Chapter 1: The Brave and the Bold (part 1)
Posted on 02/26/2012 @ 11:49am by Captain Tyrel Sterling
Edited on on 02/26/2012 @ 3:24pm
Mission:
The Resurrection of Icarus
Location: Areas throughout sector space
Timeline: 2388
CHAPTER ONE : THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD
“Hey Commander Sterling,” the eager young ensign yelled out “you’ve got a priority message coming in from Starfleet Headquarters!”
Tyrel Zacharias Sterling sighed as he exhaled deeply.
Damn… what is it now?, he thought as he stood up to acknowledge the ensign’s message.
“I’ll take it in my quarters” was all he had the energy to say. His dealings with Starfleet and officers within its upper echelon had always been a precarious situation for as long as he could remember.
Sterling was quite an enigma in many capacities. Even while currently serving as first officer aboard the Galaxy-class cruiser Conquest, he still managed to find time to do some level of work in all of the other major departments. It wasn’t that he was deficient in delegating responsibility or didn’t have faith in the abilities of his crew; contrarily, he was highly proficient in these areas and working with his crew. The difference was he was a bit of a renaissance man; striving to be the master of many trades, and in this case departments. He purposely switched specializations as he worked his way up the ranks; beginning in tactical and security he later delved into studying science. More recently he has refocused his attention into engineering, which is why the young ensign knew to fine him in the bowels of the engineering department when he was off duty.
The reason for this was simple: if he were to one day command a vessel of his own, he wanted to be well-versed in the daily operations of each division. This way he could communicate knowledgeably with his bridge officers and the general crew. When an emergency situation arises, he could not only listen comprehensively to the information provided, he could also offer options, solutions, and alternatives from first-hand experience and a wide-ranging perspective. In the past, he has even jumped in to a given situation and worked side-by-side with members within that department.
The crew truly respected him for this, yet ironically he still generally maintained a distance from them in any socializing situation; again the enigma.
He dusted off his work clothes as he headed to the turbolift. Stepping inside he announced “Deck 2” and the lift quietly whisked him upward.
He stepped into his quarters and immediately headed toward the sonic shower.
If I’m going to be dealing with Starfleet Admirals or whatever… I might as well at least make myself presentable, he said inwardly to himself.
Standing at one point ninety meter tall and weighing in at well over a hundred kilos of a toned muscular human form, the showering space was quite cramped; akin to a vertical Jeffries tube… but it got the job done.
He stepped outside the shower and quickly put on his officers uniform. He then combed his somewhat longer than usual jet-black hair into a side part that usually ended with parts of it flowing down just over his steely grey-blue eyes as his hair dried. Now that he was properly groomed, he walked over to his communications terminal and activated the awaiting transmission.
The screen was then filled with the United Federation of Planets logo; mostly blue and black with stars on the inside and leaves on either side outside of the circle. This was followed by a Starfleet Command insignia.
Sterling then provided the required passwords before the image of a member of Starfleet personnel came into view.
“Greetings Commander Sterling” announced the formal woman sitting in a chair in an office at Starfleet Headquarters, according to the huge display behind her.
“I have Admiral Shelby who’s been waiting to speak with you. Please hold on while I check to see if the Admiral is currently available.”
Before Sterling could utter a syllable, her image was replaced by the Starfleet logo again.
Almost ten minutes later, her image reappeared and without hesitation she informed him:
“The Admiral will speak to you now” as she transferred the image to that of the Admiral sitting in his office.
“Commander Sterling, it is nice to see you again” the elder, blonde, serious looking woman began as she carefully looked over the image of Sterling with the eyes of a hawk.
“Thank you, Admiral” he responded simply; wondering what this transmission was all about.
“I will get right to the point, Commander; you are to proceed immediately to Starbase 39...without delay. Your Captain has just been notified of this change of plans and you should be on your way momentarily. Use this time in transit to gather all of your belongings and be prepared for a meeting with Admiral Kelek immediately upon your arrival. In addition, please keep this information confidential for the time being… until you are notified otherwise.”
Sterling looked at the Admiral intensely, trying to read anything from her mannerisms or carefully selected words… but nothing was revealed.
“Admiral, he then inquired, could you tell me what this is all about? Am I being reassigned? Is there a problem that I am not aware of? What is the purpose of this upcoming meeting on Starbase39?”
“Commander, you will be notified of all relevant information by Admiral Kelek on Starbase 39. Until then, prepare for your departure. Admiral Shelby out.”
In a flash, all that was visible was the image of the UFP logo emanating from the screen.
Well… that’s it I suppose… the commander thought, having already known his asking would prove to be a futile endeavor. Two and a half years of getting this crew and this ship in top notch condition and in a transmitted flash and a few directives it is all merely whisked away.
Starfleet… in their infinite wisdom… what the hell did they have up their sleeve now? He wondered impatiently.
He then turned and began packing all of his belongs.
“Computer,” he commanded as be began sorting through and organizing all of personal and professional belongings; “what is our current destination?”
“Starbase 39,”The synthetic voice immediately replied.
The Admiral’s orders had clearly found their way to the helm officer.
“What is our ETA?'' the commander inquired.
“At our current rate of travel, we should arrive at Starbase 39 in eleven point sixty-two hours.” The voice of the computer responded.
Enough time to finish packing and tie up some loose ends within the Conquest, the commander thought to himself. Although keeping this silent was going to be a challenge, especially considering that he didn’t even know what exactly he was trying to keep silent about; other than taking himself and his belongings to some meeting on the destined starbase.
Eleven point six-three hours later, Commander Sterling was standing on the transporter pad with a few bags of personal items surrounding him. He looked around.
Well… this is it... he thought just as the transporter chief stated engaging the controls; and then, his molecules began to shimmer away.
He was beamed down to what appeared to be a waiting room just outside the Admiral’s office. After a brief hesitation and a couple of deep breaths, he gathered up his gear and headed toward a reception desk. He approached the attractive and relatively youthful female behind the desk and stated:
“Hello, I’m Commander Ster…”
But, before he could finish, the receptionist had cut him off.
“Yes, Commander Sterling. The Admiral will be with you shortly. Please have a seat and we will call you when Admiral Kelek is ready to see you.” She stated curtly, but with a practiced tinge of politeness to soften the abruptness of her response.
Typical, he thought. I warp across the quadrant at the beckoning of one Admiral only to be left standing here with all of my belongings at my feet waiting to meet with another Admiral…. Yeah… hurry up and wait!
He then grabbed his belongings off of the floor and carried them off the nearest seat. After arranging his belongs, he sat down and began to look around at this part of the Starbase that he could see.
About fifteen minutes later, he noticed someone else approaching the receptionist desk. A relatively tall female with an unusual red hat leaning to one side with golden curls spilling down like ribbons of silk. She seemed quite spunky and animated as she began engaging the receptionist in conversation. They were like the opposite sides of the personality spectrum.
It takes all kinds… he thought to himself as he began glancing around the Starbase lobby again.
The woman took a sharp left, entered through a pair of doors, and paused.
She eyed the lobby sort of area the receptionist and the only other person in the room: a Human male, older than her by a decade or so, with black hair and grey-blue eyes. He sat calmly, steadily, but there was a hint to the corners of his mouth that said he was dissatisfied with something.
She winced mentally. The classic stern Starfleet Commander. Ugh. She knew she’d be dead in five minutes if she had to be all serious all the time, like this guy.
Conclusions about him took mere seconds to reach. Then, her sapphire eyes slid past him to the secretary.
“Heya, Miss. I’m here for a meetin’ wit-”
“Please take a seat; Admiral Kelek will be with you shortly,” the secretary said.
That brought her back instantly at the very moment all of it had begun: The day she received that unexpected communiqué from Starfleet Command.
That day, in her own quarters, Lieutenant Commander Frazetti Hartzer had stared at her computer screen, and blinked.
What the hell was this about?
Mere minutes ago, her screen had housed the image of one Admiral Shelby, who had told her curtly that she was being removed from her post as Ops and second officer and being reassigned from the little Nova class ship Helios to… well, somewhere. Her inquiries on that matter had been firmly ignored, which annoyed Frazetti to no end. And, of course, she was forbidden from discussing her reassignment. She needed to get to Starbase 39 ''as soon as possible''.
Well, Frazetti had thought, at least Commanduh Toomes’ll be rid of me.
The First Officer of the Helios and her always had had many differences of opinion. If nothing else, she could get out from under his glaring gaze now.
The unusual young Sigma Iotian had then leaned back in her chair, propped her feet up on the desk and tucked her hands behind her head as she had tried to puzzle this out.
As Starfleet officers go, Frazetti was one of a kind. The first Sigma Iotian ever to serve under the banner of the Federation, though the two had been allies for years. She wore the uniform of command, a darkish red and grey. Her deep blue eyes contrasted sharply with it; a wild mane of gold curls fell down in a tumble, loose and unarranged. Sitting at a jaunty angle was an unusual accessory to the otherwise standard uniform: a fedora, the same shade of darkish red as her collar, with a grey band around it and a gold Starfleet emblem on the side of the band. It was her ‘cultural artifact’, one she had (with typical Iotian charm) silver-tongued her way into back at the Academy. It had been with her ever since. Frazetti’s pale face furrowed as she began to list of all the reasons why she might be called so abruptly with so little information to Starbase 39.
Maybe dey’re in need of an Ops officer. Or somethin’. Hell’s bells, why da secrecy though? What’s so bleedin’ important ya can’t tell nobody ‘bout it?
She had then sat up straight, read the message again, and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was pert but slightly crooked; it had been broken in her past, and she hadn’t had the chance to go to a doctor on Vineya Prime. Frazetti stood and paced.
Well, she had concluded after a minute of thinking with her typical decisiveness, nuthin’ for it.
She was ordered to go to Starbase 39; so to Starbase 39 she would go.
I need t’ pack, she realized, an’ tell da captain an’ da commanduh. If’n it’s a promotion, I need t’ be sure t’ call him. Knock his high hat off, it will. She had allowed herself a quick, wicked grin.
Young and tactically brilliant, gifted with the knack for command, Frazetti was nonetheless a bit of a problem child where Starfleet was concerned. She had reprimands for fighting on her record from the Academy, though she tended to settle her problems less so with fists these days. One of her instructors had called her a firecracker. It was a term that suited her well.
Another term that suited her was a diamond in the rough. She had the instincts of a great officer, but lacked experience; and she knew it. She hoped this mystery assignment, whatever it was, might help her get some.
It had taken her nearly twelve hours to get to Starbase 39. In the aftermath of the Hobus Supernova, Starfleet was stretched thin; every resource needed to help the refugees, not all of them Romulans, and control the chaos the supernova left it its wake. So she had arrived later than she had planned, which still annoyed her.
But she was still early enough, she had hoped, as she had stepped out the door and looked around. Starbase 39 was a thriving town suspended in space. Officers and civilians bustled around her as she had taken in her environment, a small bag of belonging over one shoulder containing everything she had.
“Nah then…” she had muttered to herself, checking the PADD that had her information on it. “Where dis office dey talkin’ ‘bout…” She had checked her map, looked around again, shrugged, and picked a direction at random.
After merely several meters, she had realized that she ought to be going the other way, and turned around, chuckling at herself. Her long legs had carried her confidently and swiftly through the halls, boots tapping smartly on the floor. She had been ordered to report directly to the station commander’s officer as soon as she docked; no time allowed to drop off her, albeit admittedly small, bag of personal effects or even freshen up. She was aware her uniform was slightly wrinkled from the trip here.
But dey wanted me asap, dey gots me asap, she thought, unrepentant. Dey didn’ say nuthin’ ‘bout bein’ all dolled up.
Now back in mind and body to the same space and time, Frazetti blinked at the receptionist's brusqueness, restrained the urge to make a smart comment back at her, and nodded, taking a seat in the corner. She did not put her feet up on the metal and glass coffee table; she knew people took that as a bad first impression... but she did lean back, relaxing.
It had been a long trip.
About eighteen minutes later, the receptionist notified him through some sort of veiled amplification system.
“The Admiral is ready to see you now, Commander Sterling,” she announced as she glided her arm in the direction of the Admiral Kelek’s conference room.
He nodded an acknowledgement and then proceeded to the door; with belongings toted around his arms, and after a deep breath, walked into the conference room.
Frazeti paused, as the serious man was called into the room. Her eyes narrowed in a brief moment of confusion.
Wait... what? What's goin'...
Her mind quickly hit upon the possibility. She was willing to bet she wasn't the only one who had been contacted with no little amount of secrecy and reassigned. So, that meant whoever this man was, he was involved.
Commander Sterling, eh?
But as to what, and why...
Not a minute later, the secretary looked up.
"Lieutenant Commander Hartzer, you can enter now."
And Frazetti wasted no time doing just that.
As Sterling walked into the conference room well ahead of her, the sound of his shoes echoed off of the highly polished floor and the sparsely decorated walls. It was awkwardly the only sound emanating from this oversized room.
He noticed two figures awaiting him at the end of the table. One he acknowledged as Admiral Kelek, the other he didn’t recognize at all, but this one gave off an ambience of barely contained discontentment.
Captain Walsh simmered slowly as Commander Sterling entered the room. He was not in the best of moods. This conference was, to his thinking, beyond pointless into the realm of idiocy. But did anyone ask him? Noooo...
Sterling shrugged off this impression and sat down directly across from the two gentlemen; dropping his belongings rather abruptly to either side of his chair.
After an awkward silence that seemed to stretch to eternity, he eventually commented:
“Well, this is your show here Admiral… would you mind letting me know now why I was summoned here… a quarter way across this quadrant dragging my belongs with me?”
The elder Vulcan Admiral had just barely lifted the side of one eyebrow, when the door was pushed open again with an intentional forcefulness and in walked the woman with the red hat; heels clacking on the floor muttering something indistinguishable under her agitated breath.
“Oh damn …” Sterling thought; “this situation just keeps getting better as it goes along.”
Frazetti entered the room with her typical aplomb, and came to attention.
"Lieutenant Commanduh Fazetti Hartzer reportin' as ordered, Sir," she said.
She made an effort, as she usually did, to try and keep her thick Iotian accent down, and succeeded only halfway. The commander guy was there, sitting already, as was a Vulcan Admiral and a Captain, probably head of the starbase. The Admiral looked composed, in typical Vulcan fashion; but the Captain looked...
Kinda pissed, she concluded mentally. Like someone had gypped him somehow.
Walsh spoke.
"At ease, Lieutenant Commander," he said.
She relaxed, and took a seat one over from Sterling, facing Walsh. Walsh looked her over, displeased. He hadn't liked, well,any of the crew choices, really, but it was difficult for him to see the logic behind this...
"So, Sirs, what's goin' on here?" Frazetti asked immediately.
Her accent made 'here' sound like 'heah', and dropped the g from going entirely as she absently brushed a gold curl behind her ear, looking around with perceptive dark blue eyes.
Admiral Kelek glanced from Sterling to Hartzer as she settled in her chair in her not so subtle way before them both.
He then opened the dialogue.
“As custom dictates, I want to thank you both for arriving here so promptly” the Vulcan Admiral stated rather matter-of-factly; no veil of genuine sincerity implied whatsoever. “After a great amount of consideration and deliberation over the last few months, the Federation Council has decided to select you two to lead a most vital and secretive mission. Therefore, Commander Sterling, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Captain, while you Lieutenant Commander Hartzer are promoted to a full Commander. Congratulations,” the Admiral announced as he handed the officers their new pips.
Frazetti's interest was perked as she gave the Admiral her full attention.
A most vital an' secretive mission? Nah what could dat be? She wondered to herself.
Then, she froze for half a second, eyes wide.
Commanduh? Oxmyx's teeth! Commanduh Frazetti Hartzer...
It was a promotion, and one she relished, but it was highly unexpected. She knew she had the talent for command and the drive to succeed, but she was a little low on experience, and sometimes she had trouble getting along with people.
Still... Hot damn. One step shy of captain. Darb! Speaking of...
The guy sitting one seat over from her was going to be the captain of her next ship; of whatever this secret mission was.
She abruptly became aware of the new responsibilities she would have. Here, there was no if; she had to get along with people, because she had to set an example. And she'd have to get along with him, as well. This Captain Sterling fellow... she knew nothing about him, a fact which she resolved to remedy as soon as she got to her quarters. If they were going to be working together, as closely as captains and commanders do, it was essential.
She took the pip with a nod, and pinned it to her collar in line with the other three.
"T'ank yuh, Suh," she said.
Her accent thickened up over the words. A slow grin spread across her face as she resisted the urge to whoop out loud. This was going to be great.
Her eyes then slid sideways. That is, if Sterling wasn't a complete stick in the mud like her last commanding officer...
Sterling hesitantly reached over and accepted his new fourth pip, and like the new Commander next to him, carefully placed it onto his collar.
Damn, he thought. Captain already? Why so suddenly… and what the hell was this secret mission anyway? And what ship….
The Admiral interrupted Sterling’s thoughts.
“This mission will be… of a most delicate nature. So much so that we have meticulously hand-picked the entire crew, literally from around the fleet. In fact, your future bridge officers have arrived and are checking in as we speak. We just wanted to apprise you of your promotions and prepare you for their arrival before we invite them to join us.
Before Sterling could utter a single syllable, the Admiral had sent a signal to the receptionist who then informed the officer’s gather their waiting impatiently:
“Gentlemen, thank you for your patience, the Admiral will see you all now.”
* * *
Two Days after the Hobus Supernova catastrophe, almost a hundred light years away, the sun was just coming up peacefully over the San Francisco Bay as Brian Archer strode through the doors to Starfleet Command. He had to catch the admiral before she'd had a chance to delve into her daily intelligence reports because, once she started, there would be no interrupting her.
Brian nodded to a couple familiar faces as he walked through the polished hallways and remembered the last time he'd been in this very building.
Admiral Ross had stood in front of him as he was reading the citation:
"Lieutenant Brian Jonathan Archer, for distinguished service in battling the Dominion, and for saving the crew of the USS Neptune during the Battle of Chintoka, on behalf of Starfleet Command, and the Federation Council I hereby award you the Federation Star Cross, and Medal of Honor. Furthermore I promote you immediately to the rank of Lieutenant Commander with all the duties and responsibilities of that rank."
The applause rang out; Brian stood at attention and accepted the congratulations of admirals and of the Federation President. In reality he didn't want them, nor did he deserve them in his mind. On the Neptune, he had done his job, and nothing more, but they still had lost far too many good people... including the Neptune's captain Marc Leyton.
A week after the awards ceremony, Brian had left Starfleet, at least temporarily, to begin working with what he'd thought at the time were good people. People who could and would do things that Starfleet wouldn't do: Section 31.
In the six months since then, Brian had done things that he didn't want to remember, but couldn't forget and, in the last two days, he decided that it was time to make it right.
Now, he entered the admiral's office and approached the desk of the admiral's assistant, a young Human female lieutenant with wavy brown hair and brown eyes who was so absorbed in her viewer it took her a full two minutes to realize Brian was standing in front of her.
"Civilians aren't allowed in here; if you'd like to see the admiral, you'll have to make an appointment," she said politely, but in a tone that told Brian she didn't have time for him.
"Just tell the admiral that Brian Archer is here to see her."
"I'm sorry Sir, but...”
Brian put his hands on the desk and leaned toward her.
"Just, tell her, Lieutenant."
The woman blinked her brown eyes at him, and gave him a look that said "fine, but it won't do any good."
Brian stepped back as she keyed up her intercom.
"Admiral,"
"What is it, Lieutenant Brennan."
"There's a Brian Archer here to see you, he was insistent."
There was a momentary pause on the other end before the disembodied voice of the admiral responded.
"I'm sure he was; send him in Brennan."
"Yes Ma'am."
Lieutenant Brennan eyed Brian suspiciously.
"She'll see you right away."
Brian flashed a smile at her.
"Thank you."
He strode past her and through the doors to the inner office. Sitting behind her desk looking up at him with a hint of surprise on her face was Admiral Kathryn Janeway.
"Hello Admiral,"
"Have a seat, Mister Archer."
"I'll stand, Ma'am."
"I said; sit…down," Janeway replied. "If you want to come back to Starfleet, you'll have to learn to follow orders again."
Brian gaped at her...how she could have known?
"Why else would you be here? And besides, I have my ways." she said with a wry smile
Brian didn't doubt it. There were few officers as resourceful as Kathryn Janeway. She had proved that much when she had brought the USS Voyager back from the Delta Quadrant. If Janeway knew about his intentions, Brian wondered what else she knew... but he didn't even want to consider it.
"Yes," he admitted finally; "I want to come back, and it sounds like Starfleet could use the help."
"You're right, we're still trying to replenish our losses from the Dominion War, and we're spread thin. A veteran officer like you would be a real asset. I'll approve your reinstatement, even if I don't like the way you walked away... but, under one condition."
"Name it."
"You will accept the assignment I give you with no objections."
Brian wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.
"Admiral..."
"Don't 'Admiral' me, Mister Archer, that's my condition, take it or leave it."
Brian sighed.
"Fine; you win."
"Good. You will report to the USS Icarus at Starbase 39 in one week. The USS Bonhomme Richard leaves for Starbase 39 in two days. I will inform her captain you will be a passenger."
Icarus...that name sounded familiar to Brian
"Admiral, USS Icarus... you mean...the Icarus?
"The same."
"Admiral, that ship is older than both of us combined!"
Janeway smiled.
"And newly refitted for a special mission. Remember what I said, no objections. Now, I believe you're out of uniform, Lieutenant Commander Archer."
Brian knew defeat when he heard it. Admiral Janeway had him dead to rights.
"Aye, Ma'am. Permission to be dismissed, Ma'am?"
"Get out of here, Commander."
Brian stood up out of the chair, and left the office.
One day after his meeting with Admiral Janeway, Brian returned to the Starfleet Command campus. This time he wore a long coat to combat the chill of an early fall evening on the bay. The sun was just starting to set in the sky, and a cool breeze blew off the water. Brian strode through the gated archway, as the Federation and Starfleet flags whipped above it and walked among the markers until he came to one in particular.
In Memoriam: Captain Marc Anthony Leyton
Commanding Officer USS Neptune
Killed in the Cardassia System
2375
"I'm sorry Sir," Brian said to the marker as he stood at the foot of the site. He placed a solitary Federation flag in a holder on the marker and stood silently for a moment.
"Too many good men lying here."
Brian turned to face the source of the new voice. A black haired man, about Brian's height, wearing a coat similar to Brian's strode toward him. He was accompanied by a strikingly beautiful woman who stood just slightly shorter than the two men, with fire red hair and emerald green eyes. Brian had seen both of them many times before, but he hoped this would be the last time. The man was Michael Stone, and the woman Cassandra Strider, both of them Section 31 agents.
"I agree," Brian replied to the man's comment.
"You wanted to meet here... why?" Stone asked "this is against protocol."
"Because I have a message."
"From who?"
"Me." Brian undid his jacket to reveal the gold tunic of a Starfleet security officer. "I'm done. I'm going back to the fleet, where I belong… Where I can really help the Federation."
Stone laughed maliciously,
"No one is ever 'done' with Section 31."
Brian narrowed his eyes at Stone.
"I...am...done. If you or anyone else ever come near me, my family or anyone I know ever again, I will send them back to you in pieces. Then, I will pass along every dirty little secret, and every name I know to Starfleet Intelligence."
Stone stepped closer to Brian and spoke so only the two of them could hear.
"You wouldn't dare; besides, we're everywhere. Starfleet will never be rid of us."
"Are you willing to risk it?" Brian asked maliciously in kind.
Stone offered no response and Strider stood by seemingly assessing which of the two men would come out on top.
"That's what I thought," Brian said and he turned to walk away; but Stone grabbed his arm. Brian reacted instantly; he yanked his arm, pulling Stone toward him and clothe-lined him across the throat, putting him down on the ground.
Stone put his hands to his throat and looked wild-eyed up at Archer.
Brian glared down at him,
"You're defiling this place with your presence. Clean yourself up and get the hell out. C'mon Cassie."
At that, Cassandra Strider unbuttoned her own coat to reveal her own gold Starfleet tunic with lieutenant's pips attached. Stone could only watch as the pair walked away.
Three days later, a comm channel opened to address Brian.
"Bridge to Commander Archer."
Sitting in the crew mess of the Akira Class USS Bonhomme Richard, Brian stopped eating his breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and strong coffee mid-bite and tapped his combadge.
"Archer here."
"We're approaching Starbase 39, Sir. They've indicated you're to meet with Admiral Keleck on arrival."
"Thank you, Archer out."
Brian took a few more bites of the eggs, and another sip of coffee and then left the mess, heading for his quarters. Once there, he grabbed his one duffel bag of personal effects, and headed for the Richard's main transporter room. As the turbolift whisked him toward the appropriate deck, he wondered for the hundreth time what this mission was all about, and why they were sending an older than dirt starship instead of a state of the art Sovereign or Galaxy class cruiser.
As Brian approached the transporter room, he put his questions aside and figured that they would all be answered likely within the next few hours. Cassandra Strider was waiting for Brian as the doors to the transporter room opened.
"About time," she said playfully
"I was eating breakfast," he replied with a smile
"You were eating that greasy mess you call breakfast?"
"Its better than that dry stuff you eat. Besides I'll work it off later during our workout."
"You're assuming this rust bucket we're reporting to has a holodeck." Cassie said
"She's old," Brian said, "but she's not that old. Listen, I have to meet with Admiral Keleck so why don't I find you later."
She nodded.
"Sounds good."
The pair stepped onto the transporter pad.
"Energize," Brian commanded and the Bonhomme Richard faded away
* * *
On the Bridge of the USS Galaxy, first to bear the name of its class, sat a Romulan at the Helm console. He had black hair, green eyes, and an extremely pale complexion... especially for someone with his pointed ears, upswept eyebrows and faint frontal ridges. He’s apparel was rather unusual, as it wasn’t a Starfleet uniform; quilted grey -silvery fabric with padded shoulders and thin V-shaped baldric, it was, just like him, obviously Romulan.
This Romulan was as obviously under the exchange program that Starfleet used with other races outside of the United Federation of Planets. With the recent development towards better relations between the two cultures, he was living proof that these sentiments were more than just good wishes nowadays.
And the first ever of his kind.
An older Human man entered the Bridge and spoke to him:
“Sub-lieutenant, I’d like to see you in my ready room.”
As the older man left the bridge and entered the Captain's Ready room adjoining it, the Romulan tapped at his console. Two minutes later, another officer came onto the Bridge and stood behind him. He tapped the console a few more times and then finally got up. As the other officer sat down, the Romulan placed his hand on the back of the helmsman chair, leaned in and said:
“I’ve just updated the course. We are currently on a parabolic course to DS9. In fifteen minutes, change course, 15 mark 2.”
“Yes sir, Sub-Lieutenant.” The officer responded.
The Romulan stood straight and turned to face the Captain's Ready room door. He took a deep breath and then proceeded to walk to the door. He tapped the door control and the door opened.
The older man waved him in.
“Captain, you wanted to see me?”
“Sub-Lieutenant, please have a seat.”
The Romulan moved closer to the Captain's desk and sat down.
“Mister Falcar, you had a rather shaky start if I recall. However you’ve done an excellent job thus far. So good of a job, I regret to say this. I’ve just gotten word from Starfleet that you are to report to the commander of Starbase 39, as soon as possible. Believe me when I say, I tried to find a way to keep you with us; however, it would seem there’s no way out of this.”
“Thank you, Captain. I have enjoyed my time here, and would certainly like to stay. If you couldn’t figure a way out of it, I suppose there’s no way. Do you know what this is all about?”
The Captain laughed.
“No idea. I tried to get the details, but it was all for not. Are we still on course for Deep Space 9?”
“Yes Captain. We should be docking in twenty minutes.”
“Good. I’ve talked with Colonel Kira, on Deep Space 9, and it would seem, they have a Runabout waiting for you, you’ll take it to Starbase 39.”
“Understood Captain.”
“I know you found it difficult when you first came on board, but I truly hope you won’t find that type of welcome, on whatever your new assignment may be.”
Falcar took a moment of silence and then spoke.
“Thank you, Captain, as...” Falcar paused a moment; “as do I.”
“Best luck, Janus, and I hope to get you back soon.”
Falcar stood up, at attention.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Falcar then exited the Captain’s Ready room. He stood on the Bridge for a moment and noticed on the viewscreen the image of DS9 getting larger and larger. Falcar turned and entered the Turbolift next to the doors of the Captain's Ready room.
“Deck 4.”
The lift activated and only took a short moment before it stopped and opened its doors. The Sub-Lieutenant exited the turbolift, walked down the corridor and finally ended up at his own quarters.
As he entered, he looked around at his sparse quarters before h began to pack the items and clothing that he had and, fifteen minutes later, he had finished.
He placed the straps of two bags around his head and proceeded out of his quarters. It took him some time to make it to the airlock. His feet felt a bit heavier than usual.
After wanting at the airlock for a few moments, the doors opened and the access way could be seen through the open doors. Falcar walked onto DS9 station orbiting the planet Bajor, made famous by the events of the Dominion war as much as the nearest of the only stable wormhole known in the quadrant and took a moment to look around. He then proceeded to the station turbolift with several station officers and rode it down in silence.
The lift stopped, the doors opened and there stood a Bajoran officer. A very strange Bajoran officer; his face looked… roughly sketched, very smooth and with barely any detail, like a rigid mask. The eyes were deeply sunken and the nose looked a bit... strange.
One thing certain; he was no Bajoran... or even Human.
Judging by the surprised expression on everyone's face, no one knew why the lift had stopped at this precise level until the Bajoran officer spoke with a gravely voice.
“Sub-lieutenant Falcar, I’m here to escort you to your Runabout.”
Falcar looked around and smiled around apologetically. He made his way through the crowded lift and exited, looking now straight at the weird Bajoran officer. The lift doors closed and Falcar was now alone with this unknown officer. They began to walk down the corridor when the officer spoke:
“I’m Constable Odo. I must say it’s rather odd to see a Romulan officer on a Federation ship.”
“I’m Sub-lieutenant Falcar. I’m a part of the Federation exchange officer program. A friend of mine suggested it, and even helped me get into it. Former friend.”
Falcar suddenly stopped. He seemed a little depressed.
Odo noticed the change in mood.
“So, who was this friend? Seems to me he must have been a good friend, to help you get a great opportunity.”
Falcar looked up at Odo.
“He was Ambassador Spock.”
“Ah... Ambassador Spock. He was a wise man, truly a great man. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah.”
The two stopped at an airlock and Odo turned to Falcar.
“Well Sub-lieutenant, here is your Runabout. I hope you have a safe trip. And good speed, Sub-Lieutenant.”
Odo then walked off and Falcar turned to open the airlock. He stepped through and entered the Runabout. He laid his bags down, next to a passenger seat, and looked around. He closed the hatch and then sat down at the helm. He brought the systems online and opened the channel.
“This is Sub-Lieutenant Falcar, runabout Nile; ready to launch.”
“This is Ops, Nile; you are cleared... safe trip.”
The Runabout launched from the platform and Falcar maneuvered the smallish starship around for one final look at the USS Galaxy. After the final pass, he set a course for Starbase 39, and entered warp.
Falcar spent thirteen hours on the Runabout until the console finally beeped, stating that he was nearing his destination. The Runabout dropped out of warp, and the Starbase was right in front of him, gleaming in his forward viewport from the light of the not so distant star of the system it was located in. The Runabout moved closer, when Falcar opened a channel.
“This is Runabout Nile, request permission to land.”
“Runabout Nile, you are cleared, proceed to landing pad 08.”
Falcar maneuvered his craft around the starbase and finally landed. After a few moments, the hatch opened and the Romulan stood and grabbed his bags. He proceeded out of the airlock and into a corridor, walking through the Starbase looking right and left.
He came to the Admiral's office, easily identifiable as the only one with a receptionist. He walked up to her, and before he could say a word, she spoke first.
“Sub-lieutenant Falcar, please have a seat. The Admiral will be with you shortly.”
Falcar was a little stunned but then turned around and sat down in the nearest chair.
* * *
"Break!" The team said in unison.
The team moved quietly into position, taking a standard spread formation. Jayvin lined up on the right side of the formation and got in to his stance.
"Blue 62!"
As Jayvin stood there in his bright red uniform, he could barely hear the famous, 'LA Dragons' quarterback, Johnathan Fry, over the roar of the crowd.
"Hut hut!" Johanthan yelled out and, in a flash, the play was off.
Jayvin jammed the defensive lineman in front of him before darting off downfield. He loved the thrill of running a route as he dodged and weaved between the defensive backs.
As he darted down the field, Johanthan took a few quick steps back, glanced down the length of the terrain and tossed a perfect pass to Jayvin in the flat.
Jayvin smiled and raised his hands to snatch that ball out of the air.
Suddenly, everything went quiet, before the voice of a young woman chimed in overhead. "Doctor Cyl: Priority 1 message from Starfleet Headquarters for you."
He took his eyes off the ball for a moment as the message started and it just bonked off his hard plastic helmet.
"Ahhh.." Was all he got out as he reached for the ball, but, as he did, he was laid out, by a one hundred and twenty-five kilos lineman.
He had never been happier for holodeck safety locks.
As he stood, he stretched his neck before commanding:
"Computer; arch!"
In the middle of the field appeared an entrance showing a starship corridor beyond a thick metallic doorframe with a control panel on one side.
"Ensign I will take it here."
"Aye, Sir," the feminine voice replied.
Jayvin moved quickly to the arch and took off his helmet, tapping on the comm button.
"Greeting Doctor Cyl, came back another feminine voice he did not recognize; nor the brown-haired woman's face on the small screen. ''Please hold for Admiral Shelby."
He still wasn't used to being called Cyl. While Jayvin had just finished his medical checks and training on Trill, he had been called upon for the Joining. It was still an odd feeling, both familiar and alien at the same time, to be now the host of another form of life with its own consciousness, and several past others along with it, all joined with his, their only common link being this slug-like sentient lifeform identified as Cyl that had been implanted surgically in his abdomen, in the time honored manner of his people. He was still Jayvin... but now, he was indeed also Cyl.
Jayvin ran his hand through his hair as he awaited the Admiral. Minutes came and went before she finally appeared on the screen.
"Doctor Cyl; I will assume it went well on Trill?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Good... As its standard practice to transfer recently joined Trills, you are to report to starbase 39 for assignment."
"Aye, ma'am. What class of ship?
"Admiral Kelek will have all the details. Admiral Kincad will give you a shuttle to get there"
Jayvin merely nodded.
"Dismissed" She said firmly before cutting the line.
Nearly four days later, Jayvin laid back in the small shuttle's chair and tossed his football up and down as he waited.
A husky male voice came over the comm.
"This is Starbase 39; please identify yourself. "
"Doctor Cyl here. Shuttle Red River, requesting permission to dock. "
"Shuttlebay 8 ready to receive you, Doctor Cyl... and welcome to Starbase 39. Admiral Kelek would like you come to his office a.s.a.p."
Quietly and smoothly the shuttle made its way into the starbase while his boredom quickly changed to trepidation. And, a short time later, Jayvin stepped in to the waiting room lobby, his packed bag in tow. He glanced around the room as he walked up to the secretary.
"Hello..."
"Please take a seat; Admiral Kelek will be with you shortly."
Jayvin nodded and sat down on the other side of the room, noticing not without some surprise a Romulan officer already waiting on another chair, two standard-issue Starfleet personal bags at his feet.
"Greetings... ah... Sub-lieutenant, Is it?"
Falcar looked over to see the man with the noticeable spots lining each side of his neck over his blue collar and nodded.
"Jolan Thru," he responded with the typical expression of his own people.
When Lieutenant Commander Brian Jonathan Archer rematerialized, he was standing in what seemed to be an outer office similar to the one he'd been in before meeting with Admiral Janeway just a short time ago. He also noted that there were several other officers present... and one of them was Romulan!
Suddenly Brian wished he had a phaser; though if the Romulan was here, Brian realized there must be a purpose.
Carrying his bag slung over a shoulder, Brian walked up to the desk of the admiral's aide, seemingly ignoring the Romulan.
"Ah, Commander Archer, welcome. Admiral Keleck will be receiving you shortly." greeted the secretary without even smiling.
Brian nodded and found an empty seat to sit and wait… And watch.
* * *
''Well... for a man who said he was through with Starfleet...''
The face on the small screen was an almost perfect reflection of the one leaning before it; barely a few wrinkles on the feline features and some grey in the thick mane of hair made it distinguishable from that of the younger man holding the portable transmitter. The voice too, was almost identical, albeit much more laced with sarcasm.
''Just a moment, father... I'll explain what happened. Your revered Admiral Janeway invoked a little known, seldom used, reserve activation clause. In simpler words, father... they drafted me.''
''No, they didn't.''
The younger man startled visibly, then, a moment later, darted a finger at the image of the older one, preceding the frown over the piercing steel-grey eyes on his startlingly bronze-hued face and the suddenly angrier tone of voice.
''This was your idea! This was your idea, wasn't it?''
For a moment, it looked as if the small terminal would be crushed in the powerful hands of the young bronze-skinned man, the muscles of his arms bulging with barely contained anger. It took a moment for him to calm down, but the distinctive green hues of his complexion lingered on his face as the calm voice of the elder man spoke through the speaker.
''Ray... you still need the training, the experience. You're not ready yet.''
''You mean that you're not ready to step down yet, father. You still want to go through with all of this, even after mother...''
''Don't bring your mother into this, Ray.''
''You should have thought of that before you married her.'' the young man named Ray shot back with a smirk, despite the still angry gleam in his cold metallic-hued eyes.
''Well... I was not thinking much, back then...''
''That much is certain.''
There was an uncomfortable silence before the voice on the comm channel resumed:
''And Starfleet needs you, Ray… Badly''
''Doesn't look like it from where I'm standing.''
It was the older man's turn to smirk.
''Don't like your new quarters?''
''Old quarters, father; this is not my first stay in a brig and you know it... probably not my last either.''
''I'm surprised you're still in there.''
''Well it’s quiet… although this time I do not deserve those nice accommodations.''
''You can't expect Starfleet to ignore the consequences of one of his freshly promoted commanders being responsible for wounding two Klingon warriors in a brawl...''
''It did finally give Ambassador Sarek the respect he deserved so that he could be heard by their High Council... and former Commander, if you please, father. They busted me down for this you know.''
''Again? After only one day? Must be some kind of record...''
''Thank you, father.''
Silence once again stretched between them. But there was like the echo of a distant, shared laugh somewhere far away in it.
''And what is this about Starfleet needing me?'' recalled Ray outloud. ''After this last incident on Khitomer, I would guess they need me as far away from this uniform as possible...''
''On the contrary, my son; the Admiral was quite insistent on having me convincing you not resigning because of it. She said the service could handle you fine; but only you could handle the kind of assignment she planned.''
''Which is?''
''Classified.''
The smirk of the older man was greeted by the expression of growing curiosity on the coppery face of his son.
''You do know how to hook me on such things now, don't you?'' Ray sighed after a moment.
''I too learned a thing or two from your mother.''
''But I know that you know more than what the Admiral wanted you to know anyway. Can't you tell me anything?'' asked the young man.
''And spoil all the fun?''
''For me or for you, father?''
They now both smirked at each other. Then, after another moment, Ray sighed heavily, head bowed in defeat, but his grey eyes looking past his lowered eyebrows, auburn as his thick, long mane, and his voice hinted at deviousness within the affected resignation.
''Hmmm, okay, fine... But I did hear that they are about to launch a refitted, high profile ship for some important mission now; so, if I am to be reassigned to a counseling job on a starship, it will have to be on a better ship than the Cairo... and with a smart captain this time, not a stuffed-up, overbearing tin-plated dictator with delusions of grandeur like Captain Edward Jellicoe.''
The older man just smiled and winked.
Ray sighed again.
''Take care, son.''
''About what?''
They both laughed at he closed the channel.
Standing up from the simple hard bunk that retracted automatically into the wall as he did so, the bronze-skinned muscular man went to the brightly lit force-field door that covered the narrow entrance to the small cubicle he was in.
''Ho! Dungeon master!''
The security officer sitting behind his console jerked his head up at the bellowing voice of the prisoner.
''Quiet! If you...''
He stopped in mid-sentence as his eyes fell on the portable comm unit Ray was holding in his left hand.
''How did you...''
''Oh...'' then said the prisoner, as if just now remembering suddenly the instrument he had been using. ''It's yours I believe.''
''How did you...'' The man shook his head and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Then, with an angry stomp and an angrier stare, he came to the door and ordered:
''In the food slot... please. Now.''
''There is a call incoming.''
''What?''
''Your station console...''
And at this very moment, there was indeed a beep chiming from the security board, pulling the security officer back to it to answer the call. After a moment of soft exchange of words, the man looked with widened eyes at Ray, cut off the link and went back to him. His face stretched between frustration and disbelief, he deactivated the energy door.
''Admiral Kelek... wants you in his office. Now.''
''Ah! He wants to do the flogging himself, of course.'' smirked the prisoner.
The guard muttered something unintelligible between his teeth and punched the deactivation button. Ray emphatically blew through the door as the force-field whisked away, then put his hands in his pocket to strut unhurriedly out of the cell.
He barely made a few steps towards the door that the powerful grip of the security officer stopped him. He feigned stumbling backward, testing how the man reacted to his shift in body weight, seeing how swiftly he could have surprised him with a pivoting leg sweep behind the knees. He liked to do that often.
''Sorry... Sir... but it would not be... wise... to have you wander the base's corridors. This way... please.''
The courtesy of the man was evidently forced in him by protocol; but Ray did not mind. The lack of sincerity was not unexpected; and for one with his training, much too plain to see. But Ray could not help but feel strange witnessing the professionalism of the guard. He felt almost... humbled by it.
Indeed, he still had a few things yet to learn.
''This way... please... Sir,'' now said the guard, pointing to a small two-men transporter pad, the kind found in shuttles... and light security sections on starbases like this one.
Once they were both on it and another security officer came to relieve him at his post, the security man nodded to his fellow guard and both him and Ray were seized by the transporter beam. The brig dissolved before their eyes and the typical high officer office appeared instead. With the guard in tow, Ray stepped down the pad and, still hands in his pockets, looked around at the few men seated in the waiting lobby, then walked nonchalantly to the desk of the secretary.
''Ah, Lieutenant Commander Raymond Quinn Pasqual...''
''Please, no pictures, no autographs, no bows... but you may applaud if you wish.''
The woman had to lower her head to stifle the laugh coming to her lips and regain her composure before she cleared her throat to finish:
''The Admiral will be seeing you momentarily. You may sit and wait here.''
Ray, hands in his pockets, spun halfway around and eyed the guard behind him.
''You are dismissed.''
It looked like the security officer would say something but, with a sigh, stepped back to the transporter pad and keyed himself back to the brig area.
''See you later!'' said Ray as a parting salute. He looked again with a charming smile at the receptionist and then, seemingly ignoring the others, shuffled himself to the nearest wall to lean on it comfortably. That is when he eyed the Romulan with a curious stare.
''And I thought I was the one out of place here.''
Falcar, ignored the remark. However, he had a slight expression of disgust on his face.
To one with Ray's training, it was as plain as his pointed ears to see.
''Yeah, my feeling exactly.''
“Gentlemen, thank you for your patience, the Admiral will see you all now.”
Falcar stood up and nodded to the receptionist as he passed her. He walked through the doors and entered a large conference room. He looked around for a moment then continued to walk towards the table. He made his way to the left of the table and sat in a chair that was near an unknown man, with another chair separating them.
He sat there, watching the others who had assembled in the waiting room come in and take their seats. He waited, not speaking a word.
Jayvin also nodded to the receptionist, tossed his bag over his shoulder and head into the room.
As he walked in, he took stock of the officers already there. He smiled at the Commander, before glancing at the admiral.
A shiver ran down his back. He felt like he knew the Admiral but he couldn't place him. As he took a seat, he assumed that Cyl, his symbiont, must have met him before.
But the symbiont did not tell.
Brian Archer rose when the others did, and followed them through the conference room doors. Waiting inside were two captains, a commander, and of course Admiral Kelek whom Brian knew both by reputation and from the dossier that Section 31 had on him... as they did on multiple Starfleet officers.
To that end, he had already recognized the Romulan as well; part of an officer exchange program as Brian recalled.
As he sat down, he thought that the Romulan's presence on this Starbase this close to Romulan territory after their population had been devastated by a supernova might have been a coincidence...that is, if Brian had believed in coincidences.
* * *
