Once more her feet ate the deck.

The pounding rhythm of her footfalls resonating through her bones, her taut muscles alternating between vigorous flexion and extension as they propelled her upon her determined course, her chambers of her heart pounding loud in her ears and her skin – slicked with the sweat of her exertion – cooling slightly in the airflow she created as she navigated her progress through the growing early-morning crowds that were beginning to flow into the promenade. Weaving around the shopkeepers & vendors, patrons & providers that were blearily commencing the minutiae of rituals that signaled the opening of their concessions, eateries and stores and the beginning of a brand-new day aboard Starbase 72.

Sam was home.

Insofar as the young officer who had grown up on a wandering Galaxy – Class starship actually had a home, the massive city in space could be said to be such, if only by merit of being the place where she had stayed still the longest in her career. Now effectively an orphan, home was also the place where her family dwelt – as Starfleet was surely the only real family that Samantha Hyland had now, after the momentous events of the last few months that had left her alone in the universe.

A brief flash of memory. Of eerie-blue glowing light, the sensation of rising into space upon the very back of a God, choking her last as the thinning, cold atmosphere frosted her eyelashes and froze her vision…..

Sam angrily pushed the memory aside. It came unbidden, intruding on her thoughts at the most unwelcome times, glimpses of the events that transpired above Primar Majoris#7, haunting tendrils of the chain of events that led to the fall of the Primarion Gerontocracy, echoes of her lost father.

The lithe young woman increased her pace, widening her determined strides, as if mere forward motion alone was enough to carry her away from these bitter memories (were they just memories or were they in some way echoes of psionic – resonance that had been the legacy of the Crystaline Entity as it projected it’s frantic tableau of remembered histories into the minds of all it touched?) and more than once had to call out an urgent “Make a Hole!” between clenched teeth,   to unwary passers – by as she attempted to widen the gulf between herself and the past.

Even that phrase elicited a painful memory from her past, threatening to ruin Sam’s morning run altogether.

It was hard to run fast or far enough to escape herself.

Gathering her thoughts and resuming a more sensible pace, Sam switched over to the thoroughfare between the outer and inner walkways, partly because she was in no mood to bump into the impossibly jovial Braq’ta Aralias this morning (although she had missed his Bolian Tomato Soup and was probably only a handful of humans aboard the Starbase who could share that sentiment – it was an acquired taste) and partly because she wanted a better view of the primary – spacedock.

On the other side of the sandwiched layers of transparent durilium, diamond leaf composite and layers of forcefield – mere inches from where she ran – the inevitable vacuum filled the cavernous void that nestled within the heart of the Starbase’s circumferenced – dome section.

Within this impossibly vast space flowed activity of all kinds as the graceful shapes of Starfleet vessels moved with a sanguine and languid grace, as they were towed by toiling – tugs or slowly made their stately progress out into space under minimal – impulse. Yet more lay at repose – ships of every size and purpose, attended to by a swarm of bright yellow worker bees.

The analogy of a hive was served further by the bustle of shuttlecraft of all types and sizes that hurried and harried this way or that, with their urgent cargos of equipment & passengers.

“Less passengers than there used to be, that’s for sure.” Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland thought morosely as her run transcribed the great, graceful arc of the promenade deck. Before Frontier Day the great promenade would have been far busier with scores of Starfleet personnel catching a welcome cup of steaming Jestral Tea, a fortifying bowl of Sem’hal stew (heavy on the yamok sauce) or just to grab and cram down a couple of Osol twists as they hurried for a briefing they were running late to.

Sam had been back on Starbase 72 for some weeks now, having taken a period of personal leave to grieve the loss of her father and await confirmation of her next duty assignment. She had spent 5 years serving aboard the Starbase in Station Operations and today she felt the absence of crowds most keenly. Bright young things, gone too soon, that would never throng its garrulous decks again.

It was as if she was running with ghosts.

Her mind went back to the meeting of the previous day with the Task Force 72 Executive Officer, Captain Williams and the surprising outcome of that meeting, that Sam was still coming to terms with.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Location: Starbase 72 / TFXOs Office

Date: 2401.7.21 / 13:23hrs (Station Time)

 Samantha shifted uncomfortably in the comfortable seat and nervously adjusted the collar of her uniform tunic, for what she worried must be the thousandth time in the last five minutes.

She glanced around the small waiting area & over at the Command Yeoman, where she worked diligently at something on her screen and smiled a queasy smile when the Yeoman looked up and reassured Sam once more.

“I’m sure Captain Williams will be with your shortly, Commander. It’s just been a really busy few days since the new Fleet Assets program came into force – I don’t think those poor people in Logistics have had a moment’s rest with all the new Command allocations they’ve had to process. Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?” the Yeoman prattled good-naturedly.

The prospect of a new posting was foremost in Sam’s mind and the objective source of her unease.

“No thank you.” Sam thought she might have replied. She really hoped that the yeoman wouldn’t emphasize every other word she said quite so often.

The Yeoman smiled brightly and was about to resume whatever task it was that she had been engrossed in when a small chime sounded, and she looked up again.

“Ah! He’s free now. The Captain will see you now Commander, if you’ll follow me?” the Yeoman stood and took up a Datapad from a pile on the desk and indicated to the nearby doors.

Sam gathered herself as best she could and followed through the doors that led to her future.

Inside, as Sam’s eyes adjusted to the more muted lighting, a tall well-built man in his early 50’s – dressed in the uniform of a Starfleet Captain rose from behind his desk and extended a hand in a confident handshake.

“Commander Hyland, good to meet you.” Captain Trevenan Williams greeted Sam with a warm and sonorous voice. “Please take a seat.”

 He indicated the chairs in front of the desk as he took the Datapad from the Yeoman and thanked her, adding considerately “Kate, have we offered the Commander anything to drink?

The Yeoman was about to reply, when Sam held up a hand that she hoped wasn’t obviously sweating and replied, “That’s really not necessary, but thank you both.”

The TFXO’s eyes twinkled briefly with amusement as he nodded to the departing yeoman and rounded the desk and took his own chair.

“At ease Commander, I don’t really bite that hard!” Trevenan smiled, trying to put the young officer before him at ease. Whether or not he was successful in this endeavor was obviously a matter for some debate.

Sam smiled weakly back at her superior officer and decided silence was her best option, lest she say something nervously – inane – and immediately wished that she hadn’t.

Captain Williams activated the PADD and proceeded to read through Sam’s Service Jacket even as he addressed her.

“Well Commander…” He started then frowned, put down the PADD briefly and asked “I think we can drop the honorifics of rank for the time being, whilst it’s just the two of us? Do you mind if I call you Sam?” Williams smiled reassuringly.

Samantha nodded and managed to say, “That’ll be fine…Sir.” – without disgracing herself overly.

A warm, genuine smile creased the Captain’s care-worn face, and he took back up the device once more.

“Well, we both know why we are here, at least.” The TFXO continued “You’ve put in for a change of assignment and I have a surfeit of ships and a deficit of officers.”

Sam nodded, it was apparent to all that the decimation of the ranks of Starfleet’s finest during the terrible events that followed Frontier Day, had left Starfleet as a whole struggling to meet its core mission parameters. The strain was showing wherever you looked, in the faces and voices of those who had survived the untender mercies of the Borg and now struggled to maintain the line, whilst the sharks circled all around.

“I see from your Service Jacket that, in the short time you left us here at Starbase 72, that you had quite the eventful time aboard the USS Sacramento whilst in the Primarion system?” The Captain asked in what was a masterful display of casual understatement.

Sam’s heart sank.

From almost all perspectives, the Mission to the Primarion system had been an unmitigated disaster that had resulted in the deaths of hundreds and risked the lives of millions, foreshadowed the fall of a government and had set Federation Second Contact relations with the Primarion back decades.

Not to mention the loss of her father, Dr Jonas Hyland.

If the TFXO was leading with this, then her next assignment was surely to be somewhere in matter – reclamation services on a distant backwater outpost – orbiting obscurity.

“Captain, if I might explain…”” Sam attempted to salvage what part of her reputation (and career) that remained intact but was stopped short as Captain Williams held up a hand.

“The first thing that a successful commander must learn is to always read the room Sam.” Trevenan warned, without ire. “The second is to never interrupt the TFXO when he is making headway. There! Here endeth the lesson.”

Samantha felt a deep blush creep across her fine features, she muttered “Aye Sir.”, feeling like an admonished schoolgirl.

Captain Williams nodded, as if satisfied and continued.

“A ship’s Captain has to make hard decisions. They have to roll the hard dice and accept the outcome – even when it is not in their favor. They have to routinely send their people in harm’s way for the sake of the mission. They have to mourn their loss and notify their loved ones when those people do not return. This is what it is to command.” Trevenan William’s words were heavy with import and colored by obvious personal experience.

“Yes Sir.” Samantha agreed, her trials in the Primarion System had taught her that one hard truth. To accept command is to accept loss.

“You think that this reflects poorly upon you Sam, that much is evident.” The Captain continued, regarding Sam with an unreadable expression.

“The events on my last mission were…challenging.” Sam admitted with obvious discomfort.

Captain Trevenan Williams put the Datapad down and placed his hands squarely on the desk and regarded Sam levelly and spoke frankly.

“I see an officer that put herself in harm’s way to protect the lives of countless millions of non – Federation citizens. I see an officer that risked her own life, to protect the lives of her fellow crewmates. I see an officer that, despite great personal loss, put that loss aside to focus on achieving the success of the mission. I see an officer that answered the call of duty and rose to meet the challenge.”

Sam did not quite know what to say. She certainly hadn’t anticipated praise such as this.

“Starfleet needs officers that can answer the call Sam.” Captain Williams nodded, “Gods only know I need all the help that I can get, even within the Taskforce. Our ranks are severely depleted, our fleet assets are diminished. It will be years until the Academy can begin to replace those that we have lost; we are hurriedly reactivating older vessels from the mothball fleet or postponing the retirement of other ship – classes and trying to get them turned around and ready for service.”

Captain Williams stood and went to look out at the viewport into the vastness of the Minos Korva system and murmured.

“The enemy is at the gate Sam, and they smell our weakness. I have ships with no crews and what crews that I do have are green and too few in number to hold the line” The tall TFXO sighed with genuine regret and turned back to Samantha, as if finally deciding something for himself.

“At the end of the day, we must make do with the Tools we are given, therefore – Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland, forthwith it is the decision of Starfleet and 4th Fleet Command that you receive the Brevet-assignment as the Commanding Officer of the New Orleans class frigate USS Savannah – currently undergoing reactivation in spacedock.”

“Your orders are to oversee the completion of her refit and proceed (once complete) at best speed to take up position along the Federation side of the former Demilitarized Zone to assume Patrol and Surveillance duties, effective immediately. There is no time for a shakedown cruise I’m afraid, so I suggest that you hunt down any gremlins that you may find, along the way. By the way, Congratulations Commander.”

Sam looked dumbfounded, first at the PADD containing her orders and then up at the TFXO that held it.

“Are you joking?” she found herself muttering weakly from the incredulous depths of shock and surprise.

Captain Trevenan Williams did not look like a man that joked, even on his best day.

“You’re not joking, he’s not joking. “Sam shook her head, as if to dispel the mirage and took the PADD in her numb fingers.

“I am most assuredly not Commander.” Trevenan smiled wryly and added, “I appreciate that this is all coming as somewhat of a surprise Sam, but in testing times Starfleet has often had to raise more junior officers to assume more senior command roles. It should impress upon you the seriousness of the situation that the fleet finds itself in at this present moment in time.”

“Aye Sir, that it does” Samantha agreed tentatively.

“Rest assured the fleet does not make decisions like this lightly Sam and I can assure you that you are not the only Lieutenant Commander that is receiving like orders at this period of time. You’re a capable officer Sam and obviously someone with far more pips than me, thinks you have what it takes to command a Starship, under the present circumstances.” Captain Trevenan Williams seated himself behind his desk and began to type in the chain of keystrokes that would finalize Sam’s appointment.

 “The New Orleans is an older design it’s true and she lacks some of the automated systems integration enjoyed by some more modern types, but you have been assigned an able Executive Officer and are lucky that a Senior NCO with extensive experience aboard that particular class has elected to return from retirement to act as your Chief of the Boat. This is the career opportunity of a lifetime for a young commander Sam, so try not to screw it up.” Captain Williams winked.

Samantha Hyland gathered herself. The enormity of what had just come to pass still leaving her reeling, but the part of her that was Starfleet, through and through, rising up to take the fore. She saluted the TFXO.

“Thank you, Captain.” Sam responded with conviction. “I won’t let you or the fleet down Sir.”

“See that you don’t Commander. “Williams was already immersed back in his work and nodded to the doors. “Dismissed.”

 __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Location: Starbase 72 / Main Promenade Deck

Date: 2401.7.21 / 08.09hrs (Station Time)                                                                                               

 Her heart skipped a beat, and she was brought from her reverie back to the present as, from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the USS Sacramento – far on the other side of the Spacedock and for a moment a pang hung in her heart, a feeling of both pain and loss. But as she ran on – she came to see that it was just another doughty, battered old California – class utility cruiser using its powerful tractor beams to coax a much larger Constitution III class cruiser from its berth.

Thoughts of her brief time as a member of that crew left Samantha conflicted.

It hardly seemed credible that Commander Nathan Allen, Captain of the ‘Sac (hardly a prestigious command in the first place) was doomed to remain the CO of that tough old tub for his actions in the “Primarion Incident” ; towing more impressive vessels around spacedock and delivering crates of replicator parts to the far – flung outposts of Federation space – whilst she (immersed in the same “Shit-Show” and Commander Allen’s junior in both rank and experience) had somehow been assigned command of a New Orleans class frigate.

The universe really was an uncaring place sometimes.

With this thought fresh in her mind, Sam finally decided that she was spent and slowed down to a jog, taking a slug of water from the small flask on her belt and warming – down as she made for the direction of the turbolifts and her shower.

She was going to captain a starship. Her! It still didn’t quite seem real.

She reached the turbolifts and as she entered and the doors began to hiss shut, Sam could see a diminishing view of the Starfleet vessels out in the beyond of spacedock, the view narrowing all the time – a poignant metaphor for the state of affairs that the TFXO had painted the day previously.

“At the end of the day, we must make do with the Tools we are given.” Sam murmured aloud.

“Pardon?” Said an Ensign riding in the same direction.

“Oh nothing, Sorry!” Sam wiped her face with her small towel, “Deck Two – Five – Seven please.”