Standard Disclaimer: All characters and situations related to Star Trek are wholly owned by Paramount Pictures. All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" TV series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
Being in command was about taking the responsibility of making a 'judgement call'.
As a Starfleet officer, the reality of it held more substance than the uniform, the stars or even the ship to which one belonged. The Judgement Call was that moment every cadet, dreaming his wildest during one of those boring astrophysics classes, prayed for. When the cadet wears his officer's pips for the first time, the excitement of that moment dies a little because it is tempered by fear. The Judgement Call decides whether one lived or died, held ground to fight or simply slink away in defeat. It was the gauge by which the mettle of every Starfleet officer was tested. Those who could make the Call could aspire to the ranks of the Federation elite, becoming legends like Garth, Pike, and Kirk. Those who could not became foot soldiers to be forgotten by history.
For Commander Christopher Larabee, First Officer of the USS Rutherford, the Call was now.
"This is Captain Picard of the Enterprise! I am taking command of the fleet. Target all your weapons on these following co-ordinates! Fire at my command."
Chris stood there, looking at the view screen in silent contemplation. Around him, the bridge was a smouldering wreck. Only half the consoles and stations were actually still in operation, while live wires and conduits hung loosely from shattered panelling and twisted bulkheads. The bridge was bathed in a reddish glow, with klaxons screaming out the inevitable death knell of the ship.
Captain Savil was dead. He, Chris Larabee, was in command. He was in command of a Nebula class starship about to die fighting the Borg over the planet Earth. The admiral of the fleet, from which whom Picard had suddenly seized control, was also gone. All avenues of escape had been sealed. The Call had him surrounded. He took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, ignored the bleeding he could feel under his uniform and took a final look at the faces around him. Some were rookies, cadets fresh out of the Academy while others were seasoned, logging in hundred of hours of star time. Yet now they all wore the same expression, the same expectation.
Picard had no right to take command of Fleet. The Admiral had deemed him an unnecessary liability. Chris did not believe that estimation was fair. Any man who could retain his sanity after the nightmare of assimilation should not be disregarded so easily but following Picard's command was a violation of orders. Chris took a split second to decide and the thoughts that ran through his mind were many. A thousand lines of Starfleet code flashed in front of his eyes. Words like "insubordination" and I "court-martial" echoed through his memory.
But this was Captain Jean Luc Picard.
The man responsible for the Picard Manoeuvre. The Starfleet Captain who had engineered a truce with the warlike Gorn. The man who commanded the first attacks against the Ferengi and prevented a Romulan invasion of Vulcan. Picard's achievements spoke not of delusions of grandeur but an almost iron will to survive all odds with the greatest of dignity and that made Chris Larabee's decision all the more harder.
"Lieutenant Tanner." He turned to the junior navigator and helmsman that had been forced to take tactical when the officer-in-charge of the post had died minutes ago. "Signal the Enterprise that we will comply." Tanner had only been transferred to the Rutherford in the last two weeks and he was almost fresh out of a frontier posting that saw very little action. Chris could hardly imagine what was going through his mind at the moment but the young man was holding together exceedingly well.
"Commander, that's a violation of Starfleet orders! Captain Picard does not have authorisation to take command of the fleet!" This came from Lieutenant Commander Watts. Watts was his science officer and a very proper Englishman who lived by the book with visible gaps in his knowledge as to the spirit behind its high minded ideals.
Judgement Call, Chris. Now's the time.
Chris turned to Watts and said simply, "Lieutenant Commander Watts, you will fire on the co-ordinates designated by Captain Picard. Consider that an order."
Watts wanted to argue but the look on the faces of not just his commander, but of the others on the bridge, changed his mind. He nodded mutely and went to the station formerly occupied by the now deceased Security Officer. He stared at the erratically flickering console before meeting Chris's gaze again. "Sir, these co-ordinates are not even for any major system on the cube!"
Chris stared at the man with a look of ice. Command officers needed to project a united front. This time more than any other, Chris wanted that kind of strength to boost morale among his junior officers. Watts' ignorance to this principle angered him intensely, however, now was not the time to address the man's conduct. The Rutherford was lost. Everyone on the bridge knew it. A determined lieutenant who was holding things together with her spit to ensure that the Rutherford went down with honour was manning the Engineering deck. Before she was done, Chris Larabee was going to give the Rutherford her day.
"Fire at Picard's command," Chris said again.
"Yes Sir," Watts replied, visibly contemptuous of the decision and his being forced to aid in what he deemed to be a violation of orders.
Chris watched the cube flinging tendrils of unrestrained power at the starships around it. The behemoth showed no signs of relenting and the dark space above the Earth was littered with the debris of Starfleet's finest. To those thousands who lay dead in the vacuum, resistance was indeed futile.
Picard's signal came through the speakers and Chris responded in kind. "Fire all weapons!"
The Rutherford gave it her all. Power spewed out from damaged phaser banks and photon torpedo tubes. The combined power of the residual fleet came forth like a brilliant cascade. The cube twisted slightly under the strain and for a moment, it seemed that Picard's gamble was indeed a fool's errand and they were all going to see the Earth destroyed.
Suddenly, the Borg ship began buckling under a series of explosions all across it its hull. Bulkheads exploded outward, debris flying in all directions. In a split second, it was completely enveloped by a large cloud of detonations. The shock wave expanded like a ring forming around new star. As he watched as it cascaded out towards ship and Chris knew instantly that in its present condition, there was no way that the Rutherford was going to survive the impact.
He touched the communication device on his chest and almost shouted, "All hands abandon ship! Repeat, all hands proceed to emergency life pods immediately!"
He said the words just as the shock wave hit. Chris and everyone else on the bridge went flying at the impact. Everything that was not bolted down became airborne. Glass, debris and bodies moved like a cascade of their own as the shock wave swept the Rutherford away. Klaxons that were screaming before had terminated abruptly and that silence was even more frightening.
He felt pain grip his ribs as he landed. As his weight came down, he felt the world go black as the floor came up and swallowed him whole...
He woke up a week later in a hospital at Starfleet Medical.
Commander Chris Larabee woke up to find himself about to receive a medal of honour for his bravery under fire. Captain Picard's strategy had destroyed the Borg and saved the Earth. Those who had followed his banner of violation were apparently the saviours of the home world, and like all heroes, were given ceremonious congratulations. He learned that half of his crew survived the battle with the Borg and most of those had reached the life pods when he gave the order to abandon ship. The young lieutenant whose name he learned was Julia Pemberton, the one who held the engineering deck together, had transported out before the shock wave tore the underside of the ship apart. Chris mourned all the lost lives from his bed. Despite the agony of their deaths, he took some small comfort in the fact that when the time came; he had managed to act accordingly.
He had made the Call and they promoted him for it.
At the age of thirty-eight, Chris Larabee was going to be a Starship Captain.
Captain Chris Larabee paced the floor of Admiral Wellington's office trying to calm himself down before he met the man in a few moments. He ran his fingers through his dark gold hair and wondered if the heat was due to his mood or the temperature outside. Wellington's secretary seemed to view his ability to curb his temper with scepticism as she glanced up occasionally from her desk to check on his progress. Chris paced the carpeted floor a hundredth time and finally came to the conclusion that he was going to be exhausted long before he wore out the carpet. As an act of defiance, he chose to sit down again.
Outside the huge picture window of the annex preceding the Admiral's inner sanctum, his intense blue eyes could see the Golden Gate Bridge under the powerful rays of the noon day sky. It was a typical Californian day in San Francisco this afternoon and he wished he were out in it, instead of preparing a confrontation with the man who had given him his new command. However, Chris was stubborn in his belief that a Captain should have the right to select his own officers, not have them chosen for him.
A protocol officer! Why did he need a protocol officer?
He had nothing against the importance of the role. Not at all. However, Chris had felt that it should be his choice whether or not he needed one and not have some stranger forced on him. Truth be known, he could probably use one considering that much of the Maverick's mission would involve first contact situations but that still did not give them license to usurp what should have been the fundamental right of any Captain. If truth be known, he had no particular candidate in mind for the position but Chris wanted the freedom to make the search himself.
"The Admiral will see you now." Wellington's secretary finally responded.
Reasonably calmer now, Chris rose to his feet and walked towards the doorway leading to Admiral Richard Wellington. Wellington was one of Starfleet's more seasoned and decorated officers. During his years on the Excelsior and later the Hannibal, Wellington had proven himself against the Romulans and the Cardassians. As an administrator of what was now called the Frontier territories to for Starfleet high command, he was known for making unusual choices in fleet appointment. Wellington did not just assign captains for his starships, he also hand picked crews with certain allowances to captain's choice.
Admiral Wellington was seated behind a polished oak desk of almost ancient design. These day, Starfleet decor was mostly slanted towards modern ergonomically designed furnishings and Chris had to admire the craftsmanship of the desk. He was a man in his sixties, well preserved with a rakish bearing for his age. His dark hair was slowly turning grey and his grey eyes appeared as sharp as always. Wellington looked up at Chris from behind his steel rimmed glasses over a pile of data pads. Immediately, Chris regretted not contacting the Admiral by com screen instead of interrupting him in person.
"What can I do for you, Captain Larabee?" The man asked coolly. He sat back in his chair and eyed Chris's entry into his office.
"I wish to speak to you about the crew assignments." Chris said nervously. He still had trouble adjusting to the fact that he was now a Captain of a starship instead of just another junior officer. Especially when he was addressing an Admiral.
"What about the crew assignments?" Wellington inquired, his grey eyes narrowing. "We have tried to place all your requests."
"It's the position of the protocol officer." Chris said deciding to plunge in and just say what was on his mind. "I thought it was my choice whether or not I needed one."
"Under normal circumstances, yes." Wellington nodded before adding. "However, you are one of the youngest captains in the fleet and that does change things slightly."
Chris bristled at the mention of his age; a fact not lost on Wellington. "Sir, I thought after promoting me to captain, my age would not be a deciding factor in such matters."
Wellington liked Chris Larabee. He was determined, stubborn and he knew how to leap beyond what was required and take a risk when it was warranted. The Borg attack had proved that much. Many other officers in the same position had faltered when Picard took the initiative. Officers, who could put aside the risk to themselves for the sake of the all, should not be wasted. The Admiral knew a potential candidate for the elite when he saw it but Chris had a long way to go before he touched those ranks yet.
"Your ability is not in question, Captain," Wellington responded with a touch of ice to accentuate that this discussion was at his good graces only. By right, he could simply make it an order and Chris would have to suffer it willingly or not. "However, you have a tendency to be reckless and headstrong."
"But a Protocol Officer?" Chris exclaimed. "I don't even know what he does."
"She does." Wellington pointed out.
"Whatever," Chris replied. He had not read that far down the file before he had come marching up to Wellington's office. Suddenly, he found himself in partial agreement with the Admiral's assessment of his rash nature.
"Yes." Wellington nodded. "Lieutenant Mary Travis is highly recommended. She is personally responsible for negotiating several prisoner releases with the Dominion, she has spent time on the border and in more recent years has been the Starfleet liaison with the Vulcan Embassy. You're lucky to get her."
"Sir," Chris took a deep breath. "I have no problems with the position of protocol officer, I just question our compatibility in working together."
"I do not." The Admiral said shortly. "If I'm not mistaken Jean Luc Picard has had the aid of a protocol officer on his bridge and the Enterprise has gone down in history."
"With all due respect," Chris retaliated. "I am not Picard and Lieutenant Travis is not a Betazed empath."
"But the balance works just the same." Wellington declared. "Picard took the advice of Counsellor Troi since her role was more or less the same as the protocol officer without question. Are you telling me that you deserve better than Jean Luc Picard?"
Chris opened his mouth to speak but somehow thought better of it. He suddenly had the insight that whatever he said would not change Wellington's mind. "Of course not, Sir."
"Good." Wellington rose to his feet. For a man in his sixties, he matched Chris's height of six foot one and was able to meet the young man's gaze directly. "Lieutenant Mary Travis will report to you on the Maverick as ordered at 1400 hours tomorrow."
Chris nodded in response, knowing how to take a hit when it appeared to be unavoidable. He did not know why Wellington was so determined that he take on Lieutenant Mary Travis but he assumed there was a good reason for it. In any case, it was out of his hands now. Chris was starting to believe it always had been.
"Yes Sir." He said finally.
"Dismissed." Wellington remarked putting the final nail into the end of the discussion.
Chris turned around to leave when suddenly Wellington spoke. "Captain, a starship needs balances, with Lieutenant Travis as your protocol officer, the Maverick will have some."
Suddenly, Chris felt somewhat disarmed from his previous anger. "You really think that I need a protocol officer?" He was suddenly interested in Wellington's reasons for making this decision. Chris was still resentful that he had not been allowed to make the choice himself. However, he was not so arrogant as to ignore the assessment of someone who had more experience and years under his belt.
"Yes I do." Wellington decided to give him a straight answer if that would make his demand easier to answer. "You're a good officer, Chris, but you need tempering. You need a protocol officer who can give you alternatives you've never considered. The choice of selecting your own first officer is a Captain's right, I won't presume to take that from you. Wilmington has an excellent service record but he's a lot like you. He shoots from the hip. So if you want Wilmington, you're going to have to take Travis too."
Chris let out a sigh, knowing that despite his reservations, Wellington's words had affected him. He was a first time Starship Captain and all the lives under his command were his responsibility. "Thank you for your cand
"Trust an old man on this one." Wellington grinned. He knew Chris's change of heart was not only because the order was irrefutable but also because he had seen the sense in Wellington's arguments. A man who could admit he was wrong was rare and Chris was living up to his every expectation.
"I will Sir." Chris answered. " I don't know how this will work with Lieutenant Travis but I assure you, I will do my best to work with her and take her ideas into consideration."
"That's all that I ask." The Admiral replied sitting down again.
With that Chris Larabee left the officer hoping that the Admiral was as sure about this as he seemed because Chris himself was nowhere near that confident.
Wellington watched him go and let out a sigh before pressing the com unit on his desk. "Judy, what time does Lieutenant Travis wish to see me?"
Outside the huge picture window of the annexe preceding the Admiral's inner sanctum, his Lieutenant Mary Travis could see the Golden Gate Bridge under the powerful rays of the afternoon sky. The heat was nothing like that on Vulcan, of course, but then this was Earth and there should be no reason for her to expect it to be like Vulcan. There was nothing on Earth that even remotely resembled Vulcan and Mary made a mental note to go home during her next shore leave.
As a career Starfleet officer, she was not prone to questioning orders. Mary lived under the simple philosophy that as a subordinate in Starfleet's hierarchy, it did not do to question the logic of those of a higher command. What they decided was policy. What she preferred was irrelevant. It did not effect her functioning as an officer or if she was required to serve with a human Captain. Except that in the cold face of that logic, Mary had found herself thinking that she might be somewhat out of place on a ship full of humans after spending so many years on Vulcan, living as one and learning to think in the same way.
To anyone else in the room, Lieutenant Mary Travis was a human woman in her early thirties with a rather glacial expression on her face most times that looked very out of place on the cool beauty of her features. The most noticeable thing about Mary was her gold hair, worn loose around her shoulders which had been of much consternation to the Vulcans who believed hair ought to be worn in tight bangs. Fortunately, too much of Mary's human origins remained for her to cut her tresses and though her husband would never publicly admit it, he had loved her wearing that cascade of gold freely over her shoulders.
Although she had vast experience in diplomacy and negotiation, not to mention an intimate understanding of Starfleet regulations and Federation directives, she had not been a protocol officer and that added to her apprehension. What made it worse, beyond her own fears, was the record of the commander she would be serving. Not only was he human but he was as far from a Vulcan as she could possibly imagine and Mary did not want to be placed in a position where what she was used to would only cause friction with her Captain.
"The Admiral will see you now." Wellington's secretary broke through the train of her thoughts.
Mary rose to her feet and replied politely. "Thank you."
The woman made no reaction to that although there was something in her eyes that begged expression. However, no hint as to what that might have been appeared forthcoming so Mary saw no reason to linger. She entered the room and saw Admiral Wellington seated behind his desk waiting for her. Mary had never met the man before although she had studied all available data on the man prior to this meeting. The Admiral had his own ideas on crew selection, Mary had deduced, although his method of selection was rather unorthodox at times.
Like now.
"You wished to see me Lieutenant Travis?" Wellington did not rise from his seat nor did Mary expect him to.
"Yes Sir," Mary Travis answered. "I wish to request a transfer from the Maverick."
Wellington showed an almost Vulcan mask of acceptance to the request. Mary had expected an emotional outburst of some kind from the man. Humans could be so unpredictable when it came to such matters. Mary Travis preferred the symmetry of Vulcan behaviour to the disarray of human reaction.
"May I have a reason?" Wellington inquired with similar calm.
"I do not believe I would make a good protocol officer for Captain Larabee." The golden hair beauty answered truthfully.
"I see." Wellington nodded. He had half expected this when he was told that she had wished to see him. "Are you not breaching the chain of command by coming to me with this?"
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her stance but made no admission of any guilt even though she felt rivers of it coursing through her and reminded herself to stick to the speech she had prepared. "According to the data regarding my transfer to the Maverick, it appears that my position was not requested by Captain Larabee but by you. Therefore, it was my opinion that you were the one most appropriate to approach regarding a transfer."
"Is there any reason why you feel that you cannot work with Chris Larabee?" The Admiral inquired.
"I feel nothing of the kind." Mary retorted. "I do believe, however, that he would not be receptive to the position of a protocol officer on his bridge. All my presence would accomplish, would be to create an atmosphere of conflict that will be non-beneficial to the crew."
Wellington nodded and took this all in. "Do you have problems working with humans?" He asked instead.
"I do not have any such problems." Mary responded automatically slightly incensed that he would even suggest such a thing. Could he not see that she was making the most sensible choice for everyone concerned? "It's just that I've read his record and he's..." Mary started to say before she stopped herself.
"You may speak your mind." Wellington prompted.
Mary let out a sigh trying to think of the best way to put this. "He's a bit of cowboy."
"I see." Wellington retorted and his expression suddenly became very hard. "Lieutenant, I understand that you've spend a lot of time with Vulcans, being stationed on the homeworld, not to mention your late husband was also Vulcan. However, Starfleet is about embracing all races and cultures, including your own. I appreciate the dilemma you face but there is no professional reason why you should not take your place on the Maverick."
Despite her reluctance to admit it, the Admiral had a very good point. In fact, that was the point that should override all other considerations. There was no reason why she could not take his placement as Protocol Officer of the ship and she was a Starfleet officer. Starfleet did not have to justify the reasoning behind its personnel assignments, least of all to an officer who reasons for asking were personal.
"Request for transfer denied." Wellington said flatly, meeting his gaze directly. "You will report to the Maverick as expected at 1400 hours tomorrow. Dismissed."
"Yes Sir." She said softly.
"And Lieutenant Travis," Wellington added as she was about to leave. "Despite what you think about Captain Larabee, he may surprise you."
Mary did not answer.
When she had gone, Wellington turned to the com unit on his desk again. "Judy, do we have anyone else from the Maverick with a problem?"
Actually he did not have a problem.
The problem lay with his two sons and his daughter. They just did not see the sense in having a man his age get on a starship and going to the Frontier. It was not right for someone with his standing in the community to embark on some damn fool idealistic adventure. Perhaps they were right. Maybe a man his age had no business traipsing across the galaxy on a starship but the one counsel that he valued the most would say otherwise. He could hear Alya's thoughts in his head as clearly as she often sent them to him in the manner of her people, the Betazed. Being human, now that she was gone, it felt terribly empty inside his head with out her comforting voice there to reassure him of things whenever he was nervous of anything.
Grab on Josiah. Grab on and ride the wind.
Of course, he would never hear her voice again or hear her thoughts in his mind. It had been almost a year since she had passed away now. Until recently, he spent each of those days since her death mourning the life they had shared together for almost twenty years. They had joined the Starfleet's medical Corp together and the promise of a future together kept him bound to Earth, instead of travelling the stars. When their first child, Mara, had been born, Josiah forgot his longing for adventure and embarked on a new journey with his new family.
For years, he had forgotten those boyish dreams of moving through the stars, voyaging to places unknown on a starship. He had Alya and their life together was fulfilling in ways he never dreamed an earthbound existence could be. When she died of Xenex Syndrome, Josiah moved through the days as a man lost. He buried himself in his work at Starfleet Medical, produced several papers on various research subjects, attended more symposiums and gave more lectures than he cared to admit. All to avoid coming home to a life of which she was no longer a part.
It was after the Borg attack when the casualties were brought in, that Josiah had his first taste of pure psychiatry in a long time. At Starfleet Medical, he had been nestled with so much research and administrative duties that he no longer had patients. However, the Borg attack had mobilised every psychiatrist in Starfleet's ranks to lend a hand. Josiah had been responsible for counselling the survivors of the Rutherford, in particular the man who was also its first officer.
Chris had been no stranger to loss. He accepted the death of his crew stoically because he was used to it. His wife and son had been killed in a freak shuttle accident when they had been travelling to Earth from the Research Station at Syria Planum. Josiah could sense that despite his outwardly dispassionate manner to tragedy, there was a part of Chris that was raw and still wounded from the pain of that loss. The psyche reports on Commander Larabee seemed to indicate that he had yet to cope with that secret pain buried so deep inside him.
For almost a week, Chris Larabee lay in critical condition after suffering massive head injuries. There was a moment when Josiah did not think he would make it. However, the man possessed a will to live that Josiah was certain contributed to his recovery. Chris confessed he did not like psychiatrists, a fact that Josiah could tell by his initial hostility. Eventually, their relationship had been forged because Chris became his friend.
Being married to a Betazoid had allowed Josiah an edge most Counsellors could well use. He found his empathy to their feelings made him a better analyst and his patients trusted his judgement in all things because they believed he genuinely cared. In Chris's case, it was listening to him speak of the places he had been and the things that he had seen on a starship that made Josiah determined to see him have those experiences again. After a few weeks, Josiah made a confession to the young first officer that he would have liked to have a career in space, had circumstances been different.
When Chris found out that he was Captain of the Maverick, he was still at Starfleet Medical. Josiah was the first person he told about his new posting and after congratulations were made and the shock had worn away, Chris made a most unexpected request of him.
"Come with me."
Josiah had merely stared at him in astonishment. "You can't be serious!" However, being a telepath eradicated the doubt of Chris's intent. Josiah sensed that he was genuine in his offer.
"You said it yourself, Josiah," Chris declared. "You've been running yourself ragged trying to find something to do with yourself. Why not take a chance on this? You've always wanted to go to space."
"Yes but," Josiah stammered, trying to think of reasons why he could not go. "I have not logged a year of star time in god only knows how long!"
"So?" Chris retorted. "I want the best Counsellor in the fleet not a space ranger. As a psychiatrist, you've got the best bedside manner I've ever seen and I ought to know — I hate you people. Your qualifications are impeccable and I don't even have to mention your credentials for research. I could not get a better Ship's Counsellor if I tried looking for someone else!"
Despite all his reservations, Josiah felt himself being convinced but there was still some resistance to the idea. The thought of leaving everything he had known for the past twenty years to embark on something completely unknown frightened him to no end and yet it was also tantalising. "I don't know." Josiah managed to say even though a kernel of desire to accept Chris's offer was being weighed down by a lifetime of responsibility to everyone but himself.
Chris paused a moment before saying softly. "What would Alya tell you to do if she were here?"
"If Alya was here, this would not be a consideration." Josiah retorted and then felt ashamed for saying it. Chris said nothing but the doctor could tell he had been hurt by the remark. Still Chris was correct. Even if Alya were no longer in his life, Josiah could always count on her wisdom to make difficult decisions.
Grab on Josiah. Grab on and ride the wind.
Thus, Doctor Josiah Sanchez accepted a field commission on board the USS Maverick as its Ship's Counsellor. When he told his children of his intention to leave Earth, they had thought he had finally gone senile because of grief. He understood their reservations and knew their fears well. They had just lost their mother and were afraid of losing their father to space. If they had been children, he could appreciate their fear for him but they were adults. They had lives on of their own and he had to make one for himself now that Alya was gone.
Although they were still ambivalent about the decision he had made, eventually they were unable to deny the first semblance of happiness their father had felt since the loss of their mother. The advantage of being married to a Betazoid and having offspring with telepathic ability, Josiah decided, was that nothing could be hidden from them. With such complications removed, Josiah was able to convince his children that this was right for him.
So now he was here, standing in the house he had shared with Alya for almost twenty years. He had discharged the housekeeper who had gone Into the employ of Mara, his oldest daughter and her family early this morning. The furniture was sealed to prevent deterioration and all of the family heirlooms and valuables were placed in storage. Josiah stared at the lone duffel bag at his feet and wondered how it had been possible for him to cram thirty years into such a small space.
He looked at the polished wooden walls and the Betazoid carvings his wife loved to collect, hanging on them. Josiah ran his fingers along the sofa and winced because it felt odd with the plastiseal over the fabric. He and Alya had picked the lounge suit together in New Orleans, almost ten years ago. The loss of her threatened to overwhelm him at that moment, more than the emptiness of the house ever could. He swallowed hard; controlling the emotions that was struggling to surface. In reaction, Josiah picked up his bag and stepped outside.
The sun was warm on his face and he looked up at the star he had called home for three decades. The sky was a brilliant blue and he tried to see through the veneer of sunshine that covered the planet Earth to what lay beyond. He could not see the Maverick but he knew it was there. Taking a deep breath, he decided to stop wasting time.
Touching the new com badge on his breast, he spoke out tentatively uncertain whether the device was working or not. "Hello, this is Counsellor Sanchez. I'm ready to come up now."
The voice on the other end was a cheerful female who was somewhat amused by the manner of his request. "Certainly Counsellor, hold position and we'll beam you on board immediately."
"Thank you." He replied.
As the glow of golden specks danced around his eyes, preparing to carry him away from all that he knew, Josiah Sanchez cast a final glimpse at the place that had been his home for so long and said a final farewell.
Goodbye Alya.
"Mother, we have stopped moving." The boy said softly.
Mary opened her eyes and glanced at her son. It took a second to react to his words because she was distracted by the absence of the familiar hum of the shuttles' engines and by the stationary stars outside her window. In the distance, she could see the glimmer of lights emanating from the starbase from which they had departed only a short time ago. The star Sol was peeking over the curve of the planet Earth illuminating the enormous structure in the distance. Glancing at the gold pendant watch given to her by her late husband, Mary saw that it was drawing close to the time when she was expected to report into the Maverick.
Despite herself, she felt a hint of apprehension at why they had come to a stop. With all the reservations she already had about this assignment, she did not wish to be late for her first day as Protocol Officer to the USS Maverick. As it was, she was certain that Captain Larabee would be as ambivalent to her presence as she was to being posted to a starship, still wishing that they had left her alone on Vulcan. Unfortunately with the recent Borg attack decimating the ranks of good officers, Starfleet had to pool its resources to fill positions on board starships.
"I'll see what is causing the delay." She replied coolly, rising to her feet. "William, you will remain here." Mary instructed. Half Vulcan or not, boys at William's age were intensely curious about everything that moved and she did not want him to be wandering about if there was something malfunctioning on the ship.
"Yes mother." He said obediently and returned his attention to the learning pad on his lap. These days, she noticed he no longer argued with her the way he used to when his father had been alive. Despite her attempts not to show her sorrow to her son, she felt a sliver of grief appear in her heart. Allowing it no more than a second's existence, she crushed the emotion from her psyche and continued walking towards the shuttle cockpit. William had always questioned everything because that is how he had been raised him to be. Syan believed a mind was wasted if it did not strive to expand the boundaries of its knowledge. Unfortunately, such belief when raising a child could be a double edged sword. It gave William the idea that it was necessary to question and investigate everything.
Not any more.
Since his father was killed in the Borg attack, as many Starfleet officers had been during that battle, William had retreated into a world of books and studies. Even by Vulcan standards, he was still a child since he had not reached the age where he was required to undertake Surak's disciplines. As much as Mary wanted to indulge his human side before the Vulcan took too much control, William seemed isolated and marked with a profound sadness. He had been close to his father and he was still too young to manage his grief with Vulcan stoic.
Not that age allowed her to cope any better.
Mary reached the cockpit and found a fresh faced ensign studying his controls with growing frustration. At her arrival, he quickly rose to his feet and stammered an uncoordinated response. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Travis. We seem to be having some sort of problem with the propulsion system. I can contact the Maverick and have you beamed aboard if you like."
"That will be fine." Mary nodded.
"What is going on?" The other passenger of the shuttle demanded as she made her way up the aisle.
Mary and the ensign looked over her shoulder and saw a petite, titian haired beauty advancing towards them with an expression of determination on her face. The pips on her uniform indicated she was a lieutenant, possibly an engineer. She met Mary's gaze and offered a warm smile having come to the conclusion that it was very likely that she and Mary would soon to be shipmates.
"Hi, I'm Lieutenant Pemberton." She announced herself cheerfully to both Mary and the ensign.
"Lieutenant Travis," Mary returned her smile as the confident young woman who immediately stepped into the cockpit without being asked. "Engineer?" She ventured a guess.
"Chief Engineer Julia Pemberton at your service." She said proudly with a little salute that made Mary warm immediately to her. "What's the problem, Ensign?" Julia glanced at the anxious pilot who could not make the ship go and felt very intimidated by the present of Chief Engineer in the face of his blunder.
"He says that there is something wrong with the propulsion." Mary answered for him. "Okay," Julia nodded, itching to get in there and see what it was this ensign had done to what would soon be one of her shuttles. By the looks of him, he had trouble distinguishing what was an EPS conduit and what was a plasma manifold. The Maverick was due to launch is less than 24 hours and Julia was impatient to get on board the vessel before that happened. She would have been here sooner but she had spent the last six months on DS3 and had not managed to get back any sooner. Aside from a million things that needed doing before launch, she was impatient to get to her first command without wasting time on this rookie kid, who looked like he had no idea what he was doing. "Let me get in there and take a look." "Yes Sir." The ensign nodded and stepped aside and allowed her to slide into the pilot seat. She studied the readings on the controls before her and quickly found the problem. Obviously, this ensign required a refresher course in shuttle mechanics or at least a good kick in the rear. However, Julia decided that it was not her place to make either recommendation. She had her own schedule to keep and it was more expedient if she just fixed the problem so they could get going instead of complaining about it. "The warp core energy readings are fluctuating." She declared after a moment of quick examination of all the sensor readings. "This is indicative of an imbalance with the output ratio of field coils. I can fix it from here."
"Lucky you were on board Lieutenant," the ensign remarked with a sigh of relief. "I think I need a refresher in shuttle mechanics." He answered mirroring Julia's thoughts with astounding clarity.
Mary watched Julia Pemberton with mild fascination as her fingers flew over the pads of the cockpit controls, utterly consistent with one who was confident of her abilities and had no room for doubt on that perception. Mary did not know Julia but she could tell immediately that the woman knew her job and she knew it exceedingly well. Allowing her gaze to shift away from the Chief Engineer, Mary found herself peering out the window of the cockpit, at the ship that lay just beyond the hull of this small craft.
Against the canvas of brilliant stars, Mary could see faint silhouette of the Maverick in the not too far distance. Although she had been in Starfleet for many years, most of her assignments had been earthbound and she had not seen many ships in her time, certainly not a heavy battle cruiser that was a galaxy class starship. The Maverick was very impressive, having the formidable lines of a warship and yet the sleek beauty of an explorer vessel at the same time.
Mary swallowed hard, trying not to let the sight of ship intimidate her. The lack of experience on board a starship, not to mention that she was probably going to deal with a hostile captain, did not make her feel better as it was and if she was to maintain any professional balance with the Captain, she would have get herself under control. Mary's thought shifted back into the present from her reminescing when a loud hum broke the silence of the moment after the control panels leap to life underneath Julia's deft finger fingers and then settle into the familiar drone of normal engine function.
Julia rose to her feet and regarded the ensign. "Put in a repair order when you get onboard the Maverick," she ordered. "I have a feeling this is going to be a recurring problem. I think that field coils may need replacing."
"Yes Sir." He nodded as she slipped past him. "I'll do that for sure."
"How do you know it is a recurring problem?" Mary asked as the two women returned to their seats.
"Oh, I can tell." Julia shrugged. "The hum was not right."
"You can tell by the hum?" Mary stared at her, suitably impressed.
"Yeah," Julia nodded like it was the most sensible things in the world. "Harmonics are everything. You can detect phase shifts, energy fluctuations and even radiation flux. Someone told me once that a good starship engineer knows every sound his or her ship makes. I do." She smiled.
"Considering this is my first tour of duty on a starship, I am pleased to hear that." Mary answered.
"So what do you do?" Julia inquired since the statuesque blond was not wearing a uniform but instead a form fitting dress that accentuated her curves and made Julia feel rather drab in her own uniform.
"I'm the new Protocol Officer," Mary said nervously.
"Diplomatic core." Julia nodded in understanding. "I didn't think that was a standard crew assignment."
"Apparently Admiral Wellington felt the Captain would require one." She sighed. "I am not so certain."
"Oh the Captain's not so bad," Julia replied, able to see that the woman was quite nervous about her role on the Maverick even though she seemed outwardly collected. Julia could tell that she was trying hard to maintain her professional calm and felt enough sympathy to try and ease some of her fears.
"You've served with Captain Larabee before?" Mary inquired unable to hide her curiosity over what new commanding officer was like. Official records reduced information to the bare facts and while useful, Mary found that it rarely contained half of what was really needed.
"Yes, I was with him on the Rutherford." She said quietly and forced the images of that last, terrible battle from her mind that often surfaced whenever the Rutherford was mentioned. "I think he asked for me for this assignment."
"What is he like?" The new protocol officer asked as they came to a pause near hear sat where William was still engrossed in the contents of his data pad now that the shuttle had resumed its advance towards the Maverick.
"Well on the Rutherford, he was first officer and probably more approachable than he'll be on the Maverick, now that he is in command. He always got the job done and gave the impression that no matter how bad things got, he always had a handle on it. Great sense of humour and not always by the book. Of course, he changed when his wife and son died."
"That would change anyone." Mary remarked, aware about that much of his history. "In fact, I can appreciate that myself." She said enigmatically and returned to her seat before Julia could make investigate that remark further.
He was one of the first command officers to board the USS Maverick.
As Security Chief, he had felt it a necessary precaution to greet everyone stepping off the transporter pad. Ordinarily, this task would be undertaken by Transporter Chief Rain but it was Lieutenant Commander Ezra Standish preferred a face to face meeting with those he would be working with rather than basing his judgement on their character by what was available in their official record. As student of human behaviour, he found it an effective method of getting to know the people he would be serving with in the future and detecting those he knew would give him trouble later on.
Of course, as Security Chiefs went, Ezra was hardly conventional himself. Captain Larabee had worked with him before and tolerated his penchant for running gambling and betting pools even though it was strictly against regulations. However, Ezra ran honest games and his extra curricular activities was a shot in the arm for crew morale, now more than ever considering where their mission was taking them. On the other hand, a man so accustomed to running games and under the table activities was more adept than anyone else in ferreting them out himself.
Since he was keeping a vigil on everyone who came on board the ship, Ezra had a chance to meet all the command officers. The Captain had been one of the first to arrive which was not surprising since this was his first command. Chris and Ezra had served together years ago and Ezra had a chance to tender his personal thanks to the man for recommending him for this assignment. Even though the risk factor was high, there was no doubt that the position could make a career if Ezra was so inclined to think about his future in Starfleet in those terms.
The First Officer, Commander Buck Wilmington was a stark contrast to the Captain. While Chris Larabee was sombre and calculated in every facet of his personality, Buck Wilmington was happy go lucky, casual and generally amusing to say the least. As a first officer to Captain Larabee, Ezra found the match to be damn near perfect because while crew members might feel anxious about approaching Chris who could be as intimidating as all hell when he felt the need, Buck was the exact opposite. Ezra who rarely warmed to people upon first meeting could safely say that he liked the man immediately. Of course, the fact that he had eyed every woman in the place on their way to the bridge like they were part of an open buffet for the sampling did not bode well for the virtue of the Maverick's female crew.
Counsellor Sanchez was another kettle of fish as well, approachable but not as enthusiastic as their first officer. The man seemed perfectly suited as Counsellor, possessing this inner calm that was probably very soothing for those who came to him for aid. It did surprise Ezra however, that for a man who was Starfleet Medical for almost thirty years, he had come aboard with the manner of a first year cadet. He gawked in wonder with his dark eyes and asked questions about everything. Ezra had answered his questions patiently, reminded himself of how excited he was the first time he had come aboard a starship.
As he waited in the transporter room for the last of the bridge officers, Lieutenant Commander Alexandra Styles the Science Officer, Ezra wondered what she was like. Her record indicated that she had spent most of her time on Deep Space Nine and had been captured during one of the many battles between the Federation and Cardassian-Dominion Alliance. Lieutenant Commander Styles had spent six months in a Cardsassian prison and knowing what Cardassians did to their prisoners, Ezra was somewhat surprised to learn that after her convalescence, Styles had enlisted in Starfleet courses for enhanced tactical and combat training, hardly the vocation of someone in the sciences. He supposed he could not blame her for wanting to defend herself with lethal prowess considering she would have spent every day of her incarceration with the Cardassians under torture.
"Lieutenant Alex Styles to USS Maverick, I am ready to transport." Ezra heard a voice emanating from the transporter panel before him.
"Standby." Ezra said automatically and activated the transporter controls to bring their new science officer on board.
The transporter pad flickered before her in a shimmering curtain of gold speckles that eventually settled to form the shape of an exceedingly beautiful woman. Tall and lithe, she moved off the transporter pad with the grace of a cat and while her muscles looked worked to perfection, there could be no doubt she was anything but female. She wore her jet coloured hair loose and the lustre of it seemed to accentuate her exotic features that seemed to indicate a background of mixed human parentage. With her bronzed skin and brown eyes, Ezra could almost guarantee that almost every man on the ship would be lusting after her as soon as she came into their sight.
Himself included.
"Welcome on board Commander." Ezra walked forward and introduced himself.
She regarded him with eyes that seemed so much older than they really were and Ezra found himself wonderings what horrors she had seen in her life time and considering her history, gathered that it was probably better than he did not know or ask for that matter.
"Thank you." She answered softly. His eyes darted around the transporter pad in quick observation of everything.
"I'm Security Chief Ezra Standish." He extended his hand and she took it just to be polite if her body language was anything to judge.
"Please to meet you Chief." She replied, sizing him up quickly and uncertain whether or not she trusted him yet. Ezra could tell immediately that she did not trust anyone readily.
"Relax Commander." Ezra replied with a smile. "I do not bite."
"That's good to know." She looked at him with a raised brow and brushed past him. "Unfortunately, I do."
With that she walked out of the transporter room, not waiting for him. Ezra stared after her for a moment and then broke into a grin and followed her.
Buck Wilmington looked up at from his pad at his friend and Captain who was pacing the floor of his ready room like a man about to face a firing squad. Although they had known each other for years, had shipped out of the Academy at the same time and were probably as close as two men could get despite being separated by time and space, it was the first time Buck had ever served with Chris as first officer. When Chris had asked him for him as first officer, Buck had understood why immediately. Chris was not a good people person and Buck was unashamed to admit, that he was. Chris tended to be aloof and somewhat glacial and his choice of First Officer was based upon balancing his imposing manner on his crew. Personality aside, they worked well together because Buck was unafraid of telling Chris exactly what he thought, almost to the point of insubordination and he was not above telling what Chris needed to hear as well. After Sarah and Adam Larabee had passed on, Buck Wilmington had been the only person who had kept Chris from slipping into a dark abyss of despair from which he would have never emerged. Buck had refused to give up on his old friend and even though their friendship had suffered because he had been forced to keep Chris' head above water, still it had been worth the end result. Buck had regretted nothing because he had understood when he began that sometimes, to save a friendship one had to be willing to sacrifice it.
"Chris," Buck looked up from his data pad containing all the information about crew evaluations. "Relax, you're wearing a hole in the carpet."
"The protocol officer just came on board." Chris responded automatically. "I'll let her settle in and then I'll get her in here. I don't need to see her immediately."
Buck tried to suppress a smile but did not quite manage it. "Captain's prerogative of course. Although I might point out that she's just a protocol officer, not a three headed Denebian slime devil."
Chris met her gaze. "We haven't seen her yet." Chris stopped pacing and gave Buck a look.
Buck rolled his eyes and shook his head in resignation, deciding that he was not going to pull Chris out of his hostile opinion if his captain did not wish to be extracted. "Just try to keep an open mind when you do meet her and watch your temper. You know how charming you can be around the ladies." Buck said sarcastically.
"Very funny." Chris growled.
"This Tanner kid has got an interesting history." Buck commented as he studied the data on Lieutenant Vin Tanner, their helmsman and navigation officer. "He that good?"
"He was the only one who kept his head on the bridge of the Rutherford when everything went to hell. He's Vulcan but was raised by human parents," Chris replied, grateful for the chance to talk about someone else other than their protocol officer's impending arrival. "You've read the profile, he's Vulcan physiologically but has none of the baggage they do. He tends to shy away from people so if you don't mind, aside from keeping an eye on our new Ensign, keep an eye on Vin as well."
"You're really like this kid." Buck looked at Chris in interest and knew that it was not often that he took an interest like this.
"Well, he's had a rough time." Chris answered truthfully. "He just looks like he's struggling to fit in and being neither Vulcan or human makes that hard."
"I hear you," Buck nodded in understanding and made a note to have a talk with the Lieutenant when he had the chance.
"Who else has arrived?" Chris asked knowing that it was just another to pass the time before Lieutenant Travis arrived.
Fortunately, Buck knew it too. "I've been told that Counsellor Sanchez is here. Standish has been exemplary in getting everyone settled in."
"He just wants to know who's who." Chris said with a faint smile as he stopped pacing and went to his desk. "Incidentally," Chris paused and met Buck's gaze. "If he asks you for a game of poker, be afraid, be very afraid."
"Chris," Buck replied rather offended by the warning when he considered himself quite the card player. "I don't get beaten in cards, cards or love." His exec grinned. Chris rolled his eyes and returned with a sceptical drawl. "Right, just keep your eye on your credits and your latinum in either case."
"I don't have any latinum." Buck retorted.
"That's right," Chris said sweetly with an innocent expression on his face. "And if you get into a game with Security Chief Standish you never will either."
Buck said nothing and Chris knew that the moment he had a chance, Buck was going to find Ezra Standish to find out if Chris' warning was at all justified. The captain sighed, deciding that Buck was only going to learn the hard way. "By the way," he suddenly remembered. "How's Josiah doing?"
"I haven't seen him yet." Buck answered. The exec was making it a point to say hello to all the senior level officers before the launch in order to introduce and to familiarise himself with the people he would be working with during the voyage. He had to confess the Counsellor was a few rungs down his list at the moment but Chris' inquiry made him re-evaluate that decision "Do you want me to?" Buck was aware that Chris was concerned about how the Counsellor was fitting in because the man had not logged any space time in years.
Chris pursed his lips as he considered the idea. "Do that but don't make it sound you're checking up on him. He lost his wife a year ago and its been difficult for him coming to terms that he has to go one without her."
For a minute neither man spoke and Buck suddenly understood why Chris had been so determined to get Josiah Sanchez as his ship's counsellor. As someone who had lost his wife and son and had never recovered the loss, not really in Buck's opinion, Chris' empathy for Josiah's loss was also a part of his own self healing. Chris of all people could empathise with Counsellor Sanchez's grief over the loss of his wife.
"Sure Chris," Buck nodded before getting to his feet. There was much to do before launch tomorrow and he had more or less covered everything he had to with the Captain for the moment.
"Hey Chris," Buck paused in his advance to the door and glanced over his shoulder at his old friend.
"What?" Chris asked, not really paying attention to his first officer since he was busy pouring over Lieutenant Travis profile on his data pad.
"Its good working with you again." The tall man smiled. "I missed you."
Chris raised his eyes to his old friend and eased back into his chair with a slight nod. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Lieutenant Vin Tanner had been watching her for sometime now.
He looked at her strawberry coloured hair and liked how it shimmered under the lighting of the establishment known as Four Corners, the social centre of the Maverick. She sat at the bar, talking to someone from engineering, radiating that smile that just reached into his chest and made his stomach flutter each time she presented it. Vin swallowed, telling himself that if he felt like this, he ought to be doing something about it, not sitting around like some terrified school boy, envisioning in his head for the hundredth time how he should approach her. He was no kid but a man and she was a woman. It could not possibly be that difficult to strike up a conversation.
Of course, he said that but in truth the reality was far more different that his optimistic view of things. It was hard for him. It always had been. Being full Vulcan and having none of the discplines or the upbringing necessary to be Vulcan because of his human foster parents, Vin found himself on the outside of Vulcan culture always staring in, knowing that being apart of it was something he would never achieve. He could accept that if being human was any easier. It was not. He remained poised on the periphery of both and yet was part of neither.
You can do this, he told himself. All he had to do was stand up and go say hello. Standing up from the far end of the counter, he walked towards her, drawn by the sound of her laughter which reminded of a bright summer's day like that he used to know on the world where he and his foster parents had been marooned for 12 years. He had never felt like this before and told himself that someone so pretty could not be like all the others.
Vin approached Lieutenant Charlotte Richmond, who had her back turned to him when he greeted her with a restrained hello.
She swivelled around on her chair to face him, her eyes moving up and down with approval before she replied. "Hello yourself."
"I thought I would introduce myself," he said trying to remember how it was done from his observation of other human males. He hoped he did not mess it up. He really did like her. "My name is Lieutenant Tanner, Vin Tanner."
Her eyes widened. "Tanner? You're the Elf!" She chuckled. "The Vulcan elf!" The manner in which she made that statement indicated that it was not a term of endearment but rather of derision.
Anything further Vin was going to say was immediately forgotten because he turned around and started walking away, her tittering laughter still ringing in his ears, with her companion joining in for good measure. Vin's cheek burned with embarrassment but it was nothing in comparison to the hurt he felt because once again, he was given a stark reminder of just how things were for him.
He started walking towards the door, wanting to hide away when suddenly he heard a voice call out to him through the darkness at the corner of the bar. He paused and looked up, spotting the shadowy figure as she emerged from her own hiding place. For a minute, he just stared at her because he thought he had all the bases covered when it came to fading into the background. She had taken a seat near the door normally reserved for couples interested in privacy while still enjoying the setting of the premises, watching everyone silently, including him. He gathered she had bore witness to his humiliation at the hands of Lieutenant Richmond.
"She's not worth it." Alex Styles remarked as she sat forward enough in her seat so that he could see her. Although taking part in someone's love life was not something she cared or bothered to indulge, Alex had seen Vin Tanner working up the nerve to approach Charlotte Richmond. A part of her was so touched by the effort in his face that she actually hoped it would work out for him. Unfortunately, it had not and for the first time in a long time, she felt a wave of sympathy when she saw the hurt in his eyes after the woman's rejection.
"It's not her." Vin managed to say once he got over his surprise at her appearance. He observed her for a moment and realised that she was very beautiful, a different kind of beautiful from Charlotte but nevertheless stunning. Of course, it was not easy to tell in the dim lighting but while he may not have had much experience with women but Vin knew that much at least. "It's me."
"That's a load of nonsense." She said bluntly. "There's no excuse for being stupid and cruel and that's what she is. Don't think any less of yourself because she's confused being mean with being witty. Look, speaking as a woman, we're not all like that and you'll find someone one day who can get past the Vulcan and see what's inside you. Don't waste your time trying to be something else, it's just not worth it."
"Thank you." He answered, genuinely surprised that such an awful experience could be followed by such a pleasant one.
"You're welcome." She smiled and returned into the shadows, indicating that as far as she was concerned, she had said her peace.
Vin wanted to talk some more but had the impression that she liked being left alone because he'd be in the exact same place if he wanted to hide too.
Captain Chris Larabee of the USS Maverick.
Even when it was said out loud, it felt odd. It would take more time hearing himself called Captain Larabee before he finally became accustomed to being addressed as such. As he walked through the corridors inside his galaxy class starship, it felt odd having the crew look up at him and nodding their salutations in tones of awed respect. It was not too long ago when he was one of them, having Captain of his own to look up. He was uncertain whether this change was for the better or the worse. Although there was a lot to be said about being in command of one's own ship. A day after his arrival on board the Maverick, Chris was slightly more at ease with his new command.
Although he had yet to have a private audience with Lieutenant Travis, who appeared in no hurry to meet him either, Chris knew that eventually he would have to face his new Protocol officer. As it was, it could be construed as exceptionally bad manners that he had not met her already and welcomed her on board. Chris was begrudgingly forced to admit that he had to make reparations and soon before she started thinking the worst as well. Instead of thinking about how much of burden she was going to be upon his command style, Chris tried to put himself in her shoes, imagining what it must be like to lose a husband and then transported away the home they had shared with their son to a starship. Then to face a Captain, whose preconceived notions of what Protocol Officer meant to his command were so severe that he could not even welcome her to his ship.
Thus almost a day after her arrival, Chris finally summoned Lieutenant Travis to his Ready Room. Having perused her service record in greater depth instead of merely being up in arms as he had been when he walked into Wellington's office, Chris learnt that she had lost her husband in the same battle that he had lost the Rutherford. Her husband's ship had been destroyed, leaving her a widow with a young son to raise on her own. She had family on Earth but had been mostly on her own in Vulcan, raising her son in accordance with traditions of her husband's people.
Guiltily, Chris realised that it could not be easy for her to be plucked from all that and dropped into a starship command with a captain who was being rather petulant in his attitude towards her position. With this in mind, he told himself that he could afford to show her some compassion and give her the benefit of the doubt. Thus, when the door to his Ready Room buzzed to signal the arrival of Lieutenant Travis, Chris was certain that he was prepared for her.
Until she walked in the room.
Chris found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. The picture in her file did not do her any justice and all he could see as she entered was her golden hair draped over her shoulders and the form fitting dress that hugged every perfect inch of her luminsense skin. For a minute, he felt like a teenager when she cast those incredibly blue grey upon him.
"Captain." She smiled.
Her smile. Don't even get him started on that.
"Lieutenant Travis." He said clearing his throat, trying to use his best Captain voice and prayed she did not notice that he had been staring at her. "I'm pleased to meet you." He extended his hand.
"As I Captain." She replied, taking his hand a little hesitantly at first. Vulcans were not used to touching and she had forgotten that humans expressed much by sensation. Ever since she had left Vulcan, she had been forced to rekindle old habits that become long dormant since she first married Syan. She could not equate herself with the eager young woman, who had first entered Vulcan culture and knew by comparison, the person she was now, was a stranger she did not recognise at times. While she admired Vulcan culture, Mary was starting to realise that she lost much of herself because of it.
Chris noticed none of these ruminations running through her head since he was trying hard to remember that he had to work with this woman and that nothing good would come of it if he kept thinking of Lieutenant Travis as something more. Of course, he would hardly be human if he did not because even as he gestured for her to sit down and retreated behind his desk to begin their brief meeting, he could not get enough of looking at that lovely face. No doubt, it was that which must have captured her husband's heart. Chris found something very satisfying in knowing that not even Vulcan logic was immune to those eyes.
"Lieutenant," Chris started to say as he noticed her very glacial expression staring at him and mused secretly at how much fun it would be to apply some heat before scolding himself for the thought and reminding himself to get back to the subject at hand. "I'd like to apologise for not having you in here sooner. I've had some personal issues to deal with regarding your role here and I behaved in appropriately. I am sorry." He said after a moment.
She admired his honesty because not many would have made that admission. There was no reason for him to do so, after all he was the Captain and she was a lieutenant. Despite herself, Mary warmed a little towards him and could not deny that he was extremely attractive with his dark gold hair and intensely coloured eyes that seemed to pierce the skin. It had sent a shudder through her she could not explain when she had first walked in and he had cast those incredible eyes upon her. She had thought Vulcans were unreadable but when Captain Larabee had looked at her in those first few seconds, his were the most enigmatic eyes she had ever seen. A part of her, one that she was not ready to acknowledge, found herself curious enough to unravel their mystery.
"I did not take any offence Captain," she replied and decided that since they were being honest, perhaps it was time for her to make the same gesture. "I myself had some reservations with taking this position, I still don't know whether I can be an effective protocol officer to you."
That's good to know," Chris admitted feeling glad that he was not the only one with reservations but having seen her, Chris knew one thing; he wanted her to remain on his ship. "Lieutenant, I won't say its going to be easy being my protocol officer but we're going into uncharted territory out there and while I may question the need, I won't question the effectiveness of your work. Chances are we will need strict guidelines on first contact procedures and you're apparently an anthropological expert as well. We'll need that where we're going. However," he hated adding this part but he was not going to trap her here if she did not wish it, simply because he wanted nothing better than to run his hands through her glorious golden hair. "If you think the posting is unworkable, I will approve a transfer if you wish it."
Mary was genuinely touched by the gesture because she knew he had not offered it because he wanted her off the ship. Being in the diplomatic core had taught her how to spot a liar from a light year away and she could tell that he was making it out of real concern for her well being. If anything confirmed that this might work out, it was Captain Larabee giving her that chance.
"The posting is not unworkable," she looked up after a few second of reflection. "I believe I can manage but I thank you for your consideration."
Her voice was melodic, he thought to himself and smiled faintly. "Well save your thanks until you've been on the bridge with me, I've been told I can be a rather infuriating SOB." Chris joked when she realised she was not laughing. He had attempted to sound clever but when she raised her brow in question, he wished he had not said it.
"Honestly Captain," she replied with a perfectly straight face. "Infuriating SOB's is all they grow on Vulcan."
He smiled at her and when he did, it reached into Mary and started her heart fluttering with excitement for she knew it was a real smile that he seldom gave to anyone else. Mary felt her cheeks suddenly burn with heat for the first time in so long and she was rather surprised because her reaction to him had not been so strong even when she had first met her husband Syan.
"I'll take your word for it." He grinned, watching her closely and noting that she was infinitely more approachable then when she had first walked into the room. He was glad that they were able to get past their earlier differences. "Any questions?" He asked.
"I have," she nodded. "I have been attached with the Vulcan embassy for some time and although I am technically a Starfleet officer, I have become accustomed to being attired in civilian clothing." Her eyes shifted to her apparel. "I would prefer to remain that way but I would understand if you need me to a wear a uniform."
And get her out of those dresses? Not a chance in hell.
"No," Chris said with perfect innocence. "I have no problem with that. Whatever is comfortable for you." He replied, having no wish to see her out of her figure hugging clothes and secretly called himself a sexist pig for being that way.
"Thank you Captain." Mary responded pleased that she could remain in her usual clothes. Other than pips for rank, she had not worn a Starfleet uniform in years and her position of protocol officer did not place her in the command structure for it to be a necessity.
"How are you settling in?" Chris asked instead, on a more personal note. This meeting was not simply to iron out their initial reservations about working with each other but also for him to gauge how she was handling her new post. Most of her Starfleet career had seen her attached to Vulcan with off world travel when it was needed. This was her first assignment not only as a protocol officer but also with a permanent posting to a starship.
She understood immediately to what he was referring, of course. "I am fine. Syan is gone and my life has changed, I have to get used to that. I have responsibilities to my son that keeps me from becoming preoccupied with his being gone. This place is certainly different from Vulcan but I will become accustomed to it."
Chris, who knew all about changing ones life after the death of a wife and child, felt a certain amount of empathy with the sadness he saw in her eyes as she thought about her husband. Suddenly, helping her to cope, just like helping Josiah to move on, was having some effect on the grief he had yet to deal with over Sarah and Adam. "Mary," he said gently. "I am your Captain and I understand that there are professional boundaries than separate us but feel free to come to me or Counsellor Sanchez in light of any difficulties. I know that being on Vulcan and adopting many of their customs has probably made you feel the same about not discussing personal troubles but you don't have to do it alone. If there is anyway I can help, I would be glad to."
"Thank you Sir." Mary answered trying to remain unaffected by the gesture. "Your offer is appreciated."
Chris nodded and was about to dismiss her when suddenly, he heard her speak. "Captain."
"Yes Lieutenant?" He asked. Chris saw hesitation on her face and wondered what was on her mind that made it difficult for her to voice it.
"In light of your offer, I do have a request of you. You are under no obligation to grant it since it is a personal matter. I normally would not ask this of anyone but when it comes to my son, I'm not always as sensible as I liked to be."
"Ask away." He replied, intrigued.
"Since my husband passed on, my son William has not been himself. He is not at the age where emotional disciplines have not been mastered yet and he has a right to grieve for his father but he has not done so and he is also rather withdrawn." Mary paused and tried to keep the emotion from her voice as she continued. "I am his mother and I know that he requires understanding on his feelings but he won't talk to me."
There was a helplessness in her voice that made him want to take her in his arms because he sensed she did not ask for help very often and found it was exceedingly difficult to turn to another on the question of her son.
"How can I help?" Chris asked gently.
"He has confessed an interest in seeing the bridge. I am aware that it is not standard procedure to allow a child on board but I wondered if you would allow him a short visit. It appears to be the only thing to which he has shown any interest in since coming on board, or since his father died, for that matter."
"I don't see any reason why a short tour cannot be arranged. See Commander Wilmington about it and he will make the appropriate arrangements." He replied.
"Thank you Sir." Mary said gratefully.
While she still tried to maintain her composure, Chris swore he saw her eyes light up in pleasure. Once again, he had to remind himself that she was his protocol officer and he was her Captain. How could a man from a race so mercurial manage to snare the heart such a beautiful female? Chris brushed away the thoughts he was entertaining about Mary and managed an obligatory response.
"My pleasure." He said before ending their conversation on the appropriate note. "By the way, welcome aboard Lieutenant."
Following his interview with Lieutenant Travis, which went exceedingly well he thought and left a smile on Chris' face for the rest of the morning, he decided he might take a walk of his ship. Chris wanted to drop in informally some of the other members of his senior staff who would no doubt be running on empty preparing for the launch later today. He had already said hello to Julia Pemberton whom he had not seen since the Rutherford. Considering how she had managed herself during the battle with the Borg, Chris had wanted no one else for Chief Engineer and seeing how well she had things running down in Engineering, Chris realised that he had made the correct choice when he had picked her for the job.
For now, Chris wanted to drop in on Josiah and see how he was doing. Admiral Wellington had been nothing short of astonished when Chris had informed him that Josiah Sanchez wished to be transferred from Starfleet Medical to the USS Maverick. He may have been a novice in space travel but elsewhere in the Federation Josiah's was a name well known. He was one of the medical professions brightest from the onset of his career.
However, prestige aside, Chris had wanted Josiah to come with him and leave his grieving on Earth. Chris had some idea what it must be like to lose a wife and understood that Josiah wounds needed to heal. His existence on Earth had dwindled to a point where he was merely going through the motions with no real passion in any of his actions. Chris cared too much about the older man to let him waste away with his grief. Josiah Sanchez needed to live and Chris was convinced he could do that on board the Maverick.
The Counsellors Office was not far from Sick Bay and as he rounded the corner of the corridor and entered Deck 15, he passed by the doors to Sick Bay that were zipping open and close at random intervals, either letting people in or out of the room. Since he was in the neighbourhood, Chris thought he might as well pay a call on his Chief Medical Officer whom he had yet to meet.
Although he had poured through stacks of candidates for the position, Nathan Jackson's name had jumped out of the pile mostly because the man's field of research seemed to be the Borg assimilation process. Considering that the Maverick was now headed towards the frontier that rested between the Delta quadrant and Federation space, it seemed like a prudent idea to have a physician well versed in Borg research. Nathan had also spent a lot of time travelling from world to world, his internship had allowed him to dabble in varied fields with a speciality in Vulcan physiology. The man also had some interesting ideas on protocol.
He entered Sick Bay and saw a chaotic assembly of doctors and nurses, scurrying about getting the large medical centre ready for a prolonged space voyage. Supplies were being inventoried, instruments were being catalogued and equipment was being calibrated by busy technicians. In the midst of all this activity was Commander Nathan Jackson, shouting out orders to his staff who were determined to pay attention even though everyone seemed to have their hands full.
Upon his entrance, Nathan stopped what he was doing and declared with a truly happy expression. "Captain, I hope this isn't an inspection."
Chris grinned despite himself because the man's jubilant mood was infectious. "Relax everyone," he told the medical crew. "It's like this everywhere. I'm just here to say hello to Doctor Jackson."
There was a visible sigh of relief as everyone returned to their duties and Chris weaved in and out of the bodies before him to reach Nathan. Even from a distance, he could tell that the doctor was enjoying himself.
"Its good to meet you Captain," Nathan answered as he continued to put his office into order. "I'm sorry I haven't reported to you."
"No its alright," the captain glanced outside the office at the officers scurrying about trying to get Sick Bay to a less chaotic state. "I take it you're trying to install all the additional research gear for Borg research?"
"That's right," Nathan nodded as he paused a moment in his work to talk to the Captain. "I've brought all the files that exist on anything to do with the Borg especially their assimilation process. I have also downloaded into the main computer, the data of an experimental procedure that I've been working on with nanites, began by Doctor Crusher of the Enterprise which I think if we can crack it, might be the key to defeating them."
"Really?" Chris said genuinely intrigued. "I'd be interested in hearing about that research, Doctor."
"Call me Nathan," he answered. "I'm more doctor than Starfleet." He confessed.
Chris decided he liked his chief medical officer. "Okay, Nathan. You can call me Chris."
"Only in close quarters," Nathan returned automatically. "You're the Captain, you're always Starfleet."
"Well that's not fair." Chris looked at him with a slight frown.
"I don't make the rules," the doctor grinned, mischieviously. "Now Sir, with all due respect. We're pretty busy in here so if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work and you're holding things up."
Chris stared at him. "Are you dismissing, Commander?" He asked.
"No, I'm asking you to go away." Nathan retorted. "So I can get some work done."
"Well, okay." Chris answered. "That's better."
When Chris finally found Josiah inside his office, he appeared happier then when Chris had seen him at Starfleet Medical. Josiah's office was almost in as much discourse as the Sick Bay and Chris wondered if there was some inherent trait possessed only by those in the medial sciences to function in this way. Still despite his consultation room being in disarray, with his old style paper books covering the floor while Josiah attempted to make sense of them, seeing him like this reaffirmed Chris's sentiments that he was right to make Josiah the offer to be the Maverick' Counsellor.
"This way Chris." Josiah replied when had moved through the mountainous pile of leather bound books to reach him. The man led Chris to his office at the other end of the consultation room. In contrast to the room where he would be seeing most of his patient's, Josiah's private office was completely organised. As Chris entered Josiah's office, he noted that the doctor had already added his personal touch to the furniture, with some of his books already stacked neatly into shelves. Pictures of his family covered the edge of the desk modestly while Josiah's small liquor collection sat in the corner of the room.
"You've made yourself at home." Chris commented as he took a seat on the consultation chair that had to be moved to the front room.
"Yes I have," Josiah said taking the liberty of pouring them a small drink. "I had some trouble sleeping last night, so I thought I'd come in here and get organised." "Good." The Captain said with a smile. "I'm glad you're settling in."
Josiah met his gaze. "I know you've come here to check up on me."
Chris frowned. "Are you sure you're not Betazoid?"
"Sorry just plain old human," Josiah served him a glass of clear liquid. "However, I appreciate the sentiment. I know you are somewhat worried about me."
"Well," Chris shrugged. "I can't have my shrink feeling out of place can I?" Josiah took a sip of his drink. "I guess not and I also appreciate you having Commander Wilmington to come see me."
Chris had not wished for Josiah to know that Buck had come to see him at his request. Sometimes, it was damn troublesome having whose vocation allowed him to decipher people's motives, no matter how innocent the might be or how much Chris might loathe it. "I just didn't want to hover. I know it was a difficult decision to leave Earth." Chris answered.
"Chris," Josiah said quickly wanting to reassure the man he was not offended. "I understand your motivations and I am not angry. Buck's quite the character isn't he?"
"Just keep your daughters locked up." Chris joked, although after serving with the man, the Captain was fairly sure that there would be no one the ship who would not know how voracious Buck's appetite for the ladies could be.
"I noticed that." Josiah chuckled. "But he's a good first officer for you. I take he's an old friend?"
Chris nodded quietly. "If it wasn't for Buck, I wouldn't be here today. When Sarah and Adam died, I was a total mess. I was ready to walk away from everything and then some. Buck kept on my back and refuse to let me give up on myself."
"Yes," Josiah nodded in understanding. "He gives me the impression of being someone who could go where angels fear to thread. A man who runs completely on emotions and a strong sense of friendship for those he cares about. You're fortunate to have him and he provides a good balance to the command structure."
"Why thank you," Chris answered in complete agreement, not at all like the assessment that Wellington had made that Buck was too much like him. Buck was like him in the sense that Buck had to get to the heart of a problem but his first officer was more mindful of people than he was. However, Chris was glad to hear Josiah's endorsement that he was not the only one who thought Buck would make him a fine first officer. "So have you met the rest of the crew?"
"Yes, I met the Protocol Officer this morning." Josiah answered. "Lovely woman. Apparently, she had read some of my research papers and declared I had a most logical approach to cultural interpretation."
Chris looked up above the edge of his glass and managed to ask after a momentary pause. "What are your impressions of Lieutenant Travis?"
"She's extremely capable." Josiah retorted simply and then realised that Chris's interest was more than just professional. "She's also very attractive."
Chris could not deny that but he was not letting Josiah in on his feelings regarding Mary Travis. "I hadn't noticed."
The look Josiah gave Chris spoke volumes.
"I'm sure you haven't." Josiah said with a perfectly straight face.
It would not be long now.
The last hour seem to crawl past as the ship drew closer to leaving star base for the first time. The feeling of being on a ship during her maiden voyage was indescribable. Chris had been on board the Merrimac during her initial voyage as a lieutenant and even though he was a junior officer, the feeling was still the same. Now on board the Maverick, Chris looked around him and saw that the ritual was important to all of them, not just him. His crew was assembled around him and waiting with similar expectation on their eyes. All except, Lieutenant Commander Styles, their new science officer. She was sedate as ever, more concerned with customising her station to her own specifications and pretty much telling everyone she did not dabble in idle conversation.
After what she had been through with the Cardassians, she could be allowed her eccentricities.
He let his gaze sweep across the bridge and saw Josiah leaning over the station of their new navigation officer, Ensign JD Dunne engaged in conversation. It still struck him how young JD was. Wellington had questioned his choice in appointing the young man to a command position on the bridge when JD had more or less arrived fresh from the Academy and was green as they came. However, the boy had graduated from the Academy with impressive grades and under Buck's tutelage, Chris was certain his potential would be given its full opportunity to flower.
Security Chief Ezra Standish was concentrating his attention on the security station to the far right of the bridge. He did not look up from the console pad and Chris had a feeling he was running last minute diagnostics on all security stations before their departure from Earth Star Base. Despite Ezra's less than Starfleet ethics in his after hour's activities, the man was extremely good at what he did. A mind accustomed to running scams and reading faces over a game of cards could spot a con and a liar a mile away. Ezra was good at what he did during and after off duty hours because he was a fastidious and meticulous operator in all things. As a security officer, there was none better.
As a businessman, he made the Ferengi cry.
"Captain." This came from Ezra whose cool, steady voice belied the excitement he had to be feeling at the message he was delivering. "We have just been given clearance from Earth Star base. We are to proceed to Launch Door 3."
Chris rose to his feet and met Ezra's gaze with a slight nod. "Convey our acknowledgement to Earth Star Base." Chris said in response before tapping his com badge lightly. "Bridge to Engineering."
"Engineering here." The voice of Julia Pemberton echoed through the speakers in crisp tones.
"We have clearance for departure." Chris declared. "Are all systems go?"
There was a slight pause and Chris guessed that she was making sure before answering. "All ship systems are functioning as required by usual operating standards but on a personal note, let kick this pig, Sir."
"Good enough." He retorted trying to repress a smile. A small ripple of amusement moved over the bridge with Buck chuckling softly at her choice of words. JD burst into a wide grin, while Josiah raised a brow and smiled. Ezra seemed properly intrigued by the voice and most likely had not met their chief engineer. Even Alex Styles had managed a smile while their helmsman looked merely confused. This was hardly a surprise. Even though Vin Tanner had a good sense of humour, he did not quite get all the intricacies of the Terran variety.
Chris rose to his feet and walked to the helm station. He looked down at Vin and saw that the helmsman fingers were poised in readiness for his orders. He looked up at Chris and for a moment a look of similar wonder was exchanged between the two men. Vulcan or not, Vin felt the same excitement that he did. On the Rutherford, they had developed something of a rapport that Chris some times wondered whether or not that it wan not caused by a Vulcan telepathy. Vin always had a sense of what he was thinking and Chris found that unlike the imperceptile masks worn by the rest of his race, he could read Vin just as easily. An instinct almost as powerful as the one that had propelled him to join Captain Picard's attack over Earth told Chris that Vin would be at his side for life, like Buck. He could not explain it but he did not doubt it for one minute.
"Lieutenant Tanner," Chris finally spoke. "Take us out of space dock at one quarter impulse."
"Aye Sir." The young man nodded with a broad grin. He did not smile often but when he did it came straight from the heart.
"Attention all hands," Chris replied. "We are preparing to leave Star Base One. Stand by for yellow alert."
Yellow alert required everyone to be at their posts. Normally, this kind of alert would be sounded when the ship was going into a tense situation. However, while this instance was nothing of the kind, it was always wise to be prepared during a maiden voyage. After all, the Maverick was new. She had never been out space dock before and Chris wanted no one taken by surprise if she chose to falter.
No one on the bridge seemed to notice the yellow light blinking from its panel in the wall because their attention was focussed on the view screen before them. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath in anticipation as the ship prepared to move forward. Suddenly, the low whine beneath the deck smoothed out into a soft hum and the ship starting moving. There was a collective sigh of relief as the Maverick sailed forward. Silently, the ship made its way through the small pocket of space trapped inside the enormous confines of Star Base One, more affectionately known as Earth Star Base.
The ship glided ahead smoothly under Vin's expert control before reaching the gradually opening doors of Launch Door 3. As it slowly slid apart, and allowed its newest child to leave its bosom for the first time, Star Base One suddenly seemed claustrophobic. Beyond the great doors was a canvas of dark velvet, speckled with a myriad of lights.
As the Maverick passed through the doors, space lay before them.
Space was frontier of stars, planets and more wonder than most creatures could imagine in a lifetime of dreaming. He stared at it for a brief moment wondering what lay beyond the expanse of familiar stars. All his life, he had dreamed of this moment. He had dreamed of the day he would be sitting in on the bridge of a starship as its Captain.
Now as he was sitting here on his command chair, with that dream becoming a reality, Chris' chest swelled with a mixture of pride and happiness. He thought of all the struggles, the hard work and the sacrifices that lay between him and this ship and savoured the taste of crossing that gulf with sweet victory.
"Heading Captain?" This came from Ensign Dunne who was trying very hard to remain composed even though the excitement was threatening to spill over his attempts.
"The front lines Mr Dunne," Chris said with a smile. "The front lines."
After its initial departure from Earth Star Base, the Maverick's trip out of the Terran star system was uneventful. The ship stood down from yellow alert and life returned to normal on board the vessel. There was a routine to be followed on any starship and the Maverick was no different. Engineering crews went back their evaluation of engine performance in this maiden voyage while other department heads went through the motions of administrating staff into shift rotations, allocating resources and conducting debriefings with junior officers.
On the bridge, a similar ritual was taking place. An hour after their departure from Earth, Captain Chris Larabee found himself facing his senior staff inside the debriefing room. As he sat at the head of the smooth, polished table, he felt a knot rising in his stomach. All the briefings he had ever attended in the past had seen him turn to a Captain for direction. It was quite a sobering though to remember that he was now the Captain and it was his lead everyone would follow.
At his right was Buck Wilmington who looked at him, with an expression of encouragement that told Chris he had nothing to worry about. Chris wished Buck would let him in on the secret that made him believe such a thing when the Captain himself was full of doubts. However, Buck's confidence was not unique as Josiah offered him the same look that indicated that he would do fine and Chris told himself not to argue in the face of such overwhelming belief.
Get on with it, his inner voice rebuked sharply with less finesse than either of those two officers could manage. This is your show now and you have wasted enough time being afraid. You never did before this point, did you?
Taking a deep breath, he began. "Well I am assuming all of you are acquainted with each other but for those of you who have not had an opportunity to get to know your fellow senior staff members, I will make some quick introductions." He turned to Buck.
"This is Commander Buck Wilmington our first officer as most of you already know." Chris replied. "Those of you who are departmental heads will report to him. We have a chain of command people, Commander Wilmington has my complete confidence in handling all ship board operations." Chris gave Buck a sidelong glance at the big man smiled faintly in his direction.
Buck regarded the faces around him and offered them a gentle nod of acknowledgement following the captain's words. Even though his record had him placed as a hot headed passionate man committed to impulse rather than rationale, Buck knew that it was his emotional side that was of greatest value to Chris Larabee. Chris' command style was cold and deliberate, equal parts force as it was calculated.
It was no secret among the crew that Captain and their first officer had a long history together and the deep friendship between them was obvious to anyone who was observant enough to anyone notice it. They seemed an odd combination, both having personalities that were so different that the only comparison that seemed to fit the description of their friendship was fire and ice. Yet it was a friendship that had lasted from the Academy to finally serving together in the capacity they now did on board the Maverick.
When the captain concluded his introductions, Chris began the opening statements regarding their mission. "Most of you should already have some idea of the nature of our mission to the frontier." Chris declared. "If not, I will clarify the situation for you."
All eyes were on him. He did not doubt that there was any one present that did not know why the Maverick was bound for deep space. His senior staff was too good to be so remiss in their knowledge. "In the last six years, we have been attacked by the Borg twice. First at Wolf 359 and then more recently at Earth, six months ago. We all know that the reason we won in both encounters was through sheer luck. In both attacks, the Borg had sent only one ship and it took every ship we had just to stop it. I think its safe to say that we would have our asses handed to us if they chose to launch an armada against us. As we speak, Starfleet is concentrating on building a fleet of ships specifically intended to counter a Borg attack. These ships will be faster, more manoeuvrable, their phaser banks will be on rotating modulation of several hundred frequencies to penetrate Borg shields and will also possess a cloaking device."
"A cloak?" Mary spoke up. "It was my understanding that under the Treaty of Algeron, the Federation had agreed with the Romulans request that we suspend research into cloaking technology."
"And you are correct." Chris explained. "However, the Romulans have allowed us to develop cloaking devices for our ships under specific circumstances. Initially, only the Defiant of DS9 was permitted with the technology as long as it was utilised in the Gamma Quadrant. However, in light of the war with the Dominion and our recent troubles with the Borg, the Romulans have decided that our survival is their survival. We will be allowed to use a cloak only if we confront the Borg. All other use of it will be restricted."
"So does this ship have a cloak?" Josiah inquired.
"Yes it does." Chris answered automatically and turned to Julia. "Lieutenant Pemberton. If you please."
Julia took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous because this was the first time she was addressing the others as Chief Engineer. "The Maverick was designed with cloaking technology in mind. As Security Chief Standish will inform you, the phaser banks on this ship have been fitted with the prototype rotating modulation frequency program, as are all our small arms. Normally, rotating modulations would be achieved manually but for us, technology has taken over. It will adapt our weapons to counter Borg shields much faster and for a more prolonged period in the instance of close quarter combat. We have boosted phaser banks and several of our decks have been converted to carry more than the regular yield of quantum torpedoes. Our propulsions, shields and life support capability have been maximised by incorporating biogenic properties to our main frame. In other words, with the exception of the Sovereign class Enterprise, we are the most advanced galaxy class starship in Starfleet."
"And," Chris added once she had concluded that offering. "For those of you who are a little rusty on your small arms skills, I'd suggest getting accommodated with the weapons." He turned to Buck at that point. "Buck, I would like you to see to it that all crew members are subjected to a few hours of small arms training to familiarise themselves with the new frequencies. You will co-ordinate with Ezra."
"Yes Sir." Buck nodded glancing instinctively at the security chief, who regarded the order with the same understanding of its importance.<,/p>
"Doctor," Chris met Nathan gaze and remembered that their relationship here at this moment should be formal and not as easy going as it been in Sick Bay during their first meeting. "You are one of the leading authorities in the Borg assimilation process. When Admiral Wellington learnt that I was getting you as my Chief Medical Officer, he suggested that I might put you to work on a medical defence against the Borg assimilation process."
"I understand." Nathan retorted. He had read Dr Beverley Crusher's papers on the cybernetic devices implanted in assimilated victims and had spent much of his time expanding on the work she had spearheaded in an attempt to prevent the assimilation process from taking place by creating a defence from the molecular levels.
"In the initial contact with victims," Nathan explained for the benefit of those who were unfamiliar with what the Captain was referring to. "The Borg infuses microscopic probes that enter a victims and start assimilating its cells. The process is almost instantaneous. The victim loses all coherence in a matter of minutes and then becomes docile to the later surgical implantation's. There is a highly classified body of research being conducted at Starfleet Medical for a way to create an antibody to fight these probes once they enter the system."
"A kind of vaccine." Josiah declared understanding what Chris and Nathan was getting at.
"Precisely." Chris continued. "All research information regarding this project has been down loaded into the medical database in order for Doctor Jackson to continue his research. Since we are going to be on the front lines, we thought it might be best if the work was conducted on board this vessel."
"I don't know much about medical studies," JD Dunne spoke up. "However, at the Academy I spend a lot of time working with nanotechnology. If you could use the help Doctor, I'd be happy to add whatever technical input I can." He tried not to seem nervous about making the offer but Nathan was more than receptive to it.
"That would be good." Nathan replied in answer. He was after all a doctor, not an engineer and the only reason he had been forced to deal with technology was because of the Borg. If he could have intelligence of someone who had the time with a background on the subject, he was certain he would be able to find a solution to the assimilation process much faster. Nathan was not above getting for assistance when it meant saving lives, even from this youth.
JD swallowed hard, now believing that his suggestion would be accepted so readily and felt a little tremor of anxiety at what he had started.
"Don't worry young man," Josiah smiled reassuringly, "I'm sure you'll do fine." JD did not seem that confident but said nothing in response. Chris decided it was best to move on now that this subject had discussed in length. As for JD discomfiture, he had no doubts that Nathan would prove not to be the monster that JD feared. Besides, there was still more work to be done.
"Although it seems that the Borg is our prime directive in this assignment, we have also been instructed to open up relations with any civilisations in this part of space. Lieutenant," Chris glanced at Mary and let her take the lead.
Mary nodded at his prompt and began speaking to her fellow officers. "This part of space has been left uncharted in recent years due to the fear of encountering the Borg and because of our recent troubles with the Dominion and prior to that with the Cardassians. While those threats still exist, Starfleet Command feels that the Borg is the greater danger. With the wormhole now secured, Starfleet forces do not have to deal with Dominion reinforcements coming from the Gamma Quadrant."
"The threat still exists." Alex Styles said quietly.
"That is true." Ezra spoke up. "However, we are on a equal technological footing with the Dominion and the Jem Haddar. We do not have that advantage with the Borg."
"Agreed." Mary continued. "When it comes to the Borg, they take priority. There are many uncharted non-aligned worlds on the Frontier and our secondary mission will be to establish friendly relations with as many of them as possible."
"To what end?" Vin managed to ask. Even though he had the experience, in some ways he was almost as unsure of himself as JD. However, since this was an open table discussion, Vin had been working up the nerve to make himself heard and Chris was pleased that his apprehension was starting to wan a bit. It just required a little time before the young man started feeling a little more at ease with the officers he was serving with.
"To the end of establishing Federation treaties with them. We need to build starbases out here. This is ship is only the beginning in the creation of a defence perimeter around Federation space. For the want of a better term, a buffer zone if you will. Each time the Borg has attacked the Federation, they did so by penetrating our defences all the way to Sector 001. This cannot be allowed to happen again. The directive is to stop them in the Frontier before they can reach Earth."
"That is logical." Ezra remarked. "The Borg do not see any reason to alter their invasion plan. It is to our advantage that they allow arrogance in their superiority over us to dictate their actions. While they are formidable, their weakness lies in the predictability of their actions."
"Which would be further impaired now that the Borg Queen is gone." Chris added. "The collective will be functioning without her guidance now."
"Starfleet seems to agree." Mary concluded her segment of the debriefing. "Captain." She glanced at him indicating that she was done.
"One final thing," Chris allowed his gaze to sweep across the room. "In the interest of morale, I would like the senior staff to share one evening meal every week. I realise it is an old practice but one of my former Captains believed it was a good way to get to know one another and also discuss ideas in a more casual environment."
The reaction was mixed. Josiah did not seem to mind because there was very little basis for comparison in his previous experiences in starship protocol. Ezra voiced his approval being the social animal that he was and Buck would have supported any decision that improved morale. Mary found it odd but like Josiah believed it to be one of those things that she had to adapt to with life on a starship. Julia shrugged, having heard stranger requests in her time and did not seem to mind this one which rather pleasant in comparison. JD seemed nervous by the idea but once again remained silent. His science officer seemed troubled but revealed nothing. Vin was uncomfortable but Chris attributed this to the Vulcan's difficulty dealing with large groups of people. Vin spent most of his time hiding and a dinner with the rest of his fellow officers required him to be out in the open more than he would like to be. While he hoped the request had gathered a more enthusiastic response, Chris decided to take the lack of objection as a good sign. However, in truth it was more likely that none of his senior staff wanted to offend him by declining the invitation. He was realistic in understanding that this had to do with the fact that most of them barely knew each other at the moment.
"Since there are no objections, I will expect you at the Captain's table 1800 hours. Dismissed."
When he first came up with it, Chris had thought dinner with the senior staff on a weekly basis was a good idea. However, as the hour drew closer to 1800 hours, he wondered if forcing this on them was wise. Perhaps, it would have been simpler if he had just made the request on a voluntary basis, that way no one would feel obligated to come. Chris was a new Captain and he remembered the hard, strict regimen that Savil followed in his relations with his senior officers. While his crew respected Captain Savil, Chris was hard pressed to find anyone who actually liked the man. He did not want that with his own staff officers. The Captains he had remembered most fondly were the men who offered their junior officers not only understanding and respect but friendship and camaraderie. They promoted the notion that a crew suffered together and succeeded together. He wanted the same of the Maverick.
Chris entered the spacious mess hall at the forward part of the ship. Like all galaxy class starships, the positioning of the mess hall was uniform. While crew dined or sat down for a quiet drink during their off duty hours, they were treated to a panoramic view of space as the ship travelled forward. When the vessel went to warp, the sight was breathtaking.
It was a good ten minutes before the crew assembled for dinner so Chris strolled to the bar instead of going directly to the Captain's table. He had yet to make an inspection of the mess hall and decided that perhaps someone should come up with a name to the place. Most of galaxy class starship had designated their mess halls with more personal names to make it feel more comfortable. Chris made a note to bring up the subject at dinner.
"Captain Larabee." A smooth Latin voice sauntered up to him no sooner than he rested his arm on the smooth counter. "I am honoured to finally make your acquaintance."
Chris looked up to see the definitive Latin siren with dusky skin, full lips and sultry features approaching him. She wore a body suit that revealed every perfect curve in her full figure and groaned inwardly because once Buck got a look at her, Chris would never see his first officer again. Buck had real taste for Latin women and would probably be spending most of his time following her around trying to score. She wore an enchanting smile on her face and Chris wondered why she was not in uniform. It took him a moment for him to remember that this was Inez Recillos, the bartender and keeper of the mess hall. She was one of Wellington's appointments but Chris knew something of the woman. She had spent most of her brief service in Starfleet as a food replicator programmer and establishment likes this, offered civilians a chance to see the stars by signing on to take charge of its operation.
"I take it you are Miss Inez." Chris smiled, extending his hand towards her.
"You are correct and may I bid you a welcome to the mess." She smiled taking up the handshake.
"Thank you very much." Chris answered looking around the place. The mess was quite full at this time of the night with crewmembers either stopping to have dinner or simply having themselves some refreshment at the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed with people talking amongst themselves while others took in the view outside the pexiglass windows. "This is my first time on these galaxy class ships. We never had a mess like this on the Rutherford."
"Well until the Sovereign class ships were turned out, the galaxy class was the best in the fleet." She commented. "Now, what can I get you Captain?"
"Whiskey, straight up." Chris smiled enjoying the relaxed mood of the place. The mess felt like one of the recreational lounges on a star base, with comfortable seating and ambient lighting. "I've instituted a new tradition where my senior officers and I are to dine together once a week."
As Inez was replicating his order, the woman looked over her shoulder at him with mild surprise. "That's an old practice. They've been doing that since the old navy days on the Earth."
"I know." Chris answered. "One of the Captains I served with used to implement the rule. I always liked it." He picked up the drink served to him and took a sip. "Now, if you would be so kind as direct me to the Captain's table, I would appreciate it Miss Inez."
"Inez will do." She said graciously and emerged from behind the counter after she had given instructions to a junior to tend bar. "This way Captain." She started walking to the centre of the room.
The Captain's table was the largest in the room. It was rectangular and made to seat a little over a dozen people. It faced the pexiglass of the wall at the head of the room. Vin was already there. The young man was twiddling his fingers nervously when Chris came to the table. He looked up at Chris as if an animal caught in a transport's lights and stammered quick greeting as he stood up awkwardly.
"Good evening captain." He managed to say.
"Hello Vin." Chris greeted. "How are you doing?"
His eyes widened at the personal inquiry. "Fine." He said with that unflappable expression even though Chris knew he was nervous.
"Sit down." Chris replied taking a seat before turning to Inez. Thank you Inez."
At that, the she withdrew and left Chris and Vin alone. Chris saw Vin shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He could almost guess that the young man was trying to think up conversation to share with his Captain. Even though they had gone through hell together on the Rutherford, Vin had definite problems with social skills. He found it difficult to talk to people he did not know well, mostly because his mixed heritage made it so difficult to know what he ought to say. While he had the intellectual capacity of Vulcans, he lacked the capability to make use of it and being so different had kept him an outcast most of his life, which meant he did not know how to relate to either humans or Vulcans.
"It does get easier you know." Chris said suddenly.
Vin who was making close study of his fork looked up and met the Captain's gaze. "I know." He said quietly in that unassuming way that no one else other than Chris could read.
"I know its hard being on the senior staff but you've got people around you who are willing to help if you just ask them."
Like Charlotte Richmond? Vin thought bitterly but did not voice that because Chris was genuinely trying to help. He liked the Captain because the man spoke like he understood all the fears and insecurities that existed inside Vin. Sometimes, he only had to look at Captain Larabee to tell the man knew exactly what was going on in his head. There was no need for words.
"Really?" He managed to ask.
"Yes," Chris nodded. "During my first year as officer to con on the Gorbachev, I almost crashed the ship taking it out of space dock. I thought I was going to get booted down to Maintenance but my Captain was a good person and she understood that accidents happen because of inexperience and she gave me a few pointers."
"And it helped." Vin said as a matter of factly.
"No." The captain grinned. "The very next time I took the ship out of space dock, I nearly did it again but this time, I limited the damage to just one deck." Chris laughed and was pleased to see Vin joining in on the moment. "But she understood and so did the others on the bridge and they help me through it. You don't have to feel so alone Vin, I'll help and Buck will help. You just need to trust us."
"Sure Chris." Vin nodded, aware that the Captain did not mind Vin calling him by name when they were talking like this. And he was right, help did come from the most surprising places. Alex Styles for instance, who had said the only words that could have salved his wounded ego after the humiliating experience with Lieutenant Richmond.
"Feel better?" Chris asked, breaking him out of his thoughts regarding the science officer.
"A little." Vin replied somewhat embarrassed that his discomfort was so obvious. "Are we interrupting?" A new voice spoke, it belonged to Julia.
"Certainly not." Chris retorted and rose to his feet. "Ladies." He gestured for them to sit.
Julia and Mary took their seats promptly and from the corner of his eye, he could see Josiah, Nathan and Ezra making their entrance into the mess hall. The appearance of all the senior officers had caused captured the attention of the crew who wondering what this meeting was about. When Buck finally arrived, JD was at his side. It did not take long before Buck spotted Inez. It was obvious Alex was not coming and Chris noticed that Vin was somewhat disappointed, much to his suprise. However, he had made this voluntarily and could understand if Alex did not wish to be present. She was a private person and after what she had been through, she had a right to be.
"Captain." Josiah declared upon arrival.
"Josiah, Buck." The Captain responded as everyone made themselves comfortable. Buck took up flank on his left while Mary sat on Chris' right. The conversation was polite until Inez had withdrawn to fulfil their dining requests, giving Buck a dark look on her way back to the counter because he had done nothing but smile with her at the damnably suggestive grin.
"So Counsellor," Chris looked at Josiah. "How are you finding life on a starship?"
"A great deal more confined than Starfleet command." Josiah answered. "I never realised that I was so accustomed to having room."
"You get used to it Doctor," Ezra interjected. "After awhile, you think of the space outside the ship as all the room you need. It makes you feel somewhat grateful when you have walls around you when one realises how small one is in comparison to the universe."
"That's for sure." Chris agreed. "And how are you finding things Lieutenant?" He directed his question at Mary. The woman had been listening to the light banter with fascination, Chris could tell.
"Fascinating." She answered with atypical understatement. "It is different to Vulcan but I find the challenges offered in this post to be quite gratifying. I will be curious to see how the Maverick performs under pressure."
"I think she'll do well." Julia replied. "I've got a feeling about this ship that she won't let us down when we need it."
No one could find the words to disagree with her.
The next week went forward without incident, giving the crew adequate time to become accustomed to their new ship. The Maverick moved quickly out of the core systems and began to make a speedy exit out of Federation space. They made one stop on the way at Colony 9 in the Korell system to pick up additional personnel and deliver some supplies to the small mining community before continuing out to deep space.
The ship was performing flawlessly and Chris was pleased with the results after the Maverick had completed its full shakedown. He was starting to get a deep connection with the ship even though his tenure as master of this vessel was only weeks old. Someone had once told him that one's first love was always the hardest to forget. Chris decided that adage applied to a Captain's first ship as well.
Life on the ship was also progressing at a comfortable pace. Josiah informed him early that morning that Ezra was teaching self defence classes while Commander Oxley of Astrophysics had organised the creation of a classical music society. Members across the ship had apparently turned up for the initial meeting with everything from a saxophone to one dubious report about a kettledrum. Not to be outdone, Stellar Cartography promptly gathered the first meeting of its drama club. Apparently, the Mikado was slatted for its initial performance in six weeks. The mess hall had acquired itself a name courtesy of none other than JD. The young Ensign had pointed out that everyone seemed to converge upon the pace from the four corners of the ship. Inez had apparently liked that decision and thus the mess hall was soon being referred to as Four Corners.
Chris found his expectation of being Captain scarcely resembled the reality of it. He never quite appreciated what it was like when he had been a first officer. He never gave it a second thought about what a tremendous job it was to be appraised of every aspect of the ship's functioning. As first officer, his duty was to see to it that the Captain's orders were carried out and that in his absence, the first officer could maintain the smooth running of the ship. He was the gulf between the Captain and the department heads. Now, upon crossing that gulf, Chris found himself bogged down with more paperwork than he could stand. There were reports that needed his attention from every department of the ship, crew evaluations, medical factors, crew morale, supply considerations, appointments with his department heads, political directives from Starfleet command god knows what else. There were mornings where he was ready to stay in bed and leave it all to his very efficient first officer who made it look so easy it was disgusting.
However, there were other moments that were not as hectic. There were evenings where he would finally get his paperwork up to date and when all the crew evaluations and log entries were done. Chris could replicate himself a hot cup of Jamaican blend coffee and stare out of his ready room window at the stars that were passing him by. Those quiet moments made up for all the annoying trivialities of his job and reminded him that he had much to look forward to. He was a week into his captaincy and Chris realised that he had barely touched the surface of what lay ahead.
His workload dwindled significantly after he appointed himself a yeoman. Yeoman Casey Well was from Bajor. Having escaped from Bajor during the occupation, the young woman had been a baby when she had been adopted by a Starfleet admiral who brought her back to Earth. Even though she had since spent some time on Bajor, Casey preferred life in space and had signed on as crew. However, while was her first tour on board a starship, Chris had to admit the young woman had impressed him with her ability to bring order to his paperwork and arrange his schedule so that he was able to time to indulge himself on personal projects.
This morning was no exception and Chris was having a leisurely morning going over some reports with a hot cup of coffee when he heard someone at the door of his ready room.
"Come in." He replied and set his cup down on his desk.
The door slid open and Lieutenant Travis entered with a rather sombre looking Vulcan child at her side. Chris guessed he was no more than six years old and realised at once that this was her son. The child's looks were mostly his father's, however when he saw the boy staring at him, Chris recognised that his eyes were all Mary's. The were the same blue grey eyes that almost seemed aquamarine at one time and sapphire at others. It was unusual colour for Vulcans as Vin had once told him because the helmsman's own eyes were brilliant blue as opposed to indigo as was common to the rest of his race.
"Captain," Mary glanced at the boy with a warm smile. "This my son William." She introduced. "William, this is Captain Larabee."
Chris rose to his feet and went towards them. The boy eyed him cautiously. Vulcan or not, he was like any other six year old in a new place, a little apprehensive and very shy. Chris remembering what concerns Mary had raised during their conversation decided to take a casual approach with the young boy. "Hello William." Chris greeted, making no move to touch him anyway. Vulcan's found that sort of thing very inappropriate.
The boy said nothing and continued staring.
"He's a little shy." Mary explained quietly. "You did say 1000 hours?"
"Of course," the captain smiled at the boy. He had informed Casey specifically to make time in his schedule so that he could conduct the tour himself. Chris had made the promise to Mary himself and did not feel it right if he were to pass the fulfilling of her request to one of his subordinates. In any case, he genuinely wanted to get to know the boy. He knew loss intimately and while had age had made him prepared him a little better, Chris understood what effect it could have upon on a child. "What kind of Captain would I be if I forgot an appointment with one of my crew?" He retorted. "You run along Lieutenant, William and I will be fine."
"Thank you Captain." She offered him a grateful smile, not wanting to hover because she wanted William to feel as if he could speak to the Captain freely.
For a few seconds after her departure, man and child regarded each other carefully. He was definitely his mother's child, Chris thought. Despite his pointed ears and sombre expression, he had some of her features even if he looked like an Elven child from a fairy tale. His height did not quite reach Chris's waist although his size was no indication of his intelligence. However, it was disconcerting to see such sedate composure on a child so young.
"I am not apart of your crew." The boy pointed out meekly.
"That's not entirely true." Chris answered, dropping to his knees so William did not have to look up at him. "Everyone on board the Maverick is my crew, not just the Starfleet personnel. We are all in this together out here in deep space and so we are all the Maverick' crew. Do you understand?"
Although William was trying to mimic Vulcan calm, it was clearly obvious that he was a little apprehensive about being so close to the captain. Chris had to admit that his effort to hide his fear was admirable. At his question, William responded with one of his own. "Can I see how the view screen functions?"
Chris suppressed a grin. Not even shyness could dampen any young boy's natural enthusiasm. "I don't see why. We're travelling at warp right now, so you should get quite an eyeful."
"I have two eyes." William pointed out.
"I stand corrected." The captain chuckled and rose to his feet. "Shall we get started?"
At that, he started towards the door and noticed after a moment that William was following him closely. The boy was trying to kerb his excitement at being on the bridge because he was in the company of the captain. Chris started to wonder if he was really so intimidating to the children on board the Maverick. It made him decide that for the rest of the voyage, he was going to make himself a little less imposing to the younger members of his crew. Perhaps Josiah would know how to go about doing that. He wanted to be seen as the kind of captain that would be approachable to everyone, not just those on board wearing a uniform.
A large part of the Maverick' complement were not Starfleet. They were the husbands, wives, son and daughters of the crew. In a mission like this, where they would be spending much time on the rim of Federation space, Starfleet preferred the simplicity of having family aboard to lessen the impact of such an extended period away from the core systems. While the danger to their well being was always present in his mind, Chris approved the practice. Once Starfleet officers were condemned to retirement in loneliness after a lifetime of service in deep space. Now there was a chance to build a family and making accommodation for them in a career officer's life.
Chris was somewhat disappointed that Mary had opted to allow him to conduct her son through the tour alone. Despite all advice to the contrary, Chris could not deny that he was attracted to the protocol officer. In the last week, he had found it surprisingly easy to become accustomed to seeing her seated next to him on the bridge with the rest of the crew. His first officer was naturally quick to point out his ease with Mary until Chris told him to shut up or he would resume the practise of keelhauling with Buck being the first and only candidate.
As they stepped onto the bridge, Chris remembered that Buck was not present. The First Officer was in a meeting with Ezra at the moment. He vaguely remembered Buck saying something about going over the crew evaluations regarding the results of the training seminars he had ordered them to conduct regarding the new rotating modulation phasers. It was just as well, Chris did not want to explain why he was breaking his own standing rules about allowing children on the bridge. Chris forced away any guilt he had in his realisation that this was mostly motivated by personal reasons. His growing attraction to Mary was something he was going to have to deal with soon.
He led William to navigation where JD was currently sitting. The ensign gave the young boy a wink to which William responded to with a slight retreat behind Chris. Chris wondered if all Vulcan children were so shy or was the boy simply withdrawn after the death of his father. Mary had remarked that he was usually a lively child but Chris found that hard to believe. Although lively by Vulcan standards was hard to define.
"Say hello to William, JD." Chris said to the navigator. "This is Lieutenant Travis' son."
"Hey there William." JD greeted. His wide smile was a contrast to Chris' serious manner. "Do you want to see what I do?" He gestured the boy to come forward.
Slowly, William stepped forward and JD allowed is fingers to move over the navigation pad with expert movements. "This is where we tell the ship to take us where we want to go."
"This is the navigation station." William replied without a hint of sarcasm.
"That's a better way to put it." JD remarked trying not to seem embarrassed. The navigator decided then and there, that the child was smarter than he looked and that JD ought to treat him that way.
"I'd say so." Chris said with a straight face even though he wanted to laugh his head off. "We plot our course and heading from this point." He replied after taking a moment to reset his composure.
"And that is the helm?" William looked up at Chris, after struggling with the last word. Obviously, William had read up on the bridge stations prior to this tour. Chris was impressed with his diligence. He could understand why Mary had wanted to nurture any excitement the boy had about this. It was a way to let him make the transition to life without his father a great deal easier.
"That's right." The Captain answered, leading him to Vin.
"Hello William." Vin greeted before the Captain had a chance to make introductions. While Vin might have trouble dealing with the adult variety, he often found the simplicity of children far more honest and direct and was able to get along with them better.
"Could you activate the view screen, Vin?" Chris asked Vin, giving the helmsman a quick smile of appreciation. For the moment, Vin was a stark contrast from what he normally was. Where he was shy and nervous about everything, Vin did not seem to let insecurities bother him when talking to William. Chris had a premonition that his ease had to with the fact that the child would be less likely to care that he was not a proper Vulcan or a proper human for that matter.
"Aye Sir." Vin drawled in his usual laconic manner.
The view screen flickered to life a second later and revealed a breathtaking view of the space outside their ship. At present, the Maverick was travelling at Warp 2 but the stars were still rushing past the ships in brilliant streaks of white light. Chris saw William stare at the screen for a few minutes, mesmerised with the beauty there. It saddened Chris to think that in a few years, Vulcan disciplines would force him to deny the emotive experience of such grandeur and this visage would be reduced to nothing more than factual information.
"Its beautiful isn't it." Chris remarked softly, allowing the scene to take his as well.
William did not answer but took Chris's hand in his and kept it there for the rest of the tour.
In the meantime, Buck and Ezra found themselves a quiet table at Four Corners. Buck had to admit he liked the security officer's choice for a venue their meeting regarding the proficiency test ordered by Chris for all crewmembers. Ezra had convinced him that Four Corners was practically deserted at this time of the day. In this assessment, he was not wrong and they found themselves at the captain's table going over the results of the training seminars they had held for all departments.
Although he had spoken to Ezra prior to this meeting, they had little chance to work together so closely before this. So far, Buck found his work as security chief to be beyond reproach. Unlike most officers who specialised in Security, Ezra was known to be cool under fire. He was able to take charge of the situation and was highly methodical in his approach to his field of expertise, which did not always mean security. In the last week Buck had played poker with the man enough times to know that Chris was right, he would never ever have gold press latinum if he kept playing cards with Ezra. Still Buck liked the southerner's company. While his cynicism might indicate otherwise, Buck sensed a soft centre at the core of the man that was every bit the gentleman, of course Buck had about as much chance of getting Ezra to admit that as he had getting the man to give up gambling.
"We are almost half done in this tedious chore." Ezra sighed putting down the pad. " I believe we have astrophysics next." He declared reaching for his cup of coffee.
"I'm not satisfied with these results from Stellar Cartography. Fifty per cent of staff have below average or average phaser proficiency." Buck frowned studying the data pad.
"I know." Ezra agreed. "Part of the reason is their lack of use with phasers under normal circumstances. Science staff rarely get assigned to away missions and when they do, it, is not usually into combat situations. They are trained to use the weapons but most of them have yet to undergo any practical experience."
"I hear you." Buck replied sipping his own beverage. "Unfortunately, lack of use won't be an adequate excuse for Chris or the Borg if we run into them."
"I suggest then that we extend these training sessions over the period of the next weeks. We need to drill those who did not score well. Make certain they spent at least an hour of target practice a day so that they become accustomed to a phaser." Ezra suggested.
"Good idea." Buck nodded in response. "I'll okay it with the captain and we can get started tomorrow."
"I could use a respite this evening," Ezra eased back into his chair after putting down the data pad. Ezra could feel the weariness in his eyes after staring at is tiny screen. It was almost dinner, he realised upon noticing the sudden influx of crew members arriving in the mess. "I had no idea this was going to become so involved."
"Science types rarely got the patience to deal with weapons systems." Buck responded. His eyes still fixed on the data pad before him. "Maybe it's a good thing that we found this out now before actually we faced a hostile force." Without realising it, Buck started massaging the bridge of his nose and then came to the conclusion a moment later that he was getting too tired for this. It was time to call it a day.
Buck saw one of the staff of Four Corners passing their table and ordered himself a synthehol, deciding something a little stronger than coffee was required. Ezra opted to join him in indulging in a little libation and ordered the same, both men having come to the conclusion that it was time to set aside queen and country for the evening. Having discarded the rank of first officer, temporarily, Buck's eyes scoured the place, in search of one particular face.
"I believe she left some time ago." Ezra remarked, perfectly aware what his commanding officer was trying to find, or rather whom.
"Who?" Buck said pretending to be indifferent.
"The lovely Miss Recillos." Ezra said with a knowing smile. "She left the bar some time ago. However if I know the lady's habits, she will be returning soon enough."
"I was not looking for Inez." Buck retorted, giving Ezra a look.
"Of course not." The gamblers mask held firm even though his eyes were full of amusement.
Buck stiffened; not liking anyone to believe he would be losing sleep over the new bartender, even though despite a week of persistent invitations, the woman had turned down every one made to her. Buck was accustomed to refusal but when he looked into Inez's eyes, he saw something more than just the contempt she said she had for him because of his lady-killer reputation. He knew women and this one was not as immovable on the subject as she appeared to be. Buck was certain that if he could get past her animosity for him, they could really have a good time together.
"There are plenty of women out there." Buck said haughtily. "I can live without Miss Inez. For instance, that one."
He gestured to Alexandra Styles who just walked into Four Corners. As always, she got a drink at the bar and found some lonely corner along the counter to drink it. In the last week, the bridge crew had learnt one thing about their science officer. She did not like company.
"While I appreciate your taste," Ezra answered glancing at the science officer. "I would have to say you have even less chance with her then you do with Miss Recillos. Everything about that woman says 'go away'."
"Oh I'd think she'd warm up if you knew which buttons to push." Buck said confidently, not liking to admit defeat. Besides, Alex was an extremely attractive woman, it would be an utter waste to sit by and allow her to wither because of past traumas. On a more professional note however, even the captain had noticed how much time she spent alone and had brought it up with him. She was about two steps away from Chris ordering her to see Josiah and somehow Buck knew she would not appreciate that at all.
"Do tell." Ezra folded his arms and dared him to prove it. "I wager you twenty credits that you will burn like an exploding sun."
Now that really inspired the commander's determination and Buck rose to his feet, giving Ezra a look of confidence before he walked towards the bar and Alex. Ezra watched on fascinated and was more certain about getting his twenty credits than any other bet he had ever placed in his whole chequered life. Still, the lack of surprise in the outcome was not going to eliminate his amusement as he saw his commanding officer preparing to make an ass of himself.
Hell.
That was what Lieutenant Commander Styles thought when she saw Commander Wilmington on approach. Judging by the relaxed and confident expression on his face, Alex knew this was not about ship's business. She supposed she should have expected this since the man had cut a swathe through the female population of the Maverick since coming on board. It was only a matter of time before he got to her. Not to mention, Inez was not present so Buck had no partner with whom he could perform his usual mating dance this evening.
Alex stirred the froth into her hot chocolate, watching the marshmallow melt into pink goo so that she would avoid making eye contact, hoping that would be enough to deter him. It was not that she was unfriendly and in a mildly interesting big, dumb dog way, he was attractive but Buck was not her type. Alex was not so sure what her type was these days but she knew the first officer was not it.
"Hello Lieutenant." Buck said with his most charming voice upon reaching her. Without being asked, he took the stool next to her. "You know it isn't exactly healthy to be alone the way you are."
"Good evening Commander." She said trying to be polite for as long as she was able.
"Now I know you've had things rough," he said still oozing that syrupy voice that was definitely for scoring, much to her disgust. "But you can let it eat you up inside. You've got to get out there and start living again, get some people into your life."
Whether or not Buck could tell, Alex was taking great exception to this conversation in particular, his comments about her personal life. Commanding officer or not, she would broke none of that from anyone, especially when her work was up to scratch. "Commander," Alex cleared her throat and reminded herself of his rank.
"Call me Buck." He grinned.
"Commander," Alex repeated firmly. "I am alone because I wish to be. I will deal with my situation in my own way."
"Wait a minute Alex..." Buck started to stammer, realising he had taken a wrong step.
"Commander," she rose to her feet. "Unless I am not performing my duties adequately, my private life is my business." She said with cold ice in her tone. "Now if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you take your forward pass and throw it somewhere else. I am not interested."
With that, she took her hot chocolate and made a quick departure out of the room.
"I believe you owe me twenty credits, Commander." Ezra smiled as Buck returned to the table, frowning deeply at his lack of success in acquiring Alex Styles company for the evening. He had watched the commander's progress or absence of it with the science officer and was more or less expecting the response that Buck had received.
"That woman has issues." Buck grumbled as he sat down at the table again.
"I could have told you that before you went after her, Commander." Ezra replied, showing a little sympathy for Buck in his failure. If he was not a student of character, he might have been interested in Alex Styles himself but his observations had told him from the onset that there were scars on her soul that would require more healing than either he or Buck was capable. Ezra wondered if there was anyone who could assuage the pain of what she had been through.
"It's all in the trying." Buck said with a slight smile, showing that he was capable of bouncing back from rejection with as much good humour as he regarded everything else. "Well at least, I'm out there trying. You're just sitting here, waiting for staff meetings so you can catch a glimpse of red hair."
Ezra turned sharply to the commander and retorted firmly. "I am not the least bit interested in Lieutenant Pemberton."
"I didn't say Lieutenant Pemberton's name." Buck looked at him with a triumphant smirk.
"Well who else has red hair and is present during staff meetings?" He returned automatically but did not seem very convincing because he always did have a thing for red hair and Lieutenant Pemberton's with its copper coloured strands that seemed to shimmer under the lights of the captain's ready room...
What were they talking about again?
"I am not interested in Julia." Ezra stated firmly just for the record.
With the same expression on his face that Ezra had used when he had made the same claim about caring whether or not Inez was in the room, Buck replied with a smile. "Of course not."
Alex did not want to go back to her quarters and so she found herself heading towards the observation deck. While not in as optimum a position as Four Corners, it had the advantage of being empty most of the time since most crew members preferred the bar to get their view of space and there were no visitors on board at present to take in its vista. Alex had not wished to be so hard on Commander Wilmington but his words had stabbed at the part of her that knew she was being rather isolationist. While he had attempted to be helpful, aside from scoring a date with her, his words had only made her defensive and she reacted purely out of offence when she should have just shrugged it off for what it was, harmless advice.
There was no sitting room in the observation deck, just a deep ledge where the pexiglass screen met space. She walked into the room, expecting to be alone when she noticed a familiar face already taking up space on the ledge she was going to place herself. Vin Tanner was sitting cross legged staring into the stars as they streaked past, since the ship was moving at Warp 8. The observation deck was dimly lit and the stars outside produced an iridescent glow that cast a sapphire haze over him as he continued to become lost in the view beyond. If it had been anyone else, Alex would have left but Vin was the one person on the ship that did not seem to want to intrude upon her boundaries, mostly because he had so many of his own.
"Hi." She said quietly as she approached him, still carrying her hot chocolate.
"Hello." He looked up, having noticed her come in but was uncertain whether or not he should say anything lest she went away again. For the last week, he had been trying to speak to her, to thank her for what she had said to him after his meeting with Charlotte Richmond. Even though, they worked closely together on the bridge, their conversations were professional and he had a feeling she wanted to be left alone so he did not seek her out during their off duty hours.
"I thought I was the only one who came here." She answered closing the distance between them. When she reached the windowsill upon which he was perched, she noticed there was enough space for her to climb on as well.
"I like it here." Vin responded as he watched her nestling comfortably across from him, sitting cross legged as well as they both stared at the stars beyond the glass. "Its quiet."
"I do to." Alex replied, leaning back against the vertical length of the windowsill. "I don't like crowds much."
"Would you like me to leave?" He asked, trying to be polite.
Alex tilted her head slightly towards him and noted that he had very nice eyes. "No, its okay. I think the deck is big enough for the both of us."
Vin smiled faintly and Alex thought that looked very attractive on him, especially because he was a Vulcan. "I am correct in assuming you are Vulcan, aren't I?" Alex asked.
"Yes," he nodded. "I am Vulcan." He said stiffly.
"You don't have to talk about it." Alex responded, seeing he was a little uncomfortable about the subject. She liked Vin Tanner, she did not know why. Perhaps, it was seeing someone just as closed off as she that made her understand him a little better.
"It is alright," he answered, grateful that she had made the offer. "My parents died when I was five and I was adopted by human parents. When we were coming back to Earth, our ship crashed on a planet outside Federation space. We were stranded there for a long time."
"So you were raised by humans." Alex nodded. She could have learnt this information at any time if she had chosen to be so invasive as to pull up his personal records. However, Alex knew she would have been annoyed if someone had done that to her just to find out more about her past instead of simply asking.
"Until I came to the Academy." Vin said shortly, not liking to talk about that vaunted institution very much. His time there had not been pleasant since it was his initiation into learning that he was not like everyone else. His mother had died when he was young and by the time rescuers had come and he had spent a good five years alone. His social skills had been next to non-existent and his fellow cadets had taken every opportunity to make him feel like the outsider.
Alex could tell the Academy was a sore point and he did not like to speak of it. She could understand that too. "So you're not quite Vulcan and not quite human either." She said, showing no sympathy because he would not like it.
"Something like that." He drawled, watching her gaze shift to the stars once more. Alex would always meet his eyes when they were talking but when there were periods of silence, she would gaze out into the stars like him.
"You're unique." She stated with a little smile.
"Unique?" He stared at her, uncertain whether or not it was an insult or a compliment. It was so difficult to tell with humans.
"Neither one or the other." She explained aware that he was confused by the appellation. "You're just you."
"I guess." He agreeing that was a good a description as any.
"I think it's nice," Alex whispered, her voice almost like a wisp of wind. "Being able to be just who you are and not what's expected of you because you're from one culture or another. Not many people have that kind of freedom."
Vin had never heard of it put quite that way. She was right of course, he was a Vulcan but he could not possibly imagine living the way they did, without love or passion in their lives. Sometimes he wanted to be very much apart of his people and other times, he could not understand how anyone would voluntarily let themselves live the way the Vulcans did, feeling nothing or not even acknowledging that they could experience emotion. "Aren't you who you are?"
Alex swallowed and looked away. "No," she shook her head slowly. "Not for a very long time."
The pain that surfaced in her eyes was beyond description and Vin yearned to understand what it was that had haunted her so. He wanted to probe further but somehow felt that she would not take the intrusion lightly because she was not at a place where she could talk about it even though he really wanted to know.
So he said nothing and for the next hour, they merely sat there in silence, watching the stars and communicating with far more effectiveness through their gazes at how each was enjoying the company.