Chapter 1: The Brave and the Bold (part 2)

Her application for the USS DaVinci had been rejected.

Captain Gold had been rather polite about it all. It was more to do with the fact she didn't have enough planetary and space walk experience. She hoped that, in time, she'd be able to try again. The science position had gone to a Bolian the grapevine had said.

When she had been told she had been posted to another ship, M'Elena Richards had raised a small objection, and both her pointed ears on top of her thick-manned feline hair and her long, slim tail twitched; but then, she had been told everything would be fine. Captain Naron had been a fine captain. M'elena wondered why the Bolian had taken a promotion to Admiral. After all Naron didn't seem to be the type; he was, to M'elena, much better suited to ship command.

But he did; and with his departure, the whole complement of the old USS Pathfinder had been reshuffled... with her reassigned and ordered to report to Admiral Keleck on Starbase 39.

Now, a week later, the white furred Caitian-Human hybrid walked along the promenade of the vast space station on unshod feet. Half the time, M'elena could get away with it; it was just a few planets she needed to be careful on. She padded along, looking at the silhouette of an old Excelsior class starship docked inside the immense space construct, bearing the name USS Icarus.

She knew the Earth legend. Perhaps naming a ship after a mythological failure wasn't such a good idea. After all, Icarus, son of the Ancient Greek mythological genius Daedalus, had been killed after flying too near the sun.

The Starfleet science officer padded along the hallway of the starbase, moving away from the large transparencies towards the administrative section of Starbase 39. She shivered and quickly tried to put her mind at ease. What with family matters and such, she guessed the promotion to Lieutenant Commander that came with her orders to report here without delay wasn't so bad.

Both her parents where far away, father in the Sol system and mother back to the Cait's star system.

She did wonder how the two had made it all work. Alright they had left Starfleet for a while to bring up their family. She and her siblings, Aran and Kara, had done well; only Aran had entered Starfleet. Kara had taken a different path; always the show off, she'd gained fame for her singing and acting in holo-movies.

And then, there was her, the first born... former Chief Science officer of the USS Pathfinder, years of service behind her... and now facing once more the unknown.

A new commanding officer... It would take time to get used to the change she knew, but that was alright; everyone was different. Plus, the rumors of peace with the Romulans going around seemed... well, to good to be true. Romulans were only good at treachery and stabbing people in the back. What was it Captain Kirk had once said?

Don't believe them. Don't trust them.

That was about Klingons then, who proved to be no more or less honorable than Humans in the end, when conspirators from both governments tried to derail the early peace talks between the Empire and the Federation. Perhaps this time, in this case, he would have been right.

She sighed softly as she approached the door and made sure that she pulled down her uniform properly. First impressions, after all, lasted.

She was briefly acknowledged by the Admiral's secretary who showed her the way and she entered the conference room, looking around. Already a few others had made it in before her. Looking to the higher ranking officers seated at the head of the long table, she came to attention.

"Lieutenant Commander M'elena Sara Richards reporting for Duty."

From her previous preparation studies during her shuttle flight, she recognized Admiral Kelek she was ordered to report to, Captain Walsh, Commander of Starbase 39. M'elena raised an eyebrow and shrugged; she had not met either so far... and she knew nothing of the other officers now also sitting at the meeting table.

Or why they were all here for that matter. Her orders had said nothing and her questions met with the word: classified... from her former commanding officer to the secretary back at the door behind her.

The Admiral's receptionist had watched them all rise and enter; all but one who actually seemed to be sleeping in his chair!

That was an old trick Pasqual often used in a crowded room. People tended to be on their guard when there was somebody there obviously listening and watching. But they as quickly tended to ignore someone who seemed oblivious to them... like someone dozing off.

Especially someone they tend to dismiss readily like that Romulan did with him.

It gave the Counselor a privileged opportunity to observe and learn about people's true nature.

Usually, but these particular officers seemed a peculiarly closed lot, all silent and brooding; and there simply was not enough time to have them relax as the call from the powers-that-be came for all of them.

Ray still kept his unobtrusive posture until they all went through the doors. He allowed the secretary to whisper to him, then rise from her seat to ''wake him,'' admiring in the process her shapely legs below the regulation uniform skirt she wore. A fine comeback to traditional garb he personally approved wholeheartedly.

With a smile, he nodded last to her and went inside the conference room.

They were all already seated, vying for status or tactical advantage or both; seating choices and posture were often quite revealing of someone's inner thought and nature and he took this all in with a practiced glance.

He himself chose a seat at the opposite end of the table where the Admiral sat, farthest of all and yet still with the others so that he could watch them all without even moving his eyes.

Quite a team here...he already observed, including himself in the thought. The High Command must have worked day and night for weeks just to select the people in this room. But for... what?

Admiral Kelek himself observed carefully as the selected bridge officers entered into his office. As they looked around, they eventually began to find their way to their seats.

An interesting collection of officers he noted to himself.

Once these Starfleet officers gathered from all around the quadrant were settled in, the meeting continued.

“Officers,” Admiral Kelek greeted, “Thank you all for arriving in such an expeditious manner to this meeting. Although this process may seem rather sudden and relatively hasty from your perspective, this was actually the culmination of a six-month course of action that has garnered the attention and efforts from personnel from Starbase 39 and beyond. It was not until we reached this level of readiness that you were all brought together here.”

The Admiral looked around and could see that he had the full attention of everyone there.

He proceeded with his expose of the situation.

Frazetti watched the other officers, the men under her and Captain Sterling's command, with great interest. They were a mixed lot, which was funny, coming from her of all people. There was even a Romulan... IN a Romulan uniform... which was intriguing. She wished she had their personnel files.

Add dat t' the swiftly growin' list of t'ings I need t' do,she thought.

Then, Admiral Kelek was speaking, and she gave him her full attention, ignoring Captain Walsh sitting next to him, who was currently engaged in trying not to look like he had swallowed a plate of pickled hasperat and was failing. The Admiral began with the Hobus Supernova.

“As you are well aware, the results of the Hobus Supernova have both literally and figuratively sent ripples of consequences and reactions beyond even the five hundred light years of its path of destruction. The Romulan Empire itself has been literally shattered, with fatalities estimated in the billions. Suddenly, Romulans have awakened to find that they can no longer afford to wage war on the Federation. They have more pressing concerns: chiefly, survival. This translates to finding homes and rebuilding their lives; for the millions of refugees whom have been left devastated and without even essential resources. The Federation, despite intense internal and external dissentions, has chosen a path toward peace. If somehow a peaceful coexistence is possible with the Romulans, it would give considerable breathing room and stability to the Federation… with one less major adversary to contend with, and perhaps eventually instead, another ally to work with.”

She remembered the Supernova. The death of Ambassador Spock. The lives lost... Even to her, with her somewhat unusual past history, it was staggering. He moved on, to the current state of affairs and then...

The bombshell.

Frazetti raised one blonde eyebrow before she could master herself and thought about it. While her initial reaction was very much along the lines of 'What?!', the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

She took a look around the table, observing the reactions of the other officers, and that of her captain. Their expressions covered a wide range.

The Admiral also sized-up the new officers surrounding him for a moment… and with his keen Vulcan eyes, he could observe the subtle mixed reactions to this pronouncement already. The key to any success for this mission was going to be contingent on the willingness of these strategically chosen officers to fully accept and follow not only the appropriate steps that may be required to complete this mission, but to also keep in mind the spirit of its intention every step of the way.

He continued:

“This… my fellow officers, is where all of you are to be key contributors in this diplomatic and yet potentially volatile endeavor. You are going to be our diplomats and if necessary our soldiers as we reach out with an olive branch extended on this mission of peace.”

He paused for another moment to allow each officer time to digest the significance of what his was striving to convey.

Falcar had been leaning back in the chair he had sat down in. However when peace was mentioned between the Romulans and the Federation, he leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the table, with his arms upwards, and his hands supporting his resting head.

Peace... that caught his attention.

Reunification, could it really be here? He thought.

He didn’t say a word, as he was only an exchange officer, but he had a million questions and thoughts running through his head. Some thoughts of joy... and others of anger.

“What is our first step you may wonder?'' Now said Kelek. ''Well, you are all part of our first step…and that was to put together a carefully selected crew with the most appropriate starship to carry this crew on to the mission. The second major part of this plan correlates to the mission itself. As a unified crew, you are to vigilantly transport selected ambassadors to the planet Khii on the edge of the Neutral Zone, and then maintain high orbit above this planet and basically wait while the negations commence. We have to allow time for the ambassadors do their job; which may be easier stated than accomplished.”

Peace with Romulus. Aces, she thought, admiring. Dey didn' bother us for nuthin, dat's for sure. I better not futz dis up.

So she wouldn't. It was as simple as that. Frazetti nodded mentally as her resolve firmed.

The Admiral then looked even more stoic, if that was even possible and continued:

“Given our experience with the Khitomer Accord situation, I hope that it is clear to each of you why this mission needs to remain classified. No one outside of this room is to know or discuss the true nature of this mission in any capacity. All Starfleet logs and the remaining crew will deem this a routine mission to test the functionality and capabilities of your newly refitted starship. For the safety of the ambassadors and this mission, this is of primary importance and a direct order. Discussions regarding this mission will only be conducted in your Captain’s ready room; and then only after all safety and security protocols have been thoroughly established and confirmed.”

He looked around to the officers sitting around the table and inquired:

“Are there any questions regarding these orders and your responsibilities thus far?”

Once the Admiral had exposed their grand endeavor of galactic peace, Pasqual kept silent for a good moment, wondering about it all; an ambitious diplomatic mission, a mysterious starship, a secluded location, secret orders, a crew handpicked from the cream of the crop to the gutter of the ranks... that was him... and even from outside of the Federation altogether.

It barely made any sense to him; or maybe, it was all too clear...

Jayvin for his part glanced at the other officers and then asked the obvious question.

"What Starship, Sir?"

The Vulcan Admiral gave off the slightest of sighs. He knew that all of these officers, being non-Vulcans, would be curious about the ship; especially since he had not disclosed any information about it yet. But he wanted them to focus on the mission itself first before becoming distracted by the announcement and possible reactions to the chosen ship.

He then simply responded:

“Mister Cyl…"

"Doctor." Jayvin quickly corrected.

“Doctor Cyl… we will address the topic of the ship once we have determined that there are not any questions regarding the orders given and subsequent responsibilities regarding the mission itself.”

He then gazed around the table to see if there were indeed any questions directly related to the stated mission itself.

Sterling just sat there contemplating the nature of this mission. This seemed like the type of mission that would most likely turn out much more challenging and complicated than it would initially appear.

Questions… yeah… he agreed with… what was his name? Doctor Cyl… he remembered. What ship would they be given? What are its capacities?

The questions just grew exponentially from there.

What's with the damn mystery here regarding this ship? he pondered.

But at this point, he stated nothing.

Frazetti herself also thought for a moment, but could come up with nothing besides what Cyl had said. And she agreed. Info, please??

"I understand your position, Admiral... insisted again the doctor, but, how can we be expected to properly understand the mission without knowing our capabilities to handle a mission of this importance?"

Brian Archer already knew the ship, thanks to Admiral Janeway, though he elected not to say anything since Admiral Kelek clearly wasn't prepared to discuss it. It was the mission, not the ship that had Brian concerned. The security risks involved with diplomatic meetings were astronomical. Security for the diplomats, security for the conference hall or meeting room...speaking of which that brought a question to Brian's mind...

"Admiral, will the ship be expected to provide security arrangements for this conference or will the Romulans be handling that?"

Even the thought of the Romulans in charge of security made Brian uneasy. The Tal Shiar, what was left of it, would no doubt be present in some form, and from what he'd read on the Bonhomme Richard during the trip to Starbase 39 there were no less than five different factions vying for power within the provisional Romulan government.

"You were the one that wanted to make a difference," he admonished himself silently. "Looks like you'll get your chance."

Admiral Kelek turned to face the youthful human.

“A reasonable question, Lieutenant Commander Archer, but the answer at this point in this procedure is not so straightforward. You and your team are in complete charge of all aspects of security from the moment you step foot onto the bridge of your ship until the delegates are securely transported down to the conference. This includes a thorough inspection of every centimeter of this vessel prior to departure and comprehensive security protocols set in place and tested and re-tested vigorously as well.”

He then paused for a moment and looked around at all of the officers present before refocusing his attention the newly appointed chief of security.

“Here is where the situation becomes tenuous. Presently, there has been opposition to having a full complement of Federation Security forces beam down to the conference site with the ambassadors. However, it appears blatantly contradictory to the intent of this mission of peace to have opposition to Federation officers present to help ensure the safety and integrity of this mission. Therefore, the negations will continue while you are on route and thus you will need to devise a series possible contingency options to implement upon arrive to the conference site. In addition, regardless of the option utilized, you must ensure the safety of the ship while it vulnerably orbits the planet during this process: in case you are given the opportunity to be part of the planetary security force.”

"Aye, Sir; it’s not much time to properly train a security force, Sir, but I won't let anything happen that I can prevent."

The wheels in Brian's mind were already spinning. It had been almost two years since he'd been in charge of anything on a starship, but working for Section 31 hadn't made him forget his Starfleet tactical training. The challenge of this mission was immediately apparent and the laundry list of items to do was growing by leaps and bounds the more Brian thought about it.

The faster they would get aboard the ship, the better.

Lifting his head from his crossed arms on the polished table, Ray Quinn Pasqual raised a hesitant hand to catch the Admiral's eye.

''I have a question...''

He succeeded in getting everyone's attention.

''Why am I here?''

The Vulcan Admiral addressed the question directly:

“Lieutenant Commander Pasqual… despite your propensity for mischievousness and irreverence, you, along with those around you, were chosen specifically for this mission by reason of the multitude of valuable skills which you each possess. Certainly an individual as astute and talented as you does not require a line-item checklist of proficiencies laid out before them like some uninformed adolescent pondering their sense of worth. Besides, Mister Pasqual, this type of mission would appear to offer you an opportunity to expand your future options beyond the somewhat restricted circumstances from which you have just arrived,” the Admiral stated, staring intently into the junior officer’s steely eyes.

Ray straightened himself under the senior officer's stern gaze and sterner words.

''Far from me to dispute the sound judgment of Starfleet Command, Admiral Sir, but... may I ask then why my... skills are deemed useful when we are to ferry genuine Federation ambassadors to this... momentous event?''

The Vulcan Admiral turned and faced this half-Human, half-Orion once again.

“Lieutenant Commander Pasqual… will these ambassadors be traveling alone on the ship? he asked rhetorically. No… they will be on a ship full of newly appointed crew members, five hundred and fifty to be precise. Will they be on a routine mission? Again, Mister Pasqual, the answer is no. They will be on quite possibly the most important diplomatic mission of their career and there is an eighty-nine point seven percent chance that interpersonal issues will arise throughout this imperative undertaking.”

After a very brief pause he continued:

“What about the ambassadors on their mission, would someone with a superlative proclivity for linguistics, applied psychology, psychohistory and xenopsychology along with exceptional cleverness, an attention to detail, and cultural adaptability potentially be of benefit to their endeavor?

He did not say another word, but again gazed attentively into the officer’s eyes.

Ray looked at him, blinking; once, twice, thrice.

''Am I to understand thatI will be called to directly assist the diplomatic effort itself, Sir? That all of us are to be directly involved in this endeavor?''

“At this point in time, Mister Pasqual, anything is possible and nothing is certain” Admiral Kelek declared even knowing that this was an unusually vague answer from a Vulcan. “Part of your responsibilities in addition to serving as a counselor for the crew will also include interacting with the ambassadors while you are enroute to the summit. This was all going to be explained to you by your Captain during your initial briefing… hopefully now you may begin to recognize why your previously mentioned aptitude and skillfulness could prove quite invaluable in such a tenuous yet imperative undertaking.”

After a brief glance over to Captain Walsh then to the newly promoted Captain Sterling, he concluded:

“Depending on the outcome of the ongoing negotiation process, there is a relatively high probability that you will ultimately serve… unofficially of course, as an aide to the ambassadors during their summit negotiations; where your perceptive nature and wide-ranging social faculties may be put to the test.”

"I see... Sir."

He was completely lost as to the real intent behind it all. But for now, he kept his mouth shut. He was not going to screw up and miss the opportunity served to him now.

He couldn't help but feel a certain growing trepidation at the thought of going back into space, to a starship duty. Having served as consultant to the legendary ambassador Sarek, the only non-Vulcan to do so, had been cut short with the recent death of the venerable two-centuries old Vulcan... and it has been as short as it had been... boring. Vulcans were not much for "lively debates," even when Klingons were involved; especially when said Klingons did not even wanted to talk with the "intellectual puppets of the Federation..." until he provoked two of the Chancellor's bodyguards and managed to trounce them good enough to earn respect from their High Council on behalf of the ambassador... and a severe reprimand by his own superiors.

Landing him in the here and now.

But Romulans... now that will be something else...

Klingons were easy to deal with; after all, with them it was like a simple duel: thrusts, parries, counter thrusts... With Romulans however, the Rihansuu as was their proper name, it was nothing of the sort; more like a tridimensional chess game with the rules laid out as the game was ongoing.

Now THIS is going to be a real challenge.

He sat back in his chair and resumed his observations of the rest of his new bridge crew and commanding officers, noticing the entrance of another officer, obviously late and trying to slide in inconspicuously.

Lieutenant Hanson had been working on modifying an isolinear circuit for better efficiency when he had glanced down at his watch... and find out that he was late for the meeting he had summoned to by the starbase captain and a visiting admiral no less.

Crap, that meeting is going on right now...

He had stood up, bumping his head on the bulkhead and had ignored the pain as he had rushed out the door as quickly as possible, glasses almost falling off his face. As soon as he arrived at the meeting location, not even noticing the wide-eyed and low-brow stare of the secretary, he sat down as quietly as possible, listening to the other officers.

"Your cloaking device is offline you know." Pasqual whispered to the man.

As soon as the engineering Lieutenant heard this, his face reddened.

Darn it, I've been found out.

Hanson leaned over to this other starkly bronze-colored officer, pushed his peculiar eyeglasses up and replied.

"Yes, I know."

But like all the others, Frazetti didn't notice them as she watched the Admiral handle the other questions that popped up as well; first from Archer, who seemed very competent, very tactical, very on the ball; then from that oddball Orion whose tone made her suppress a chuckle. He had an interesting story, she'd bet on that. A bit goofy, a bit playful... But she had seen, even used, that facade before. She wondered how much of it was true.
As the Admiral talked, she processed his words.

Well, dey ain't askin' for much, are dey? she thought with no small sarcasm.

Something in her niggled, told her to look sharp and be ready, because she somehow didn't think that the mission was going to stay as 'simple' as he made it seem...

And while Frazetti may not be book smart, she was born with enough street sense to be able to tell things. Either way, she couldn't wait to get started. If problems arose, she'd deal with them with her typical style; and now as a commander in Starfleet.

Frazetti had never been afraid of challenge; she thrived on it. And this was the biggest challenge and the greatest opportunity of her life.

“If there are no more questions...” the Admiral asked as he was carefully looking around at all of the officers present; his glance lingering perhaps a bit longer on the new counselor.

With no one else responding, he continued:

“Captain Walsh will now enlighten you with the details of your newly assigned starship.”

The Admiral then turned and nodded to the Starbase Commander.

Walsh stood.

"The ship the Federation Council has decided to use for this endeavor is one of the modified Excelsior class vessels. What we did, in six months, here, perhaps, a not-so-subtle jibe at the time crunch imposed on him, was refit the entire cruiser. It looks like an Excelsior on the outside, but it's got all the latest technology to impress our new friends."

The sarcasm slipped out despite his best efforts. He ignored it or any reaction it provoked and kept speaking.

"Modifications include..."

Frazetti interrupted.

"Scuse me, Sir, but what ship is dis? Dere ain't many Excelsior class vessels floatin' 'round anymore," she pointed out. He looked like he was avoiding the name deliberately. Why?

Walsh directed a annoyed glare at her.

"The ship was chosen for it's symbolic meaning to the Romulans. It's the USS Icarus, formerly assigned to Sector 5037."

“What?”

Sterling yelled as he stood up, furious with anger and feelings of betrayal as he slammed his fist on the table. His blue-grey eyes at first wide-eyed, narrowed as his mouth tightened into a flat, knife-blade thin line. A twitching muscle in his clenched jaw, finally gave way to another response.

Frazetti fairly jumped out of her chair at the explosion caused by Sterling.

Oxmyx's teeth, man, what da bleedin' hell? she thought.

His nuclear meltdown was impressive. Walsh couldn't help but take a step back, even as Admiral Kelek stood unmoved like a tree in a thunderstorm.

“Is this some sort of twisted practical joke or was it your intention to insult me in the most profound way you could imagine?” he voice bellowed in the large office.

The fact that he was addressing another Captain and an Admiral, and in the Admiral office nevertheless, was overshadowed by the audacity and significance of the announcement that seemed to cut him to the marrow.

There was no way that this occurrence could be either coincidence or mere happenstance, he thought angrily. This was obviously deliberate. But why? Why would they intentionally make the choice of matching me with this ship?

His first reaction was to throw this promotion right back at Admiral Kelek, storm directly out of this meeting and never look back. However, years of experience and wisdom had taught him never to act or react solely in anger. This incident had just caught him off-guard. After several very deep breaths and a conscious effort to reclaim his composure, he turned back toward the Admiral and inquired as amicably as he could:

“Would you care to explain how on Earth after months of deliberations you came up with this… decision?”

Admiral Kelek, somewhat taken aback by the volatility of Sterling’s reactional outburst, stated simply and stoically;

“Logically of course, Captain Sterling.”

An uncomfortable silence followed that brief response.

The Admiral then elaborated:

“Obviously based on your… reaction to this choice of vessels, you are cognizant of the history of this vessel… at least to some degree as it pertains to your family. But tell me Captain, how far back and to what level of detail does your knowledge span?”

“I know back far enough to be more than merely acquainted with how incidents occurring on this ship impacted the life and career of my grandfather, which directly altered my father’s path and eventually mine as well.” He retorted with controlled venom and thinly veiled contempt.

“Before the incident you are alluding to, Captain Sterling. I am specifically referring to a rather significant event involving an earlier mission, led by Marcus Sterling… your grandfather, and first captain of the starship Icarus. An event involving Marcus Sterling and the Praetor of the Romulan Star Empire… and a favor performed and a debt never collected… until now.''

The Admiral then looked over and nodded to Captain Walsh who stood up holding some type of crafted case. Walsh then proceeded to walk over to Captain Sterling and carefully placed the item directly in front of him, turned and then went back to his seat by the Admiral.

Sterling just stared at this case.

What the hell was this? He wondered as he sat down and began to examine it more closely. Seeing the symbols on it he could tell that it was definitely Romulan.

He then looked over to the young Romulan officer sitting near him in his full Rihansuu military attire.

“Hey… Mister Falcar is it? Can you come over and translate what is inscribed on the case?”

Falcar turned to Sterling and nodded. He got up and walked a few steps over to him and placed his right hand on the back of Sterling's chair to better lean in. He examined the metallic case.

It was no more than thirty centimeters long and ten centimeters wide. There was nothing on the case other than a small plaque on the front lid. He moved his head closer and read it, whispering so softly that no one could hear what he said. Falcar then moved back and turned to Sterling.

“It roughly translates to: The future belongs to those who see possibilities before they become obvious.”

Sterling listened with curious intensity as the sub-lieutenant translated the inscription on this mysterious container.

Falcar took a moment to think then asked:

“May I?” motioning to open the case.

“Yes by all means Mr. Falcar, open the case!”

Falcar nodded once more to Sterling and moved his right hand off of Sterling's chair, closer to the case. Now placing both hands on it, he slid it slightly to the left and centered it so that is was even to him. His hands moved around the edges of the small box until his fingers stopped at the front edges. Suddenly, a snap was heard.

Falcar’s hands moved to the front of the case and opened it.

Inside was some cushioning, in the middle of which was a dagger; and just below the dagger was another plaque. Falcar read the second plaque, whispering again. Once he was finished, he pointed to it.

“This here says: No captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of the enemy.”

Falcar then picked up the dagger. He began to examine it and noticed engravings on the blade itself.

“There is something here, an engraving.”

He began to read it, this time in his mind. His eyes widened and his mouth opened.

“This is a Romulan Honor Blade. Given to those who perform some act of great honor. It says here on the blade: Captain Sterling, you have shown courage and compassion in your efforts to return that which is most precious to me. Grant me the honor of one day repaying this debt to you. And this is the official seal of Praetor D'Maiell Radiak of the Romulan Star Empire”

Falcar then handed the weapon to Sterling.

“How did this end up here?”

Frazetti paid very close attention. Debt? Romulan praetors? His grandpa was the original captain of the Icarus?

She was hard pressed to keep up. A mystery box was produced, and inside the box...

Inside the box was a knife that made her instantly jealous. It was extremely well made, the craftsmanship showing in the rippling blue steel and razor thin edge; it was a pretty as it was deadly, she was sure.

Sterling was stunned as he accepted the blade from the young Romulan officer. He never heard about any incident with his grandfather and the Romulan Praetor. He just stood there as he contemplated the stunning craftsmanship and significant message etched upon its pristine shaft. He knew of only the final, somber incident involving his grandfather and the consequences that had followed. Nothing about this.

The new starship captain then looked up, somewhat bewildered, toward Admiral Kelek who seized the opportunity to share the story and details of how it came to be that his grandfather was bestowed such a gift from the Praetor, telling the tale to all of the bridge officers sitting around the table as well.

At the conclusion of the anecdote, the Admiral turned back to Captain Sterling as the man still held the blade in his hand.

“As you can see, Captain, the decision to have you aboard the Icarus as its commander was not a capricious one, but a logical choice, as I stated earlier. Besides your proven record as a worthy officer and commander throughout your career, your family name and this vessel represents a significant connection between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. The blade you are holding will go with you on this journey and is yours to keep beyond this mission as well. You will be accompanying the ambassadors in the initiation of this conference. You will also most likely have Lieutenant Commander Pasqual and Lieutenant Commander Archer by your side, and perhaps even our young sub-Lieutenant Falcar as well."

Falcar nodded and then returned to his seat. The story that was told to them was strange. He hadn’t heard of it before, but, then again, it was unlikely that the Romulan Military would have let such a story get out. Such a thing would have undermined there whole efforts to portray the Federation as enemies.

As Falcar sat back down in his seat, he leaned back in the chair to continue to listen.

As the Admiral took the moment to explain, slowly the pieces fell into place for the Iotian woman. This, then, was the reason the Icarus had been chosen, a reminder that the Federation and Romulan Empire could get along, could be allies. It would give the captain's words extra weight when dealing with the Romulans. It was remarkable how well thought out it was. Frazetti had never heard this story of the Icarus... just the one that involved its ultimate disgrace.

She looked at Sterling with new eyes. Hmm. Dis is gonna be interestin'...

The Romulan looked about as surprised as she was, which made sense. Can't have your mortal enemies going and being all helpful, could you? Especially, when you were trying to justify war.

"I got one question," Frazetti said into the quiet. "How'd ya know about dis?" she asked the Admiral, meeting his eyes with her own dark blue ones, curious. "I haven't ever heard dat partic'lar bit before about da Icarus."

Admiral Kelek, turned his gaze over to the only female in the room, with her red hat subtly tilted to one side and a look of curiosity seemingly etched upon her face.

“This is not surprising. Commander Hartzer… and you won’t find this incident in Starfleet records either, nor is it merely myth as you can tell by the tangibility of the blade itself.”

After a brief pause he added:

“I know of this most assuredly because I was an Ensign on the Icarus during this event; and, as you now must realize, Marcus Sterling was my Captain.”

Sterling was again astounded. Admiral Kelek not only knew his grandfather but had served with him on the Icarus?

He had a multitude of questions that came flooding into his thoughts with the force of a raging river.

He immediately wanted to bombard the Admiral with them, but he realized that this was not the time or the place to attempt to fill in all of those missing pieces in his life and his family’s history.

But he knew that, some day, he would seek out the Admiral and have him explain events and answer questions that have haunted him since childhood.

For the time being though, he would continue to listen to the dialogue before making a decision whether or not to accept this position as Captain aboard the apparently refurbished Icarus.

Frazetti for her part arched an eyebrow at the old Vulcan.

Well.

That was.... unexpected, to say the least.

An' the plot thickens, she mused, straightening in her chair and tucking a long gold curl behind her ear contemplatively.

Everyone seemed about as stunned as she was, including Sterling, who remained oddly quiet, a very blank look on his face.

Brian Archer for one didn't react at the name of the ship; he knew that part already. He was however struck with the Romulan honor blade that was presented to the newly minted Captain Sterling.

The security chief knew that an honor blade from the Romulan Praetor would have been a significant award, especially to a Federation Captain. But he was more concerned about the timeline and the importance of this mission. He had every confidence in his abilities, but he was somewhat worried about having to train up a new security department, with people who hadn't worked with each other, and people he was unfamiliar with literally on the fly between here and the mission site. That led him to ask Admiral Kelek another question.

"Admiral, at the risk of being rude, Sir, when can we board the ship? Because frankly, Sir, I have work to do."

The Admiral turned to address the new Security officer.

“I can understand your petition to commence with your new obligations without further delay, Mister Archer, but, unfortunately, it will not be possible to board the Icarus just yet.”

He then panned his view to the rest of the bridge crew as he stated:

“If there are no other questions from the group, then Captain Walsh may continue explaining to you the remaining details regarding the current status of the ship.”

He then nodded once again to the Starbase Commander.

Walsh cleared his throat.

"The reason you can't board it yet is that it is still getting the final touches done on it. There were a lot of modifications to be made," he said, a bit defensive, "and not a lot of time to do 'em in."

He wasn't impressed with the Admiral's little story... though it DID reveal his motivation for revamping the Icarus and causing him a whole lotta extra time and effort for something which he suspected would be a fruitless endeavor...

But, whatever... He was just a captain of a starbase. Who listened to him? Certaintly not a high and mighty Admiral, no sir, or his hand-picked little Captain.

"A complete list of modifications can be found on your PADDs; I've already sent you the necessary files. But I'll summarize what we did in basic. All the electronics and the computer core have been replaced with modern components, like bioneural gel packs. The bridge configuration remains the same, minus the guts of the consoles, of course. Total crew of five hundred and fifty, with seventeen inhabitable decks. The hull has been stripped and replaced with a duranium-tritanium composite, reinforced by microfiber ablative armor. For weapons, you've got sixteen type X phaser arrays with a total output of 80,000 terawatts. You've also got three torpedo launchers fore and a pair aft, with one hundred of each photon and quantum warheads. The nacelles had to completely replaced; whoever repaired them last did a crapshoot job," he muttered, this time the scorn redirected to whoever had dared to do less than their best, "and it's not like the ship was in great shape to begin with. The warp core is a general electric class eight, standard matter-antimatter reaction. The shields are automodulating with metaphasic capabilities, a regenerative matrix for faster recovery and a high structural integrity field. It contains the latest sensors for scientific and tactical data, as well as being equipped with diplomatic and scientific facilities; stellar cartography lab and so forth. Recreation wise it is equipped with four holodecks, a gymnasium-rec center, phaser range, and a Lounge. On the second level of the lounge are five smaller holosuites as well. There are various other facilities, like an arboretum and such."

He paused, looking around the table.

"All we have to do is finish testing some systems and you'll be ready to go."

And not soon enough, too, he thought.

"There were a few problems integrating such an old system with more modern technology but we've got it mostly figured out."

And then you can go and get her blown up by the first Romulan that takes exception to her, and there goes the last six damn months. This peace thing is such bullshit...

He shook his head mentally.

Good luck. You'll need it.

Admiral Kelek now invited each of the crew members to come up and get their new communicator pins. Each pin was laid out across a table to the side with a name and title labeled above each pin.

As they were attaching the new Starfleet pins to their uniforms, he informed them that they would be contacted immediately once they were each cleared to board the ship.

Meanwhile, he recommended that they made use of their time and the facilities available aboard the Starbase before their eminent departure.

“Dismissed” were his final words as he unceremoniously turned and headed back toward his office.

Captain Sterling walked up and grabbed his communicator pin… not really sure what to do with it. So he just held it in his hand and looked down at it.

It was metallic and shiny… with the Starfleet symbol expressed in curving lines. It felt cool to the touch.

Still clutching the communicator, he headed out of the conference room and walked toward the docking windows near the ship yard. He might as well at least have a look at this ship before thinking about turning down the captain’s position.

Arriving at the window, he looked out at the insides of the kilometers-wide space station. The ship was not difficult al all to spot.

In fact, its classically sleek design physically gave him a chill right down his spine. The flawlessness of the exterior made this vessel standout like a brand new starship: symmetrically efficient yet menacingly postured… even merely suspended in spacedock. Whatever time, materials, and effort went into rebuilding this ship, it certainly appeared to have been well worth it.

This decision just became much more difficult.

Frazetti Hartzer reached out and took her badge unhesitatingly, pinning it to her uniform right then and there. Everyone started filling out, presumably to do whatever they needed or wanted to do before the ship's last minute diagnostics were completed. She brushed by the counselor, what was his name? She didn't remember, and couldn't help but notice he looked like he had his doubts.

Well, she didn't.

This was a very necessary stepping stone to her ultimate goal: becoming captain of her own ship one day. Her time as commander of the Icarus would be instrumental in helping her get there.

The captain had also taken his badge; but, oddly, did not put it on, merely curled it in a large fist and walked out.

She raised an eyebrow and followed him. They had things to discuss, even if all it turned out to be was an introduction to each other. He walked fast, and she had to trot the last few feet despite her long legs to catch up to him.

And stopped.

He had paused in front of one of the large transparent aluminum windows, and there, hanging in the bay of Starbase 39, was what had to be the Icarus. The cleanness positively sparkled, colors bright and fresh and new. It was both predatory and graceful at the same time, a beautiful elegance that no doubt turned deadly when the weapons came online. Her outline was proud and straight and true, unwavering.

He had stopped as well, silent and still, and she could only surmise that he was as enthralled as she.

"Nah dat is a hot ride of a ship," she said, voice low and appreciative, like she was admiring a work of art or a naked lover as well as a piece of machinery.

The new First Officer basically startled him as he gazed at the starship and pondered his fate. Yet he didn’t flinch a muscle...though her comment did make him smirk. She certainly had a unique way of expressing herself.

He turned to get a better look at her. Tall, exquisite facial features, golden curly hair: some tucked underneath her peculiar fedora hat from another time with the remaining flowing down her shoulders, and an air of confidence that was not subtle or lacking.

He turned back toward the ship.

“Yes… she is actually quite stunning.”

But after he stated this, he was not really sure if he was referring to the ship, or the youthful woman standing next to him… or both.

A moment of silence went by and, while continuing to look over the starship, he asked the question that was lurking in his mind:

“So First Officer… tell me… what’s your story?”

She gave him a grin, a quick flash of teeth.

"Long an' complicated, suh. Not quite da scope of yours," she added, making refence to his grandfather. "But enough so dat I t'ink I'd be wore willin' t' discuss it ovuh a drink. Been a long day, what wit' gettin' here an' da meetin' n' all. Dere's a place ya passed, sorta a bar n' lounge type joint, called Neutral Zone. Run by a few Ferengis, but t' all 'counts seems fine otherwise."

She half turned and nodded her hatted head in that direction.

"Care t' join me, Boss?"

Boss?

He hadn’t heard that anachronistic term before.

How peculiar.

He thought about the invitation. Hmm… why was he so filled with trepidations about everything today? He was hungry... he was thirsty… she knew a place to resolve both of these issues while also providing an opportunity to figure out something about this Starfleet Officer.

He turned to her and simply stated;

“Lead the way.”

"Aces." She turned, and did so, not without curiosity about the captain.

A rather monosyllabic kinda guy, ain't he?

Neutral Zone was hopping. There was a bar manned by a Ferengi, several tables, and, predictably, gambling devices of various origins. She slid into a seat at the bar, away from most of the hubbub and bustle. They blended in well here. She would've really liked a cold beer with real alcohol, but as she was with Captain Sterling and didn't know how he'd react to that, she motioned the Ferengi over with a tilt of her head.

He slid over.

"Now, what brings a lady like you to a bar like this?" he asked with what he probably thought was a winning smile.

She smiled right back, a sweet thing that didn't reach her eyes.

"Bank's closed, mac. Go chase y'self," she said, her Iotian accent suddenly much thicker, and her eyes sapphire sharp.

He reared back, a calculating edge entering into his eyes.

"Humph. Iotians. Fine, lady, but you don't know what you're missing."

"An' ignorance is bliss," she quipped.

He glared at her full on now.

"Can I get you something?"

"Hmm. Virgin strawberry daiquiri," she said, after a moment's pause. The Ferengi muttered something uncharitable under his breath, and looked at the captain.

"And you?"

Springwine…chilled” he stated to the annoying Ferengi barkeep.

He then turned and looked around at the patrons in the Neutral Zone. Overall, a rather typical view; nothing noteworthy.

“So, Number One, here we are. I’m still waiting to hear your story” he commented as his tall glass of Springwine was delivered by a slightly agitated Ferengi; who gazed from the first officer, back to him and then back to her again, and then uttered an unintelligible grunt before walking off.

He took a long drink of the refreshingly chilled beverage and awaited a response.

"Ain't much t' tell. Born on Sigma Iotia- n' 'fore ya ask, yeah it's dat Sigma Iotia. Mah papa was a... well, Feds called him a smuggler, an' he was, but not a bad one, mind. He was a man of honor," she said, and there was something in that statement that implied that this was, somehow, very important. "Had me on da ship, grew up helpin' him run his bizness." She paused, almost imperceptibly. "Den dey died. I wandered 'round for a few years, n' den I applied t' Starfleet."

She didn't mention the Orions that had killed her parents, or her 'adventures' on Vineya Prime in between.

"I was a bit of a problem kid at da 'Cademy, but once I realized I wanted t' cap'n my own ship one day, I got my shit straight. Been at it evah since."

He could, in fact she was positive he would, look her up for more details later, but there was no point in telling him exactly how much of a hellraiser she had been. He'd be able to figure it out, and she was trying to make a good impression here.

"I 'spose I'm da first Sigma Iotian in Starfleet, and I guess dat makes me a bit diff'rent, but I ain't stupid. An' I learn quick, even if I'm a few dollahs short on expeirence," she said.

Frazetti believed in being level with her abilities, and nowhere would it matter as much as here.

Without any additional prodding, Commander Hartzer began expansively expressing her thoughts on the crew and the upcoming mission.

As she spiritedly conversed, Sterling drifted a bit back into his thoughts again.

Jeez…this Sigma Iotian female can certainly talk! And her conversation is definitely bathed in that heavy accent and unusual colloquialisms. We’re going to have to work on this if she's to be my…

“Humph… Oh… what did you say?” He responded after being startled out of his thoughts.

Frazetti blinked, caught off guard by the non-sequitur. She paused, and then spoke, a bit slower than she usually did. Why did it seem like she was the one doing all the talking here?

"...Dunno, Boss. T' be honest, most of 'em seem fine... An' I haven't had da chance t' look ovuh thier files. Seem t' be a good lot. Mixed bag of cats to be sure, but den agian, dis is Starfleet." She stopped, scrutinizing him. "...Boss?"

He wasn't listening. In fact, he seemed quite well off in his own thoughts. It rankled.

Dammit, if I'm gonna be First Officer ya could at least pretend t' care on what I got t' say, she thought rebelliously. Dis was sprung sudden-like on me too, y'know.

Just as soon as it manifested, her flash of temper subsided. Hell, picking a fight wouldn't get her anywhere.

"Yeah, sorry, ya seemed off in lala land dere for a sec. I like da ship," she admitted with a grin. "It's a baby grand, alright..."

Sterling took another long drink as he dwelled into his own musings still.

What was I thinking? I haven’t even actually accepted this position… although I had accepted the promotion and the captain’s pips. Then to top it off, I don’t even know this crew at all. I don’t even know this woman sitting next to me, chatting away like we were long lost acquaintances… this officer who had been selected to be my right-hand man… woman… whatever! Yet, if I actually accept this promotion as the Captain of the Icarus, she would become one of the most important officers on the ship… and I would need to rely on her in countless, unforeseeable ways. Is she really this good? Apparently Starfleet seems to think so.

But as he had learned throughout his life, Starfleet doesn’t always know what it’s doing.

He then thought about meeting all of the remaining officers at the conference as well…

Damn, from an outsider’s first impression perspective…they all looked like a rag-tag group of misfits gathered up from around the quadrant, except perhaps for the security officer.

He realized that this was an unfair assessment; especially at this early stage of this process.

He grabbed the glass and took another long drink, until its contents were emptied. He then signaled the barkeep for another.

Starfleet Captain… Starfleet Captain… he thought to himself. Responsibilities… Priorities… Life and death decisions…Well… overall… from what I’ve observed, the Captain of a Starship probably has the most demanding yet at times most exhilarating appointment in the all of Starfleet. The question is… Am I truly up for it; especially on that ship?

He then began contemplating the depth of the role of a Starfleet captain itself.

The mark of a good commander is one who effectively balances the varied roles that must be carried out at a moment’s notice… consistently. Someone who must endure the rigors of leadership, someone who is inventive and inspiring in a variety of ways. A captain must as a primary obligation, ensure the effective and safe operation of their ship and crew. They must also be military tacticians; able to identify and act on any threat to the ship… or the Federation. Then there are diplomatic duties; like the one that they were about to proceed with on this diplomatic mission with the Romulans. In these situations, a Captain is expected to represent the Federation’s interests, and make decisions on its behalf. They must be apprised of many things including Federation law, and customs of other species and societies while always considering and obeying the Prime Directive; which can sometimes directly conflict with the captain’s other duties… putting them under tremendous pressure and awkward circumstances.

Taking another sip from the newly arrived glass of Springwine his thoughts persisted.

A Captain must know when to fight, when to run, and, on dire occasions, when to destroy their own ship via the autodestruct sequence. Whether conducting a wedding or a funeral, speaking for the Federation, or defending its interests with military force, a Starfleet captain must always rise above all prejudices and influences to make sound and just decisions… day after day…mission upon mission. Am I truly ready for this?

As he finished swallowing the last vestiges of the second glass of Springwine, the new combadge sitting next to the empty glass signaled to him. He activated it and responded without conscious effort:

“Sterling here.”

A voice from the transmitting end of the link informed him:

“Captain Sterling, all security sweeps have been completed throughout the ship. You and the First Officer are now cleared to immediately board the Icarus.”

The moment of truth had arrived. He looked over at the First Officer as she was guzzling down the remnants of her drink and stated quizzically to her just as her Combadge activated as well:

“Well?”

Frazetti straightened, downed the rest of her drink in one swallow, and straightened her hat. He turned to her. She smiled.

"Lead da way, Boss."

As Hartzer and Sterling start walking away from the large docking bay window and toward the transporter pad, it seemed that by default that he was going to board this vessel.

Then suddenly, Sterling stopped and turned to the first officer.

“Let’s take a worker bee so that we can fly around and get a really good look at the full exterior of this vessel before we step foot inside and start examining the interior sections, Number One.”

Frazetti grinned.

"Darb idea, Boss."

She'd love to be able to see the Icarus up close. As an Ops officer, as well as newly promoted First Officer, her education encompasses bits and pieces of engineering, tactical, and science, as well as a few unique skills she had come across on her travels. This enabled her to see through the eyes of all three as the two of them would board and fly around in a tiny workbee.

They were exiting when they both finally noticed the sign over the bar:

The Neutral Zone
Where No One is Forbidden to Enter
(except non-paying clientele)

* * *