The USS Bonhomme Richard

[KobayashiMaru13]

THE USS BONHOMME RICHARD::

PROLOGUE

Choking on his coffee, Paul Jones stared in utter disbelief at his computer screen. Slowly wiping his mouth, he read the line again, and then again.

ASSIGNMENT TRANSFER USS BONHOMME RICHARD/EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY/PRIORITY URGENT/TRANSMISSION CODED/ADMIRAL GRANT/0600 HOURS

That was insanity, was what it was. He hadn't commanded a ship for years, and that was due to his having bent the rules a little too far. He had been demarited down to commander, stripped of his title as a captain. He had of course been furious, and had resigned at once, as he was simply that rash. To think that they had decided to quite suddenly transfer him, a "retired" captain, to the command of a ship, and not only that, but a new, fresh-from-the-production-line ship. He certainly deserved a lot less, so he should be grateful.

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, he rocked back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like there was something amazingly interesting there. That hadn't been all, of course. But he didn't want to think about that. He wanted to concentrate on the bright side of things, and not ruin the moment. He wanted to revel in the wonder of it, but a thought suddenly intruded on him. What about his wife? Heck, what would she care? He hadn't seen her for at least a week, anyways, and he knew she was having an affair, he just didn't want to confront her about it--yet if it had been anyone else, doing anything of that sort, he wouldn't have hesitated, but there was something about the prospect of it that kept him at arm's length. He could probably just up and leave, and she wouldn't notice; she wouldn't even care, so what did it matter?

His mind made up, and not wanting to stay any longer than necessary, just in case he lost his nerve, he got up at once, grabbing his jacket off of the desk and throwing it over his shoulder. He walked out the door, and didn't look back, because he knew if he did, he would end up walking right back through that door and lose his chance of a lifetime. He was getting a ship. He was getting a ship. That was enough. Oh-four-hundred-hours, was what it was now. He could make it to Starfleet Headquarters in time for oh-six-hundred. Hell with transmissions, he would much rather talk this over with Admiral Grant in person.

* * *

Commander t'Arrinhwi rubbed the sleep from her eyes and strained to read the computer screen. Why was she getting any sort of message at this hour? She ran a hand through her long black hair. Reassignment, of course. That figures, what else would they bother informing her about so early in the morning? Oh-eight-hundred-hours? Well, maybe there was a little more of a reason for them to be calling on her so early, but it was certainly short notice. Oh, Elements above, and the captain she would have to serve under... Paul Jones. The one, who, when demerited, resigned out of shear indignanty. She wasn't sure she wanted to be the first officer of a captain like that, that might just go to exstremes because of something he finds to be insulting.

She tapped her fingers along her desk, which was more ornamental than official, drumming out a tattoo. And then there was the matter of him having an outright dislike for the Romulan people. It had shown up again and again on his profile. He had gotten into several scurmishes along the Neutral Zone due to him simply holding some baseless grudge against them. She knew what he would think about his first officer being a Romulan herself.

Elements grant me strength...

 

[KobayashiMaru13]

CHAPTER ONE

Paul stared at Admiral Grant and waved around the most sardonic smile he could manage. Grant did not appear amused by this, but Paul had made it a point to try and make it as obvious as he could how much he detested the man. Grant had stripped him of his title of “captain”, and if Grant was to be the one to give it back, well… he wasn’t afraid to trample coattails. It only bugged him that he couldn’t illicit any sort of response.

“Since you actually showed up, I am going to assume you realize the gravity of the situation—of course, knowing you, you may have just shown up for a laugh, but I’ll take my chances and skip right to the point and hope you came with half-a-mind to do the job and do it right.” Grant leaned forward, now all business after getting off a dose of annoyance. “We haven’t had a crisis quite like this for quite some time, and never with this sort of severity. I can assume you know who Captain Pearman is?”

Paul’s grin faded away at the name. “Yes. Richard… well, we’ll say we go back.” Focusing his anger, which had suddenly flared up at the mention of him, on a point an inch or so in front of the admiral without actually looking at him, he glared, livid.

Ignoring or otherwise oblivious to the display, Grant continued, “Very well, then. You realize what you’re up against, if such is the case. About a week ago, Pearman took his entire ship—the NCC-1779 USS Serapis—and defected, crew, onboard civilians, and all. Unfortunately, even with most of Fleet Intelligence crawling around in even the backwater thread-holes of communication relay, we can not find much else than that, which was obvious right from the start. We do not know why he went AWOL, or even exactly where his whereabouts are now.”

Paul shook his head in humorous disbelief. “Unbelievable. Is there anything Starfleet Intelligence does know? What am I supposed to do, going after the best captain of the decade knowing almost absolutely nothing? It’s like chasing after a weasel while wearing a blindfold!” He grinned suddenly, a very wicked and crooked grin. “The least you could do is give me a cane to feel around with.”

“The only information we can give you is that the Serapis was last spotted by Starbase 214, on their long-range scanners—the keyword being ‘long’ range. He seemed to be en route towards the Gamma II Trianguli. But again, that’s pretty much just guessing.”

“That’s it, then? We know where he might be headed? What good does that do us, especially when where he might be headed is a little over two hundred light years away in the ‘Nether Regions’ of the Federation. You realize that he will be long-gone before we reach him, don’t you?” He couldn’t believe the idiocy of it all. This plan was thin at best; there was no way they could catch someone with a two hundred light year head start.

“We are expecting you to do your best, Mister Jones. We are entrusting, as you were informed, the USS Bonhomme Richard, a Prometheus-class starship, to you. You’ll be happy to know you will be taking her out on her maiden voyage, and we also added some special changes to this vessel, specifically for your mission—no, don’t ask me, you can talk to your Chief Engineer about it.” Grant leaned back. “Now are there any questions, before we give you your coordinates and allow you to debrief your first officer?”

“No sir.” He gave a quick grin. “I just wish you’d given me a longer cane.”

Grant didn’t crack a smile, or look even slightly amused. “Really, I do no appreciate your humor. You were instated as a starship captain, not a stand-up comedian, so I suggest you act accordingly. Your first officer is down the hall, to your left. I suggest you choose your words wisely, Jones.”

Put off by the enigmatic suggestion, Paul rose and straightened his formal uniform, which was uncomfortably stiff. He nevertheless gave the admiral a mocking wink and strolled out of his office, which was painted a very distasteful shade of yellow that he was glad to be rid of. Keeping a smoothly paced stride, he smiled in faint amusement at his mission. A whole lot of good it was for him to be given back his title as a captain if he was to be sent off on some wild goose chase that was early-doomed to end in failure.

* * *

Commander t’Arrinhwi tapped her finger impatiently on the table, one of her many habits. Another of those habits was to always arrive early, as she had today. She would much rather be too early than too late. When applied to the field, that could be the difference between life and death—not that it was the same when the subject in question was a “get-to-know-you” meeting with your new captain, which was supposed to be more of a “here’s-how-it-is-and-how-we’ll-be-doing-things” sort of meeting; but from what she had read of Paul Jones’s personal file, that would not be the case. Anyways, the habit had always served her well in the past, if the past could speak for the future.

As if responding to the conclusion of her thoughts, the door gave a chime to signal those inside that someone was about to enter, then gave a short hiss and slid open along its track-bearings, and in walked a strikingly handsome man (the idea of believing her captain as “handsome” shamed her, and she felt herself go green for an instant). He had high, chiseled cheekbones, the right of which cradled a short scar that reached to the left tip of his eye, which was a stormy gray and narrowly pierced her like a sword. His hair was a dusty black and hung smooth around his ears. Taller than the average Terran male, the lines of his body were hard, and when he talked, he did so with his hands as much as with his words, gesturing without even realizing.

“Well, you’re early, then,” he said with a smile that had a taunting edge to it—an edge she very much disliked, “but I suppose it’s better than being late, yes?” With no more preamble than that, he swung around the chair opposite from her and seated himself, setting his elbows on the chair’s back, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. “I’m going to assume you are Commander Illiehnna t’Arrinhwi,” he said smoothly, “commissioned first officer of the Bonhomme Richard.” The stare that he fixed her with clashed terribly with his charming smile, and while it was not blaringly obvious, Illiehnna could see that his eyes were wandering ever-so-slightly onto her pointed Rihannsu ears, and were lighting in slight disgust upon them.

“That would be an accurate supposition, yes.” She kept her voice cool and level, ignoring his gaze and instead sliding a data pad over to him. “These are the schematics of the B-R,” she said. “You’ll find that she has been gutted through several engineering sections and fitted with three engines with higher matter-antimatter breakdown and distribution capabilities to giver her the power and durability to keep us going and stable for as long as we may need. That leaves things rather crammed together on the engineering level, but it can be managed.”

Slowly switching his gaze from her alien features, he glanced over the schematics. “NX-1783…?” he said slowly. “NX? That’s reserved for prototype ships. So she’s not just new: she’s a prototype?”

“Basically, yes. The Bonhomme Richard will be the first starship with multiple engines.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that, Commander t’Arrinhwi—do you have any relation to the House s’Annhwi?”

Caught off guard by the sudden change in gears, she faltered, then narrowed her eyes, insulted. “That is none of your business, Captain Jones—,” she kept her voice dangerously low, “—and an offensive inquiry. I suggest you refrain from making such personal queries again.”

Jones looked amused by this. “By your reaction, I’ll assume you do, then.”

“Assumptions are the guesses of the naïve, and are very dangerous things to make.” Jones looked bewildered by her hostility, and she noted that with satisfaction. “I have no doubt this is your attempt at ‘small talk’,” she said icily. “I did not come here for idle chatter and questions about my family relationships, and I do not intend to change my initial plans. I came to inform you of intel disclosed to me about the situation, to hear what you were told of it, and to lay the groundwork for a plan. If that is not why you’re here, then perhaps you should leave.”

Taken aback, Jones stuttered, “I, well, it was just a thought, since House s’Annhwi has such a grudge against the Federation, and Arrinhwi is very similar in name…”

Sighing, and letting her cold anger to slip away with the breath, Illiehnna waved a hand, and he trailed off. “At the very least, you can backpedal, I see. Regardless, I advise that you heed my warning, and watch your tongue.”

Jones shook his head. “I feel like a child being scolded by their mother. Do you have that effect on everyone?” He stood up abruptly before she could answer, and gave her a crooked grin. “We should continue this conversation later—say, in my quarters?” With a mocking wink, he sauntered out of the doors, leaving Commander Illiehnna t’Arrinhwi to sit in disbelief.

What an infuriating man!

 

[KobayashiMaru13]

CHAPTER TWO

It certainly figured that this would happen to him. There had to have been a catch, of course, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it. A Romulan first officer? That was ridiculous.

Paul cast those thoughts aside, though, preferring instead to think about the ship before him. It was still attached to the construction braces, which held it suspended by several tractor-beamed hooks attached to available ports along the Bonhomme Richard’s hull. They would be removed shortly, as that sort of handhold was not a good thing to have. But she was done, and being loaded with supplies by various crew-hands and cargo-workers. She looked fearsome, with her pointed-triangular, predator design and four nacelles. It was still smaller than the Serapis, but she packed just as hard of a punch.

Absently walking underneath her with his head tilted back, he started when he ran into a harried looking young man in a Starfleet blue-Medical uniform. Seeing Paul’s dress uniform, and the stripes of his rank, the young man snapped to attention, his locks of blond hair bobbing up and down from the sudden motion.

“Sorry, Captain,” the young man said, shockingly green eyes darting around, searching for wherever it was he was supposed to be getting to. “I’m in a hurry: I didn’t mean to run into you,” he added almost absent-mindedly as he was edging to the right. Then he was suddenly off again, leaving Paul a little bewildered. He turned to watch the young man go, the with a chuckle, tilted his head back up and continued walking until someone else stopped him—though this time not by accident.

“Captain Jones?”

Paul glanced over to his left, and nearly stumbled in shock at seeing the yellow-shocked eyes right at his shoulder. Straightening up hurriedly, he sighed angrily. The one with the yellow eyes who had said his name cocked his head to one side, and his shaggy white hair that hung about his ears lolled with it, covering one of his eyes.

“Yes…” Paul glanced at the young man’s rank-stripes, “—Lieutenant Commander?”

The Lieutenant Commander grinned, revealing rows of sharp pointed teeth. “Welcome to the loading station, Captain,” he said enthusiastically, with an energy Paul at first thought was fake, but realized that this Lieutenant Commander was one-hundred-percent as pumped-up about this as he appeared. “I am Lieutenant Commander Ulcen Drake, and your Chief Engineer—but just call me Ulcen, last names are much too formal.” With another grin, Ulcen thrust out a hand to shake, which had abnormally sharp nails. Paul shook it uncertainly, and winced at the strength of his grip.

“I can give you a tour if you like,” Ulcen said, pushing back his hair and revealing fully the pointed ears that had been ears that had been sticking out of the snowy-white locks. They looked odd, as they were long and straight, almost faerie-like, and nothing similar to those of Romulans or Vulcans. “Or if not, that’s fine too, but I have the time to spare now if you do want one.”

Raising his eyebrows in amusement at the engineer’s bouncing-off-of-the-walls excitement, Paul replied, half to humor him, and half because he was actually interested, “Very well then, Commander Drake. I suppose I’ll have that tour, then.”

Ulcen flashed another grin. “This way then, sir,” he said and gesturing Paul after him, guided them in an almost forced walk to one of the cargo-transport pads. Ulcen looked over at him with a shrug. “Only the cargo-transporters are in use right now, so we’re going to have to use them, if that’s all right.” Before Paul could answer, Ulcen waved a hand at the man working the transporter controls. “HEY, TONY!” Ulcen called. “Beam us in, and don’t go dropping us off somewhere no hominids aught to be!”

The man laughed and slid the controls on the console, and they were enveloped in the tingling dislocation of the transporter effect. They rematerialized in the cargo bay, which was alive with crewman organizing things. If it was at all possible, Ulcen’s grin seemed even wider as he led Paul out of the cargo bay—and he had to admit that the kid’s good-nature and charm was infectious, so that he couldn’t help but smile a little with him.

Stepping into the corridor, Paul had a distinct feeling of simply belonging there. As crewman passed them in the corridors, they nodded to him in greetings. And it all just felt right. This was his ship—or rather, it was Ulcen’s ship and Paul was just sitting in the center seat.

And the engineer definitely knew what he was doing. He knew all of the details, all the locations of everything, every passcode; and it irritated Paul a little that he knew so much more than he. But then again, the Chief Engineer always did seem to know everything there was to know about the ship they kept alive and kicking—and Ulcen was no exception to the rule.

As the turbolift sped down to the Engineering deck, Paul looked down at the floor in surprise when the turbolift began to thrum softly, and the deck plates vibrated with strong pulses of high energy. He looked over at Ulcen, whose thin, angular eyebrows had lifted in anticipation.

“Yer gonna love this one, sir,” he grinned.

* * *

Illiehnna stood off to the side, avoiding being in the way of anyone, and simply observing the preparations for the Bonhomme Richard’s departure. She had, for a split second, seen Paul Jones on the cargo-transporter pads with Lieutenant Commander Drake, but then they had gone.

She felt a tad apprehensive. What should she do tonight? She wasn’t sure if the captain had been serious when he had suggested she come to his quarters tonight. Firstly, if he hadn’t been being serious, she did not want to show up like an idiot. And secondly, if he had actually meant it, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go at all. It wouldn’t be any sort of professional meeting, that was certain. But, she also was unsure what his motives where. He detested the Rihannsu, and when he had come in, despite his affable appearance, his hostility had been obvious. But then at the end, she wasn’t so sure.

“Commander t’Arrinhwi?”

She glanced over in the direction the voice had come from, and saw a young medical officer with curly blond hair that bobbed up and down as he hustled over to her with a padd. She turned to face him as he approached, and as he came to a slow halt, she saw that for a moment, he had turned scarlet around the ears—out of embarrassment or something else, she wasn’t sure.

“I am she,” she said, and he nodded.

“I’m glad I found you before departure,” he said a tad breathlessly—and again, she wasn’t sure if it was because of all the speed-walking he had seemed to have been doing, or from something else entirely. “I am the Chief Medical Officer, Weston Jane. I was hoping that I could run some tests on you before we left—I don’t think that we have hardly anything that would cover medical necessities for a Romulan, and I’d like to know what I need for you so I can get it before we undock.”

She nodded to him. “Very well, Mister Jane,” she said, and he is ears turned scarlet again. “Where should it be done.”


Jane gestured to the cargo-transporter pads. “The sickbay on-board would be best,” he said, then added, “if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” she said, leading the way. Behind her, Jane followed, his uneven, jogging footsteps clear. Stepping onto the pad, she looked over at him and their eyes made contact. Jane turned red again and quickly looked away, calling instead to the man at the transporter to beam them in.

When the transporter took hold, she caught a glimpse of Jane sneaking a glance at her, and she knew then that he hadn’t been blushing from embarrassment or out of breath from all the walking: it had indeed been because of that something else.

 

[KobayashiMaru13]

CHAPTER THREE

Paul whistled in awe, and Ulcen winked at him with a grin. Engineers milled around them in a great swarm of red. But what had him held still with amazement were the three engines humming in contentment. They were spread out evenly, no doubt in the hopes that, if something happened to one, there would be no chain reaction. They pulsed with blue energy of antimatter, and the whole deck vibrated strongly with a thrum that throbbed in his ears and pulsated through his bones.

“I told ya,” Ulcen laughed, and snagged a ladder as it slid past along its track-bearings along the above platform and swung himself up with an agility quite like a monkey, putting a foot on the track to stop the ladder’s momentum so that Paul could follow. Smiling in amusement, Paul climbed up after him. “They’re just something else, aren’t they?” Ulcen added.

Surveying the scene from their new angle, Paul agreed. “I haven’t seen anything like it,” he said, looking over the curiously large number of red shirts below them. “Ulcen,” he turned to face the engineer, “unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, it seems like there’s an awful lot of engineers down there. Off the top of your head, what’s the engineer-to-all-other-personnel ratio?”

Ulcen laughed. “I had a feeling you’d ask that one,” he said, spreading his hands out on the railing. “So I took the liberty of lookin’ it up. You’ve got roughly a ratio of two-ta-one.”

Paul frowned, looking back down at all the engineers. “Why’s that?” he asked.

Ulcen cocked his head. “Well, normally, on a ship this size, ya’ve got about a hundred some odd engineers down here,” he said. “But the B-R’s got a lot more to man than most other starships. What with the three engines, then everything else crammed together, it takes more people to keep things up and running in top shape.”

Paul shook his head. “How in the world are you going to keep all these people in line?”

Ulcen laughed again, and motioned for him to follow. “It’s not a whole big of a problem,” he said with a grin, slapping the lift button. “I’ve got a loud voice—ya’d be surprised. And hell, most of ‘em wouldn’t mess with me anyways—that is, if they were in the Academy with me.”

Paul couldn’t help but smile at what that implied. Stepping onto the lift platform with Ulcen, he asked, “And why is that, Mister Ulcen?”

Ulcen gave a feral smile and motioned him off of the lift platform and started towards a turbolift. “Well, that’s pretty confidential…” he trailed off wryly. “But I’m sure that ya wouldn’t have to look all too hard to find that out yourself if ya really wanted to.”

Entering the turbolift, Ulcen shrugged. “Oh, and another thing… Sickbay,” he said, and the turbolift whooshed upwards. “That doctor—the Chief Medical Officer, Janice or Jane or whatever his name is; he wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

Ulcen shrugged again. “I dunno, sir,” he said. “But from what I know of the guy, he’s a real stickler for procedure and protocol. He probably wants ya to go over something or another.”

* * *

“Alright, Miss t’Arrinhwi; I think I’ve got what I need.”

Illiehnna got up from the sickbay flattop table she had been sitting on, as Jane glanced over the records again, carefully avoiding looking at her. During the whole thing, he had dodged looking her in the eye, and was careful not to touch her for too long. At first, she was insulted, but then it dawned on her again what she had realized before the transporter had taken a hold. Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she should be flattered, or appalled. After all, Weston Jane was in all matters of rank, beneath her; and not only that, but she was probably nearly twenty years older than him. He must know that, being a medical officer, but then again, she did look to be in her late twenties herself.

She turned around when the sickbay doors opened and the sound of laughter reached her ears. She was dismayed to see that it was Jones and the feral, exotic-looking Chief Engineer.

“Yo!” the Engineer called, and Jane jumped in surprise. “Janice: I brought the captain like you asked.”

Jane turned around, turning red in mixed anger and embarrassment. “I’ve told you before, Mister Drake,” he scowled, “my name is Jane—Weston Jane. It’s not Janice, or Johnny, or Jacky, or Juno, or anything else you’ve dreamt up since the last time.”

The Engineer shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever,” he said.

Jones took a step forward. “And why is it you wanted to see me, Mister, er, Jane?” he said, mouth twitching slightly in a forced-down smile.

Jane’s face lightened a little, though he was still a bright pink from embarrassment. “Well, sir, your records are very out-of-date. They’re from nearly seven years ago. I would very much like it if I could get some tests done on you before we undocked.”

Jones inclined his head at her. “Is that why Miss t’Arrinhwi is here as well?” he asked nonchalantly, but Illiehnna could sense what he was really asking: why is she in here?

“Yes,” she said before Jane could make any response. Jones’s eyes narrowed as they flicked over to her, almost unperceivable so—to the Human eye—but she saw it. “Mister Jane wished to run a few tests on me so that he could get the medical necessities for a Rihannsu before we departed, as at the moment, he was unsure that he had what was needed.”

The Engineer gave Jane a funny look and Jane turned a darker shade of red.

“Of course,” Jones said.

Everyone stood still. Neither she nor Jones wanted to be the first to make a move, whether it be to leave or to sit down on one of the tables. And Jane and the Engineer looked rather uncomfortable: uncertain of what was up between the captain and his first officer, and not being sure if they should move either.

Luckily, it was none currently present who had to make the first move, as it was then that a crewman came in carrying a crate of medical supplies. Illiehnna took that moment to leave, brushing stiffly past Jones as she went, who turned his head to glare after her.

No, things where not going to go well on this ship.

 

[Mistral]

So what race is the Engineer? Interesting crew you've got here...

 

[KobayashiMaru13]

Thanks, Mistral! Well, Ulcen is a special case, and I can't tell you about it now, so you'll have to wait until later, when it's explained in the story.