Six: Farragut
NCC-60597 (USS Farragut)
En route to Wolf 359
Stardate 43999.1
Main Bridge
The viewscreen showed the faster-than-light distortion of the field of stars outside the ship. As the ship continued toward its destination, the stars would pass by in a long white line. Farragut's engines accelerated the ship over fifteen thousand times the speed of light, and her captain had yet to be satisfied..
Captain Leone's eyes drifted down to the right-side panel; the speed indicator remained constant at warp nine-point-five. It was the maximum emergency speed for the Nebula-class, and they would not be able to sustain it indefinitely. She stayed the urge to call down to engineering; order them to do whatever they could to boost the ship's engines. They were already providing the very best possible speed they could.
She looked back up at the viewscreen. Every so often, she would see the portside warp nacelle of the Ambassador-class USS Excalibur drift over the edge and then back out. Making course corrections at high warp was never a good thing to do, but the situation warranted making desperate decisions. On the port side of the Farragut was the sister ship, Lexington. The three ships were in tight warp formation for the benefit of approaching Wolf 359 quickly. As the nacelle drifted back and forth again, Leone hoped they wouldn't try anything reckless or hasty, as they might collapse the warp fields of all three ships.
"Incoming transmission from the Excalibur," announced Lieutenant Nieves from the tactical position.
"Put him through," ordered Leone.
The bridge of the Excalibur replaced the warp-distorted stars. Captain Estrada stood next to his executive officer as they hunched over the flight controller's console. He snapped his head up to look at her. "Captain Leone, I'm afraid we're going to need to drop out of formation and take a breather."
Leone rose from her seat and nodded. "I understand, Captain. How long?"
"From what my chief engineer tells me, we'll be out for two to four hours."
She winced inwardly. They needed Excalibur's firepower, badly. "Is there anything we can do?"
He stared at her, hard. "Get in a couple of shots for us, Captain. Excalibur, out."
"Mister Nieves, raise the Melbourne. Get me Admiral Hanson."
"Aye, sir," replied Nieves. He entered in a few commands and then informed her, "Sir, Admiral Hanson is on another channel, speaking to the Enterprise. It'll be a moment."
"I'll wait," she said. She did not want to sit down again, feeling the freedom of walking around on her bridge. Of course, pacing would not help her officers and crew, either. Even if it did make her feel like she was doing something. Her bridge was not dissimilar from a Galaxy-class bridge; with the distinctive horseshoe-like tactical station behind three command chairs. She walked up one side of the bridge and stopped at the engineering console, peering at it over the shoulder of the ensign standing there.
Then she strode down the other side, with her arms folded across her midsection and then stopped behind the officer seated at the conn, Ensign Gregory Aspinall. She sighed, blowing some of the air up toward her dark red bangs. It was then that Nieves broke the tense silence.
"I have the admiral, sir."
"On screen," she said, immediately.
J. P. Hanson reminded Leone of her great Uncle Antonio when he smiled. And he always had a warm smile, even in these dire circumstances. "Captain Leone, Commander Kincaid."
Her first officer stood as the admiral appeared. Both of them acknowledged the greeting in kind.
"What's your estimated time of arrival, Captain?" asked Hanson.
Her eyes darted down to the helm display briefly. "At current speed, we should arrive at Wolf 359 in just under thirty-six hours, sir."
"I see," he sighed. "There have been a few developments since the last time we spoke. The weapon developed by the Enterprise failed the stop the Borg as we had hoped, but it did delay them. The cube has returned to its previous course and shall be here within the day. So far, we've assembled a fleet of thirty-nine starships."
"That's outstanding, sir."
"Hopefully, we can keep them occupied until you get here. We could certainly use an addition three ships-"
"Two, sir," she interrupted.
Hanson tilted his head. "What?"
She explained Excalibur's predicament.
"Then we will have to make do with what we can get."
"Aye, sir."
"One other thing, Captain."
"Yes, sir?"
"Captain Picard has been assimilated by the Borg. He goes by the name of 'Locutus,' and he seems to be acting as a spokesman for them."
Leone and Kincaid shared a brief look. "Understood, sir."
"We've lost a great officer and good friend. We're going to make sure they pay for it."
She vowed, "We'll be there, sir. Even if I have to pull this ship with my bare hands."
"We'll be waiting." An officer moved into view of the screen, and handed him a padd. Hanson looked at it and nodded. "We're sending you the latest information we have on the most recent Borg encounters, including the Enterprise sensor data and mission reports. If you or your crew happens to come up with any ideas..."
"You'll be the first to know, sir."
---- Scene Change ----
The senior staff sat around the conference table in the bridge observation lounge, located aft on the deck. Commander Jesse Kincaid sat to her right, as he always did, while she sat at the head of the table. "All right, I'm not going to bother with saying anything. Who here has an idea?"
Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis, the ship's Chief Operations Officer and third-in-command, looked right at Lieutenant Petra Bartlet. "Mister Bartlet had a few questions."
Leone looked at the chief engineer, expectantly.
Bartlet nodded. "Sir, the information regarding the high band burst from their deflector dish... I mean, how in the hell did they adapt so quickly? Not even the Borg could've covered the band before the cube would've been reduced to a square."
Kincaid spoke up. "It's in one of the mission commentaries..." he trailed off as he quickly browsed the index of reports. "Ah, here it is. Commander Data suggests that when the Borg assimilate Captain Picard, they assimilated not just his body, but his knowledge and experience, as well."
"It wasn't just suggested, Commander. The Borg made it clear in their last transmission," said Leone. "So, we are dealing with the fact that they know exactly how we would respond to an incursion into the core sectors, as well as how our fleet tactics work. Weapon strengths, deflector frequencies."
"Then there's nothing the fleet can do, right?"
The words hung in the air without any further comment. Leone looked at her officers, recognizing the painful look of defeat in their eyes. "Enough of that. We can't be at the fleet to lend our firepower, but that doesn't mean we cannot help them from here. I want each of you working on the problem, and submit your ideas to me within the next two hours. We have nineteen hours until the Borg get to Wolf 359."
That seemed to dampen the dreary mood a bit. Kincaid smiled at her, almost knowingly.
"You heard the captain," he said. "Dismissed."
Kincaid remained behind, as the rest of the senior officers filed out of the lounge. He made a steeple of his hands atop the table and looked down. "Do you really think they'll come up with something?"
"I hope so, Jess," she sighed. "I would really hate to have to retake Earth if they do assimilate it."
Nieves called into the lounge. "Captain, incoming transmission from the Lexington."
"Put it through, here."
Captain Justine Wilder appeared on the small screen. She did not look happy.
"What's wrong?" asked Leone.
"Remember when Andy Estrada told you he would have to drop out of warp soon?"
"Yeah."
"We're not far behind that. We're not going to make it the full thirty-six."
"How far can you go?"
"Another twelve hours, and then we need to cool down for two before we can stress the engines again," replied Wilder with a frown. "I'm sorry we're not going to be able to go the distance."
There was more to her tone; that barely restrained frustration behind the thin veneer of calm on Wilder's face. She looked like she wanted to put her fist through the display, and Leone felt some of it, too
Farragut was on her own.
---- Scene Change ----
"Dominic is fine. He's playing with the neighbor's children right now," said her mother. "It's been all over the news nets. Starfleet's is making a stand at Wolf 359."
Captain Krystine Leone nodded. "Have any of your friends kept you in the loop?"
Vice Admiral Angelina Leone, retired, tilted her head and smiled at her daughter. She had been the former head of Starfleet Tactical before Vice Admiral Hanson took over. "For the most part. And for what it's worth, I think J. P. is a fool for assembling a fleet at Wolf 359. He pulled a majority of the Sol defensive units to make up his fleet. If they fail..."
"That's not a kind thing to say, Mom. You should know better than to play armchair quarterback."
Her mother's expression hardened. "And you should know better than to chastise me, Captain."
Leone bristled inwardly. "I hate it when you pull rank on me." She expected a rebuke.
Instead, her mother grinned. "I may not get another chance to."
Captain Leone looked down at the deck, trying to hide her own smile. "Yes, sir."
Admiral Leone chuckled. "By the way, Dominic managed to pull his grades up during his summer studies. He'll be able to take the secondary school exams with everyone else next month."
"Really? That's wonderful," said Leone, elated. "I thought he might have to suffer a semester of remedial study, but this is good news." Worried that her son might be developmentally challenged, she feared that he would be relegated to a substandard training regimen than his friends. Children could be so cruel to their peers.
"Yes, it seems your son inherited some genes from our side of the family."
"Mom," she warned.
"What? I didn't say anything." Her mother's dislike of her husband managed to find its way into every conversation they had.
"John's a good man."
"And a lousy father."
"You promised not to disparage him in front of Dominic."
"He's outside."
"Or me."
Admiral Leone pressed her lips together. "If perhaps you might convince him to spend a little time with his son. I'm afraid that Dominic will forget what he looks like."
That much was true, she couldn't deny. But she was as guilty as he, being away for long periods of time. "I'm never around, either. Does that make me a lousy mother?"
"You're in Starfleet, Krystine," replied her mother, matter-of-factly. "He is not."
She brought a hand to her head, forcing down the many thing she wished to say to her. "You know..."
"How far away from Wolf are you?" interrupted her mother.
"Thirty-one hours."
"Are you going to make it?"
She shook her head. "Not by a long shot, but that's not going to stop us from trying."
"Warp engine status?"
"My chief engineer is keeping her eye on them. We'll be forced to drop out of warp in ten hours."
"You're running at maximum emergency speed, for more than twenty-four hours. You should jog the engines."
"Sir?"
"Jog the engines. Drop to low warp, like say warp two or three, so you're not at a standstill. While the engines are at that speed, your chief engineer should be able to cycle the coils one by one and drive the coil heat through the plasma vents."
"We can't open the plasma vents while at warp, Mom."
"Captain, I know what I'm talking about. Just do it. That should get you another full day of max speed." Without waiting for her daughter to response, she asked, "Now, would you like to speak with your son?"
---- Scene Change ----
Lieutenant Petra Bartlet hunched over the chief engineer's station in main engineering as Captain Leone walked in. "C-Captain," she stammered. "What can I do for you?"
With a motion of her thumb, the captain replied, "I just got done speaking with my mother and my son-"
"Oh, how are they?"
"A little too calm, for my liking, actually."
"Really?"
"That's not really what I came down here to discuss."
"Oh, sorry."
"It's all right. Listen, have you ever heard of a... 'warp jog'?"
"A what, sir?"
The captain explained the procedure. "It's not possible, is it?"
Petra turned to access a station behind her, and began entering in parameters for it. "The safety protocols won't allows us to disengage the vent locks on the nacelles. Basically, the ship vents the coil heat into the vacuum to bring the coil temperature down to acceptable levels..." she trailed off as she noticed the annoyed expression on the captain's face. "Which you already know, of course."
Captain Leone smiled thinly. "Is my mother crazy?"
"Not entirely. I mean, your mother was a starship captain, too. Back in the days when procedure and regulation were more like flights of fancy," Petra said with a smile, but dropped it immediately when she realized what she said. "N-Not that I'm implying that your mother is old or anything, sir."
"It's okay," assured the captain. "She is."
"Yes, sir," Petra agreed immediately. "I mean, I understand."
"Can it be done, Lieutenant?"
"I think so. We'd have to drop to warp two, though. I wouldn't want to try it at a higher speed. Maybe warp one would be better."
Leone nodded. "You're the chief engineer. I'll go with your recommendations. How long would it take to cycle through all the coils?"
"Fifteen to thirty minutes, barring any unforeseen problems."
"I'll take a full hour over two to four hours."
"Yes, sir."
"We have a little under ten hours of max speed," noted Leone. "How long to come up with a procedure for this?"
Petra thought it over. "I could start running some simulations on the holodeck right now."
"Good."
"But, sir?"
"Yes?"
"What about the ideas for the fleet?"
"Have you come up with any?"
Petra frowned. "Not exactly, sir. But we're working on it. Would you like us to work on the 'warp jog,' instead?"
Leone began to walk back toward the turbolift. She replied over her shoulder, "Two teams, Lieutenant. One for this, and the other for that."
"Aye, sir." She relaxed when the captain disappeared into the lift. Turning around to look at her team, she nodded. "You heard the lady, and you know what to do, so let's get it done."
Her department began to come together, taking the two projects and forming the teams efficiently. Petra smiled, knowing that she had the best people working for her, and watched them with a sense of pride out of the corner of one eye.
The other eye was working on the problem.
---- Scene Change ----
Lieutenant Commander Ariel Elannis raised her arms above her head to stretch, while a yawn crept up at the same time.
Leaning over her station, Commander Kincaid smiled. "Tired?"
"It's been a long day," she said through the yawn. "You?"
"Not yet. But you know that part of the day when you know you should be tired..."
Ariel nodded as she tapped in a few commands to run a diagnostic. "Yeah."
"I keep waiting for me to start feeling tired, but it doesn't come."
"Maybe it's adrenaline?"
"Nah."
"Excitement before a battle?"
Kincaid shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Did you sleep a lot last night?"
He chuckled. "Define 'a lot.'"
She smiled. "Good point."
"I think it was all that coffee I had earlier. I was drinking it like water."
"It is water."
"You know what I mean."
"So, you're saying your super-caffeinated?"
Kincaid shrugged. "I guess so."
Ariel opened her mouth, but closed it again as the turbolift closest to the viewscreen opened its doors to deposit the captain onto the bridge.
Kincaid removed his foot from the base of the operations console and returned to his seat to join the captain in the command center.
"How're we looking, Jess?" asked Captain Leone.
"Still on course for Wolf 359 at max warp, sir."
Leone did not turn her head as she spoke to the tactical officer behind her. "Any comm traffic, Wilson?"
"Starfleet TacNet traffic. The Borg cube is on long range sensors of the fleet, and they expect to engage in less than five hours."
"Any word on the Enterprise?"
"No, sir."
Leone sighed. "All right. Bridge to engineering."
"Engineering. Bartlet, here, sir."
"We're going to start the jog thing. Keep an eye on the speed."
"Aye, sir."
"Helm, slow us to warp two."
Ensign Gregory Aspinall turned in his seat to stare back at the captain. "Sir?"
"Warp two."
He continued to stare at Leone, incredulously.
"The old lady hasn't lost her mind, Ensign," said Leone with a smile. "Carry out my order."
The ensign and the executive officer shared a look, before Aspinall turned back around and announced, "Slowing to warp two, aye, sir."
Kincaid leaned over and lowered his voice. "What jog thing were you referring to, sir?"
"You'll see in a moment," she replied in a similar tone. She raised it again, to address the air. "Engineering?"
Bartlet's stammer carried over the bridge intercom. "Y-Yes, sir. We're starting o-our jog procedure now."
"Thank you." Leone stood up and addressed the bridge. "I had a rather interesting conversation with an old starship captain not too long ago." She explained what her mother had said.
Kincaid shook his head. "That's rather innovative, Captain. But opening the vents at warp-"
She raised a hand. "I know. But Petra is confident it will work, and hopefully we don't lose more than a half-hour."
Ariel swiveled around in her seat to face the captain and executive officer. "Tell your mother, thanks."
Leone smiled. "I will." It was no secret to the bridge crew that Ariel and Leone had been friends for more than ten years, ever since they served together on the USS Victory. They were like long-lost sisters after they met and hit it off. Both had been only children in their respective families.
"Sir, incoming communication from the Enterprise on the TacNet. They're on the move, again. Making their way to Wolf 359," said Lieutenant Nieves with a pleased voice. The mood on the bridge brightened considerably.
"Nothing can keep them down," said Kincaid proudly.
The captain asked, "Any word from Lexington or Excalibur?"
"Excalibur is reporting that they've fifteen minutes before they jump back into warp. Lexington still have another hour and a half."
"Transmit the instructions for Lieutenant Bartlet's variation on the warp jog to them, please."
"Aye, sir. Transmitting, now."
"Thank you, Wilson."
As soon as Nieves finished transmitting the information, another signal appeared on his console. "Captain, there's a TacNet signal coming through from the Melbourne. I think it's Admiral Hanson."
Leone stood up, immediately. "On screen."
The bridge of the Melbourne had its alert status indicator lights flashing a bright red. Admiral Hanson stood near the tactical station, and he looked up at the viewscreen. "Farragut, the Borg will be arriving at the Wolf 359 system in just under thirty minutes. Have you any tricks you might want to share with us?"
Her heart sank. "Admiral, I'm so sorry, sir. We've reviewed the data you provided us as much as possible, but there was little we could do in such a short amount of time. Especially given the circumstance of Captain Picard's knowledge now being an asset to the Borg."
Hanson pursed his lips together in frustration. "I still refuse to admit that Jean-Luc Picard would ever assist the Borg."
"Sir, with all due respect..."
He waved at her impatiently. Gone was the soft smile that she loved; there was no room for pleasantry or courtesy, now. "I don't have time to worry about that, Captain. This fleet will either stop the Borg... or die trying."
She wished they could be there with them, right then. All she could do was accept the fact that she failed him. "Understood, sir. We're still a good twenty hours away."
"As I told Captain Riker on the Enterprise, I'm sorry you'll miss the party."
Captain Riker? Of course, she thought. It was only logical that he received a battlefield promotion. "Yes, sir. We'll make a fashionably late entrance."
"I'm sure you will, Captain Leone. Godspeed."
"Good hunting," she replied.
"Hanson, out." The viewscreen blanked and returned to the warp-distorted stars as it had before the communication.
Down in the pit of her stomach, a tight knot formed and she reseated herself slowly.
Kincaid leaned over and expressed his concern. "Captain?"
"Yes?"
"Are you all right, sir?"
"I'm fine, Jess." She crossed her legs and tried her best to shake off the feeling, but she could not. Leone turned to her executive officer. "It's just that..."
"What, sir?"
"I feel like that's the last time I'm ever going to get to talk to him."
---- Scene Change ----
The news of the loss of all communications with the fleet woke her from her fitful sleep only two and a half hours later. They were still sixteen hours away from the system, but she wandered up to the bridge nonetheless to witness the final transmission from the Melbourne. Admiral Hanson was addressing the Enterprise directly when he gave the order for the fleet to fall back and regroup. Unfortunately, those orders were cut off as the transmission was lost at the source.
Whether the Borg began jamming all communications or the Melbourne's inability to send due to damage or destruction, no one could say for certain. All Leone knew, at the point, was that news of the fleet's inability to send a signal did not brighten their spirits any. With a heavy sigh, she retreated back to her stateroom in an attempt to sleep, but knew she would only stare at the upper bulkhead for another hour or so before the next call from the bridge summoned her back.
With the warp engines sufficiently cooled enough to risk stressing them continuously, Farragut jumped out to an enormous lead over her previous travelling companions. The deafening silence from Wolf 359 took its toll on the ship's morale, and when Leone visited the large ship's lounge on the tenth deck, she could see that no one was in the mood to relax.
The person in charge of the lounge was a young woman named Caryn Johnson. Caryn always welcomed new people to the ship when they chanced the lounge, made them feel at home, and even prepared meals for those who might feel a little homesick. Although they carried a talented counselor aboard ship, there were many who availed themselves of Caryn's understanding ear and her legendary discretion.
When Leone entered, Caryn looked up from the bar. She sat upon a stool behind it, but got to her feet and showed off her pearly whites. "Captain. You're my first customer today."
"God, is it really that bad?" asked Leone, letting her guard down. Caryn never seemed to mind treating her as a peer, rather than as a superior officer.
"Can I get you something?"
"No, thanks. Just came to see if anyone was enjoying the calm before the storm."
The bartender shrugged. "Everyone's feeling a little off their game right now. They don't know what's going to happen to them."
Leone settled into a stool in front of Caryn, and placed her elbows on the bar. "Honestly, I don't know, either."
"I'm glad you're admitting it. But be sure to keep those thoughts to yourself."
"I'm intending to. I see how they look at me for a reaction every time a bit more bad news comes our way. It's hard not to notice."
"I imagine command to be very lonely."
"You have no idea."
"Is it what you always wanted?"
"Ever since I was a little girl, playing with scale model starships that my mother would bring me when she had a few days' leave to spend with me," said Leone, her eyes gazing up into the corner of the lounge.
Caryn smiled. "Your mother's on Earth, isn't she?"
Leone nodded.
"Do you talk to her often?"
"We write to each other. We call every so often." Leone explained, "She and my dad are looking after my son, Dominic."
"You know, Captain, I've always wondered why you never decided to move your son to the ship. It's designed to carry families, just like the Galaxy-class, isn't it?"
"There's not a day that goes by where I don't consider it, believe me."
"But...?"
"But, I think it's better for him to grow up on Earth while he can. Enjoy it for what it is so that maybe someday he might get the notion that he wants to protect it with his life."
"Keep up the family business?"
"Yeah."
"Don't you think he would benefit from being with his mother?"
Leone sighed. "Maybe. But... I think it would make life difficult for him to have to grow up on a ship where he would receive some special attention."
"Because he's the captain's son?"
"Exactly."
"Weren't you the captain's daughter?"
"Sure, but I didn't live on the ship with my mom. I would visit sometimes..."
"And?"
"And I loved it. It was a lot of fun to wander the decks. Officers would us a wide berth when we would take a tour of the ship. I felt like I was related to royalty or something, they way they treated her."
"You wanted that, too."
Leone blushed. "I don't know if I wanted the respect, but I remember that I really wanted to serve with her on the same ship. I wanted to be one of the people she could turn to and give orders, knowing they would be carried out."
Caryn grinned.
"I used to fantasize about going off into the unknown with her."
"I'll bet."
"By the time I made captain, she was already retired a year."
"Vice Admiral Leone, correct?"
"I guess a lot of people know her."
"Even Admiral Necheyev respects her, and that's saying a lot."
"Alynna's an old friend of the family."
"We rub shoulders with admirals?"
"She served under my mother on a couple of occasions. I've known her most of my life."
"I guess that comes from being a Starfleet brat."
Leone chuckled. "Well, that's the way it was in my family. My father also served, but he didn't seek the political challenge of the admiralty like my mother did."
"Your parents served. Your grandparents served?"
"My mother's parents did. My father's dad did, too."
"And what about before then?"
"Two of my great-grandfathers did, and a great-grandmother."
"You're fourth generation Starfleet."
"Yeah, I guess I am."
"And you know, somehow, I think that your son will follow in your footsteps, and so will his children, and theirs..."
"Even knowing what we know?"
"You mean the Borg?"
Leone nodded.
"I'm not that worried about the Borg, Captain. That's your problem."
"I kind of thought it was a shared dilemma."
"It is, but there's not much I can do about it. I have to put my faith in you and your officers."
"Well, that's awfully generous of you, Caryn."
"Comes with the territory. I've been aboard this ship ever since you assumed command," she pointed toward the viewports, "right over there on that very spot." She put her hand back down on the bar. "We've been through some interesting times together, and I'm still here to reminisce about them. Something tells me that I'll be telling stories about Wolf 359 for years to come."
"And what if you're wrong."
"I'm not."
Leone rolled her eyes. "Hypothetically speaking, then."
"If I'm wrong, then we die."
"I suppose that's a rather candid way of looking at it," she said, trying to offer a wry grin.
Caryn put both hands down on the bar and look at Leone. "You are Krystine Leone and this is Farragut. If we fail, I'll die secure in the knowledge that you did everything in your power. I'm here, just like you. I'm breathing the same recycled air, eating the same replicated food... and sharing in the same consequences like everyone else."
Leone felt a chill run down her spine as Caryn spoke with such conviction. She said nothing in response.
"We may not be the ship of miracles, like Enterprise. But I'll just say that my assignment here was not because this was my second choice. You know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah."
"So, go on, now. Write to your son. Get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead of all of us tomorrow."
---- Scene Change ----
"Now entering the Wolf 359 system, Captain," reported Ensign Aspinall from the helm.
"Battle stations." The computer automatically sounded the wail of the klaxon.
"Shields activated, all weapon systems are online," reported Lieutenant Wilson Nieves.
"Any signs of battle, Wilson?" asked the captain, her eyes scanning the viewscreen for anything.
"No, sir. I'm reading no weapons fire or any traffic on TacNet. Not since we lost the Admiral's transmission."
"Ariel."
"I'm already extending the lateral array as far out as it can go, sir. I'm not seeing any- wait a minute. There's a debris field approximately three million kilometers directly ahead."
"Picking up distress calls on emergency frequencies," said Nieves. "Escape pod beacons overlapping shuttle calls. There's quite a few of them out there."
"Any sign of the Borg?"
Ariel shook her head. "No, sir. Reading a warp trail and a graviton wake. I think one's the Enterprise and the other is the Borg cube. Nothing matching the size and configuration within this system."
"Stand down battle stations," ordered Leone. "Jess, organize search and rescue."
"Right away, sir." Kincaid rose from his seat. "Greg, you stay here. All other available pilots, report to the shuttle bays for SAR duty." He departed the bridge, being one of the pilots.
"Ariel, coordinate the transporter rooms. Start recovering escape pods."
Ariel moved away from her station, and another officer from her department took her place. A junior grade lieutenant whose name escaped the captain.
They continued to approach the field at full impulse, and it grew larger on the screen. Broken ships hung in space like toys discarded by an angry child. The breaks in the hull sparked into the vacuum, while gas poured out of the cracks. She knew it was atmosphere escaping through to the void. "Wilson, any life signs aboard those... wrecks?"
Nieves met her gaze, but all he could do was shake his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, sir."
Farragut was the only operational ship in the system. She knew her duty was clear. "I'm going to need to speak to Starfleet Command."
"Yes, sir."
Leone walked to her ready room and gestured to him. She wanted the call to be routed in there. By the time she entered, her desktop terminal chirped with the active call. Admiral Alynna Necheyev's face appeared on the viewscreen. "Admiral."
"Report." Her tone suggested she was in no mood for the usual pleasantries. Leone searched for any hint of the friend she grew up with, but Necheyev was all business.
"I regret to report that all starships in the Wolf 359 system have been destroyed. As far as we can tell, the Borg are en route to Sector Zero-Zero-One."
To her credit, Necheyev took the news in stride. "Understood. What's your current status?"
"Fully operational, sir. We can depart for Earth right now." Leone hoped her would give the order.
"Negative. You are ordered to perform search and rescue operations for any survivors you might find."
She hid her disappointment with a quick nod. "There are quite a few, sir. We've already started recovery operations and launched shuttles for SAR duty," replied Leone. "However, Excalibur is not far behind us. Another three hours before they arrive and I'm sure we could be of service to the defense of Earth."
Necheyev gave her a wry grin. "It would take you thirty-six hours to reach us, Captain. But I appreciate your offer. Regardless of what happens, it looks like Enterprise is our only hope."
She decided to try a little humor. "Oh, sir. If only we had a bar of gold-pressed latinum for every time someone said that." Was it too much?
To her surprise (and relief), the admiral chuckled slightly. The levity was obviously needed. It lasted for all of two seconds. "Pick up whatever survivors you can and make for Starbase 6, unless you hear from us otherwise."
Leone nodded soberly. Starbase 6 was located near Betazed, which was the rally point for Starfleet if Earth should fall. "Understood, sir. I hope that I hear otherwise, soon."
"So do I, Captain."
"Admiral," said Leone quickly, hoping to catch her before she ended the transmission.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"Aunt Alynna..." she softened her tone considerably. "Does Starfleet have any kind of defensive plan in place?"
Necheyev looked off screen, her eyes focused on someone or something. "I can't get into that right now, Krystine. Suffice to say that we won't go down quietly."
Leone nodded slowly. "Then, don't let this be the last time we see each other."
With that determined grin Leone remembered from all the times she would talk with her "Aunt" Alynna, the admiral replied, "I'll do my best. Starfleet Command, out." Just like that, the desktop terminal's display screen blinked to show the insignia of Starfleet Headquarters before powering down.
The captain stared at the blank screen for a long time, not sure of what to do next. If Enterprise failed, then the Borg would have Earth, Mars, the Jupiter station, and all of the outposts in the system. Starbase 6 would become the new headquarters facility under Rear Admiral Owen Paris.
Outside the slim, tall viewport of her ready room, shuttles flittered about as they went after escape pods to tow them back to the ship. Some of the survivor shuttles set up a quick and dirty convoy to provide protection against the Borg. The convoy of pods paraded toward the rear of her ship to land in one of the shuttle bays safely.
The first set of shuttles and pods landed a few minutes later, and shortly after, she had a visitor.
"Enter," she said, once the door chime sounded.
A junior grade lieutenant entered, wearing the gold color of the support services. Her reddish-brown hair was matted in places that blood had seeped from an injury on her head. She stood at attention and announced herself. "Lieutenant January McKenna, formerly of the USS Roosevelt, sir."
The Roosevelt was one of the Excelsior-class starships that made it to the fleet in time. They had to identify the ship's presence there by mere chance; the marking outside survived a core breach that consumed the entire ship.
"Do you need medical attention?" asked Leone. Without waiting for a response, she sent for a medic to visit the ready room. "Would you care to have a seat, Lieutenant?"
McKenna was shaken, but she was holding it in. "Thank you, sir."
Down to business. "You're were in command of the Roosevelt, Lieutenant?"
"Most of the senior officers were killed when we lost shields and the Borg struck the hull at its weakest point. I was the next in line, and I assumed command," replied McKenna. "Let's just say that my tenure was very brief, sir. I gave the order to abandon ship."
Leone sighed. The medic arrived and tended to her wound. "Can I offer you something to drink?"
"No, thank you, sir." McKenna's response was terse. "May I ask a question?"
"Certainly."
"Are you intending to take this ship to Earth, to fight the Borg?"
"I'm afraid not."
"May I ask why not, sir?"
Leone regarded the lieutenant in a new light. The tone she was using to address an officer who clearly outranked her was bordering on insolence. Rather than take issue with her over it, she decided to let it go. "I petitioned Starfleet Command to allow me to enter the fight, but our orders were to perform SAR duty."
"Then the Borg are approaching Earth unimpeded?"
"The Enterprise is giving chase, as I understand it."
"They'll need help."
"I know."
"Then may I suggest we do so?"
She liked McKenna, but could not express her admiration through a smile lest it be misinterpreted as patronizing the young woman. Instead, she forced a look of disdain. "You may suggest all you like, Lieutenant, but I was given a direct order and I intend on following it. No matter how much I may disagree with it."
"Are there any other ships en route, Captain?" Gone was the respectful 'sir' she used before.
Again, she chose not to take it as an insult. "Excalibur, and also the Lexington."
McKenna rose from her seat and stood at attention once more, fury boiling within her gaze. "Then I should like to request to be transferred to whichever ship will be joining the fight at Earth, Captain."
"You are not attached to my command, so I don't see any reason to deny you your revenge, Lieutenant." As soon as she said it, Leone wished she could take back her words. Her sarcasm went too far.
The slap of McKenna's hand atop the desk startled Leone. She flinched in her seat.
"Damn you, sir! I lost nearly everyone I knew to the Borg, and you're sitting here drinking coffee and enjoying the view?"
The medic had no idea what to do, as he looked between the two officers.
Leone forced an air of calm, but she still felt the guilt of her transgression. "Thank you, medic. You're dismissed." Once they were alone within the ready room, the captain stood to face the fuming lieutenant. "I won't try to understand the immense loss you feel right now. I have family on Earth and there's nothing I want more right now than to rush to their defense. Even if it's just me running with a bow and an arrow in my hand."
"Then why the hell-?"
"Because you and I are wearing the same damned uniform. The uniform comes with rules and responsibilities, Lieutenant. And unlike you, I'm not willing to throw everything out the airlock just because I'm hellbent on getting my revenge," hissed Leone. "We're on the same team. That means we trust the other members of that team to get the job done."
McKenna balled her hand up into a fist, and slammed it hard against the desk. The impact cracked loudly. The woman began sobbing violently, slumping into the seat she previously occupied. Her arms folded around her midsection, holding herself as she shook.
The intercom sounded, and Lieutenant Nieves asked if the captain was all right.
Leone moved to place a comforting hand on McKenna's shoulder. She answered the call. "I'm fine, Wilson. But please, have the counselor come to my ready room. I expect someone here needs to talk to her, immediately."
---- Scene Change ----
By the time Excalibur arrived, news the the Borg cube arrived at Sector 001 reached them both. The Enterprise trailed behind them, and all of them had nothing more to do but see to the recovery of the escape pods still wandering around the system. Eventually, Farragut's capacity was reached, and they had to jettison some of the pods to make room for the others.
The effect of the battle on the Starfleet personnel was apparent, but the civilians who miraculously survived the destruction of their respective ships were devastated and more vocal. Leone walked through the cargo bay that had been setup as a makeshift medical facility as the sickbay's facilities were overrun with wounded. The wail of people crying openly echoed against the bulkheads and she felt the need to be somewhere else.
How many lives could Farragut have saved if only they had made it there in time? Leone's question repeated in her mind. Could they have been that one ship that would have made the difference? Or would history have merely recorded them as the forty-first ship to be destroyed by the Borg at Wolf 359?
Leone exited the cargo bay, moving quickly to reach the turbolift in order to find some peace and quiet on her ship. She could not see retreating to her stateroom as an option, but it seemed like a good idea. Instead, she opted to return to the bridge and hope that there was some good news.
"Captain," said Ariel. She was sitting in the center seat, but stood up to relinquish it. "Lexington is about to enter the system."
That was good news. "Get me Captain Wilder."
"One moment, sir," replied Nieves. "I've got her."
The main viewscreen winked and the bridge of the Lexington appeared. It looked like a duplicate of the Farragut's bridge, though the green trim was replaced by a blue trim. "Greetings, Captain Leone," said Wilder.
Leone smiled. "Justine, am I glad to see you."
"Likewise."
"We could use your help in taking on some wounded as soon as you get within transporter range."
"Of course. I'll alert my medical teams to stand by." After she did so, Wilder turned her attention back to the viewscreen. "What's the word?"
Captain Leone filled her in on the situation so far.
"Damned shame to lose that many ships," spat Wilder. "Any word from Enterprise?"
"Not as of yet. We're all in a holding pattern right now. We can't even get a signal through to Starfleet Command."
"Then, I guess we start making our way to Starbase 6?"
"Andy Estrada and I believe that we should wait a little while longer. Or until we hear from Admiral Paris that Earth..." Leone trailed off. She could not bring herself to say it.
Wilder nodded. "Agreed. We should be able to rejoin formation in five minutes. We'll be happy to render aid in any way we can."
"Thanks." Leone stepped forward, as if to continue the conversation with some privacy, but she knew it was futile. "Andy's asked me to have dinner with him aboard the Excalibur. I'm sure he meant to extend the invitation to you."
"I'm sure he did. But I'll wait until he does. He is the senior officer."
Andrew Estrada earned his promotion a full month before Justine Wilder, and a year and a half before Leone. Although he had no official appointment, he was technically the commanding officer of their little flotilla. "I'll see to it that he does, then."
Wilder allowed herself a small smile. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Captain. Lexington, out."
--- Scene Change ----
Leone was glad that she could speak to the other two captains with some privacy. The cover of having dinner may have seemed odd under the circumstances, but at least it was enough to shield them from what they were really planning.
Captain Andrew Estrada sat across from her, while Captain Justine Wilder stood looking out at the wreckage that floated around their ships. Shuttles flittered to and fro as they continued their rescue and recovery operations.
"I can't ask either of you to do this," said Estrada, his gaze leveled upon the table in his stateroom.
Wilder smiled. "That's the beauty of it, Andy. You won't have to."
"Exactly," Leone agreed. "And I think I should be the one to go."
"Hold on a moment, Krys," said Justine. "Why do you get to go?"
"Because my ship was first on the scene, and Andy is senior. He has to remain behind to see to the rescue operations. His ship is the biggest and has a higher carrying capacity," explained Leone quickly.
"I'm glad you pointed out that I'm senior, Krys. It save me the trouble of having to do it, myself."
Justine turned her head to look at him. "We're talking about disobeying orders, so I doubt holding seniority over either of us will work in this particular case."
"No kidding," Leone said, folding her arms.
"Then I'm going to make this simple for the both of you. I'll go. You two stay and get as many people as you can to Starbase 6," ordered Andy. The other two captains opened their mouth to protest, but he managed to silence them with a flick of his wrist. "That's final."
The stateroom's silence was deafening as Andy's words hung in the air between the three of them. Leone broke it with a question. "You think one ship will have enough firepower to take on a Borg cube?"
"I had hoped that we would be joining Enterprise."
"What if they're destroyed?"
"Then we'll do our best to give Earth a fighting chance, all by ourselves."
"We're wasting time," hissed Justine. "If we're going to do this, now's the time."
"She's right," said Leone.
"Fine. Return to your ships, both of you."
Captains Leone and Wilder offered their best wishes to Andy Estrada before leaving his stateroom. On their way to the transporter room, Wilder turned to Leone. "You should go with him."
"All right."
"What about Andy?"
"He might be senior, but if he's disobeying orders, then he's not really in any position to complain, is he?"
Justine grinned. "I've always liked you, Krystine."
---- Scene Change ----
In spite of Captain Estrada's protests, the news that Enterprise managed to destroy the Borg cube in orbit of Earth reached them as they were entering the Sol system. The perimeter sensors near Jupiter picked up the pair of starships on their high-resolution display and Admiral Alynna Necheyev was among the first to make her displeasure known.
"I gave specific orders not to approach Earth," said Necheyev in her most unpleasant tone. "Did I not, Captain Leone?"
"Yes, sir, you did."
"And did you pass that order on to Captain Estrada?"
"Yes, sir, she did," said Estrada, not giving Leone a chance to respond. "However, given the fact that the Enterprise was facing a cube by itself, it seemed prudent to divide our resources at Wolf 359 to provide them with as much support as possible, while also seeing to the effectiveness of your orders, Admiral."
"Pardon me, Captain? Did I hear you correctly?"
"You did, sir."
Necheyev narrowed her eyes, as though she were looking at Estrada as if he were an insect standing before her. "Very well, Captain Estrada. You will wait outside while I deal with Captain Leone."
"Sir, I gave a direct order to Captain Leone to escort Excalibur to Earth."
Leone wanted to shoot Andy a shocked stare, but she knew better than to to that while Necheyev's blood was up.
"She had higher orders."
"I made it clear that Starfleet Command had been cut off, and at the time, I was the highest authority available in a timely fashion."
"Did you, indeed?"
"I did, sir."
The drum of Necheyev's fingernails resounded against her office's walls within the Starfleet Command complex in San Francisco. Through the large windows, the rust-colored spires of the Golden Gate Bridge peeked through a particularly heavy cloud of fog that seemed to cling to the bay like moss on a rock. The nails kept drumming against the surface of the desk as the admiral considered her options.
"Fine," she said, finally. "Captain Estrada, you are relieved of command pending charges of failure to obey a direct order from a superior officer and whatever else JAG can throw at you."
Leone broke her stance of attention. "Sir!"
"Yes, Captain Leone? You have something you wish to add?"
Estrada spoke up. "No, sir, she does not. I take full responsibility for my orders. Captain Leone was in no position to disobey a direct order."
"With all due respect to Captain Estrada-" began Leone.
"Admiral, by your leave, sir?"
Necheyev harrumphed. "Get out. Both of you."
As soon as they were in the elevator to return to the building lobby, Leone turned on him. "What the hell was that? You never gave me any order. In fact, you gave me orders to stay put and I disobeyed you."
Andy didn't answer her.
"Who the hell do you think you are, jumping on the grenade like that? I have some punishment coming my way, too, damn you."
Still nothing.
"Answer me!"
"Halt," ordered Andy. The turbolift car slowed to a stop. He turned to look at her. "I knew what I was getting into. And I knew one of you would try to follow me. I actually guessed it would be Justine, but whatever. Point is, Starfleet can't afford to lose both of us right now."
It was her turn to say nothing. She stood there, stunned.
"The fleet's been decimated. It's going to take us who know how long before we're back up to operating levels and that means that ships are going to need particularly good captains right now. So... yeah. I'll gladly fall on my sword if it means one of us gets to keep on going." Andy looked up at the ceiling and ordered, "Resume."
The car began to move once more, and Leone looked down at her feet, feeling even worse. "But you sacrificed your career, Andy."
"I was willing to sacrifice so much more that my career. So were you." He sighed. "I'm sorry that it comes down to a by-the-book bitch like Necheyev, but that's the way it goes." Andy raised a hand to his balding head and winced. "I'm sorry... I know she's like... family to you..."
Leone shook her head. "It's all right. I think, in this case, I have to agree." She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You want me to talk to her?"
"No, don't. Then you'd have to explain the whole thing, and knowing her, it'll be for naught... plus I'd be caught in a lie. Don't make things worse, Captain."
Leone let out a deep breath. Frustration washed over her like high tide at North Beach. Andy was right, and there was nothing she could do about it. The minute she opened her mouth, he was suffer for his dishonesty, however noble it might've been. In that moment, as the lift opened to allow them to go their separate ways, she didn't know which frustration was worse: Wolf 359, or knowing that Captain Andrews Estrada would be forced into retirement.
----------------------
And there you have it. Not a complete story by any means, but then again, you have to remember that these are more like character sketches than fully-realized episodes. I'm sure, once I get to the end of the first season, there will be a wrapping point for this one.
For the last time on behalf of The Quarterdeck Breed, I thank you so much for reading through these six stories. And I hope to return the favor on the BBS during my tenure here.
-- ZC
That one was a lot of fun to write. It's probably the most popular story in the whole series.
-- ZC
-- ZC
I've know also read Belleraphon and Constitution. Personally I still liked Agamemnon the best so far.
I like Starfleet Academy stories and therefore i did enjoy Belleraphon but I did feel that you neglected the other characters somewhat. I know that it was all about Randy but I would have liked to learn a bit more about his crew and their relationship with each other, especially Randy's relationship with his first officer who seemed to have no respect for him at all.
Constitution was a great tribute to the early TOS era and I was quite impressed how you manage to tell an intersting story about a dedicated starship captain getting another shot, instead of making it about Enterprise or Kirk or any other of the more well known characters which would have been around at that time.
I like Starfleet Academy stories and therefore i did enjoy Belleraphon but I did feel that you neglected the other characters somewhat. I know that it was all about Randy but I would have liked to learn a bit more about his crew and their relationship with each other, especially Randy's relationship with his first officer who seemed to have no respect for him at all.
Constitution was a great tribute to the early TOS era and I was quite impressed how you manage to tell an intersting story about a dedicated starship captain getting another shot, instead of making it about Enterprise or Kirk or any other of the more well known characters which would have been around at that time.
Well, Bellerophon is in my top three fave stories. I will say I get the most comments on it than any other story in TQB.
Constitution was written out of the fact that no one (in 2002 or prior) had yet to really explore UESPA's shift to Starfleet. Also, I wanted to exposit some of the political problems those two organizations might have had, and so I used a rear admiral who didn't want to be a rear admiral, and I asked Robert April for some help with the story, too.
I'm glad you liked Constitution. Not a whole lot of people did.
-- ZC
PS: Let's give it up to the readers, and see which ones you all liked
I just finished Agamemnon, and I enjoyed the story thoroughly. Your excellent characters really shown through here, each of them with their own ambitions, viewpoints, and allegiances. From the experienced commander on the verge of retirement who dreams of his fourth pip, to the young first officer pursuing his own command, to the Romulan national who’s loyalties remain veiled, the people in your tales are three-dimensional and fully realized. Very nicely done.
Wow, thank you for your feedback. I hope you enjoy the rest of the stories as much as you did Agamemnon.
-- ZC
I hope you enjoy the rest of the stories as much as you did Agamemnon. -- ZC
Don't forget to vote. And TQB will be available in print form once a cover's been designed.
-- ZC
And TQB will be available in print form once a cover's been designed. -- ZC
I just finished reading Dallas. I have to admit that I'm not a huge fan of combat orientated stories (even though you may call me a hypocrite if you ever read Cry Havoc)
I did enjoy the relationship issues between your captain and first officer however and how their expectations differed from each other. The ending was especially interesting if not even a bit depressing. It would have been interesting to see their personal problems conflict with their attempts to fight off the Jem'Hadar some more. But I guess in the end they were too professional to allow for that to happen.
I did enjoy the relationship issues between your captain and first officer however and how their expectations differed from each other. The ending was especially interesting if not even a bit depressing. It would have been interesting to see their personal problems conflict with their attempts to fight off the Jem'Hadar some more. But I guess in the end they were too professional to allow for that to happen.
Combat's a little hard to write, but it flows a little better under the right circumstances. Until Dallas, I had yet to actually do a full combat scene (Agamemnon had short short combat), and part of the exercise was to try new things, so I went for it.
Thanks for reading,
-- ZC
Thanks for reading,
-- ZC
I finished Quarterdeck Breed and I was very impressed with the last two entries.
Exeter I thought was a very well done reminiscence of the harsh war days. I guess you do grow fond of the people you service with especially under those dire circumstances and I imagine you'd miss that bond quite a bit when the war is over. This point struck me as very poignant. Also I loved the Gorn captain.
My only minor point of criticism might have been the ending. Promoting an unsuspecting officer to captaincy of a ship (which has the same name as the old one, btw) always feels a tad bit clichéd.
All in all a terrific read though.
Farragut was a surprising reunion with the characters from your other series and I felt immediately at home reading it. I enjoyed the concept of the ships that missed Wolf 359 and had to deal with the aftermath. I thought that Nachayev's (sp?) decision in the end was a bit tough considering they've just avoided all out assimilation. But I guess she is a cold-hard b.
All great stuff. So what do I read next?
Exeter I thought was a very well done reminiscence of the harsh war days. I guess you do grow fond of the people you service with especially under those dire circumstances and I imagine you'd miss that bond quite a bit when the war is over. This point struck me as very poignant. Also I loved the Gorn captain.
My only minor point of criticism might have been the ending. Promoting an unsuspecting officer to captaincy of a ship (which has the same name as the old one, btw) always feels a tad bit clichéd.
All in all a terrific read though.
Farragut was a surprising reunion with the characters from your other series and I felt immediately at home reading it. I enjoyed the concept of the ships that missed Wolf 359 and had to deal with the aftermath. I thought that Nachayev's (sp?) decision in the end was a bit tough considering they've just avoided all out assimilation. But I guess she is a cold-hard b.
All great stuff. So what do I read next?
Hmm, well... the unsuspecting officer promotion might be a little on the cliché side of things, but I thought it was a better ending than the original one, which had Sukhija retiring from Starfleet. That ending fell really flat for me, so I rewrote it to a promotion and command of a smaller starship. In the end, I felt like the story had its characters, but Sukhija's tale was more about the personification of the ship's role in the war, and how it impacted her specifically.
Gorn characters are awesome to write. I had a lot of fun with him. I had intended to write in another Gorn officer in a planned G-story ("Gallant") but I couldn't figure out the ending and plus I let TQB drag on for /years/ before deciding to finish it at just shy of 70k words this year. I like experimenting with different races, hopefully giving me some insight into the humanity of the 22nd/23rd/24th centuries.
Farragut was what inspired me to revisit the concept of a series, again. I'd forgotten how much fun Leone and Ariel were to write, and so I started filling out the rest of the crew by sketching them with some depth, so they didn't seem trapped in their duties, too much. The key aspect of the story was based on an off-hand comment made by an old friend who, while watching BoBW, turned to me and said, "Wouldn't you hate to be the captain that had to follow the Enterprise to Wolf 359?"
Peter David explored this a little in his novel Vendetta, with respect to Captain Korsmo and the USS Chekov. I decided to pull on the thread a little harder then he did and see where it went. Of course, the characters I ended up sketching for Farragut I didn't really want to part with, yet, since I felt that Leone/Ariel needed more exposure since I had sketched them more than a decade ago, back when the Internet was still referred to as ARPA.
Click on my fanfic profile; you'll see I have some other stories. The Misadventures of January McKenna (featuring the McKenna in Farragut, in an alternate timeline) is a complete novella that kicked off a 5-year role-playing game. There's also The Tides of Time and War, which would have kicked off the next RPG, but I never got around to finishing it.
I'm glad you enjoyed TQB. It's always nice to hear positive feedback of what was ultimately a writing experiment for me.
Thanks for reading,
-- ZC
Gorn characters are awesome to write. I had a lot of fun with him. I had intended to write in another Gorn officer in a planned G-story ("Gallant") but I couldn't figure out the ending and plus I let TQB drag on for /years/ before deciding to finish it at just shy of 70k words this year. I like experimenting with different races, hopefully giving me some insight into the humanity of the 22nd/23rd/24th centuries.
Farragut was what inspired me to revisit the concept of a series, again. I'd forgotten how much fun Leone and Ariel were to write, and so I started filling out the rest of the crew by sketching them with some depth, so they didn't seem trapped in their duties, too much. The key aspect of the story was based on an off-hand comment made by an old friend who, while watching BoBW, turned to me and said, "Wouldn't you hate to be the captain that had to follow the Enterprise to Wolf 359?"
Peter David explored this a little in his novel Vendetta, with respect to Captain Korsmo and the USS Chekov. I decided to pull on the thread a little harder then he did and see where it went. Of course, the characters I ended up sketching for Farragut I didn't really want to part with, yet, since I felt that Leone/Ariel needed more exposure since I had sketched them more than a decade ago, back when the Internet was still referred to as ARPA.
Click on my fanfic profile; you'll see I have some other stories. The Misadventures of January McKenna (featuring the McKenna in Farragut, in an alternate timeline) is a complete novella that kicked off a 5-year role-playing game. There's also The Tides of Time and War, which would have kicked off the next RPG, but I never got around to finishing it.
I'm glad you enjoyed TQB.
It's always nice to hear positive feedback of what was ultimately a writing experiment for me.Thanks for reading,
-- ZC
Thank you, japol That's quite a compliment! It's unfortunate, though, that Pocket would never consider the subject matter I write about; not even for their defunct Strange New Worlds writing challenge. I don't write for any of the main characters, and they require first-time writers to present a situation and return the status quo at the end of the book... and yet, I'm mostly about upsetting the status quo as much as possible 
-- ZC
That's quite a compliment! It's unfortunate, though, that Pocket would never consider the subject matter I write about; not even for their defunct Strange New Worlds writing challenge. I don't write for any of the main characters, and they require first-time writers to present a situation and return the status quo at the end of the book... and yet, I'm mostly about upsetting the status quo as much as possible -- ZC
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