U.S.S. Ranger NCC-2254
On patrol route, Sector 16060
Stardate: 2359.8 (May 12, 2325)
Generally speaking, starships were relatively straight forward to put together. Yes, the technology was complex, the need to make it work was key, but get all the right pieces in the right way and it worked. The U.S.S. Ranger, despite having been mothballed for ten years, was already functioning as she was intended—the efforts of repair technicians from the surplus depot and Lieutenant Saygen were to be commended for doing such an excellent job in such a short space of time. What was trickier to get right was the officers and crew that manned starships, with putting together a new crew from scratch being the most difficult.
When Taras had joined Starfleet, he had done so with the explicit desire to serve in the Border Service. Whilst his friends and peers had been transfixed of the tales from Starfleet, the great missions of exploration and battles to uphold the ideals of the Federation, he had always sought out the stories from the borders, where the crews never received much recognition or glory, but where they puts their lives at risk on an almost daily basis. Of course, the Border Service wasn’t known for attracting the best and brightest, often the low achievers of the fleet or reprobates on their last chance, all of which made pulling together a new crew all the harder.
This was his first posting as Executive Officer, an opportunity he hadn’t expected for another year or two, but it was too good to turn down which was why he’d left a coveted place onboard an Albacore-Class cutter to join this untested crew. It was now his responsibility to oversee discipline, adherence to the regulations, ensure that orders were followed and work carried out. Though he was still unsure what set of regs he needed to uphold, those of the Border Service or Starfleet—the ship and most of her crew were the former, but his new CO was the latter.
Once the Ranger had arrived at Star Station Bravo, and been officially folded into the Second Cutter Squadron, her first mission had been a standard four-week patrol of the Federations border with the Outland Expanse. They were three-quarters of the way through that assignment and, so far, all had been quiet. They had run scans, noted a number of ships in established shipping lanes, all of which were transmitting correct transponders, none were acting suspiciously, emitting unusual or dangerous emissions, nor asking for help—nothing that would warrant stop and search action. The uneventful weeks meant that the crew had time to gel together, figuring out how new colleagues worked and what their department heads expected of them, as well as tweaking shift rotations and working out training schedules.
This also applied to figuring out the new CO. When he’d received the offer of his new position, he’d read up on Xanthe Palmer. A proper Fleeter, her scientific background was almost unheard of in the Service (Border Dogs worked for a living) but her actions onboard the U.S.S. Polaris, before and during the Dresleq incident, did give him pause. During her role as Second Officer she had made some tough choices, which worked out in her favour—she wasn’t one to back down. The fact that Vice Admiral Kirshner, the Border Service Commander herself, had personally recruited Palmer showed that she’d made some impression higher up the food chain. Of course, the admiral wouldn’t be the one serving beside her or trying to ensure that the Fleet and Service meshed well together onboard a small cutter on the fringes of one of the most dangerous regions of the quadrant.
Taras let out a sigh. Maybe he was being a little too harsh with his perception of Palmer. In three weeks, she hadn’t done anything that might have rocked the boat. Yes, she wanted to be informed of everything that was happening aboard and taking a greater chunk of the administrative work than she really ought to have, but that could be chalked up to a new CO trying to keep on top of everything, not used to delegating tasks, and wanting to make the right impression on their new crew. She covered her watch dutifully, wasn’t throwing her weight around, and was spending every free moment she had studying the Ranger—every good skipper needed to know just what their ship could do. Until someone dropped the ball there was no way to really know just how well she’d manage, but it was his responsibility to make sure that when that moment came the crew were ready.
The wardroom doors hissed open, pulling him from his thoughts as he looked up to see Lieutenant Rafael De Souza enter. He was about to ask what the second officer was doing, since he was meant to be on watch, when he noticed the chronometer and realised it was already fifteen minutes into alpha shift. He’d completely lost track of time, the mug of dree’la leaf tea he’d been nursing was cold in his large hands.
“Morning Lieutenant,” he greeted the human.
De Souza gave him a nod and a muttered ‘hi’, before making a beeline to the sideboard where the beverage dispenser was located. Taras watched him with a mindful eye. The ship’s second officer was one of those people that didn’t help with the perception of the Border Service to the wider fleet, having a few disciplinaries to his name and a reputation for being quite vocal with his opinions and thumbing his nose at protocol—all facts that made his appointment to such a senior position onboard baffling.
As the second officer worked with the drinks machine the doors opened again, and Oka Saygen strolled in. Unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter.
“Good morning, XO,” she said cheerfully, pulling out the chair opposite him and flopping into it with a comfortable sigh.
“Hello Lieutenant.” He’d noticed that she hadn’t brought in a tray from the mess hall, nor any PADDs and had bypassed De Souza and the dispenser. “Are you not eating?”
“There’s always a rush on after the shift comes off, so I’ll wait and sneak in when no one’s looking.”
“Very wise, you definitely don’t want to get between hungry Border Dogs and chow, that’s how you lose fingers.”
She flashed him a grin, showing off her sharp canines. “Believe me, XO, they wouldn’t break flesh before they regretted their actions.”
From the opposite side of the room they heard a scoff that drew their attention. De Souza took his mug and left the wardroom, not making eye contact with the chief engineer. When the doors closed behind him, Saygen looked back at Taras.
“Was it something I said?”
“I wouldn’t take it personally; he seems to take time to warm up to others—at least I hope that’s the case.”
She let out a single humourless laugh. “I work gamma shift with him, but never hear anything from him. On the two occasions he has needed something, he sends through a text only message. A third time and I may start taking it personally.”
“I’ll speak with him,” he started but Saygen waved him off.
“That’s alright, I’m a big girl I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, Lieutenant.”
Though the two lieutenants looked nothing alike (he was over two meters tall, with a dense musculature and cobalt blue skin, whilst she lean and lithe with a very pale complexion, jade hair and a long tail) both of their species were new to the Federation, as such there were very few Pandrilite or Alkarian serving in Starfleet—he was the only officer in the Border Service and she was the ranking female across the Fleet, Service or Marine Corps. Outside of the usual staff meetings, this was the first time he’d had the opportunity to speak with her.
“I hope everything else is going smoothly for you.”
“No mutiny’s so far. In all honesty though, I think my staff are still trying to figure out how to handle someone from the Fleet being their new boss,” she told him, her amber eyes looking him over for a few seconds. “I’m guessing you’re in the same boat.”
“I guess you could say that. Usually when we get someone from the Fleet its because they’ve done something serious, and assignment to the Border Service is their last chance. To have people willingly choose to make the switch is rare—for one of those to become a cutter captain is unheard of to the best of my knowledge.”
Saygen chuckled. “I thought she was crazy to take the offer, especially with all the others she had to choose from, but if there’s one thing I can tell you about Xanthe Palmer its that she doesn’t make rash choices. She may take chances, but before she commits to them she’ll have crunched the numbers and go for the option that is most likely to succeed.”
He nodded thoughtfully. He’d never thought about trying to get a better picture of Commander Palmer from the one person onboard who knew her best. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that’s very good to know.”
“Don’t mention it, XO. And, you can call me Oka.”
“Taras.”
She grinned at him again, an expression that suited her angular face. Before he could say anything more, his wristcom chirped. “Go ahead.”
“Chief Lien here, Lieutenant. You are still remembering about our meeting, right?”
He quickly looked at the chronometer and realised he’d once again lost track of time. “Of course, Chief. I’m on my way.” He quickly rose from the table.
“Duty calls.”
“Indeed. Thank you again, Oka.”
“Anytime Taras.”
As he headed for the exit, he found himself grinning as all thoughts and worries about the new crew working well together dispersed. Before the door closed behind him, he cast a wayward glance back over his shoulder at the chief engineer.
* * * * *
On patrol route, Sector 16060
Stardate: 2359.8 (May 12, 2325)
Generally speaking, starships were relatively straight forward to put together. Yes, the technology was complex, the need to make it work was key, but get all the right pieces in the right way and it worked. The U.S.S. Ranger, despite having been mothballed for ten years, was already functioning as she was intended—the efforts of repair technicians from the surplus depot and Lieutenant Saygen were to be commended for doing such an excellent job in such a short space of time. What was trickier to get right was the officers and crew that manned starships, with putting together a new crew from scratch being the most difficult.
When Taras had joined Starfleet, he had done so with the explicit desire to serve in the Border Service. Whilst his friends and peers had been transfixed of the tales from Starfleet, the great missions of exploration and battles to uphold the ideals of the Federation, he had always sought out the stories from the borders, where the crews never received much recognition or glory, but where they puts their lives at risk on an almost daily basis. Of course, the Border Service wasn’t known for attracting the best and brightest, often the low achievers of the fleet or reprobates on their last chance, all of which made pulling together a new crew all the harder.
This was his first posting as Executive Officer, an opportunity he hadn’t expected for another year or two, but it was too good to turn down which was why he’d left a coveted place onboard an Albacore-Class cutter to join this untested crew. It was now his responsibility to oversee discipline, adherence to the regulations, ensure that orders were followed and work carried out. Though he was still unsure what set of regs he needed to uphold, those of the Border Service or Starfleet—the ship and most of her crew were the former, but his new CO was the latter.
Once the Ranger had arrived at Star Station Bravo, and been officially folded into the Second Cutter Squadron, her first mission had been a standard four-week patrol of the Federations border with the Outland Expanse. They were three-quarters of the way through that assignment and, so far, all had been quiet. They had run scans, noted a number of ships in established shipping lanes, all of which were transmitting correct transponders, none were acting suspiciously, emitting unusual or dangerous emissions, nor asking for help—nothing that would warrant stop and search action. The uneventful weeks meant that the crew had time to gel together, figuring out how new colleagues worked and what their department heads expected of them, as well as tweaking shift rotations and working out training schedules.
This also applied to figuring out the new CO. When he’d received the offer of his new position, he’d read up on Xanthe Palmer. A proper Fleeter, her scientific background was almost unheard of in the Service (Border Dogs worked for a living) but her actions onboard the U.S.S. Polaris, before and during the Dresleq incident, did give him pause. During her role as Second Officer she had made some tough choices, which worked out in her favour—she wasn’t one to back down. The fact that Vice Admiral Kirshner, the Border Service Commander herself, had personally recruited Palmer showed that she’d made some impression higher up the food chain. Of course, the admiral wouldn’t be the one serving beside her or trying to ensure that the Fleet and Service meshed well together onboard a small cutter on the fringes of one of the most dangerous regions of the quadrant.
Taras let out a sigh. Maybe he was being a little too harsh with his perception of Palmer. In three weeks, she hadn’t done anything that might have rocked the boat. Yes, she wanted to be informed of everything that was happening aboard and taking a greater chunk of the administrative work than she really ought to have, but that could be chalked up to a new CO trying to keep on top of everything, not used to delegating tasks, and wanting to make the right impression on their new crew. She covered her watch dutifully, wasn’t throwing her weight around, and was spending every free moment she had studying the Ranger—every good skipper needed to know just what their ship could do. Until someone dropped the ball there was no way to really know just how well she’d manage, but it was his responsibility to make sure that when that moment came the crew were ready.
The wardroom doors hissed open, pulling him from his thoughts as he looked up to see Lieutenant Rafael De Souza enter. He was about to ask what the second officer was doing, since he was meant to be on watch, when he noticed the chronometer and realised it was already fifteen minutes into alpha shift. He’d completely lost track of time, the mug of dree’la leaf tea he’d been nursing was cold in his large hands.
“Morning Lieutenant,” he greeted the human.
De Souza gave him a nod and a muttered ‘hi’, before making a beeline to the sideboard where the beverage dispenser was located. Taras watched him with a mindful eye. The ship’s second officer was one of those people that didn’t help with the perception of the Border Service to the wider fleet, having a few disciplinaries to his name and a reputation for being quite vocal with his opinions and thumbing his nose at protocol—all facts that made his appointment to such a senior position onboard baffling.
As the second officer worked with the drinks machine the doors opened again, and Oka Saygen strolled in. Unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter.
“Good morning, XO,” she said cheerfully, pulling out the chair opposite him and flopping into it with a comfortable sigh.
“Hello Lieutenant.” He’d noticed that she hadn’t brought in a tray from the mess hall, nor any PADDs and had bypassed De Souza and the dispenser. “Are you not eating?”
“There’s always a rush on after the shift comes off, so I’ll wait and sneak in when no one’s looking.”
“Very wise, you definitely don’t want to get between hungry Border Dogs and chow, that’s how you lose fingers.”
She flashed him a grin, showing off her sharp canines. “Believe me, XO, they wouldn’t break flesh before they regretted their actions.”
From the opposite side of the room they heard a scoff that drew their attention. De Souza took his mug and left the wardroom, not making eye contact with the chief engineer. When the doors closed behind him, Saygen looked back at Taras.
“Was it something I said?”
“I wouldn’t take it personally; he seems to take time to warm up to others—at least I hope that’s the case.”
She let out a single humourless laugh. “I work gamma shift with him, but never hear anything from him. On the two occasions he has needed something, he sends through a text only message. A third time and I may start taking it personally.”
“I’ll speak with him,” he started but Saygen waved him off.
“That’s alright, I’m a big girl I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, Lieutenant.”
Though the two lieutenants looked nothing alike (he was over two meters tall, with a dense musculature and cobalt blue skin, whilst she lean and lithe with a very pale complexion, jade hair and a long tail) both of their species were new to the Federation, as such there were very few Pandrilite or Alkarian serving in Starfleet—he was the only officer in the Border Service and she was the ranking female across the Fleet, Service or Marine Corps. Outside of the usual staff meetings, this was the first time he’d had the opportunity to speak with her.
“I hope everything else is going smoothly for you.”
“No mutiny’s so far. In all honesty though, I think my staff are still trying to figure out how to handle someone from the Fleet being their new boss,” she told him, her amber eyes looking him over for a few seconds. “I’m guessing you’re in the same boat.”
“I guess you could say that. Usually when we get someone from the Fleet its because they’ve done something serious, and assignment to the Border Service is their last chance. To have people willingly choose to make the switch is rare—for one of those to become a cutter captain is unheard of to the best of my knowledge.”
Saygen chuckled. “I thought she was crazy to take the offer, especially with all the others she had to choose from, but if there’s one thing I can tell you about Xanthe Palmer its that she doesn’t make rash choices. She may take chances, but before she commits to them she’ll have crunched the numbers and go for the option that is most likely to succeed.”
He nodded thoughtfully. He’d never thought about trying to get a better picture of Commander Palmer from the one person onboard who knew her best. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that’s very good to know.”
“Don’t mention it, XO. And, you can call me Oka.”
“Taras.”
She grinned at him again, an expression that suited her angular face. Before he could say anything more, his wristcom chirped. “Go ahead.”
“Chief Lien here, Lieutenant. You are still remembering about our meeting, right?”
He quickly looked at the chronometer and realised he’d once again lost track of time. “Of course, Chief. I’m on my way.” He quickly rose from the table.
“Duty calls.”
“Indeed. Thank you again, Oka.”
“Anytime Taras.”
As he headed for the exit, he found himself grinning as all thoughts and worries about the new crew working well together dispersed. Before the door closed behind him, he cast a wayward glance back over his shoulder at the chief engineer.
* * * * *
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