Note: The events in this story take place immediately following the events in ST: Gibraltar – “Backup.”
The Liberty class ship mentioned in this story, USS Horace Greeley is named for the WW II era Liberty ship of the same name on which my father served as a young sailor in the US Navy from 1943-45.
Chapter One
12 December 2376
USS Bluefin
Starbase 371, Repair Berth 5
Captain Joseph Barabbas Akinola sat at the USS Bluefin’s wardroom table and regarded the room’s new occupant with suspicion and resignation. He tried to turn his attention to the data padd before him, but his eyes kept creeping back to the bulkhead wall and the object of his distaste. A brand-new replicator was firmly ensconced in the wall. Its red stand-by light seemed to mock him.
Commander Inga Strauss, the petite XO, walked in and made her way to the replicator.
“Raktajino,” she said.
The replicator emitted a soft hum and a steaming cup of the Klingon beverage appeared in the opening of the device. The strong but not unpleasant aroma wafted through the small wardroom. Strauss took a careful sip, closed her eyes and smiled wistfully.
“Oh, that’s good,” she said, happily. She opened her eyes and noticed Akinola regarding her with a baleful stare.
“What?” she asked.
Akinola just shook his head and sighed while forcing his gaze back to the padd. “Nothing, XO.”
She sat down across from him. “You’re still upset about the replicators, aren’t you?”
Akinola surrendered to the inevitable and put the padd back down on the table. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Inga pressed on.
“Captain, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Fleet Ops order 455B clearly states that all starships undergoing refit or repair are to brought to alpha level standards, which includes modernizing environmental, recycling and replication technology.”
“Inga, don’t talk like a guard-house lawyer. It’s not becoming.”
Strauss ignored the jibe. “Captain, what do you have against replicators anyway? It’s household technology that takes up almost no space, uses little energy, and provides a variety of items for the crew. Besides, you still have Cookie – it’s not like you have to use a replicator if you don’t want to.”
“Inga, I’ve already had this conversation with Commander Nowark, who made it abundantly clear that she would not certify Bluefin for operations until the replicators were installed.” He sat back in his chair and remained silent for a moment. “But you’ve asked a fair question and deserve an answer.” He paused again, considering how to begin. “I guess you know that I grew up in space as a Boomer, on a freighter.”
Strauss nodded, not wishing to interrupt.
“Our ship, the Eku, had been in the family for decades. My dad and my uncle were the third generation of Akinolas to crew the ship. We made the Rigel - Molari run because the pay was good, although the risks were high. Anyway, supplies were often tight since we were off the beaten path. Star Station Echo didn’t offer the amenities it does today and there were no other stations for many light years. We relied on protein resequencers for ‘food,’ if you can call it that. Ours were old and didn’t always function properly. Oh yeah, we received nourishment, but that was about it. I remember as a youngster thinking that when I grew up and commanded the Eku, I’d get rid of those resequencers and bring on a cook so my crew could have real food.” Akinola paused and his gaze grew distant. His mouth worked with restrained emotion. Clearing his throat, he continued.
“When I was 13 and my sister was 6, we were attacked – I suppose by Orion pirates, but that doesn’t really matter now. I remember Mom waking us up and getting us into a life pod. Dad and Uncle Lemuel were carrying pulse rifles. This happened every so often, so I wasn’t overly concerned. Dad was quite a pilot and had always evaded pirates before. . .”
Akinola paused again and took a sip of coffee that had grown cold. He winced at the bitter taste, and then continued. “I guess I fell back asleep, because the jolt of the lifepod being jettisoned from the ship woke me up. I don’t remember a whole lot about the next days – they’ve faded to a blur. I do remember the next face we saw belonged to a Border Dog from the USS Skipjack. They did a search for the Eku for a few days, but nothing was ever found, not even a debris field.”
He looked back at Inga. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know, commander. I didn’t mean to bore you with my childhood troubles, but I always remember how I felt as a kid and my determination to provide decent, real food for my future crew, not recycled waste or matter/energy hocus-pocus. It must sound silly to you, but it’s always been important to me.”
Inga said nothing for several moments, not wanting to break the captain’s train of thought. When it became apparent that he was finished with his narrative, she said, “Thank you for telling me this, Captain. I think, maybe, I understand you a little better now. And no, it did not sound silly to me.” She reached over and squeezed his hand for emphasis.
Akinola smiled and returned the squeeze of her hand. “Thanks for listening to an old man’s musings, XO.” He gestured to the padd on the table. “Now, let’s discuss these other system upgrades.”
* * *
Starbase 371 Surface Complex
Galleria Commercial Zone
House of Java
Lt. Commander T’Ser sat at a small table of the coffee shop, watching the throngs of people walking by in the Galleria. She took in the sights and smells, which reminded her a bit of her childhood in Seattle, and trips she took with her parents shopping or to the many coffee houses of that city. As she took a sip of her Chai Latte’, a voice broke through her reverie.
“Pardon me commander, may I sit here?”
T’Ser looked up and was surprised to see Lt. Sarnek, the brother of Strevel, her ex-betrothed, standing by the table with a steaming cup in his hand. She indicated the other chair. “Please, have a seat lieutenant.”
T’Ser watched with guarded curiosity as Sarnek took the proffered seat. The two had what could best be described as a strained relationship, although the initial hostility exhibited by Sarnek when he came on the Bluefin had passed. Sarnek sat and took a sip of his beverage.
“Chlom’ teek tea?” T’Ser asked, referring to a popular Vulcan blend.
Sarnek nodded. “I have found that this establishment provides a very acceptable tea, as they use actual leaves. Few replicators can do it justice.”
“I see,” said T’Ser.
After a few moments of awkward silence (awkward, at least, for T’Ser,) Sarnek spoke.
“Commander . . .”
“Call me T’Ser, we’re off-duty.”
Sarnek inclined his head. “As you wish. T’Ser, in my meditations of late, I have not found my center of calm. After some evaluation, I have determined that the source of my unrest is you.”
T’Ser shot up an eyebrow. “Sarnek, I really don’t want to re-open old wounds . . .”
Sarnek held up a hand. “You misunderstand, T’Ser. I have resolved the past issues between you and Strevel. I have come to the realization that neither you nor your parents were at fault in the matter. It was illogical for my family . . . for me to react to you in such a way. For that, I ask your forgiveness.”
T’Ser hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Well . . . sure. I have no animosity toward you, your brother or any of your family, Sarnek. I’m glad you’ve been able to resolve your . . . issues.” For some reason, T’Ser felt more uneasy than if Sarnek had begun an argument.
Sarnek again inclined his head slightly. “Thank you. As I was saying, I have determined that you were the source of my unrest. As I have explored this, it has become apparent to me that you are a woman of tremendous character, courage and intelligence. While it is true that I am puzzled by your embrace of emotion, I nonetheless am intrigued with you as a Vulcan female and I would desire to pursue a deeper relationship.”
“Sarnek . . . um, just how deep of a relationship are you thinking?”
“I apologize for being imprecise. I suggest that we enter into Talyut Kalifah, the exploration of destinies.”
T’Ser frowned slightly. “Sarnek, forgive me, but I’m a bit weak on Vulcan cultural idioms. What exactly does “exploration of destinies” mean?
Sarnek tilted his head in thought for a moment. “If I understand human western culture correctly, of which you are most familiar, I believe the term is ‘dating.’”
T’Ser stared at Sarnek. “You . . . want to date . . . me?!
“I believe that is the correct analogy, yes.”
“Oh.” T’ser said. Oh my God! she thought, What do I do now?
* * *
USS Bluefin
Starbase 371, Repair Berth 5
Commander Strauss was re-running a diagnostic routine on the weapons system, when she heard Lt. Bane mutter a mild Australian oath across the bridge at the Ops station. Intrigued, she walked over to him.
“Nigel? Anything wrong?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry Inga. I just got a bit of a surprise, that’s all.” He pointed to a display screen and scrolled it down, then highlighted a line. Inga read the display, still puzzled.
“USS Horace Greeley, NCC-47211, Liberty-class transport. Part of relief convoy Tango-15.” She looked at Bane. “What about it?”
“It’s my older brother Ian’s ship. He’s XO of the Greeley”
“Ian? The one you and your other brothers call ‘Jack?’”
Bane nodded. “I had no idea he was out here. What with the war and the aftermath, we haven’t seen each other or communicated in over two years.”
Inga smiled. “Well, since our ships will be in the same sector, maybe you two will get a chance to see each other and catch up!”
“Yeah! Maybe so,” He said with feigned enthusiasm. His face, turned from Strauss, registered a different emotion.
* * *
Akinola sat in his ready room, signing off on various last-minute reports before the ship went to departure stations. His desk terminal chirped.
“Go ahead.”
“Captain? Incoming message from the Gibraltar. It’s Captain Sandhurst.”
Akinola set the padd on his desk. “Put him through, please, lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Bane’s face was quickly replaced by that of the C.O. of the USS Gibraltar, Donald Sandhurst. Sandhurst nodded his head in greeting. “Captain Akinola, I heard through the grapevine that you and the Bluefin are about to ship out.”
“You heard correctly. I must say, the SCE does a fine and efficient job. My chief engineer is depressed because he can’t find fault with any of the repairs.”
Sandhurst chuckled. “As an old engineer myself, I’ve got to admit this is one of the best engineering outfits around. ‘Course we’ve got a ways to go before Gibraltar is ready to head out.”
Akinola recognized the truth of that statement. Gibraltar had taken a beating in its recent encounter with the Maquis. The same encounter that had damaged the Bluefin and laid them up for repairs to their damaged warp nacelle struts. “I’m glad to see they’re making progress. Just be careful when you head out again, Sandhurst. If your ship were a cat, I’d say she’s used up eight of her nine lives.”
“You’re not the only one to tell me that, Captain.” Sandhurst paused, then went on, “Look, I just wanted to say good-bye and wish you luck. I know you’re still tasked to Cardie space, so be careful out there. Also, I wanted to say thanks again for your help against the Maquis. . . That cost us both.”
“Yeah, it did,” agreed Akinola as the sight of burned and dying crewmen flashed before his mind’s eye. “Look, Sandhurst . . . I probably came across like a hard-ass when we first met . . .”
Captain Sandhurst grinned. “Yeah, you did. And as I’ve had time to reflect, you were right in what you said. Even if you were wrong about me. Have a safe journey, Captain Akinola.”
Akinola nodded. “Thanks. And to you also, when you set sail.”
The younger captain inclined his head slightly. “Sandhurst out.”
* * *
The Liberty class ship mentioned in this story, USS Horace Greeley is named for the WW II era Liberty ship of the same name on which my father served as a young sailor in the US Navy from 1943-45.
Chapter One
12 December 2376
USS Bluefin
Starbase 371, Repair Berth 5
Captain Joseph Barabbas Akinola sat at the USS Bluefin’s wardroom table and regarded the room’s new occupant with suspicion and resignation. He tried to turn his attention to the data padd before him, but his eyes kept creeping back to the bulkhead wall and the object of his distaste. A brand-new replicator was firmly ensconced in the wall. Its red stand-by light seemed to mock him.
Commander Inga Strauss, the petite XO, walked in and made her way to the replicator.
“Raktajino,” she said.
The replicator emitted a soft hum and a steaming cup of the Klingon beverage appeared in the opening of the device. The strong but not unpleasant aroma wafted through the small wardroom. Strauss took a careful sip, closed her eyes and smiled wistfully.
“Oh, that’s good,” she said, happily. She opened her eyes and noticed Akinola regarding her with a baleful stare.
“What?” she asked.
Akinola just shook his head and sighed while forcing his gaze back to the padd. “Nothing, XO.”
She sat down across from him. “You’re still upset about the replicators, aren’t you?”
Akinola surrendered to the inevitable and put the padd back down on the table. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Inga pressed on.
“Captain, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Fleet Ops order 455B clearly states that all starships undergoing refit or repair are to brought to alpha level standards, which includes modernizing environmental, recycling and replication technology.”
“Inga, don’t talk like a guard-house lawyer. It’s not becoming.”
Strauss ignored the jibe. “Captain, what do you have against replicators anyway? It’s household technology that takes up almost no space, uses little energy, and provides a variety of items for the crew. Besides, you still have Cookie – it’s not like you have to use a replicator if you don’t want to.”
“Inga, I’ve already had this conversation with Commander Nowark, who made it abundantly clear that she would not certify Bluefin for operations until the replicators were installed.” He sat back in his chair and remained silent for a moment. “But you’ve asked a fair question and deserve an answer.” He paused again, considering how to begin. “I guess you know that I grew up in space as a Boomer, on a freighter.”
Strauss nodded, not wishing to interrupt.
“Our ship, the Eku, had been in the family for decades. My dad and my uncle were the third generation of Akinolas to crew the ship. We made the Rigel - Molari run because the pay was good, although the risks were high. Anyway, supplies were often tight since we were off the beaten path. Star Station Echo didn’t offer the amenities it does today and there were no other stations for many light years. We relied on protein resequencers for ‘food,’ if you can call it that. Ours were old and didn’t always function properly. Oh yeah, we received nourishment, but that was about it. I remember as a youngster thinking that when I grew up and commanded the Eku, I’d get rid of those resequencers and bring on a cook so my crew could have real food.” Akinola paused and his gaze grew distant. His mouth worked with restrained emotion. Clearing his throat, he continued.
“When I was 13 and my sister was 6, we were attacked – I suppose by Orion pirates, but that doesn’t really matter now. I remember Mom waking us up and getting us into a life pod. Dad and Uncle Lemuel were carrying pulse rifles. This happened every so often, so I wasn’t overly concerned. Dad was quite a pilot and had always evaded pirates before. . .”
Akinola paused again and took a sip of coffee that had grown cold. He winced at the bitter taste, and then continued. “I guess I fell back asleep, because the jolt of the lifepod being jettisoned from the ship woke me up. I don’t remember a whole lot about the next days – they’ve faded to a blur. I do remember the next face we saw belonged to a Border Dog from the USS Skipjack. They did a search for the Eku for a few days, but nothing was ever found, not even a debris field.”
He looked back at Inga. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know, commander. I didn’t mean to bore you with my childhood troubles, but I always remember how I felt as a kid and my determination to provide decent, real food for my future crew, not recycled waste or matter/energy hocus-pocus. It must sound silly to you, but it’s always been important to me.”
Inga said nothing for several moments, not wanting to break the captain’s train of thought. When it became apparent that he was finished with his narrative, she said, “Thank you for telling me this, Captain. I think, maybe, I understand you a little better now. And no, it did not sound silly to me.” She reached over and squeezed his hand for emphasis.
Akinola smiled and returned the squeeze of her hand. “Thanks for listening to an old man’s musings, XO.” He gestured to the padd on the table. “Now, let’s discuss these other system upgrades.”
* * *
Starbase 371 Surface Complex
Galleria Commercial Zone
House of Java
Lt. Commander T’Ser sat at a small table of the coffee shop, watching the throngs of people walking by in the Galleria. She took in the sights and smells, which reminded her a bit of her childhood in Seattle, and trips she took with her parents shopping or to the many coffee houses of that city. As she took a sip of her Chai Latte’, a voice broke through her reverie.
“Pardon me commander, may I sit here?”
T’Ser looked up and was surprised to see Lt. Sarnek, the brother of Strevel, her ex-betrothed, standing by the table with a steaming cup in his hand. She indicated the other chair. “Please, have a seat lieutenant.”
T’Ser watched with guarded curiosity as Sarnek took the proffered seat. The two had what could best be described as a strained relationship, although the initial hostility exhibited by Sarnek when he came on the Bluefin had passed. Sarnek sat and took a sip of his beverage.
“Chlom’ teek tea?” T’Ser asked, referring to a popular Vulcan blend.
Sarnek nodded. “I have found that this establishment provides a very acceptable tea, as they use actual leaves. Few replicators can do it justice.”
“I see,” said T’Ser.
After a few moments of awkward silence (awkward, at least, for T’Ser,) Sarnek spoke.
“Commander . . .”
“Call me T’Ser, we’re off-duty.”
Sarnek inclined his head. “As you wish. T’Ser, in my meditations of late, I have not found my center of calm. After some evaluation, I have determined that the source of my unrest is you.”
T’Ser shot up an eyebrow. “Sarnek, I really don’t want to re-open old wounds . . .”
Sarnek held up a hand. “You misunderstand, T’Ser. I have resolved the past issues between you and Strevel. I have come to the realization that neither you nor your parents were at fault in the matter. It was illogical for my family . . . for me to react to you in such a way. For that, I ask your forgiveness.”
T’Ser hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Well . . . sure. I have no animosity toward you, your brother or any of your family, Sarnek. I’m glad you’ve been able to resolve your . . . issues.” For some reason, T’Ser felt more uneasy than if Sarnek had begun an argument.
Sarnek again inclined his head slightly. “Thank you. As I was saying, I have determined that you were the source of my unrest. As I have explored this, it has become apparent to me that you are a woman of tremendous character, courage and intelligence. While it is true that I am puzzled by your embrace of emotion, I nonetheless am intrigued with you as a Vulcan female and I would desire to pursue a deeper relationship.”
“Sarnek . . . um, just how deep of a relationship are you thinking?”
“I apologize for being imprecise. I suggest that we enter into Talyut Kalifah, the exploration of destinies.”
T’Ser frowned slightly. “Sarnek, forgive me, but I’m a bit weak on Vulcan cultural idioms. What exactly does “exploration of destinies” mean?
Sarnek tilted his head in thought for a moment. “If I understand human western culture correctly, of which you are most familiar, I believe the term is ‘dating.’”
T’Ser stared at Sarnek. “You . . . want to date . . . me?!
“I believe that is the correct analogy, yes.”
“Oh.” T’ser said. Oh my God! she thought, What do I do now?
* * *
USS Bluefin
Starbase 371, Repair Berth 5
Commander Strauss was re-running a diagnostic routine on the weapons system, when she heard Lt. Bane mutter a mild Australian oath across the bridge at the Ops station. Intrigued, she walked over to him.
“Nigel? Anything wrong?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry Inga. I just got a bit of a surprise, that’s all.” He pointed to a display screen and scrolled it down, then highlighted a line. Inga read the display, still puzzled.
“USS Horace Greeley, NCC-47211, Liberty-class transport. Part of relief convoy Tango-15.” She looked at Bane. “What about it?”
“It’s my older brother Ian’s ship. He’s XO of the Greeley”
“Ian? The one you and your other brothers call ‘Jack?’”
Bane nodded. “I had no idea he was out here. What with the war and the aftermath, we haven’t seen each other or communicated in over two years.”
Inga smiled. “Well, since our ships will be in the same sector, maybe you two will get a chance to see each other and catch up!”
“Yeah! Maybe so,” He said with feigned enthusiasm. His face, turned from Strauss, registered a different emotion.
* * *
Akinola sat in his ready room, signing off on various last-minute reports before the ship went to departure stations. His desk terminal chirped.
“Go ahead.”
“Captain? Incoming message from the Gibraltar. It’s Captain Sandhurst.”
Akinola set the padd on his desk. “Put him through, please, lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Bane’s face was quickly replaced by that of the C.O. of the USS Gibraltar, Donald Sandhurst. Sandhurst nodded his head in greeting. “Captain Akinola, I heard through the grapevine that you and the Bluefin are about to ship out.”
“You heard correctly. I must say, the SCE does a fine and efficient job. My chief engineer is depressed because he can’t find fault with any of the repairs.”
Sandhurst chuckled. “As an old engineer myself, I’ve got to admit this is one of the best engineering outfits around. ‘Course we’ve got a ways to go before Gibraltar is ready to head out.”
Akinola recognized the truth of that statement. Gibraltar had taken a beating in its recent encounter with the Maquis. The same encounter that had damaged the Bluefin and laid them up for repairs to their damaged warp nacelle struts. “I’m glad to see they’re making progress. Just be careful when you head out again, Sandhurst. If your ship were a cat, I’d say she’s used up eight of her nine lives.”
“You’re not the only one to tell me that, Captain.” Sandhurst paused, then went on, “Look, I just wanted to say good-bye and wish you luck. I know you’re still tasked to Cardie space, so be careful out there. Also, I wanted to say thanks again for your help against the Maquis. . . That cost us both.”
“Yeah, it did,” agreed Akinola as the sight of burned and dying crewmen flashed before his mind’s eye. “Look, Sandhurst . . . I probably came across like a hard-ass when we first met . . .”
Captain Sandhurst grinned. “Yeah, you did. And as I’ve had time to reflect, you were right in what you said. Even if you were wrong about me. Have a safe journey, Captain Akinola.”
Akinola nodded. “Thanks. And to you also, when you set sail.”
The younger captain inclined his head slightly. “Sandhurst out.”
* * *
This is going to be very, very bad.
or dare I say it, an Orion who thinks he now "owns" our dear Captain 
