A Second Chance

The USS Falcon licks its wounds and flies the flag.

Fallout

Starbase 86
2401

—- Starbase 86, Conference Room 6 —-

Commander Ashley Attwell felt all eyes on her as she rose and went to the replicator to order a English Breakfast tea. Still she needed something to drink and had been sitting down for either hours already as the senior staff of the USS Falcon and the command crew of Selene Division poured over what had gone wrong and what they could do better next time.

The unspoken thing was that the USS Falcon had just been outnumbered and outgunned. While perhaps minute improvements could be made, the fact was that one Excelsior II-class ship against the kind of fire power that the pirates had stolen from the Klingons was not going to end much differently. If anything the fact that the Falcon had been able to be towed back to Starbase 86 meant that they’d done alright. The fact of the matter was, at least in Attwell’s mind, that nobody on the Falcon had died, and while it had taken the arrival of a Starfleet task group including the USS Majestic to arrive in time to save them and scare off the pirates, that lack of casualties was something to be proud of. Still whenever there was a disaster like this one, even if everyone had done their jobs perfectly, there was an inquest.

As she made her way to her chair at the large table they were all sat around Attwell heard the low measured voice of Captain Radak ask, “And how long until the Falcon is able to get underway?”

Though not in charge of the repairs that were being done by the base’s teach of technicians Chief Engineer Murf had the answer, “We can go in two days. My team will be fixing things as we fly, but unless we’re going to get our cute little butts kicked again we should be okay.”

Captain Radak opened his mouth like he wanted to tell the engineering officer to be more professional but closed it, thinking better of it. While an older Vulcan was more experienced than most, it was accepted that despite looking like she was in her early thirties, Murf was far more experienced than most. Telling her to be less juvenile seemed pointless when she was older than the Federation.

“Do you have something for us?” Captain Paul Aike the commanding officer of the USS Falcon asked, leaning forward to show interest.

“We have been requested to show the flag, as it where,” Radak said, “While I will remain on Starbase 86, the Falcon will fly to Starbase 260. Be seen, be visible. If the ship is repaired by the time you arrive catch some pirates.”

“Are the Breen acting up?” Commander Attwell asked, sipping on her tea.

“The Breen have been quiet,” Lieutenant Commander Victoria Hume said, glancing up at the star map on the wall. Starbase 260 was close to their space, so the question had been natural. She nodded, “But with everything going on the last thing Starfleet wants to do is worry about them, and giving their past alliance with the Founders of the Dominion we want to make sure they don’t get ideas that we’re short staffed.”

Attwell and her commanding officer Captain Aike had not worked together long enough to develop a kind of wordless connection, where they knew each other well enough to know just what the other was thinking, so she kept her opinion to herself with no one to share it with. She had a feeling though that he was not a fan of performative appearances, showing up and looking tough was not nearly as satisfying to him as actually getting to be tough. Perhaps though the recent kicking that the Falcon had taken had humbled him a little, and made him appreciate the missions where they did not lose power and all most drift into a planet’s gravity well.

“Alright, I’ll read the full mission specs. Murf get our ship ready to fly,” Aike said standing, having decided that he’d had enough of sitting in the room. Starfleet’s command team had already left an hour ago, and Selene Division head Radak did not seem inclined to stop him.

 

—- USS Falcon, First Officer’s Office —-

Gazing out the large window that filled the majority of the one wall in the office Commander Ashley Attwell watched as a worker bee buzzed by on its way to perform some welding on the Falcon’s nacelle. Given that life support was one of the first things that had been restored on the ship, the crew had not been transferred off to Starbase 86.

Despite the Falcon having been kicked around a bit, it was still a good ship and a comfortable posting. Certainly Attwell knew that nobody was going to be asking for transfers off the ship, due to lack of excitement, anytime soon. If anything their position as the tip of the spear for Selene Division might mean that some people wanted off to find a less active posting.

Picking up a PADD she read Murf’s latest on the repairs that the ship was undergoing. For the first few days they were going to have to use credits to replicate materials, to ensure that ship had what it needed. It was falling to Attwell to distribute credits through the crew. This would give the engineering team time to get the ship’s energy systems to full functionality while at full warp. The ship’s torpedo launchers would also not be online by the time they left, but given that they were going to be well within Federation space Attwell did not anticipate that being a problem.

Her door buzzed, indicating a visitor, and she said a perfunctory “Come.”

Doctor Askr Njord entered with his usual grin firmly in place. He was a good doctor, terrible fiancé, but good doctor. The medical department had more than done their part in ensuring that the Falcon had not lost anyone in their last space battle.

“You wanted to see me?” Njord asked. This was a tactic of his, make the other person feel that they had been the one that called him so they didn’t get annoyed with him arriving to ask for something. To new people who were not familiar with Njord it probably worked, to Attwell who knew what he was doing it just made her roll her eyes.

“I did not, you got yourself assigned here against my wishes,” she said. Then gestured to the empty seat across the desk from her.

“Well Captain Aike is persuasive,” Njord said sitting down.

“What can I do for you?” Attwell said, wanting to cut out the banter. It was not that she did not enjoy banter, it was that she did not enjoy Njord. At least not since he’d cheated on her and they’d broken up.

“You need to give me twice the replicator credits,” the Chief Medical Officer said.

“I just got that memo and I haven’t even assigned credits,” Attwell pointed out.

“Whatever you’re going to give medical we need twice as many,” Njord said.

“You’re preemptively asking me to double your allotment?” Attwell asked, knowing that this was exactly what he was doing.

“Yes,” Njord said nodding.

“Lieutenant I’ll give you what’s appropriate. Now go and get the medical bay working. And pick a damn Assistant Chief Medical Officer so I know who’s replacing you when I murder you.”

“That’s a threat of violence against a junior officer. A completely innocent junior officer,” Njord said.

“Not if it’s an accidental transporter malfunction,” Attwell said, “in your sleep.”

Doctor Njord rose to his feet, “Good talking to you Commander.”

Forward Looking

USS Falcon
2401

—- USS Falcon, Sick Bay —-

Doctor Askr Njord was not a bad man, despite what his commander and former fiancé seemed to think about him. At least he was not a bad man in his own estimation of himself which he had to admit was biased. He had just achieved a place in life that he was happy with and being in a marriage had been a daunting arrangement the closer the wedding had come. His weakness was that instead of just having an honest conversation with Ashley Attwell he had cheated on her, and had done so in what had been for her a public and humiliating way. The she had not yet forgiven his was not a surprise.

Unlike Njord though she was professional and other than with Captain Aike she had not let their past relationship be revealed.

Which was why when the ship’s new Chief Operations Officer entered Njord was able to give her a cheeky smile, attempting to be charming especially if she was here to hand out replicator credits. She had not, she had transferred to the Falcon from Starbase 86 days before they had left to deal with the stolen Klingon ships and what with all of the chaos she had not been through her administrative checkup.

“I served on 86 too,” Njord said as he examined her file. Neither had been a section chief back then, and neither had met each other, or at least known of each other.

“Okay,” Lieutenant Leylani Aka said, not particularly impressed a lot of the ship’s crew were either drawn from Starbase 86 or the USS Selene. She wanted to get checked up, get her transfer officially complete and get back to work.

“I was a surgeon there,” Njord said, trying to sound impressive. When he did not notice a look of envy, or at least intense affection he added, “So you’re from Hawaii? That’s like Earth Risa.”

“I never thought of it as Earth Risa,” Aka said. Humans had been myticising and making Hawaiian culture or the islands something it wasn’t for generations. First the British and then the Americans had lay claim to the islands, against the wishes of the native inhabitants. By the time the nation state era of human history was over Hawaii was forever changed demographically as mainlanders had flocked there to settle in paradise.

“Do you surf? You look like a surfer,” Njord observed, adding, “Nice legs. I mean you have good legs for surfing.”

“Does any of this actually work with women?” Leyalni asked, studying him deadpan.

“You’d be surprised,” Njord said, remaining chipper and upbeat.

Laying on the exam biobed the Operations Chief made a surprised noise, “Tell me what women actually fall for it.”

Doctor Njord grinned, “Oh I will.”

 

—- USS Falcon, Main Bridge —-

Following her administrative checkup Lieutenant Leyalni Aka headed to the main bridge. She was still settling into the daily rhythms of the Falcon, which were different than those to the ones on a starbase.

Starbase 86 had been like being in a fair sized city, not quite Honolulu or San Francisco but certainly Wailea on Maui. There had been restaurants, entertainment options and more that were not availed to the crew of a five hundred person starship. There were a few civilians onboard to run the bar and grill and other basic functions, such as a barber, but were 86 had been the hub of life in the quadrant this was just a ship. It was almost enough to make Doctor Njord interesting.

Almost.

While the ship’s engineering team were busy with repairs as they travelled to their destination, the operations department had less to do. Other than installing software locks on the replicators for the time being, to ensure compliance with the Falcon’s rationing of replicator usage, there was little for them to do. On 86 she had basically been an engineer, tasked with keeping the station’s weapon systems online. Here she was mostly ensuring that nobody drank too much fizzy water while various subsystems were being worked on.

At flight control, the conn next to Aka at the front of the bridge Chief Flight Control Officer Lieutenant Thomas Winfield gestured to the console, “I’m getting some drag on this that I usually don’t.”

“Engineering is working on the engines in places, but I’ll take a look,” Aka said.

She crawled under the console and popped the back of it off, opening the energy conduits to the world. There was an obvious issue with a broken relay juncture, so she rolled out from beneath the console and went to a supply closet on the bridge, pulling out a small tool box. Lying back down on the floor she scooted beneath the console and began to work.

About twenty minutes later she emerged having popped the back of the console back on.

“I’ll open a ticket and get engineering to look at that, check my work,” Aka said, “but it should be working better now.”

A lot of operations fell fairly close to engineering. Repairing replicators, for example, but the ship’s steering function was pretty firmly in the territory of engineering and she knew they hated someone else doing their work.

Sitting down at the console Winfield grinned, “Hey thanks. Hey some of us are getting together at the lounge, did you want to come? I know the old Selene crew can be a bit clique and you’re new.”

It did not take Aka long to make a decision, “Yeah sure that would be nice.”

 

—- USS Falcon, Captain’s Ready Room —-

Captain Paul Aike was sitting sitting at his desk when his first officer entered. Commander Ashley Attwell was pleased to see him as relaxed as she had in her months serving as the ship’s XO. They had not yet developed the kind of easy comfortable relationship of trust that many captains had with their first officers, and so she had suspected that it was just not within the man’s wheelhouse. His last executive officer had left and had taken more of Aike’s crew to staff his new ship. It was clear that Aike had taken that as a kind of betrayal and was going to find it hard to trust a new first officer.

“You seem to actually be enjoying this mission,” Attwell observed, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.

Aike smiled, and chuckled a little, “What’s not to like? We get to get out there, stretch our legs. We get a show the flag mission, easy and comfortable and that damn Vulcan isn’t aboard.”

“Hume is, she’s his eyes and ears,” Attwell pointed out, the Lieutenant Commander had not been shy about representing Captain Radak the commanding officer of Selene Division.

“Easier to ignore a lieutenant commander than a captain. Besides this mission isn’t the result of a Vulcan’s big brain math project, it’s straight from Starfleet and has a point,” Aike said.

It was clear that whatever his personal feelings were about Captain Radak the Vulcan not being aboard the USS Falcon for this mission was seen as a blessing. Radak had been careful not to intrude on the actual captaining of the Falcon but clearly having a senior officer aboard in overall command was a source of contention for Aike.

“We meet with the station’s senior staff, be seen by the Breen and pirates and give Murf a chance to get the Falcon in tip top shape. It’s the perfect first mission back,” he said.

 

—- USS Falcon, The Millennium Lounge —-

Lieutenant Leylani Aka noticed a group of young department heads around a table, including Lieutenant Thomas Winfield who’d been the one to invite her out. Because of the high turnover recently on the Falcon everyone was seemed to be a Lieutenant, and there were only a few Lieutenant Commanders around. She recognized many of them from briefings and the daily stand ups that the senior staff did, though there were a few new faces.

“Our new Ops Chief,” Winfield called at her, raising his arms in celebration at her arrival.

Aka was not given to being nervous, but all of a sudden lots of focus was on her, which was a bit unsettling. She managed a smile, and headed towards the table, “Aloha.”

A young man that Aka recognized as the Security Chief Lieutenant William Hume grinned, “A Hawaiian. I think it’s our first.”

Winfield explained, “Since our first posting we’ve been meeting up, and having what was then Deputy Department Heads drinks, now we’ve been upgraded.”

“A few of us have been together for a while, the Anaheim, the Seattle, the Luna, the Selene, and now here on the prestigious USS Falcon,” William Hume said, “I don’t think you’re the first Hawaiian we’ve served with. Just the first in the club.”

“Remember that ensign, he was from Hawaii. He’d take whatever opportunity to roll up his sleeves and show off his tattoos,” Winfield said.

“They were awesome tattoos,” admitted Lieutenant Torma the Gideon Chief Counselor.

“Do you have any tattoos?” Lieutenant Hume asked.

“William, no that’s private,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Rosa Flores poked the Security Chief.

From the manifest that she’d studied Aka recognized her as the Assistant Chief Security officer.

“We keep Flores around to keep Hume in line,” joked Winfield, “Must be nice, having a woman wanting to transfer with you.”

Hume explained, “Winfield’s still sore his girlfriend stayed on the Selene.”

“She took better labs over me,” lamented Winfield, half joking. He waved off his complaint, “It was the smart choice for her, it’s a heck of a science ship. I took being a chief navigator over her, so we’re both to blame.”

Torma sighed, “Nobody is to blame. You’ve both just prioritized work over relationships, and that’s fine at this juncture. Not every Starfleet couple is going to be Riker and Troi.”

“What’s Riker and Troi?” Aka asked, not getting the reference.

“They captained the Titan and got married,” Rosa boiled it down.

“Hume go get us some drinks,” Winfield said pushing the other officer out of the booth seating and towards the lounge’s bar.

“Who else comes to this?” Aka asked.

“Murf, but she’s at a different life stage, but I think she finds us amusing. Basically any of the department heads,” Torma said, adding “Save for our new doctor, we’re still deciding on him.”

“He has trouble with eye contact,” Rosa pointed out.

“Unless you’re a species that keeps its eyes in its torso,” Torma said.

“Ah yes, seems to be a problem maybe that women have with him,” Aka said having met him earlier in the day.

Winfield nodded, “Look as dumb as we are, and as basic as Hume can be, we look out for our own. We check ourselves and try not to be creeps. The doctor, well his appointment seems to have been a surprise, and it’s a bit…”

Winfield’s voice trailed off but Aka nodded. Starfleet was good on harassment, but there were a lot of ways that someone could make you feel uncomfortable that did not go against a specific guidelines and she had met people who knew how to stay just on the right side of the rules. Normally they were shunted away, and on Starbase 86 she had heard that their new doctor was on that route, but that Captain Aike has intervened and recruited him.

“Unless he crosses a line, we can’t do much but look out for each other,” Torma said, the officer who most directly would be working with him at the table. She seemed, perhaps not tough, but wise. Aka hoped that she could take care of herself if need be.

“What do we actually do here?” Aka asked.

“Usually they just tease me,” Hume said setting down a tray of drinks and distributing them.

“We used to use it to coordinate departments, and complain about our commanding officers. Now that’s us, we’ll use it to coordinate departments and complain about our lieutenant junior grades,” Winfield joked.

A Brief Moment

USS Falcon, Shuttle Bay 1
2402

Captian Paul Aike had served aboard the USS Falcon since he had entered Starfleet. He was one of the few senior officers who had spent his whole career on one ship, working from the lower levels right up to CO. He’d been through the refit, he’d been through the Dominion War. He’d been through it all. As such he liked to walk the corridors and visit old haunts, like the shuttle bay where he had gotten his start in the fleet unloading cargo in the Operations department.

He nodded to the crew on duty but did not disturb them. They nodded back, used to the ship’s commanding officer down in the depths with them. He’d working in engineering, and operations, and even had flown a shuttlecraft or two.

Aike did not have a captain’s yacht, instead, he used the fleet of shuttles when he needed to go somewhere. The Falcon was a workhorse not a show pony like the Selene who headed their division. He’d put in his hours, either piloting or riding in the back of these shuttles over the years. He rubbed his hand across the surface of the Andor, the main runabout the crew used. He remembered when it was new and exciting, a new type of craft. Now while the Falcon had gotten a facelift to the Excelsior-II model, the Andor had not. Still, he remembered it, the pilot’s seat. He’d crashed in it once, back when he was a lieutenant.

Way back when.

He smiled to himself, knowing nostalgia was its own danger. He had the future to focus on, and memories of the past, no matter how warm and inviting or how exciting, were to be left behind.

Captain Aike adjusted his uniform and headed back towards the bridge.

Skeevy Enough

Starbase 260
2401

—- Starbase 260, Quark’s Pub —-

“They have a Quark’s here,” Lieutenant William Hume observed gesturing to the bustling Ferengi style bar and restaurant on the promenade of Starbase 260.

His sister made a face and then shrugged, “I’ve been to one of them before, I imagine either the original was better or…”

Relenting she followed her younger brother over and joined the line that had formed. The promenade was bustling with activity, not the least because the crew of the USS Falcon was being allowed to take rotating visits to the base. The Falcon’s crew was five times larger than the crew assigned to the station, and twice as big as the station’s entire population. One of these Vision-class stations were not meant to handle the full compliment of a modern starship.

Hume figured his sister could have pulled rank. As a Lieutenant Commander she outranked most on the station, and the Falcon, but they waited in line like everyone else. He supposed pulling rank was a good way to get hated.

Lieutenant Commander Victoria Hume made her way into the pub when their name was called. She did not much care for Ferengi cooking, but as they saying went ‘when in New Rome do as the New Romans do’. She had not chosen to be on the ship that her brother had been transferred to, but things had moved fast with the formation. Captain Radak had grown more ill recently, leaving her to fill in his shoes, a daunting task given that she was outranked by the commanding officers of both ships. She knew that the Falcon’s commanding officer Captain Aike in particular was not a fan of this whole new division arrangement. He seemed to view both herself and Captain Radak with suspicion, intruding upon his command.

Her brother William was also somewhat old fashioned in his view of a captain being in charge of a ship and nothing really coming ahead of that. Despite his relative youth William took after their father, and was a traditionalist in many respects. It had made his connection with his previous commanding officer and their current Task Force commanding officer Captain Hawthorne end up more like a father son arrangement.

William had still been quite young when their father had died during the Dominion War, a father figure was something he might have needed. Victoria had been a bit older, and had adjusted as she’d progressed.

“So you got anything exciting or dangerous up your sleeve for this mission,” William asked as he waited for his root beer, a feature menu item at this Quark’s.

“It’s not magic,” Victoria said, as she took her own carbonated water, lime flavored, “We don’t just pull missions out of a hat and assign them to you guys. After last one the Falcon is getting a milk run, doing this show the flag exercise and the Selene is being restocked and having a new sensor suite added.”

William nodded, “Just figured you’d tell me, but I get it top secret and stuff.”

“Top secret? It is what I’m telling you,” Victoria said realizing the pointlessness of this conversation. If there had been something top secret they’d be having exactly the same conversation.

William grinned, unconvinced but not pressing it, “You think starbase life gets boring?”

“My last two assignments were Avalon Fleet-yards and Starbase 86, so I know what starbase life is like,” Victoria said, “I also lived with mom on starbase 12 for a bit before the academy.”

“But those are massive bases, this is like a Reliant-class ship that doesn’t go anywhere,” William said.

It was bigger than that, with a more dynamic mix of non-Federation citizens and Starfleet personnel, but his point was relatively accurate. Certainly a Vision-class was different than anything either Hume had been assigned to before.

“Mom’s moved back to Point Grey,” William said of their mother who had retired as a captain in Starfleet Operations that year. She had moved back to the exclusive neighborhood in Vancouver that they had grown up.

“I’ll see if I can arrange some time off for us both to go see her,” Victoria said, getting both a ship’s chief of security and the division’s first officer on leave at the same time might be tricky.

A woman dressed as a Dabo Girl dropped off their drinks, though she was not Bajoran the way they both knew that the women who worked at the original Quark’s aboard Deep Space Nine had been.

“We should go to the original,” William said watching the woman walk away from the table.

“I don’t know if we need to, this is skeevy enough,” his sister said.

Humes all the way down

USS Falcon, Starbase 260
December 2401

—- Starbase 260, Operations —-

“Where is Captain Aike?” asked Captain Hagon Zaff the commanding officer of Starbase 260. The Bolian seemed pleasant enough, but he was also quite aware that the other captain was not present for this official visit.

“He is overseeing the repairs to the Falcon,” said Commander Ashley Attwell trying to be reassuring. Of course he was not going them himself, most likely he was readying a book or having a bath. The Starfleet rule against a captain leaving his ship did not apply to visiting safe starbases in Federation space. The fact was that the Captain thought it beneath himself, and was not one for official formalities.

The Bolian did not seem interested in drawing the matter out and simply nodded, accepting the story and not taking the slight personally. The Falcon had brought some supplies for the station, the ship’s large cargo bays had been packed with rations and materials for the station’s upkeep and crew. Attwell was there to oversee that, and do whatever performative role that the ship’s captain would usually have.

With the Falcon’s crew allowed to visit in shifts, the starbase had grown in population with an additional one hundred or so Starfleet officers joining in the local population. Apart from the station’s crew and their families, the rest of the station was largely Ferengi, as this was a popular trading hub between them and the Federation.

“Do you have many problems with the Ferengi?” Attwell asked. While they were no longer the threat they had once been, and no longer a rival military power in the days of Picard’s first Stargazer, they did not quite fit into Federation life yet.

Captain Hagon Zaff laughed, “They are spirited. I’m sure somewhere they’re trying to get the deed to the USS Falcon from your crew. But they’re not the problem.”

“The Breen?” Attwell asked.

“We haven’t seen them since the 2399 incursion, but having you here is part of making sure they don’t try again,” Zaff said cheerfully. He nodded, “It’s nice to know with the Klingons and Romulans, Cardassian and Transwarp stuff we’re not being forgotten.”

That was the danger in Starfleet, resources were so stretched that they tended to end up running from one disaster to another, and not put in the work to prevent the next one. It would be well within Starfleet’s normal tendency to ignore the Breen until they attacked again. If flying a warship past slowly was all it took to keep them at bay, then the mission would be worthwhile.

“Now if Starfleet would send us one of those new Typhoon-class ships we’ll take it,” Zaff laughed.

 

—- Starbase 260, Cargo Bay 5 —-

Another load materialized in the cargo bay in front of Chief Operations Officer for the starbase Lieutenant Commander Nilo Tunem. The Trill marked it down on her list as her crew began to ensure that what was delivered met the manifest. Beside her the Falcon’s own Chief of Operations Lieutenant Leylani Aka watched. She’d been on stations before, having last been stationed on Starbase 86, so she knew that on a station like this the operations chief was basically as important as the chief engineer if not actually the chief engineer as well.

“It should all be there,” Aka said, having gone over it when it was transferred aboard the Falcon.

Tunem nodded, not wanting to doubt her fellow Operations Officer, but also knowing that she needed to do her own inspection. She was known on Starbase 260 for her organization, and that was a reputation that she was proud of. It also meant not letting the simple things slip.

 

—- USS Falcon, Main Engineering —-

Pulling up the schematics of the Excelsior II-class vessel Chief Engineer Murf saw less flashing red alters than she had when they’d set out. That was a good sign. The bad sign was that there were still so many of them, and that systems like weapons were involved. The Falcon had taken a pounding, and unless it wanted another one her team had to work quickly. Officers were under LCARS terminals, and tracing conduits through the ship, one the face of it it looked pretty good. The team at Starbase 86 had managed to fix the exterior and replace the damaged ablative armor, but the interior still needed work.

“All replicators on deck six are offline,” an engineer at a terminal called out.

“Coordinate with operations, get them back,” Murf called in the general vicinity of the voice. She was a good engineer, her team was made up of good engineers. She just needed time, another two weeks in dock would have let them fix everything at a steady pace. Now that they were on assignment they had to hurry.

Assistant Chief Security Officer Lieutenant Junior Grade Rosa Flores entered and spotted Murf, and headed over.

“Captain says to take some time off,” the other woman said, “take a shift on the station, you have a team for a reason.”

“He sends security down to make sure I have a work-life balance?” Murf asked.

Flores shrugged, “I don’t know I think I was just on the bridge when he thought of it. But he’s not wrong, we’re at a Starfleet station, in Starfleet space. You’re not racing to save our lives, and you have a team.”

“If I don’t go what happens you arrest me?” Murf asked.

“No, I just think he’ll keep sending Lieutenant Junior Grades down here to bug you until you cave,” Flores said.

“A fate worse than death,” Murf decided after taking the threat in. She nodded and stretched. She stood and announced, “Alright, everyone I’m off until Alpha shift. Keep working the problems, I’ll be back to see how you got on in the morning.”

“Want to come with me?” Murf asked Flores as she headed out of the engineering bay, with the security officer coming with her.

“Sure, I was going to meet Hume at Quark’s,” Flores said.

“Which one,” Murf asked, as there were two Humes now.

“My boyfriend, though his sister is there too,” Flores said.

“It’s Humes all the way down,” joked Murf as they turned a corner and headed to the transporter room.

Broken

USS Falcon
2402

—- USS Falcon, Bridge —-

“Sir we are picking up a distress signal,” Lieutenant William Hume said glancing up from the security station, looking at from the computer and glancing at Captain Paul Aike who was sitting in the middle of the bridge in the central command chair.

“On screen,” Aike said, looking away from the PADD that he had been reading. He set it on his arm rest and straightened up.

“It’s a recording sir, audio only,” Hume said, then played it.

A voice filled the room clearly being translated by the ship’s computers, as a few words came out as static. 

“This is the space vessel Argus we have crashed and require rescuing,” the message said and then repeated. 

Aike gave Hume the signal to shut it off, “Alright, let’s call back our crew from the station. Prepare to leave.”

Hume’s elder sister Lieutenant Commander Victoria Hume objected. She was the representative of the Division’s commander while Captain Radak was on Starbase 86 on medical leave. She tried to seem casual as she contradicted the captain, “Sir, that message may be years old, and we are not in any condition to go off to where ever it may be. Our orders are to do a milk run to the starbase and head back.”

“We can’t not respond to a distress call. I want to know where it’s coming from and what we can tell about this ship Argus,” Aike said, “We leave in three hours. Unless Admiral Picard himself calls me and tells me to stay put we’re going. Understood Lieutenant Commander.”

Victoria Hume nodded but did not look pleased. They were on a mission to show the flag, and it was hard to show the flag when your ship broke down and needed to be rescued because you’d gone on an unnecessary rescue mission. They’d just been pounded by two stolen Klingon warships, they should not be making jaunts to play hero.

“Attwell tell the station we’ll be leaving,” Aike said.

His First Officer nodded, “Yes sir.”

“Let engineering know we’ll be warping out they have three hours to get us ready to go,” Aike said.

 

—- USS Falcon Briefing Room —-

Two and a half hours later the senior crew of the ship were in the main briefing room discussing the mission. 

“Any worries Mister Winfield?” Captain Aike asked his Chief Flight Control Officer.

“As long as the engine doesn’t fall out the bottom of the ship we should be fine. The planet is in unexplored space, and no in the Federation, but we won’t be crossing into Breen territory either. We have star maps of the area thanks to the Ferengi,” Lieutenant Thomas Winfield said.

“Weapons are back online, but I should point out that we are not ready for another fight,” Murf said, the Chief Engineer looking less than pleased at this sudden change of mission, “We’ve had warp since we first left Starbase 86 but I don’t think we have the resources if we have to take on a large number of survivors.”

“What can we tell about the signal,” Aike asked.

Since the Falcon still had no science department, aside from Medical, Commander Ashley Attwell answered that question.

“Argus is a popular name in Greek myth, still used on earth. The language the broadcast was in fact has semblances to Ancient Greek and Ancient Latin,” Attwell said.

“So the ship is human?” Aike asked.

“The ancient Greeks did not have starships,” Attwell said, “The Argo was the name of the ship used in Greek myth by Jason and the Argonauts. Could be some relation.”

The captain looked at his Chief Medical Officer, “Doctor Njord you haven’t said much.”

“We have medical supplies, and doctors. Until we know what the situation is I can’t say much. I’m a doctor not a fortune teller,” Njord said.

“Alright since we’ve let the station know we’re going, and nobody has called to tell me not to rescue this ship, we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” Aike said dismissing the room.

 

—- USS Falcon, Bridge ——

As the Excelsior-II class ship pulled away from the orbit it had established around the starbase the crew was hard at work continuing on repairs. On the bridge things seemed normal, but other parts of the ship the operations and engineering teams were hard at work. At the bridge engineering terminal Lieutenant Murf the ship’s chief engineer was hard at work dispatching teams across the ship. 

She glanced up, updating the First Officer Commander Ashley Attwell on the situation, “Warp engines are operational, deflector shield is at maximum. If you need shields they’re at forty-six percent but by the time we reach our destination they should be back to full power. The remaining issue is weapons are non-operational and we don’t have full use of sensor arrays.”

“Not great,” observed Attwell.

“Not what I’d want flying into unknown space on a rescue mission,” Murf said.

“Okay, noted do what you can with what we have,” Attwell said, the Captain wanted this mission to work as as ill-advised as she thought it was she was going to make sure it worked.

Reflection

USS Falcon
2402

— USS Falcon, Forward Observation Lounge —

 

The ceiling-to-floor viewports, what once she might have called windows back in Vancouver, looked out into the endlessness of space. It was easy to get overawed by the sight, the continuing of existence, far beyond what one could ever know. Even if the ship’s scanners were working, there was no way to catalog everything. Even with all the time in the world.

Picking up a Trill Tango from the bar Lieutenant Commander Victoria Hume went and sat at one of the open tables right by the large viewports. A nice feature of the Excelsior II-class was the views out into space. Perhaps not as good as back at her last posting on Avalon at the Fleet Yards, but one could get used to the stars at a station. Out in space, constantly on the move, things never got familiar.

Out here, well there was always something new to see. Which was what made it exciting, gave you the pull to solve riddles and investigate the feeling that the answers were all just on the other side of the horizon. Which she supposed, in his own way, was what Captain Aike was doing rushing off to answer an unknown distress call. Even if the ship wasn’t working properly yet, and even if it was diverting them away from their direct orders. It was the same call to adventure that she felt, and she figured most of the ship’s crew felt as if they stood on the edge between known and unknown.

The question was, would this be a step into the darkness too far? With no sensors and no weapon systems, the answer might come at them swiftly and perhaps violently. Or perhaps once more they’d find their way home.