Life Happens and then you adjust. It had been just over a year since life had necessitated Jonas’s move to the Starfleet Reserves. Finally, the issue had been resolved and it was time to get back to active duty. Jonas expected that he would be assigned to a staff position somewhere, but Starfleet had need of a captain for a recently refurbished Akira, the Tomcat so that’s what he got. Their mission profile would be general patrol duties and pirate hunting. There was enough trade, legitimate and illicit, in the area to warrant such a mission.

————-

Jonas looked over the prospective roster for his crew on his ride to the starbase where the Tomcat was finishing up her refit. He realized that it wasn’t a prospective roster, it was the roster. He wouldn’t have time to change out the assigned crew, he would work with what he had. That wasn’t all bad, one of the worst parts about being the Captain was the mounds of administrative detail he had to complete. Starting with an assigned crew took one more item off his list. Anyway, it was a mix of the experienced and the newer. The Tomcat would be a good place for the experienced hands to train the newer members of his crew.

He was a pilot by training and used to taking situations head-on. Thankfully, Starfleet had given him a first officer, Erka Noari, who was more diplomatic. He would lean on her to provide less confrontational solutions to the problems they encountered. His security chief, a Caitian female named Cra’si, would provide ample tactical support. If her reputation was accurate, she could blast them out of any situation that Erka couldn’t talk them out of. Between Barq, the Tellerite engineer, and Rion Sarret, the Chief Operations Officer, they should be able to fix anything that breaks. Xonak, the Chief Medical officer should be able to patch up any injuries or mishaps. IF there’s anything they can’t figure out, Vage Taz, the Chief Science Officer should be able to enlighten the rest of us.

—————

Jonas traveled light. In point of fact, he didn’t have a lot of possessions, his material goods would fit (and usually did) in a standard-issue footlocker. Anything else that he needed or wanted, he could replicate on demand. When he stepped off the transport, he knew that his belongings would make their way to the Tomcat. He wouldn’t bother getting a room on the starbase when he could stay on ‘his’ ship. He stopped off at the starbase’s admin department to sign for the ship. There wasn’t a current commanding officer for the Tomcat since she was just coming out of refurbishment.

Petty Officer 2nd Havey looked up from his desk when Jonas approached, “Can I help you, sir?”

Jonas focused on him and said, “I’m here to sign for my command.”

Havey tapped his console. “Commander Jonas Flanigan? for the USS Tomcat?”

“That’s correct.”

“Everything seems to be in order. Most of your crew is already aboard, the rest should be here within the week.”

Jonas nodded, “Excellent, Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Your first officer, Lieutenant Commander Erka Noari is already aboard and has things in hand.” Havey tapped his console a few more times, then handed Jonas a PADD. “If you’ll sign here,” He pointed at the signature area, “Then we’ll have the command codes transferred to you.”

Jonas scrawled his signature on the line and pressed accept.

Havey’s consoled beeped. “Congratulations, Sir, you now have command of the USS Tomcat. Best of luck with her.”

Jonas nodded, “Thank you.”

Stardust City was too famous or infamous as it may be. Too many big players were known to be conducting business there. There were other, better suited locations for Revar to launch his enterprise. He had been under Smeezo’s thumb for too long. Revar earned his reputation as a broker through trade in assorted oddities. His activities resulted in the wrong sort of attention and he had been ‘encouraged’ to step out on his own. That ‘encouragement’ included a change in venue.  Revar acquired a freighter, not fancy, but functional and nondescript. Nondescript was the key. There was no profit in battle. At least no profit in his freighter going into battle. It needed a boring name, but not too boring, he didn’t want it to be too obvious that he was trying to make his freighter unnoticable. The SS Drab Duck is what he settled on for the name.

Opportunity didn’t come along just by chance, you had to look for it. The act of looking for opportunity caused it to manifest. The opportunity was to transport some collector’s junk. People (all sorts not just hoomans) held on to all sorts of crap. Most of it was seemingly worthless, but they would pay for him to haul it from one place to another and the price was right. It never occurred to Revar to question the legality of the junk he was transporting. All he cared about was that it would turn a profit.  

———–

The cargo was loaded. It was on the manifest as ‘medical supplies.’ Revar figured that looked moderately legitimate. He wasn’t a doctor or even a vaguely ‘medical’ type so it could be elbonian slugworms or bandages for all he knew. He wasn’t being paid to ask questions, he was being paid to move cargo from one place to another. Life was simpler that way.

It was time to get underway. A parked ship doesn’t earn latinum and he had bills to pay and profits to acquire. He looked over to his helmsman. “Let’s get going.”

The helmsman, a Romulan named Mulak, nodded. There destination was known, an old space station orbiting the mining colony of Asphodal, aptly named Asphodal Station. It was a little off the beaten path and Asphodal didn’t really mine anything overly valuable, but it was a destination and one that could legitimately need ‘medical supplies.’ No questions and it could be a good base of operations for Revar and the Drab Duck. 

Just a routine patrol.

The Tomcat was out on routine patrol. Around the block and back. Not looking for anything particular and not expecting trouble. The mission was more about deterring hostile activity than stopping it.  The local elements had gotten used to the Tomcat’s presence and the constant cat and mouse game.

 Deterring hostile activity. That was their mandate. That was what Starfleet wanted and they had been clear about the mission. The Tomcat was big enough for this mission. She wasn’t an old ship, but then she wasn’t a new ship (although she had been refitted before Jonas took command, so there was that).

 There was a beep from the helm. “Captain, we just picked up a freighter on the sensors. Running about one-half impulse. She just reversed course and is speeding up.”

 “Open Channels and hail her.”

=/\=Attention unidentified vessel, what’s your cargo and destination?=/\=

Smeezo’s ship, the Profit Center, was understaffed, more staff meant a larger payroll which meant less profit. All told, it was him, an engineer and a deckhand. Smeezo stabbed the comm button to reply. “Hello Tomcat. This is the legitimate trade vessel, the Profit Center. We have nothing of interest for you, just some random turbolift repair parts.”

 Jonas looked over at Cra’si, the Tomcat’s tactical officer. “Threat assessment?”

She tapped her console, “Minimal. It’s just a junk freighter. They probably are hauling contraband of some type. Turbolift repair parts are very improbable. Turbolifts rarely break and the repair parts would be easily replicatable.”

Jonas agreed, although he did remember a turbolift repairman from his time at DS14, Haarvi Pux, but then Pux wasn’t that much of an engineer, more of a technician. “Our mission is peace and order and interdicting pirates, we really don’t care about the odd Ferengi smuggler.”

“Open the Channel again.” The screen flashed on and Smeezo dominated it, or at least his ears did. “All right, Profit Center, you’re clear to continue.”

Smeezo cut the feed from his side and snorted, “Pesky hoomans, sticking their noses into everything.” He started to resume his course away from the Tomcat. There was a flash and his viewscreen scrambled.

Back aboard the Tomcat, they saw the flash and the Profit Center disappeared.

“Captain, the Profit Center is gone!”

Vage Taz, the science officer, called out. “It appears to be some sort of wormhole opened up and swallowed the Profit Center.” He looked at his console. “It’s still open, shall we pursue?”

Peacekeeping and pirate hunting had its moments, but generally speaking it was boring. Jonas nodded, “Shields up, take us in nice and easy.”

Artemis Zephyr, the flight control officer nodded, “Aye Aye Captain.”

Moments later, they were in the worm hole hurtling through the underspace.