Chapter 1
"NINE DAYS?!" Captain Sydney Satterwhite's jaw dropped open. "My ship's already been here for that long."
Seated on the other side of the desk, Captain Multree spread his hands open in a helpless gesture. "I'm sorry, Captain, that's the best we can do."
"The best? My orders say I should be underway and headed in the general direction of Korves III two days from now. Not nine. Two."
"I understand that."
"What were you doing for the last nine days?"
"Catching up." The middle-aged man pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know if Captain Stewart told you, but Togran flu made this place a very sick station for a month. The whole place quarantined and no one able to leave. Once the Wretch ran its course, the all-clear sounded and we spent the last nine days or so getting back on our feet. Barely half of our personnel have returned to duty so far. Not even Admiral Ferrer is 100 percent yet."
Sydney studied Multree in silence. Clean-shaven and dark-haired, he was a stark contrast to the framed picture on the desk to his right, an image of a white-haired and goateed gentleman with his wife and a platoon of grandchildren. The two captains were seated in Ferrer's office, a small museum of artifacts from other eras. Several display cases held various insignia and patches going back to the founding of the Federation, a folded Federation flag, holos from the Lasken IV Expedition of 2330, a hard copy reproduction of the Meridian Treaty of 2338.
What drew Sydney's attention most when she had entered earlier was the model of a
Schweitzer-class runabout from the turn of the century. The second thing that drew her attention was the puzzled look on Multree's face, since he was expecting Captain Stewart at this meeting and not her. She, on the other hand, knew she'd be meeting Admiral Ferrer's adjutant instead of the Admiral himself.
"To be honest,
you don't look like you're 100 percent yet," Sydney said, trying to soften her voice a bit.
"I was one of the first ones to get it, and one of the first to come out of it. And let me tell you: projectile vomiting is not fun."
"I can imagine."
Illustrating his state, Multree heaved a tired sigh and rubbed his eyes. "Look, we're working on three weeks of backlogs, and now, here comes your ship looking for a stamp of approval on the warp core."
"That's all we're here for," Sydney said. "It's not like we need an overhaul."
"You shouldn't need anything. The class 9 is a model of efficiency and stability. A nice match for the
Intrepid class."
Sydney frowned. "The
Adirondack's launch was held up for three months because of that model of efficiency and stability."
"So they got the bugs out. Any problems since then?"
"Very minor ones, but—"
"Then you can wait."
"Then, maybe I can go to—"
A sharp laugh cut her off. "Starbase 216? During the quarantine, we directed all traffic to 216. Admiral Danton was not a happy lady and she let me know about it. Often. So she'll be even less happy seeing you coming her way."
Not as unhappy as Sydney was at the moment. If the warp core was truly a major concern for her, a trip to 216 might have been out of the question. Her chief engineer would have agreed with Multree, however; everything checked out, except for a few non-critical hiccups.
"Captain," she began, almost pleading, "I want this done not only because it was Stewart's last order before he left. I want it done...for my own peace of mind."
Multree sighed again, his eyes going distant in thought. Sydney held her breath, waiting.
After a few more seconds, he focused back on her.
"Nine days, Captain." He held a hand up as she was about to protest. "Maybe it could be shorter when more people come back, or if somebody gets out of the line. But I wouldn't place my bet on that happening."
Walking down the station's concourse, Sydney groaned softly and shook her head.
What do they say about "best laid plans"? She had half a thought to turn around and see Admiral Ferrer in his quarters, but he couldn't have helped her even if he were well. Every captain stuck at Starbase 168 had the same problem.
She came upon a bank of turbolifts and entered one alone. "Docking Level 9." Once the murmur of the crowds on the other side of the door was shut out, she leaned hard against a wall.
My first mission as Captain...stalled. Wonderful. I don't want to have to tell Admiral Hepburn that we're being held up by a freaking bug! Korves III isn't critical, but still. I wanted everything to be right. And what about the crew? Getting only two days' notice that a new CO is coming? She recalled the fifty-odd faces looking back at her when she relieved Captain Stewart of command of the
Adirondack not quite a day ago. All of them registering various degrees of curiosity, confusion, and uncertainty.
As much as she didn't relish telling them of this new roadblock, as much as she dreaded making that call to Hepburn, she slowly admitted that something else was driving her desire to leave 168.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to see Sutek again. Or, rather, have him see her like this. Frustrated and rattled, and mortified under the cool, gray-eyed gaze of her one-time mentor. Crawling under the deck plates was more preferable.
The turbolift stopped and let Sydney out on Level 9. Only one ship was docked here, with the ones that had been prevented from leaving during the quarantine on the upper levels. Beside the airlock leading to her ship, Sydney accessed a touch panel. A monitor displayed an image of the
Adirondack taken from one of the upper levels. Her sleek hull filled the screen, illuminated by spotlights positioned around the dock. She appeared placid and unconcerned of anything happening around her. Patiently waiting.
Sydney touched the image.
Not a great way to start your career, is it, sweetie? She deactivated the screen and entered the airlock. Her meeting with Multree precluded a morning tour of the ship, so she set out at a brisk walk from the docking port.
In section 21, past the chief science officer's office, she picked up company.
"Hey, Trill," Sydney said without breaking stride.
Beside her, Lt. Cmdr. Riley Crawford grinned without giving her customary "half Trill" answer. "Doing rounds?"
"Yep."
"If I didn't see that rain cloud hanging over your head, I never would have guessed that you came from seeing Captain Multree."
Sydney scoffed. "I've been here for barely a day, and I already feel like keel-hauling somebody."
"I've got a few candidates."
That got a tiny smile from Sydney, but it quickly went away. "I'm calling a senior staff meeting at 1000 to break the bad news."
They entered a turbolift at the end of a corridor.
"Deck 7," Riley said. "How bad is it?"
"Nine more days here," Sydney said. "At least."
"What? We've already been here—"
"I told him that. He's still shorthanded and will be for the foreseeable future."
On deck 7 they continued, with Sydney basically following Riley. "Nine days. That's way too much time to get into trouble."
Riley leaned in marginally. "You, uh, want to get into trouble?"
"Ugh. No, thank you, I'm still sore from this morning. Where did you get that program from, anyway? I never heard of a bar called 'the City Dump'. It even sounds made up."
"Just something I put together to mix things up a little."
Sydney glanced at Riley's spotted profile, then shook her head. "How did you get me involved in this?"
"You said you were bored with your sparring routines, remember?"
"Yeah. Three years ago on the
Toledo."
"Well, I thought maybe you'd like, you know, bar hopping."
"Bar
brawling my way across the Alpha and Beta Quadrants is not my idea of recreation." She never could see Riley, who was just a hair taller than herself, breaking a bottle over somebody's head outside of the holodeck.
"To each their own," Riley said with a grin. She stopped in front the doors to the materials lab. "Dinner tonight, Captain?"
"We'll see." Sydney was about to say more when the doors opened.
And the rain cloud over her head grew darker still.
With her eyes on a PADD, Dr. Regina Broadhurst bumped into Riley's back and quickly looked up. "I'm sor—" When she caught sight of Sydney, she closed her mouth and lowered her gaze.
A knot in Sydney's stomach began tightening. Her words were clipped and cold. "Good Morning, Dr. Broadhurst."
The other woman swallowed hard and bowed her head slightly. "Captain," she said quietly.
Riley kept her eyes on Sydney as she addressed Broadhurst. "Um, Regina, I need to see you for a minute."
"Yes. Yes, of course."
Broadhurst went back into the lab, as if backing away from a coiled rattlesnake. Before going inside, Riley gave Sydney a final penetrating, concerned glance, then let the doors close behind her.
Once the corridor was quiet, Sydney closed her eyes and let out a series of slow breaths. When she opened them again, the knot in her stomach was gone. A seemingly inapt sentence surfaced in her mind, spoken in a familiar voice.
Where there is no offense, there is no anger.
She gave the closed doors a good sneer, then moved on.
Sutek, you have no idea. You just don't know. You've never had family do wrong by you.
By the time she reached Engineering a half an hour later, the encounter had been put aside. She didn't intend to stay too long, but as she circled the warp core, she became somewhat bemused by the faces around her. Commander Stryker was waiting for her when she completed her stroll. He was easily the tallest person in the room. And the oldest.
"Morning, Captain," he said. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Just lurking. I mean, looking. Uh, Commander...are you running a nursery down here?"
"Ma'am?"
Sydney pointed out several technicians and an ensign passing by.
"Oh. They do look rather young. Getting younger all the time. The next senior-most is Lieutenant Marr, head of Gamma shift. But, rest assured, these people get the job done and they do it well."
"I don't doubt that for a moment."
She then examined the warp core. A dilithium-lined swirl chamber assembly acted as the reactor in place of the more common enclosed dilithium focus chamber. The streamers of light inside moved slowly, their colors muted.
"We're partially on the station's power while we run some tests," Stryker said.
"Ah." Captivated by the hypnotic dance of light, Sydney wondered at the music that could elicit such a dance. Exotic and mildly sultry? Sad and mournful? Cool and relaxing? But there was already music at hand. The deep drone of the core itself one could feel through the deck. The various computer beeps and warbles. The murmur of conversations—
"She shows you her heart," Stryker said, startling her.
"Hmm?" Sydney blinked and turned to the chief engineer. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was..."
He smiled. "It does mesmerize you, doesn't it? You hardly see a swirl chamber on a warp core these days. I had an instructor at the Academy who said he missed the days when you could see the 'dance of destruction' as matter and antimatter annihilate each other. He said the ship was showing you her heart."
"I served with an engineer who talked like that all the time," Sydney said, matching Stryker's smile. "'Master Monrovia the Mad Poet', we called him. And he wrote pretty good poetry, too."
All too soon, it was back to business, and Sydney's smile dropped away. "Commander, there's going to be a senior staff meeting at 1000 to catch everyone up on where we are in the station's queue."
"I take it it's not good news, ma'am."
"Not a bit." Sydney headed for the blast doors. "I'll see you there."
Out in the corridor, barely a few steps from Engineering, a deep voice called softly behind her.
"Captain. May I speak with you for a moment?"
She stopped and turned around, and found herself facing a painfully young-looking Vulcan in Operations gold, wearing the single pip of an ensign. It was the ensign she had pointed out to Stryker a few minutes ago. He locked his hands behind his back and drew himself up straight.
"Sure," Sydney said. "What do you need, Ensign..."
"Seral, ma'am." He bowed his head slightly.
Sydney studied his face. That bow looked oddly familiar. "Have we met?"
"I do not believe so. But you have met my father."
"I have?"
"On stardate 45793.6, the dedication and launch of USS
Meridian-A from Earth Station McKinley. Captain Sutek and his remaining former protégés attended the ceremony to honor the late Captain Lauderdale's memory."
That ceremony was three years ago, the only time Sutek's students had been together in one place. To remember the one missing from the group, C.S. Lauderdale, killed in action on board the original
Meridian in 2338. Sutek had taken a fellow Vulcan under his wing at one time, and he was there. Sydney remembered that simple bow he made when anyone acknowledged him. And the serenity evident in his blue eyes. A serenity she was certain Seral had hoped to acquire fully one day.
"Sekel?" Sydney asked. "He's your father?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I knew he had a son in Starfleet, but I didn't know it was you. Maybe I should look at the crew manifest a bit more closely." Sydney chuckled to herself. "So, Ensign, what can I do for you?"
"I do not mean to be out of place, Captain," Seral said, "but may I say it is an honor to serve with a former student of Captain Sutek."
That set the butterflies fluttering in Sydney's stomach. "Thank you. Your father's career speaks for itself. Now he's an instructor at the Academy and a recruiter. It would have been an honor to serve under him."
Seral nodded. "Indeed. I was unable to serve under my father, as I had been commissioned after he began taking ground assignments. This posting will bring me the closest to fulfilling that desire...because of what you share in common with him."
Sydney's sudden discomfort grew. "I've barely been here a day."
"But you
are here, Captain. You honor us with your presence." The simple, elegant bow again. "We come to serve."
The only thing Sydney could think of to say, fearing her voice would fail her, was, "Your service honors me."
The ensign appeared pleased with her acknowledgment. "If you will excuse me, ma'am, I must return to my duties. Good day, Captain."
Sydney returned his nod and watched him walk back into Engineering. She then wondered how quickly she could get the butterflies back under control.
I realize the more likely case is that he feels a particular sense of accomplishment with Satterwhite, seeing as she served most of her career under his tutelage. 
