Chapter 2: All I Ask is a Tall Ship (part 1)
Posted on 02/26/2012 @ 2:07pm by Captain Tyrel Sterling
Edited on on 02/26/2012 @ 3:44pm
Mission:
The Resurrection of Icarus
Location: USS Icarus
Timeline: 2388
Chapter 2: ALL I ASK IS A TALL SHIP (part 1)
M'elena had checked out the bridge. To be honest, to her it was smaller that she had thought. The Icarus was without doubt a fast refit, but she could not see why Starfleet had not just ripped out the bridge module. It was far too old.
She had made her way to the small but comfortable science office on one of the lower decks and had already sent for her department heads. Only two she knew from her last ship; they had served well together and she smiled at the memories of the research they had shared.
The first to enter the office was one of those old shipmates; Lieutenant Lena Than. The young Trill female took a seat on one of the couches nearby and drank what seemed to be an aromatic tea. M'elena wasn't sure which; it smelled like cinnamon. The young woman was always alert even after pulling a double shift. As Assistant Chief Science Officer, she would coordinate everything done in the science labs.
The door opened again and an older Vulcan male entered. M'elena had also know him elsewhere as well. Ensign S'rek was not your average Vulcan; in fact he had entered Startfleet at a much older age, or one that would be considered older in Human terms. He had brought up a small family and had been a tutor at the Vulcan Science Academy.
"I hope I have not disturbed you. I believe I am on time"
"Yes S'rek, you're on time, as always. If you'd like to help yourself to a drink and a seat while we wait for the others..." M'elena said.
"Thank you, I prefer to stand," replied S'rek.
S'rek was the department's Language Specialist and would fill the role very well. The Vulcan spoke fluently nine languages, including Klingon.
The door opened again and two Humans came in. They were Ensign Henry Olbermann and Warrant Officer Neil Barclay. Barclay was the younger of the two and had a fair complextion, while Olbermann was dark-skinned with wrinkles of experience in his smiling face. M'elena directed the two to get a drink and take a seat. Olbemann would be overseeing most of the day to day needs of the science labs, while Barclay would be in charge of Stellar Cartography.
As they sat down the final two entered the room: Lieutenant Junior Grade Lois Ringer walked with a stride like she wasn't sure of anything, but the apparent uncertainty in fact hid a very organized mind. As a Biologist, the blonde Human was second to none; Ringer did use her looks a lot to get what. Or who, she wanted thought, M'elena knew; but her personal life was her own affair.
M'elena considered her choice of drink a little suspect, but then again. Klingon Bloodwine was, literally, not everyone's cup of tea.
Lieutenant Olinda Ferrari entered seconds behind Ringer. The dark-haired woman came from one of Earth's colonies, M'elena couldn't remember which. She was well built, decently muscled and always worked out when she had any free time. Her file said she'd lost a husband a while ago in a shuttle accident. The Caitian guessed Olinda put everything into keeping fit and her job, as the ship's archaeologist and anthropologist. Ferrari took a seat she'd already had what seemed to be a bottle of water in one hand.
"Thank you all for coming, greeted the felinoid Chief of science; I won't keep you long. I am sure you all want to look over the science facilities and such. I will be expecting a hundred percent from everyone on our new assignment. I know this is not what we would call a great challenge but, for now and until we get a better assignment, we'll have to do our best. I am sure the department will be the best in the fleet and I have the utmost confidence in you all. Some of you I have worked with before and others not, but we will get to know each other and bond as a team. This will not be the usual shakedown cruise from what I have seen of the ship so far, so, all reports will have to be filled and completed on time and all systems will be checked before we leave the dock"
M'elena took a drink of her Caitain tea and continued.
"There will be a few teething troubles, I am sure... but nothing we can't surmount. That's all"
And so saying, she worked with them on the way science and research would be conducted on the Icarus.
Inside his quarters, Chief of Security and Tactical Brian Archer unpacked the various items in his duffel, including a holo for the NX-01 which reminded him of his heritage. Even though he declined to acknowledge it publicly he was proud of his lineage, and he wanted to do his ancestor proud. He wondered what Jonathan Archer would think about Section 31. If the command profile he'd taken on the man at the Academy was any indication he would probably despise the shadow organization much as Brian did now.
After setting up the holo of the Enterprise Brian sat down at the desk and opened the terminal.
"Computer, open a channel to Captain Patrick Neil, USS Neptune."
"Working..." replied the pleasant feminine voice. "Call pending..."
Brian waited for a few moments staring that the Federation emblem, and then finally the weathered face of Captain Patrick Neil. Neil had been the first officer of the Neptune when Brian was the ship's chief of security. They had gone through the hell of the Battle of Cardassia together and when the Jem'Hadar has boarded the Neptune both men fought side by side to save their ship.
"Hello Patrick,"
"Brian! I thought you left Starfleet! Where are you calling from?!"
"Starbase Thirty-Nine, that's all I can tell you."
Neil nodded "I understand, but my God it’s good to see your face. Where have you been? What have you been doing for thirteen years?!"
Brian offered a smile "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I'm back in uniform now. I wanted to call… and tell you that I know I shouldn't have done what I did."
The happy expression on Neil's face changed to a more stoic one "You don't owe me anything Brian. You saved my life, and that battle shook up a lot of people. Death and destruction on that scale...I still have nightmares sometimes. So many good ships...so many good people..."
"I went to see the captain..."
"Did you? Good...he...he would have wanted to see you."
"Listen, Patrick I have to go, but if there's anything you ever need..."
"Same goes for you Brian...good luck with whatever you're doing my friend."
"Maybe I'll come see the ship sometime."
"You should, we just finished a refit, she's better than ever!"
"Just keep here afloat Captain."
"You know it, goodbye Brian."
"Goodbye...Sir."
Neil killed the transition on his end and the Federation emblem appeared again on the viewer. Brian wiped away the slight tear that had begun to form in his eyes, stood up and left his quarters headed for the bridge.
Brian exited the turbolift and the skeleton bridge crew turned to regard him.
"Don't mind me," he directed the Ensign in the command chair "Just checking things out."
"Aye Sir," the ensign replied; "she's something isn't she?"
"Indeed Ensign." Brian replied as he walked over to the tactical station. There was a young female ensign sitting in there and she looked up as he approached.
"May I, Ensign..."
"Pyle Sir, and of course."
"Commander Archer," Brian said as an introduction.
Pyle smiled.
Yes Sir, I know. You don't have that name and not get noticed."
"Right," Brian said dismissively as Pyle slid into the assistant tactical chair.
Brian examined the display and noted that the ship's weapons appeared to be online and in standby. Quickly he checked the torpedo inventory and initiated a diagnostic of all the tactical systems. As he did so the communications officer turned around
"Message coming in from Captain Sterling. He's requesting permission to dock and come aboard."
Brian heard the report and responded before the ensign in the command chair could do so.
"By all means approved. I will meet him personally."
"Aye, Sir."
Brian stood up and turned to face Ensign Pyle.
"Monitor the diagnostic I've started and report any anomalies to me immediately."
"Aye, Sir."
Brian headed back into the turbolift
"Deck 10," he commanded the computer and as the lift began to move he tapped his combadge. "Archer to Strider."
"I'm here."
"Meet me outside airlock 4 in five, the captain is coming aboard; and bring Mister Callen with you."
"Aye, Sir."
A few minutes later, the lift stopped on deck ten and Brian stepped out. He walked with purpose down the passageway as several junior officers moved out of his way. As he approached the airlock entrance he found Cassie, and Lieutenant Callen already waiting.
"What kept ya?" Cassie said.
"I was all the way up on the bridge..
All the while, the minuscule yellow vehicle with its pair of pincers below the large bubble in front of its elongated hull was completing a complete orbit around the Icarus.
Even though the tour around the ship in the workbee was rather brief, it was very beneficial to have the opportunity to see all aspects of this ship in its refitted magnificence before she became officially active and headed out into space.
A shade over five hundred meters long, almost two hundred wide and nearly a hundred tall, with seventeen decks and a crew of five hundred and fifty, the Excelsior class starship was designed along the most classic and venerable lines of spacecraft construction favored by Starfleet; a structure proven for centuries as the most efficient and effective for its ships of the line: a primary hull section shaped like a saucer, connected by a forward neck to an elongated secondary hull, here shaped more like a spoon than the cylinder of the preceding Constitution class that inspired it. Aft was extended a pair of pylons forming each side a right angle to elevate long, slim warp nacelles as long themselves as the rest of the entire two million, three hundred and fifty thousand metric tons vessel.
This design as of the endline refit first implemented on the USS Lakota and made famous by none other than the USSS Enterprise NCC-1701-B; the most prominent difference was the enlarged decks amidship on the secondary hull, providing added space and systems to the basic configuration.
The Excelsior class was a very old design, now followed for decades by the revolutionary Ambassador class, then the most successful Galaxy class and nowadays by the powerful Sovereign class. Yet, the lines of this venerable starship still carried the same nobility, the same harmony of power and beauty, of efficiency and tranquility that had made Starfleet most famous, to which no other ship could compare with.
And so, its new captain and his first officer could only stare in awe at the USS Icarus, their ship. This little tour on board the tiny yellow crab-like maintenance shuttle provided the best chance to get more than acquainted with the starship; but to get truly inspired by her.
It also provided an opportunity in between the conversation with Hartzer for Sterling to continue processing all the surprises that had sprung on him since his arrival to Starbase 39, just a few hours ago.
He was still carrying the metallic case holding the Honor blade in his grasp, and it was weighing in more on his mind than it was in his hand. The symbolism of this blade in respect to this mission was not lost on him, but he hoped that this whole scenario was not merely about symbolism. Perhaps it was also partially about leading a path toward redemption; for his family name and maybe even this vessel itself.
Hell, he thought, I can’t believe that I’m going to do this.
All the while, Commander Frazetti hartzer also admired the gigantic vessel and what she saw made her all warm and fuzzy inside.
This is a hell of a ship,she thought as they closed the distance in the Spacedock area of Starbase 39 and flew all around the starship.
The white paint was pristine and untouched, red stripe and arrow of Starfleet standing out like a rose on snow: A harbinger of peace, but perfectly able to defend herself. Frazetti got a glimpse of how the Icarus must have looked the first time Marcus Sterling, grandpa of the silent man next to her, saw it. No wonder it was lauded as one of the most versatile and advanced ships until the advent of the Ambassador class. The design even outlasted the latter up to the glory days of the next generation ship, the Galaxy class.
Retro, but badass. Frazetti approved completely.
Midway through their tour, she glanced at Captain Sterling just in time to see him sigh to himself, resigned, and pin the badge to his uniform. She looked away quickly before he saw her triumphant grin. She had seen the look on his face when he had seen the ship through the window, and known, just known, he wouldn't be able to resist.
He placed the case on the floor and took the combadge that he had been clutching in his other hand and carefully attached it to his uniform. After a deep breath, he pushed to activate it and announced:
“This is Captain Sterling to the Icarus… requesting permission to dock.”
“Permission granted” the voice on the other end quickly responded.
Within a matter of minutes, the workbee was carefully backed into position and they felt the metallic connection solidify.
"Airlock docking in progress. Pressurization in three...two...one. Airlock pressurized."
After a brief series of hissing sounds subsided, the airlock door opened, and standing there to greet them was the new security chief Lieutenant Commander Archer with two of his security officers.
Captain Sterling and Commander Frazetti stepped through.
"Attention on Deck," Brian said in a commanding voice "Welcome aboard the Icarus Captain."
The Captain exited the workbee and Frazetti followed, absently adjusting her hat and tucking a blonde curl out of the way behind her ear. Her boots, with their slightly higher heels, clacked smartly on the durasteel plating despite the softening carpeting.
“Thank you Lieutenant Commander Archer. Your swiftness and efficiency in completing your safety sweep of this entire starship so rapidly is appreciated and noted.” Captain Sterling acknowledged.
Although Sterling wanted to take a tour of all the departments throughout the ship, he realized that he needed to get his quarters and his belongings set up before the remaining crew arrived.
A tour would be much more practical once the department heads had the opportunity to become familiar with their environment and he could be presented with a brief, informal report as he toured the different sections of the ship.
“I will be heading up to my quarters first, and then I’ll meet you on the bridge afterward. Let’s say in one hour Mister Archer.”
"Aye Sir, one hour."
Sterling then turned to the First Officer.
“You might as well get situated too Commander. Afterward, contact all of the bridge officers and bring them on board. Once they are ready, start bringing up the remaining crew according to duty shift and department.”
Frazetti eyed Commander Archer curiously, an appraising gaze, but no malice. She nodded at him. The captain gave his orders, which Frazetti filed away to be attended to; her first real orders as a commander.
After Commander Hartzer acknowledged, the captain headed toward the nearest turbolift.
He left soon enough, and as soon as he had, she turned to Archer.
"Commanduh Frazetti Hartzer, Mister Archer," she said, sticking out her hand for a firm shake.
She wasn't sure if he knew her name or not; either way, an introduction was not amiss. She kept her Iotian accent relatively quiet this time, managing to make the 'er' sound like 'er' and not 'uh' in his name and title.
"Good t'meetcha. I see ya beat us here," she observed with a quick smile.
"Welcome aboard Commander." Brian replied taking her offered hand and shaking it firmly. He noted that her grip was firm and not soft like many female officers he'd met in the past. "Yes, Admiral Kelek wanted security to sweep the ship before everyone else boarded. It’s much easier to do when she's three quarters empty."
Brian released the grip of the Icarus first officer. Her looks hadn't been lost on him, but relationships weren't exactly his thing. The closet thing he had to a friend right now was Cassie.
Brian gestured to the two officers standing with him.
"Commander Hartzer may I present Lieutenant Cassandra Strider, and Lieutenant Aaron Callen my assistants."
Frazetti fixed names to faces. Both looked very capable. That was good. She firmly believed in the scientific and diplomatic agendas of Starfleet, but some people in the galaxy, like until recently, the Romulans, made the addition of battleship to a starship's resume a necessity. It was hard doing research when you were, y'know, blown up. So she appreciated the work that a tactical officer had to do, some of which was rather thankless.
His hand was firm, rough, but the strength inherent to the grip moderated; this was no 'let's-see-if-I-can-make-you-wince' show of testosterone, but a greeting between colleagues. That was good. Sometimes Frazetti got shit because of her youth and her striking features. It was nice to see that she wouldn't have this problem here with him.
"I bet it does, at dat. I'll be seein' you at da meeting, Mister Archer. I got my own department t' check in on, so I better get movin', so I can have dat done when da Captain gets back. Just wanted t' introduce myself before I did," she said. "Figure we'll all be gettin' to know each other real well during this mission; may as well start now."
"Yes Ma'am, I'll see you then. Strider, Callen let's go."
As they walked back down the passage Brian talked to his left and right hands.
"Cassie, I want you take a few of the other personnel and start and inspection of the torpedo bays, and phaser control rooms."
"Got it boss."
"Mister Callen, take whoever you can find and inspect the brig and the armory, and if there isn't someone in that armory I want two people in there round the clock."
"Yes, Sir."
"Good, I'm headed for the security office. Report back to me as soon as the inspections are finished."
"Yes, Sir," they both said in unison.
Once settled in the security office Brian began reviewing the personnel files and screening them for security risks. The junior personnel Brian allowed the ship's computer to screen using a very specific set of search parameters, but the senior officer Brian screened himself. As he read through them there were two that raised a few flags. One of course was the Romulan Falcar, but Brian was actually less worried about him than he was this Raymond Quinn Pasqual.
Pasqual's reputation was one of having a problem with authority, and using violence to make his points. Brian didn't mind the violence... if it was necessary... and in Brian's mind, Pasqual was a wild card. At the same time, the man wouldn't be here if Starfleet didn't think he could be of use; so Brian resolved to watch him... closely.
When Brian left, Frazetti was left alone on the ship for the first time. She paused, and then decided to drop off her bag really fast before hitting up the head of her ops department.
Speaking of heads of departments...
She pulled up the personnel files of the senior staff on the Icarus and read through them as she went to her room, dropped off her bag, and motored on down to the Operations labs. The assistant Ops officer, second under her, was a Denobulan male, one Phelix by name. His record was good, and his temperament by all accounts was generally cheerful. So when she rounded the corner, it was no surprise he was bent over a console while entertaining a human female with a funny story.
"And then, the Andorian says..."
"Scuse me, Lieutenant Phelix. Can I talk t' ya for a minute?"
The room turned to look at her. She nodded at them. Phelix raised an eyebrow and acquiesced. They moved outside. She held out her hand for a shake.
"Commanduh Frazetti Hartzer, First officer an', as it so happens, Ops officer. Wanted t' drop by an' say hi an' get a report on the department before the Boss calls his meeting. I know it's a bit sudden, but Boss wants t' get moving."
He took it, and smiled at her, his bright blue eyes not as dark as hers but brilliant and sparkling with good humor nonetheless. His hair was black, cut short, and wavy.
"No problem at all, Commander. Operations is fully functional; we've been doing some last minute bits and pieces, but nothing urgent and nothing essential. System diagnostics show everything in the green range."
"Darb." At his puzzled look, she explained. "I'm Iotian; it means 'good' or 'swell'."
"Ah! Hence the lovely hat."
She grinned.
"Hence da lovely hat. Alright, Mr. Phelix, I leave Ops in ya capable hands for now. I have some bizness I gotta tend to. Please go up t' da bridge an' man Ops till I arrive."
"Will do, Commander. May I complete the diagnostic I am running first? It won't be long."
She nodded in reply and left him to finish what he was doing.
As Captain Sterling was walking toward the lift, he realized that he needed to familiarize himself with the complete layout of this ship, especially since there have been many design modifications since this class of starship was first introduced.
Arriving and entering the turbolift, he commanded it to take him to his quarters on deck 2.
After a brief walk away from the lift doors and down a freshly refitted corridor, he stepped into the nicest ship quarters that he’d ever seen: The Captain’s quarters… and now, as strange as it seemed… his quarters.
He temporarily placed the metallic container holding the Romulan blade on a display case in the adjacent room. This would be displayed properly at some point… but certainly not until the successful completion of the critical upcoming mission.
After this, he then walked into the sleeping area that by itself was more spacious than the entire quarters of the Conquest or any other ship he had been assigned to. He placed down his remaining possessions on the floor by the bed and sat down.
He looked out the oversized bay windows that currently displayed only sections of Starbase 39, knowing that within a few hours that this would be replaced by a shifting view to the cosmos.
Despite an initial hesitation, he began opening his luggage, then removing and sorting out some of his belongings. He then methodically began placing the items in the drawers, cabinets and closets available. Currently, there were more storage areas than personal items to place in them. That could theoretically change over time and additional missions if he remained.
He also had quite a few awards to display. Those were just placed casually on a shelf in a display case until more time was available to actually set these things up too.
He had only a few items of clothing to hang in the closet. As he completed this, he realized that he needed a new Captain’s uniform to accompany the new pips presented by the Admiral. If he had more time, he would have had a custom uniform hand-crafted on Starbase 39. Perhaps this would occur at another time. Meanwhile, he ordered the replicator to create a new uniform for him.
While this was being processed, he figured that he might as well test out the new sonic shower in his quarters. As he stepped into the enclosure, he realized how much more spacious it was compared to the one he had literally squeezed into earlier that day. The shower was amazingly refreshing and he thoroughly groomed and dressed in his newly replicated Starfleet uniform. He switched the pips into the collar of this uniform and was now ready to head up to the bridge.
As the turbolift doors parted and Sterling stepped onto the crewless bridge, he was impressed by how utterly modern and sophisticated yet symmetrically balanced this refitted bridge appeared. He decided that his first tour would be to examine all areas of deck 1.
He walked to the aft section of the first deck and came upon the conference room. This would be the location of their first bridge meeting that would be occurring in twenty-two standard minutes. The room was dominated by an elongated rectangular table with thirteen tall padded blue and tan chairs that surrounded the perimeter of the elaborately yet well designed table.
Toward the bow section, which included the back section of one of three turbolifts, was a large projection screen to display a variety of visual data: from tactical strategies, astrometric projections, schematics, in-coming transmissions; among a vast array of other applications. It was a versatile tool that would be used in the upcoming meeting for department heads to display information related to their department status and prognosis, and eventually a tool to show the projected path and tactics that would be employed as the Icarus prepared to head out to begin this crucial diplomatic mission.
Leaving the port side doorway of the conference Room, Sterling then visited the ready room. The room was sparsely decorated and featured a desk with three chairs and a small couch. It also contained a newly crafted large, gold model of the Icarus proudly displayed behind the Captain’s seat. This room would be the location where Sterling would engage in administrative work with all relevant office equipment at hand without interfering with bridge operations. In addition, this room would be the preferred location for him to hold private discussions and receive classified communications. It would be the most vital location for the Captain to conduct his business, in conjunction with the center seat of the bridge: the chair of the commanding officer of the ship.
Exiting out of the ready room, he crossed over past the bow-end turbolift again and walked into the bridge mess hall. This would be the area where he and his officers on and off duty could attend to all of their biological needs; from partaking of a beverage or snack to visiting the restroom; which included a waste extraction unit and a cleansing unit.
Adjacent to the Mess Hall was the Officer Lounge. It included a series of elongated couches, tables, chairs, and a series of computer terminals throughout the room. This would be an area where officers could wait for an upcoming meeting, sit and relax, or engage in a variety of recreational activities suitable for the limited space available.
Departing the Officer Lounge and remaining on the starboard side of the bridge, Sterling headed toward the bow and into the main part of the bridge. He stopped again for a moment and slowly took a panoramic view of the entire command center of his ship. It was quite an impressive sight.
Centered behind the command chair was the Tactical station with specialized consoles and two attending chairs. The very proficient Lieutenant Commander Brian Jonathan Archer would be handling the majority of his tactical and security responsibilities from this station.
Moving along a counter-clockwise path he passed the Science station where the Caitain officer M'elena Richards would be stationed; adjacent to the starboard-side Turbolift. Next he looked over the Environmental and Master Situation stations; where the joined Trill Chief Medical Officer Jayvin Cyl would be posted when not addressing medical duties in sickbay.
Proceeding on, he was then facing the Main Viewscreen as he continued his path past the Auxiliary Systems, and Propulsion Systems to the port Turbolift, where the Human Chief Engineer Richard Hanson would be stationed; when he was not attending duties in the Engineering department.
Finishing his journey, he briefly examined the Communications Station where the half-Orion and half-Human Lieutenant Commander Raymond Quinn Pasqual would be stationed; providing an excellent vantage point to observe and interact with the bridge crew and commanding officers.
His deck 1 journey ended at the center seat.
Now sitting in the command chair, he could see the Conn station, where the new Romulan exchange officer Sub-Lieutenant Janus Falcar would be taking the helm. Next to him would be the Operations Management station where his Ops and First officer Commander Frazetti Hartzer would be handling operations and first officer’s duties. She would be his right hand-man; but in this case, a woman in front of him and on his left side.
Having completed his tour of the first deck of the Starship Icarus, Sterling reached down an activated the ship-wide communications switch. He heard the click engage throughout the bride speakers as it also did throughout the ship.
“Your attention,” he began with his deep clear voice resonating throughout the ship; “this is Captain Tyrel Sterling, your new commanding officer. First, I want to welcome all of you aboard the Icarus. You’re aboard one of the finest ships currently serving in Starfleet and are about to begin your first official mission. I realize that you are all striving to get situated in your new station here, but your first objective is to assist in the preparation for our launch from the docking bays here in Starbase 39. Crew members, report any problems or concerns immediately to your department heads. Bridge officers, your department is required to conduct a test of all systems under your domain. Be prepared to report your department’s status in the upcoming Officers meeting in the main conference room on deck 1 in fifteen minutes. Our departure time will be determined at the conclusion of the upcoming meeting and I will give an additional announcement with the actual departure time when it has been finalized. Again, welcome aboard… Captain Sterling out,”
The commanding officer clicked off the ship wide communication and took in a deep breath.
M'elena Ridchards watched as the group exited, one after the other. She smiled very softly and nodded, It seemed alright. Her ears came forwards as she heard the ship's com system come on and the words of her new commanding officer.
The Caitan hybrid was going to tap her combadge and say something, but then thought better of it. From what she had seen of the Icarus's space frame, the ship should be in the Starfleet museum in the Sol sector, not about to race towards a rendezvous with Romulans alone. But voicing such an opinion would not put her in good standing with her new captain and crew... and the ship would still go to that rendezvous anyway.
Brian Archer listened as Captain Sterling made his speech, welcoming everyone aboard. As the captain finished up, the Icarus' new chief of security and tactical noted it was about time to head for the meeting. He locked his terminal, and then exited the security office.
"Computer, lock this compartment to be opened only on my authority, authorization Archer November-Xray-zero-zero-one."
"Compartment sealed, security authorization accepted."
Brian nodded in satisfaction and headed for the turbolift.
Hartzer heard her boss's voice over the ship's speaker systems and made note of it. No time to lose then.
As she started down the hall, her combadge chirped at her.
"Airlock to Commander Hartzer."
"Hartzer here."
"There's a Romulan here in Romulan military dress. Is he-?"
"Dat's our helm officer. Let 'im in but tell 'im t' wait a jiffy, we'll be dere in a minute. Hartzer out."
Frazetti wanted to meet the fellow in person, and she had no doubt Archer did as well. He would be important in their upcoming mission, as de facto advisor on Romulan culture and society. She had read his file on the way here, and anticipated no problems. He had served with distinction on his last ship; therefore, Frazetti decided to go in with an open mind.
Archer for his part stopped just short of the turbolift to the bridge as he heard the exchange over the ship's intercom and tapped his communicator.
"Airlock, this is Archer, you will afford the Sub-Lieutenant the same respect you would show any other senior officer on this ship. That said I will be down there shortly, Archer out."
Brian sighed heavily, he was going to have to take of Falcar as far as the security department was concerned soon or they were going to have a problem the entire mission. He entered the turbolift and it whisked him down to the main boarding area. Brian walked to the airlock where an unhappy Sub-Lieutenant Falcar was waiting with one of the security officers.
"Jolan thru, Sub-Lieutenant; Commander Brian Archer, Chief of Security. Welcome aboard the Icarus. I can assure you that from now on my security officers will treat you just like any other officer on board, and as long as the captain approves I will afford you the same access as any other officer in your position."
Hartzer arrived just after Brian spoke.
"Sorry I'm late, Sub-commanduh. Jolan thru," she said, making an effort to pronounce it correctly without her usual accent. "Commandah Frazetti Hartzer, atcha service. An' I'm inclined t' agree wit' Mister Archer. I read ya record on da way here. The CO of ya last ship had no problem 'cept with his own crew. If dey hassle you or if you got any questions, come t' me -or Mister Archer," she added.
She wouldn't have any prejudice on their ship... and it would set a bad example for the Romulans they were supposed to meet and play nice with.
This was also a duty of the first officer, as well...
"Ya got enough time t' drop off your things, if ya want, an' den please meet us in da confrence room on da bridge," she said politely.
She handed him a PADD.
"Dis is relevant information for da helm officer on da Icarus, includin' where your quarters are located."
Then she smiled.
"We'll save ya a seat till ya get there. Mister Archer, ya headed up wit' me?" she asked, redirecting her attention to him. She wasn't sure if he still had things to do or what.
Falcar nodded to the two Officers. He was a little calmer now. As the two began to walk off, he spoke and nodded at them both once more.
“Thank you.”
The Romulan then looked at the PADD. He noticed that his quarters were on deck 3. Falcar moved to the nearest turbo lift and took it to the third deck on the saucer section of the vessel. As the doors of the lift opened, he stepped out and began walking down the corridor. At this point the corridors were full of other crew members. He had been looking left and right, as he walked, checking which one of the doors lead to his room.
Suddenly he stopped and took a few steps backwards. He moved closer to one of the doors, and began to read.
Falcar, Janus.
Falcar smiled and gave out a sigh, as he had finally found his quarters. He stepped in, and noticed that they were a little smaller than what he had on the USS Galaxy. He walked to the center of the room and looked around. There was a small living area, with a two-person couch, a glass coffee table, and a small desk. There was also a small dining area, with a glass table and two chairs near a replicator. He then stepped into the next room which was the sleeping area with a one person bed, a dress and closet.
Falcar laid his bags on the bed and began putting away his clothing. He first took the two bottles, which he had gotten at the bar and placed them in the top drawer of the dresser. He then took his clothing and placed them on top of the two bottles to hide them. After putting away the rest of his clothes in the dresser and closet, he began taking out the last few items he had.
One was a pin, with Starfleet Academy's Red Squadron’s logo on it. Falcar had spent a month on Earth, learning Starfleet systems and how to fly a Starfleet starship. While he was there, he had gained the attention of the Academy’s Red Squad. Despite being Romulan and an exchange officer, he was given the opportunity to fly with Red Squadron, the elite cadet flight group at the Academy. He appreciated the honor but never officially joined them. The most he did was fly training missions with them, and he’d give them insight on his own distinctive experience as a Romulan-trained pilot.
Those cadets were the first non-Romulan friends he had made, other than Spock of course. Red squadron showed Falcar that this exchange program wouldn’t be all that bad and that he could even have fun here.
After placing the last items in the living area, he walked over the small desk and turned the computer to face him. He tapped it, and the computer came to life. He then heard the announcement that a staff meeting was about to begin, so Falcar turned off the computer and headed out of his quarters.
He back-tracked his path and returned to the turbo lift.
“Bridge.”
The lift activated and whisked upwards.
The doors opened and Janus stepped out onto the surprisingly pristine and modern command center of the Icarus. As he looked around, he noticed two doors on the aft section of the bridge, and walked to them, knowing he would most probably be the last one to arrive after the delay in his coming aboard.
Ship Counselor Lieutenant-Commander Ray Quinn Pasqual however was the first one to get to the conference room.
He took a seat somewhere in the center of the long table, proper for someone of his rank yet leaving the seats nearest to the captain's head chair for the other officers. From this seat, he could also see the entrance door without being immediately noticed yet not obviously trying to hide.
This way, he could see how they entered, their walk, their eyes, if and how they would shift their attitude noticing him only after they entered, where they would choose to sit, how they would sit... Every nuance of movement, posture and voice would tell him not only what the files he had read on them were right, but more importantly what those files might have missed.
He himself for one certainly was well aware of how much his file missed the mark about him.
It was no hazard a ship counselor had no specific department to supervise; the job meant to cover literally the entire crew, starting with the bridge officers, up to the captain himself. A good leader knew how to turn a group of individuals into a cohesive, effective unit; and a starship captain had an executive officer to support him in this; when it stumbled, then it was his job as ship counselor to find out why.
Preferably before it occurred.
And that was but one of his responsibilities; all this did not even consider any mission parameters and outside factors yet!
Ray Quinn Pasqual darn well knew his job; at least Starfleet believed so, since his off-duties activities had been definitely less stellar in the eyes of Command and would have booted out any less performing officer. They still got him demoted several times after all...
But here, on this ship, this crew was promising to be his greatest challenge ever.
And so he sat with a placid smile, already doing what he was there for.
Coming in and taking the seat at the head of the table on the port side of the long rectangular conference table, Captain Sterling nodded with barely concealed surprise at the counselor already waiting quietly in the meeting room. And so did Commander Hartzer as she took the seat at his right hand.
Frazetti was not the first to enter as she had thought she would, following the captain himself; that honor apparently belonged to one Ray Pasqual, who she examined interestedly with her dark blue eyes before looking away.
She had read his file too. It seemed he too was one of those officers you either loved or hated. Frazetti knew that place well. It would be fascinating to see where he would fall here on her ship.
Ha! Her ship? Since when? If anyone's, it was Sterling's. But she couldn't help but feel like it was a little bit hers as well, and the more she saw the more she liked of it.
Pasqual sat casually, watching. As counselor, observing was a solemn duty, which she knew. His eyes were oddly keen for his almost flippant exterior, set in skin tinged green. She had never liked counselors, never liked her mind and mental processes being poked and prodded.... It was nothing personal, just an aversion to those who knew how to read and, if they wanted, play people.
A leftover from her days at Vineya Prime... but there it was.
Her captain sat next to her, quiet. He was a quiet guy. Frazetti wasn't quiet; she talked out loud to herself when she was alone, fleshing out ideas and venting frustration. He was also a thinker, where she tended to fly as the situation dictated, by the seat of her pants at times. It would be an interesting dichotomy.
First officer... Man, she liked the sound of that.
The Captain and First Officer Hartzer began to quietly discuss tentative information about the mission when the other bridge officers began to arrive, security chief Archer leading them in.
This would be an important conference not only because of the delicate nature and challenge of the impending mission, but also because it would be the first opportunity for this new team to assess their overall readiness: collectively and within their individual departments.
Equally if not more importantly, this meeting would be a crucible to test the professional chemistry that would or would not exist as each officer began to engage and interact among each other. Would there be a collective synergy and the initial foundations of teamwork established or would there be decisive discrepancies and clashes that would inhibit their progress and reduce their overall effectiveness?
This mission would indeed be a testing ground, but on many more levels then originally perceived.
Brian entered the bridge heading for the conference room but stopped briefly at the tactical console to check on the diagnostic he'd initiated before the captain came aboard. Ensign Pyle was still at the station and greeted him with a smile.
"Welcome back Sir."
"How did that diagnostic go?"
"Perfect Commander, no anomalies detected."
"Good...now run it again."
"Sir?"
"Run it again Ensign...this is essentially a brand new ship, I want to make sure there is nothing wrong before we inevitably depart. Run the diagnostic again, this time at level 3."
"Aye Sir."
As he walked toward the conference room door his communicator chirped.
"Strider to Archer."
"Go ahead Cassie."
"We've finished inspecting the torpedo and phaser control rooms."
"And?"
"No major issues, there's some cleanup to be done, but other than that we're good. I also inventoried the torpedoes and we have what the computer says we should have."
"Good work Cassie, thanks for the update. Why don't you work on compiling a roster for me when you get the chance."
"Will do; Strider out."
Brian was happy that Cassie was settling in nicely. She'd been away from Starfleet a much shorter time than Brian, but he was still afraid that working with Section 31 might have soured her on the fleet and procedures. Just before he stepped through the conference room door, the communicator alerted him again.
"Callen to Archer,"
"Go ahead, Mister Callen."
"Sir, brig and armory inspection complete, Sir. I've posted two people in the armory as you ordered, and we have a full armory inventory."
"Good work Lieutenant, go ahead and permanently assign a phaser to you, Lieutenant Strider, and myself. I will pick mine up later."
"Aye Sir, Callen out."
Finally Brian proceeded into the conference room where he could see the captain, Commander Frazetti and Counselor Pasqual already gathered. Brian looked at the various empty seats and chose one as close to the door as he could get. If something unexpected happened he wanted to be able to be up and out as fast as possible.
Brian said nothing as he sat down, pulled out his personal PADD and began mulling over duty assignments while he waited for the meeting to start.
Whistling a happy tune, Chief Medical Officer Jayvin continued to decorate his new office, putting up both his medical awards and diplomas in trauma medicine, trauma surgery and sport medicine and, of course, his football trophies, a signed football and a his old jersey. As he put the final few touches on the decoration of his CMO office, a short, redheaded woman barged in the room, running right into Jayvin.
"Ow." She blurted out. "What are you doing in doctor Cyl's office?"
She looked up at the Trill with a furrowed brow, obviously demanding an answer.
"I am Doctor Cyl." He replied with a quirked brow of his own.
She looked him over as if inspecting him.
"No no. Doctor Cyl is in the meeting with the other bridge officers."
"Err... Right... the meeting."
He reached over and grabbed a PADD prepared earlier by Doctor Soryk, his chief assistant. Glancing down at the PADD, he picked out a name and quickly said with an apologetic tone:
"Thank you Lizzie."
And then he ran out of his office and to the nearest turbolift. Breathing slightly heavily, he paused a moment in the turbolift to adjust his uniform and take a deep breath.
"Yes yes I know; first impressions are everything... but I am only a doctor, not a soldier. I am allowed to be late..." He said outloud to Cyl... and to himself, trying to self-justify his lateness. But, deep down, they both knew that he was late simply because Cyl was not happy to be on this ship. Something disturbed the symbiont and the fact that Jayvin kept having this feeling of déjà vu while walking the halls and using the lifts wasn't helping them feel comfortable.
Doctor Cyl tried to walk quietly into the meeting but, as he spied Captain Sterling sitting in his grandfather's chair, he knew his new commanding officer had noticed his tardiness, and so did the disconcerting ship counselor as well, from the odd angle he had been sitting. A shiver ran down the Trill's spine and he paused a moment in the doorway before grabbing the first free chair and sitting down.
The Trill made his entrance quietly and calmly. He had paused briefly at the door, probably a hint of shyness at being late, but then had sit in the closest seat to the starboard entrance of the crescent-shaped conference room, right across the slightly smirking Orion counselor.
A Trill, nice; the wisdom of experience. Very good, Frazetti thought.
He was an excellent doctor, from what she had read of his file.
The Icarus chief flight officer, Romulan Sub-Lieutenant Janus Falcar, was last to enter, barely a heartbeat later and noticed everyone was already there. He nodded and sat down at the end of the table, directly facing the captain at the other end. It would seem he had arrived just in time, as the meeting was just about to start.
Hartzer adjusted her peculiar hat slightly on her mane of gold curls as Falcar walked in. She smiled at him and nodded. He was the odd man out here, Romulan that he was, but he'd be vital in the coming mission, so she was sure to treat him with respect. His record was good; she'd trust him until he gave her cause not to.
M'elena was reading a PADD since she had entered and sat without a word or a nod to anyone when Janus entered. Her ears went down to her skull and she held back a roar. She watched the Romulan very closely keeping her eyes on him all the time he took to sit at the end of the long table, opposing the Orion counselor. If her commanding officer had not been in the room, she would have probably jumped him on the spot. The scent of charred flesh rose in her nostrils and she forced herself to stay very still into a seat.
If anyone had noticed, her claws on her feet had been extended and bit into the carpet. Her tail wrapped around herself, the fluffy end in her lap. Humans seemed to step on tails quite a bit; she knew it wasn't deliberate, but, all the same, it still hurt when it happened. In her mind, she was going over the many ways of harming Falcar; the best was a disruptor blast to the legs.
Why Starfleet was bothering with the Romulans at all was still on M'elena's mind. After everything the Romulans had done, wasn't this just another trick of some kind?
Frazetti saw the Caitan's reaction and arched an eyebrow under her dark red and grey fedora as the humanoid cat's ears went back, the corner of her mouth rose in a restrained snarl, her tail gave a violent lash, and her claws shot out almost reflexively and shredded the carpet. Then, with remarkable control, the felinoid chief of science kept quiet but glowering at the Romulan who had entered last to sit at the end of the table, on the same side.
Well. She looked around the table and lingered on Falcar briefly. Seems not ev'ryone here is da forgivin' type...
As all the leading officers of the starship Icarus came in the conference room, Counselor Pasqual observed with great interest what their entrance and waiting attitude revealed of themselves. That was part of his job after all.
And, so far, it was all as puzzling as it was interesting.
The captain came in with a definite purpose and a professional assurance that seemed in fact to be a conscious effort to crush down lingering apprehensions and doubts he had clearly voiced during the meeting on the starbase... and still showed in his body's stiffness and his inquisitive gaze. The man was getting ready to assume his new command but... still, maybe, not completely willing. Maybe his uncertainties would spread to all of the other senior officers with the revelations of the upcoming mission's details.
Pasqual understood immediately that his first job would probably be to shore up his new commanding officer's resolve. And that meant showing open, unshakable support and confidence in him.
Hope you deserve it, Captain, simply wished the Orion hybrid silently.
The equally new first officer, the statuesque woman from Sigma Iota, had come with him, full of energy and enthusiasm even her quaint antique on her head did not manage to conceal. Ray wondered how she had managed to get this obviously useless and sight-hampering cultural affectation past Starfleet's dress code; just by itself, the hat showed either, at best, a deeply ingrained self-awareness and sense of worth beyond the rules, or, at worse, a refusal to follow those rules for the sake of one's own pride and ego, be it personal or cultural... or both.
Either way, it sent a very wrong message to such a new crew of so disparate officers that Pasqual, as Counselor, would have to find a way to smooth out... somehow: again, another of his responsibilities as ship counselor.
Your job is to make us work like a team, lady, he told her in the secrecy of his own mind; hard to do if you show you want to stand apart from it.
Then came the Chief of Security, right on their heels. A tamed predator, like most security-types, with poised attitude, mastered movements and inquisitive eyes. But there was a slight tenseness in the man, a weight on his frown that was heavier than the simple added burden of assuming his very serious responsibilities aboard a new ship, even a ship as peculiar as this one. It might have been the weight of legacy. It was not easy to live under a name so long-lived in fame across space and time like Archer.
Pasqual ought to know; he too bore such a burden; and his name didn't had the great notoriety Archer's name carried... not even openly known as his was. The burden was even heavier when carried in secret, a he had tried to tell his father when last they spoke, calling him Ray Quinn.
Father... I'm Ray Quinn, you're Ray Quinn, grandfather was Ray Quinn, this whole family is Ray Quinn... all the way down to that man on his sailboat who, one day, a long, long time ago, fancied he could change the world by freeing people from the oppression of others. Well you know, father, maybe he did; times have changed. It might be time for me to change too... and end this curse you would have me take up farther to the stars...
Pasqual sighed slightly to end the train of thought. Even as he noticed the openly suspicious way the security chief had looked at him from the moment he caught sight of his dissimulated position in the room, this was not about him.
Then, after a while, the others came in. They were all late. The counselor noted how strange it was that these last officers seemed like they were competing with one another as to who should arrive last and late at the ordered meeting. A disregard for discipline or a show of disrespect towards the assignment? The ship? Or... the captain?
Too early to tell yet... At least, guessed Ray, the Romulan might have had the excuse of having been delayed by some extra security screening because of his special status; especially considering the mission they were hinted at.
He certainly was not helping himself by keeping this uniform on; but he was from a proud and independent people after all. He certainly was not some spy from the Tal Shiar; a secret service agent of the Empire would have promptly shed this obviously provocative and attention-grabbing costume for a Starfleet uniform to easily pass as a Vulcan officer and quell any suspicious attention to him.
Or maybe he was still too drunk to realize his mistake? The whiff of alcohol coming from him was unmistakable with the man sitting right next to him.
The Trill doctor was a portrait in contradiction. He had the job of healer yet carried himself in a powerful body more shaped for security duty; the purposefulness in his eyes was tampered with the quiet calmness of his attitude. Ray recalled his concern for the ship during the earlier meeting, typical of the engineer-type, while he expressed none of the medical-type interest in people around him, coming in late and sitting down as apart as possible with not even a word or a nod to anyone.
Pasqual knew nothing of Trills except that they were a joined species. Clearly there was some real inner conflict at play here, although he did not know yet what it was about.
Get hold of yourself, Doc, admonished the counselor without speaking. Or is it... yourselves?
The Caitan science officer however was in contrast quite one-dimensional. Literally an upright cat, and not just in looks; the instinctive weariness, the veiled aggressiveness, the curious mix of personal aloofness and gregariousness... The only peculiar thing about her was the dull, passive light in those slitted eyes. Science-type were usually all curious, inquisitive and more often than not voluble personalities; of all people in Starfleet, they were the most eager to go out there, to ask questions and to provide answers and advice.
But not this one; silent, distant, closed-up, all in all at this meeting just like the previous one simply ignoring everyone...
Until the Romulan came in.
Now that is interesting... noted silently the counselor to himself.
The felinoid woman had almost looked as if she was about to attack the chief helmsman on sight. It was a credit to her self-control that her obviously savage impulse had been reined in by her strength of will. But neither the violent urge nor the powerful discipline showed why she was reacting like this... either way.
Some bad history between her, or her people, and the Romulans... or maybe just this one? wondered wordlessly the Half-Orion. If so... why doesn't it show on her psychoprofile record? And more importantly; how come she was assigned to this mission with such dangerous feelings?
This Romulan in fact was rather quiet and mild-mannered for one of his usually typically proud and arrogant people. But that might have been the effects on intoxication; the man might have been in apparent control of his faculties, but he still smelled of alcohol.
His quietness might just be his sullen nature surfacing and inhibiting what might have been a prouder, more assertive personality. He had seemed much more self-assured at the Admiral's meeting earlier. Now he was self-consciously last and sat as far away from everyone as possible, but in the very seat directly opposing that of the commanding officer and at the same time the farthest one from him.
Great... a drunkard Romulan helmsman? Thought Pasqual with disbelief. Maybe this is what the Romulans are all reduced to since they lost their homeworld... No wonder then that they finally want to negotiate Peace.
The counselor eyed the entire group with a puzzled stare.
But then again... A drinking pilot... an incurious science officer... a hardware-minded doctor... a most duty-bound security officer... an absent-minded engineer not even showing up... a culturally-bound first officer... and me, a loose cannon of a counselor... all on an alleged refitted museum piece of a ship with an infamous name, with an unsure captain.
Pasqual sighed inwardly.
This must all be a big, elaborate Starfleet joke. Captain Sterling will now stand up with a big laugh and tell us so... That at least would easily explain it all; especially the Romulan and me.
As the remaining officers scurried in at the last minute, Captain Sterling looked over at his First Officer and indicated that they were ready to start.
“Greetings,” The Captain began, as he stood up next to his First Officer. “I realize that there has been a whirlwind of events that have transpired with each of us over these past few days. None of us knew that we would be swept up out of our previous locations and positions and gathered here together on Starbase 39 in this newly refitted Excelsior-class vessel.”
He began to slowly walk around the room, looking at each officer one at a time as he spoke.
“We were also unaware that we would all then be informed that we would be a part of a very crucial Starfleet mission… a mission that unbeknownst to any of us, has been in the planning phases for several months; a mission of potential epic proportions yet equally monumental challenges.”
He continued to carefully look at each officer, gauging their reactions as he continued:
“Each officer sitting here may have different thoughts, perspectives or ideas about this upcoming mission… and we will address those issues shortly. But let us establish a few basic ground rules here on the Icarus first.”
The Captain spoke as he completed one revolution around the rectangular table and arrived back at his initial position.
“Each officer here and the remaining crew beyond this room is expected to follow Starfleet Regulations, Rules of Engagement and the appropriate chain of command; whether during a mission or somewhere in between.”
He spoke to them knowing that immediately setting the tone of his command along with his expectations on this ship would make it clear that it all was a requisite stipulation.
“Respect for all sentient life and following the prime directive is paramount; as is honesty, integrity, responsibility and respect toward each other, the First Officer, and myself.”
He turned and looked at his First Officer.
“Commander Hartzer and myself have been selected by Starfleet to command this vessel, and we will do this with due diligence.”
After a reflective pause, he continued.
"As the old Earth expression goes, ‘a chain can only be as strong as its weakest link.’ But to be forthright, we have no room on this starship for weak links; especially in the leadership positions that each of you have been granted. We are now a team and as such, we will be totally reliant on each other within each of your respective fields; to be there, at your station, operating at your highest capacity throughout all aspects of this mission and beyond. Any one of you, at any given moment, could be the difference between success or failure and perhaps even life or death.”
He gazed out the window for a moment, as if seeing the celestial sky soaring by.
