“Captain, we are being hailed. It’s Admiral Brexx at Starfleet Command,” said Lieutenant Commander Amanda Rose, the Steamrunner’s Executive Officer.

 Commander Tim Coleman, the Captain of the Steamrunner-class U.S.S. Steamrunner, had been looking down at a PADD handed to him from, well, someone for him to review and sign off. It was a report about crew efficiency on Deck 6, near Engineering. “On screen,” he said, looking up. 

It was unusual for the Captain of a ship to put communique from Starfleet on the main screen on the Bridge, but then again, nothing was “usual” about Commander Tim Coleman. Lieutenant Commander Rose did as she was told. “Aye sir. Onscreen.”

On the forward viewscreen, a blue-skinned Admiral appeared, complete with the bisecting ridge that ran from the back of his head all the way to the bottom of his neck. “Commander Coleman, it’s good to see you,” he said. There was no joy or honesty in the words.

“Likewise, Admiral,” It was not lost on Coleman that the Admiral did not address Coleman by the Naval tradition of Captain, since he was in command of this vessel. Coleman responded with a tone of voice that matched the Admiral’s. “How can the Steamrunner be of service to Starfleet today?” Coleman was bitter, like most of the 119 other crewmembers on the Steamrunner. With the exception of the very few members of the crew that were “lucky” enough to be assigned to this ship fresh from the Academy or Starfleet Bootcamp, the rest had been put here, like Commander Coleman, because of some infraction they had committed at some point in their career and were put onto this ship to be out of the way, but still useful to Starfleet. In other words, the Steamrunner was a mule, a workhorse, a beast of burden, nothing more. In the time that Coleman had been in command of the Steamrunner, he had been in exactly one firefight, stepped foot on exactly zero planets (outside of going on leave, naturally), and had not been on a single exploratory or diplomatic mission. It was a dead end for him, and for nearly everyone on this ship. The chances of him ever earning his fourth pip were zero. In fact, he had better chances of losing a pip than he did gaining one.

“I like your go-get-’em attitude, Commander,” Admiral Brexx stated, not meaning it in the slightest. “We need the Steamrunner to go to Tychon IV, pick up supplies and passengers, and take them to Deep Space 9.” Brexx picked up a PADD and looked at it for a moment. “Based on the information I have here, the space you have available in your cargo hold and crew space available, you will likely need to make three trips, unless you and your crew can come up with some other plan.”

Coleman looked at the Admiral with wide eyes. “Admiral, one trip from Tychon IV to DS9 will take three weeks alone! You are talking about,” Coleman did some quick math in his head, “almost four months to complete this mission!”

Admiral Braxx lost any sort of façade he was showing, his eyes glowing with anger, his face contorted in disgust. He slapped the PADD down, hard, and leaned into the camera hard and close. “Commander, you will do as you are ordered, or I will have you removed from command and put in your own damned brig for the duration of that mission, do I make myself clear, Mr. Coleman?”

The lack of respect that Admiral Brexx had for Commander Coleman was well known and well documented, but Brexx knew where to draw the line, and knew how to draw the line in the sand at the same time, and he had done just so. If Coleman spoke one syllable incorrectly, or made the most minute mistake in his response, he really would find himself trumped out of Starfleet, or in that promised brig. Coleman looked over to Rose, where they momentarily locked eyes, then his attention was back on the Admiral. “Admiral, my sincere apologies. Of course the Steamrunner and I can handle this mission. We will do so with the highest efficiency.” What he wanted to say, well, that was best left unsaid, for fear of virgin ears hearing it by mistake.

Leaning back into his chair and into a normal sitting position, Brexx smiled. His façade back in full force again. He didn’t give a care one way or another if anyone on the Steamrunner saw it. “Excellent. I will have Lieutenant Bleerak send you all the details. In the meantime, you better get to Tychon IV. Deep Space 9 is already waiting on those supplies and crew, Commander. Starfleet Command out.”

The screen went dark, the reverted back to the starscape that was normally present. Coleman looked to Rose again, lifted his eyebrows for a moment, a silent communication between the two signaling, ‘Oh well, we have our orders,’ then looked to the Helm. “Helm, set course for Tychon IV, and make your speed warp 6.” He had no idea what the course heading was. He could have looked it up before giving the order, but then again, that is why he had a Helm Officer in the first place, to look up these things and input them into the navigational computer.

“Aye sir. Course laid in,” he said after a few moments. “Heading 003 mark 045. Almost dead ahead of us. Warp six.”

“Lets get going, Lieutenant.”

From outside the ship, the red ramscoop collectors, encased in their cowling, brightened up by an order of magnitude before returning to their normal dark red color. At the exact same time, the blue glow along the length of the warp nacelles went brilliant white. The ship vanished into warp speed, travelling at roughly 392 times the speed of light, or if you wanted to be fancy, roughly 423 billion kilometers an hour.

“Captain, we have achieved orbit around Tychon IV,” Lieutenant Commander Rose stated. The USS Steamrunner had come out of warp a few hours earlier, outside of the expansive 13-planet system, and per regulations in this system, had managed a blistering 1/8th impulse all the way in to the fourth planet. It had taken hours to maneuver the very specific gondola that had been set up in this system, the asteroid belt, planets, the starbase, multitude of communications and survey satellites notwithstanding, to get to the planet. 

Tim rose from his desk in his ready room, really not much more than a closet just off the Bridge. The office had just enough room for him, his desk and a single chair. He had Ensign Rey put in a replicator a month ago, and it just barely fit into the bulkhead. Ensign Rey had complained, loudly, that the Engineering department would have to run several relays to the replicator and reroute several others that were incompatible. In the end, it had been done, and Commander Coleman’s life had been much improved. Well, as much as it could be on the Steamrunner at least.

Stepping onto the Bridge, he asked, “Status?”

“Sir, we are in synchronous orbit over Tychon IV. We have received hailing instructions to contact the local government magistrate in the capital city,” Commander Rose stated.

“All systems are at normal operating power levels, Captain,” Lieutenant junior grade Krunk stated from Operations.

“Tactical analysis has been run, sir. There are nine sub-light defense craft in weapons range, none of which pose any threat to the Steamrunner. There are also four Tamarian Freighters in low orbit taking on supplies with minimal weaponry. Sir, there is also an extensive weapons platform in orbit for planetary defense, which we are no match for,” Lieutenant junior grade R’Mar stated from Tactical.”

Coleman smiled with the right side of his mouth. “Thank you for that thorough tactical analysis, Lieutenant. I do not believe we will be attacking the planet today, though.” The rest of the bridge crew giggled softly.

“Sir, the planet is an M-class planet with two natural satellites. It has four continents and 8 major oceans. Tychon IV is roughly the same size and composition of Mars and Benzar, albeit with a vastly different atmosphere,” said Lieutenant Peepon Eeriane, the Bajoran manning the Science station.

Coleman nodded from his Captain’s chair. “Very good everyone. Thank you. Lieutenant R’Mar, please open a channel to the Magistrate. I’d like to get this done and underway as soon as we can. We don’t want to disappoint Admiral Brexx,” he said, his eyes rolling a bit. Everyone on the bridge smiled.

“Aye sir. Opening hailing frequencies now. This is the USS Steamrunner to Magistrate Unk’tred of Tychon IV.”

A moment passed, and the viewscreen changed from the planet to the face of the Magistrate. “Ah, Commander Coleman of the famed USS Steamrunner. Admiral Brexx informed us of your pending arrival. Your reputation preceeds you,” he said, without a hint of welcome in his voice. “We have the supplies ready for beam-up. I am sure you have been informed that there will not be any permission given to your crew of beam-down nor of any shuttlecraft coming to the surface to assist in the supply collection.”

It was a great deal of talking on the Magistrates side, saying what he said. In short, he didn’t want any of the miscreants that were aboard the Steamrunner on his planet. It honestly broke Tim’s heart a little. Everyone on this ship was a Federation citizen, whether or not he or she were born outside of the Federation. Simply by serving in Starfleet granted them citizenship, and thus should be allowed to go anywhere in the Federation without fear of denial, which was happening here. Even the human members, the core of the Federation, weren’t allowed down. Still, he was beholden to the wishes and rules from planetary leaders. “I see, Magistrate. We will, of course, honor your wishes. However, I must point out that we will be in orbit longer without the ability to use our shuttles to help with bringing up these supplies. I am sure Admiral Brexx will not be happy with our delay,” he said, hoping to corner him into allowing people down to the surface.

“Mr. Coleman, that is your problem, not mine. I suggest you get to beaming up these supplies to mitigate any of these so-called delays you speak of. We are doing our part; you now need to do yours. Good day, Commander.” The screen went blank suddenly, a moment later being replaced by the soft purple glow of the atmosphere.

For a moment longer, Coleman looked at the screen. ~Why couldn’t all these things be as easy as they should be,~ he thought. Sighing, he looked over to his Executive Officer who was already looking at him. “Commander, please see to it that those supplies are beamed aboard. If you need me, I will be in my closet,” he said, the age-old joke of the size of his office.

“Aye sir,” she said. As the Captain left the Bridge, she switched seats from hers to the center seat. “Krunk, please see to it that all of the transporters are configured to cargo beam-ups and begin the transfer immediately. Once the cargo is stowed and catalgued, inform me so we can get moving.”

“You got it, Amanda,” Krunk said standing up and heading off the Bridge to do what was needed.

Amanda Rose would have to talk to Engineering here in a bit to see if extra power could be useful making the process go faster. She dreaded contacting Rey, though. He was always such a pain in the ass to work with. It was evident too, as he was the only section chief that was not a Lieutenant junior grade or higher, and would likely remain that way, unless his attitude changed dramatically.

A post by:

CMDR Tim Coleman, Commanding Officer

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LCMDR Amanda Rose, Executive Officer

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LT Peepon Eeriane, Chief Science Officer

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LT(jg) Krunk, Chief Operations Officer

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LT(jg) R’Mar, Chief Tactical Officer

More than a week had passed since the USS Steamrunner had beamed up the supplies from Tychon IV and had headed out across Federation Space, with Deep Space 9 as their destination. Beyond a few minor course corrections, nothing else had happened during those seven days. No anomalous sensor readings, no communiques from Starfleet or pissed off Admirals, not even any personality conflicts with the crew. Nope, all in all, it had been rather boring. 

That is, until the door chime had sounded to the Ready Room in which Tim sat in. “Come in,” he said, knowing it would not be more than one person; the room was simply too small to fit more than one guest in there at a time.

As the doors parted, Lieutenant Commander Rose stepped in. “Good afternoon, sir. Not interrupting anything, am I,” she asked, sitting down in the chair without waiting for approval, or even a greeting.

“Would you care if you were, Amanda?”

She smiled. “Not even in the slightest.” She shifted in the chair, letting her left arm hang over the back of the chair, and crossed her right leg over her left, essentially sitting on only one cheek of her backside. “I need to talk to you.”

Coleman blinked. That sentence was never a good sign. Never. “Uh oh. What’s up?” He shifted in his own chair, moving his body so that he was focused solely on her.

“I’ve been offered a job,” she said, cryptically. “And I think I’m going to take it.” She figured there was no use trying to be gentle about it.

Coleman sat back in his chair. “Wow. Well, first, congratulations on the offer. What ship,” he asked, assuming she was going to be reassigned at Deep Space 9 when they arrived. He was sad to see her go, but glad she would be getting out from the stigma that was the Steamrunner, and the stain that was Tim Coleman. She deserved better, even though she also had made a mistake all those years ago. Still, he thought she had paid for the sins of her past with interest, so the move was absolutely a good one.

“No ship. Not even in Starfleet, hence why I came to talk to you. I want to resign my commission as soon as we have docked and secured all stations at Deep Space 9.” This was the moment she had been dreading all day, and now that it was out, it felt like a Sovereign-class starship had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt calm, at peace. It surprised her greatly, actually.

Coleman whistled through his teeth. “That is a big step, Amanda. Are you sure,” Tim asked, intertwining his fingers on the desk.

She thought for the briefest of moments, then slowly nodded her head. “Yeah, I am. I mean, look, my career is in shambles. I’ll never get promoted beyond Lieutenant Commander, and I know you have tried.” Coleman nodded at this. “And forget about ever being a commanding officer of my own ship, let alone the coveted Captain rank. No Tim, I’m sure. As much as I love Starfleet, unfortunately the love is not reciprocated. Sometimes you just have to break up and move your separate ways, right?” It was a rhetorical question.

Coleman raised his eyebrows up, then let them fall back to a natural resting place, the human non-verbal cue that he agreed with her. “So what job did you get offered?”

Amanda saw the facial expression and smiled a little, knowing he really couldn’t say much more on it. The fact that he let her see that was, in itself, telling. She appreciated him for that. In his way, he was making this easier. “I got offered to be the Senior Operations Executive at Terran Metallurgical Research Institute on Earth. It falls right in line with my training and specialty, plus it is rather prestigious. I was quite surprised when I got the subspace yesterday from their recruiter in Personnel Resources.”

“Wow, that really is a great offer, Amanda,” he exclaimed, and meant it. “Congratulations again.” He sat back in his chair, and though his words were hollow, he had to say them anyways.  “Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay aboard the Steamrunner, and in Starfleet? Remember, Starfleet needs all her officers, and the Federation needs everyone to serve for the greater good.” It was the typical re-enlistment speech given when someone was thinking about getting out, or their time was about up.

Amanda smiled again, knowing he had to say those words. “No sir, but thank you for the offer, and thank you for the opportunity to serve, and to stay, should I choose.” Like what he said, she needed to say this. It was, in effect, the closing of the book for her.

“Very well,” Coleman said, leaning forward. “Resignation accepted. As soon as we have docked with Deep Space 9 and all stations are secured, your service to Starfleet will be at an end. We will miss you, Commander, and I will miss you more than all.”

Despite herself, tears welled up in her eyes. Quickly wiping them away, she stood. “Thank you, Captain. For everything.” 

There was nothing more to be said. She turned and left the office. Suddenly the tiny closet pretending to be an office for the Commanding Officer felt so much more cavernous than it ever had. Almost empty. In just two and a half days, they would be at Deep Space 9 to offload the cargo and passengers they had, before heading back to Teylos IV for their second of three runs, sans Executive Officer Amanda Rose. 

He would need to start searching for a new Executive Officer immediately.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” exclaimed R’Mar, who had just stood up abruptly, his chair threatening to go much further had it not been for the bulkhead directly behind him, his arms locked, knuckles on the tabletop.

The officers assembled had just been informed of the resignation of Lieutenant Commander Rose, their Executive Officer, to be in effect as soon as they were secured station at Deep Space 9.

The outburst had been expected by Tim Coleman, who had been serving with R’Mar for several years now, and by Amanda Rose, who also had been serving with him for a while. Unfortunately, it took the others by surprise.

Jonathon Rey, while being there physically, was mentally far away, thinking about a particular four-breasted woman he had met last time he was on Angel III, but was attempting to hide it with a PADD in his hands of, well, of some schematic or another of some such system somewhere aboard this infernal machine. The surprise caused him to toss it upwards almost a meter before the artificial gravity emanating from below the deck plating pulled it downwards, making it clatter, loudly, on the desk in which R’Mar was attempting to grind into sawdust. “Oh, uh, congratulations, Commander. Amanda. Whatever,” he said, not sure what to call her, not that he cared. He picked his PADD back up and went back to day-dreaming about that very physically blessed woman he knew.

Krunk, while also surprised, did nothing more than widen his eyes and bare his fangs before resuming his natural posture and facial expression. Inside, he had already imagined coming across the table at R’Mar and ripping her pointed ears right off the side of her smug head. While the Tellerites didn’t have as much animosity towards the Romulan people as the Klingon’s did, that did not mean Tellerites found Romulans to be pompous, arrogant, uncouth and otherwise unpleasant to be around. That said, Krunk had never had a problem, officially, with R’Mar, but the thought did pass through his mind before collecting himself again. “That is most unfortunate, Commander. You have large shoes to fill,” he said, using the human idiom incorrectly, which made everyone (that was listening) smile.

Peepon was also startled by the sudden cacophony, both from the outburst as well as the clattering of the PADD to the table. She pushed herself back quickly, a reflex really, to distance herself from the threat, only to realize as her chair hit the opposite bulkhead that R’Mar’s hit, that there was no threat. She reached out, grasped the table and pulled herself forward again. “It truly is unfortunate,” she said, parrotting her friend Krunk. She looked to Tim. “Does that mean one of us will be promoted to Executive Officer, or will you be looking externally for one?” Ever the scientist, her mind was always working for the solution to the opportunity that faced her.

Tim Coleman, for his part, had raised his hand gently towards R’Mar, palm towards the junior officer, to pause him and remind him to sit down and hear everything out. “That is a good question, Eeraine,” he said, using her first name. Most of them in here, save for Ensign Rey, were on first name basis when not in front of the rest of the crew. “Honestly, it is not something that I have decided on yet, or, truth be told, if Admiral Brexx will decide it for us. It is something I will have to consider very carefully as we get closer to Deep Space 9.”

Amanda took the opportunity to speak up. “This was a hard decision to make. I’ve been in Starfleet for 20 years, my entire adult life. Like any meaningful relationship, the decision to walk away was a hard one. I care for each of you so very much,” she said looking at each of them, save Rey, in turn. “I will miss you, but Im only a communique away, and if your duties take you to Earth, well, all of you are invited over for a cookout.” Even Rey, she admitted to herself, if only privately. Hopefully he would not take her up on the invitation. “The opportunity I got, I simply could not pass up,” she explained.

“Nor should you have,” Tim said. “I think any one of us would jump at that sort of opportunity. The prestige alone is greater than mine as a Starship commanding officer.” He intentionally used that phrasing, instead of ‘Captain.’ “We will certainly miss you, and like everyone here has all but stated, your loss is going to be felt quite profoundly here, but the company you are going to work for, they are getting a diamond among diamonds.”  Amanda smiled deeply and warmly at her commanding officer. It was probably the sweetest thing he had ever said to her. For that matter, it was the sweetest thing a man had ever said to her, not that she was interested in men (or women), but that was a horse of another color entirely.

“How are you getting back to Earth,” Peepon asked. “Bajor, and Deep Space 9, are several weeks away at high warp.”

“The company that hired me has chartered a Delta Flyer class shuttle, complete with crew so I don’t have to actually do anything, to get me back to Earth. Its quite nice of them, really.”

“Seems it is all set,” Coleman stated. “Mr. Krunk, when are we scheduled to arrive at DS9?”

The Tellerite took a look at the chronometer on the wall. “We should be there in just under 27 hours at present speed, sir.”

“Good. Then tomorrow afternoon, we will have a going away party in the cargo bay. Krunk, see to it the cargo bay is cleared out and decorations are set up. We are going to send you off in style, Amanda. That is all I got, unless any of you have anything. Questions, comments, bitches, gripes, complaints?” As he said the words everyone, except Rey, naturally, mimed the words along with him. He always said the same phrase after every meeting. It was more a rhetorical closure rather than an actual question. After a momentary pause, “Alright, lets kick a chicken people.” With that, the crew was dismissed.