“I don’t want to be here.”

• “Oh, stop being such a wet blanket, it’s your turn!”

“Wet…. Blanket?”

•   “It’s a human phrase…. just forget about it.”

“Very well, but I still don’t want to be here. Why are we here?”

•  “Because it’s fun, okay?”

“It is too early to have fun, we should leave.”

• “Look just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

“Those people over there are laughing at us.”

• “What people?”

“Those ones over there, by the gallery.”

• “The Nausicaans? Are they? Well just ignore them – it’s your turn to serve!”

“Serve? I am to become no – one’s servant!” (Indignant).

• “Give me strength! No – you hit the ball against the wall with this.” (Exasperated).

“I thought it was a weapon?”

• “No, it’s not a weapon! It’s called a ‘racquet’ – you hit the ball against the wall with it!”

“Why?”

• “Because that’s what the game is all about!! Do I have to explain everything, or will you just serve ?!”

“It is a strange game – what is it called again?”

• “It’s called ‘Squash’ – it is a human game.”

“Ah! That makes sense then.”

• ‘What does?” (Exasperated).

“It’s a Pink – skin game. Nothing about the Pink – skins make sense – they are a strange people.”

• “Well…..I suppose I have to agree with you there. They are a little odd.” (Laughs).

“They’re doing it again!!”

• “What? Who? What?”

“They’re laughing at us – I’m sure of it!”

• “Oh, calm down! They’re not laughing at us…they’re…. probably laughing at…oh! I don’t know! Can we just play the bloody game? I’m starting to think that we should have booked a Holosuite instead.

“It’s rude to laugh at people. It lacks honor.”

• “It lacks…what are you talking about? Let’s just go get something to eat, we could go to Mr Aralias’ – he should be open about now. You promised that you would try Bolian Tomato Soup?”

“I did not – no sane person would promise that. I am going to go and talk to them.” (Determined)

• “Oh No! I don’t think that would be a very good Idea!” (Firmly)

“Are you sure that this is not a weapon?”

• “Am I…YES! Yes, I’m sure it’s not a weapon…. what do you think that you are doing !!!”

“I’ll be back in a moment – I’m just going to talk to them……”

__________________________________________________________________________________

Location: Type-16 Shuttlecraft “Ogeechee” – Starbase 72 / Main Space Dock

Date: 2401.7.3 / 07.23hrs (Station Time)

“Spacedock control, this is Shuttlecraft “Ogeechee” requesting vector to depart spacedock.”

~ “Copy that “Ogeechee”, transmitting departure vector now, switching to automatic. Be prepared to resume manual control when you exit the pattern at the next waypoint. Sit back and enjoy the ride.” ~

“Acknowledged control. “Ogeechee” out.”

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland relinquished the controls to the Autopilot and did indeed elect to enjoy the view.

Any opportunity to experience the frenetic, organized chaos of Space Dock was one to be savored. As her tiny wedge – shaped shuttlecraft fell into an invisible corridor that would ensure that her flight path remained separate from the countless other small – craft that swarmed the massive internal space, Sam wondered at the sleek and elegant lines that were great Starfleet Vessels at repose.

The design of a Federation vessel was an expression of aesthetics spoken through functional design – a concept and conversation that had been evolving ever since Zephram Cochrane had first taken to Warp in the Phoenix and involved the Vulcans in this Trieste on Warp – capable design.

To Samantha Hyland – a Starfleet ship was just about the most beautiful thing there was, and now she was on the way to see the one that would be hers to command.

The “Ogeechee” exited the vast tunnel that led from the Main Space Dock to the outer limit of the impossibly vast rim of Starbase 72 and Sam was greeted by the unadorned view of space and was instantly glad that she had elected to deliver the shuttle to the USS Savannah herself. The last time she had been in a shuttle had been a one – way affair and she was determined to put the events of that particular trip behind her.

A chime denoted that the Shuttlecraft was about to be returned to manual control and Sam took over and adjusted her course out towards where the distant drydock cradles of the Outer Yards lay – their work lights illuminating their recumbent patients in the void above Minos Korva. As the “Ogeechee” closed the distance, Sam opened up a hail to her new home.

“USS Savannah, this is shuttlecraft “Ogeechee” requesting permission to dock at the Main Shuttlebay.” Samantha opened smoothly.

~ “Shuttlecraft “Ogeechee”, this is the USS Savannah, request to dock approved – the pattern is clear. You may approach when ready. Welcome aboard Captain.” ~  Came an efficient, young – sounding voice over the comm – channel.

Sam smiled and closed.

“Thank you, Savannah, – Can’t wait to be aboard. “Ogeechee” out.”

As fate would have it, the shuttlecraft was approaching the USS Savannah from the fore, so she had the enviable opportunity to survey her new command from prow to stern, as she lined herself up for final approach.

The New Orleans – class frigate lay encased in the skeletal embrace of the Dry-dock Cradle, her hull bathed in pools of illumination from the banked work lights, a hull that had seen some action over the years and (judging by the swarm of activity from attendant worker bees) was the focus of a determined sequence of activity.

The compressed oval of the main saucer section bore the legend USS Savannah – NCC 57298. Even though Sam had been reading the specifications and history of the ship and its class extensively since being awarded brevet – command, the number alone would confirm that the ship had been in service for over 50 years before being “mothballed”– so was no debutante by anyone’s reasoning.

Still there was a design aesthetic that was reminiscent of the Galaxy – class Starship that Sam had been born and raised upon (albeit at a smaller – scale) and for that reason alone, the New Orleans resonated with her and she found it beautiful.

Where a long, graceful neck described the transition from Saucer section to Main – hull on a Galaxy, here both sections were merged together – trading grace for strength. The Main hull was similarly a condensed version of a Galaxy – class, with familiar (if miniaturized) Warp Nacelles mounted on a Vee- instead of a sweep – but the similarities spoke of a vessel conceived in the same period of naval – development.

Sam banked the shuttlecraft slightly to port through its central axis, affording a better ventral view – without changing attitude.

The one defining feature of a New Orlean’s – class frigate over its larger cousin, the Galaxy – class cruisers was its compliment of three multi-mission pods (although in this it was closer in conception to a Nebula – class exploratory cruiser) that gave the tiny ship great operational flexibility.

From her vantage, Sam could see that the single ventral pod was in the process of being fitted, one of the mighty gantry manipulator arms was maneuvering the unit carefully into place, Starfleet Engineers evident in EVA suits, standing upside – down (relatively) in the Hull.

Where’s the standard MMP configuration was for two Long – Range sensor pods on the dorsal plane and a single Science pod on the ventral spar (consisting of specialized planetary survey sensors which could perform geological, biological and meteorological scans of high resolution at faster rates that most Federation starships) Sam – could see that the pod currently being emplaced was a Torpedo Pod – affording the USS Savannah with an extra fore and aft launcher.

As Captain Williams had intimated in her briefing, the situation along the former DMZ was tense at the best of times. Samantha could not help feeling that the addition of this weapons pod was an ominous sign of just how bad the security situation really was out there.

The “Ogeechee” cleared the aft of the Drydock cradle and Sam began to steer a gentle curving arc that would align herself on final approach to the Main Shuttlebay – that nestled between the three impulse – drive emitters that gave the New Orleans – class it’s justifiably famous agility. As she did so, Sam noted the dark, skeletal frames of surrounding Dry – docks as they nurtured other familiar shapes from the past. Steamrunners, Norway’s – even a Miranda – class starship were all similarly going through the process of being awakened from their decades – long slumber. The re-awakening of the 4th Fleet’s Mothballed hero’s of yesterday, coming back to life to stem the desperate tide of the future.

Sam pushed such mordant thoughts to one side and lined up on the approach path, reading and aligning her descent with the groups of strobing-colored lights that framed the Shuttlebay – “flying the ball” as naval aviators had done for centuries.

““Ogeechee” to Savannah/Actual – on final.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Location: USS Savannah / Main Shuttlebay

Date: 2401.7.3 / 07.31hrs (Station Time)

Lieutenant T’Vran stood at the head of a small retinue near the elevator that normally took shuttlecraft down to the hangar below and watched as the small Type-16 shuttle entered the bay and set down neatly on the designated lines on the deck before her.

The level of activity on board was frenetic, to say the least, as the ship was being hurriedly prepared for departure. Starfleet Engineering personnel from Starbase 72’s Dry – dock seemed to be everywhere – liaising with the USS Savannah’s own Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Herrera and his team, the new Ops Officer Ensign Vikander was deeply involved with “herding cats” with T’Vran and the Chief of the Boat – as the newly assigned crew made their way aboard and tried to make sense of their duty assignments in all of the chaos and Security Chief Lt (Jg) Myron Hayes was trying to maintain operational security over the whole mess.

Then there was the matter that T’Vran had just been informed about aboard Starbase 72 proper. A matter that she would soon have to relate to her new Commanding officer and one that would bring little joy.

T’Vran, ever the taciturn Vulcan, prioritized all of these elements as if they were counters on a Kal-Toh board – knowing that to control chaos was to submit to it and sometimes the only logical course of action was to let things play out and let the outcome inform your next step.

Such as now.

The hatch to the Type-16 Shuttlecraft levered open and T’Vran got a first look at her new Commanding Officer.

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland stepped down onto the deck and approached and Lieutenant T’Vran commenced a ceremony called “Manning the Side” – a quaint Naval tradition that had endured until modern times and was traditional when welcoming a new CO aboard ship.

Chier Petty Officer Talbot Manningly (himself a veteran of the storied New Orleans – class USS Rutledge) brought the boatswain’s call to his lips and used the whistle to play the refrain known as “Pipe the Side”. Whilst in this era, the bosun’s whistle was typically digital – Chief Manningly was a traditionalist with an academic tenure in Naval History – hence the call was played out on an actual antique boatswain’s call – that was undoubtedly worth a small fortune.

“Ships company to attention!” Lieutenant T’Vran called and the small welcoming party of the Senior NCO & five ratings came to smart attention and the Vulcan greeted Samantha.

“Welcome aboard the USS Savannah Captain. The ship is yours.” T’Vran nodded (the tradition of saluting had not been a survivor into the 2400s Starfleet).

Samantha drew herself as equally smartly and looked T’Vran squarely in the eye and nodded.

“Thank you Lieutenant T’Vran” Sam responded, following the tradition of the Change of Command ceremony to the letter. “You are relieved.”

Lieutenant T’Vran responded without candor “I stand relieved.”  

And with that, Samantha was a Starship Captain.

“Welcome Party – Dismissed.” T’Vran ordered and Chief Manningly and his party stood at ease, as the Vulcan Executive Officer turned back to Sam.

“Your personal effects have been transferred onboard Captain, Chief Manningly has had one of his people deliver them to your quarters.”

“Thank you, XO.” Samantha nodded and turned to the veteran Chief of the Boat and extended a hand.

“Chief Manningly, it is a distinct pleasure to be serving with you.” Sam greeted the Senior-most Non-Commissioned Officer aboard ship. It was the Chief of the Boat’s duty to wrangle all crewmembers below Ensign (Midshipmen were a ‘grey’ area traditionally) and make their extensive experience available to the CO, if their counsel was sought.

Talbot Manningly was a big man, in his late 50’s, with a care – worn face and a full head of white hair. His family line had held a continuous tradition of Naval service from the early 20th Century to the present day and the Chief of the Boat was a sailor through and through. He took Sam’s hand in a warm, strong handshake and responded in – kind.

“The pleasure’s all mine Captain.”

“Manningly?” Sam wondered aloud. During her 5 years with Starbase 72’s Ops Department, she had become competently familiar with a number of faces and names serving aboard the mammoth Spacedock II class Starbase. “No relation to Commander Susan Manningly from Spacedock Engineering by any chance?” She frowned.

“Guilty as charged Skipper.” Talbot’s face grew into a wide smile “My wife has been based here in the Minos Korva system for some years, whilst I have been slaving away on dusty old books on Naval History at the Annapolis Historical Institute in happy retirement. I’m not sure whether she’s pleased with the reactivation of my Warrant – or whether she prefers me as a retiree in another system. Either way, I flatly refuse to salute over toast and boiled eggs.” The Chief finished with a twinkle.

“I’m sure she’s too busy at the moment to take offense.” Sam smiled warmly, indicating the high – level of activity engulfing Space Dock.

“Aye to that Ma’am.” The Chief nodded and Sam moved back to her XO and the Chief led his people away to get back to some actual work.

Lieutenant, let’s walk, shall we?” Samantha smiled and indicated the turbolifts. “I would like to get down to Main Engineering and get a Sitrep on the progress of the refit from Mr. Herra’s own mouth – if he is not too busy?”

T’Vran inclined her head and fell into step smoothly with Sam, a Datapad somehow appearing as if from nowhere, as the young Vulcan woman inclined a delicately raked – eyebrow as she surveyed the data feed.

“Of course, Captain – Lieutenant Herra is currently overseeing the integration of a new EPS Manifold in Jefferies Tude 7a, forward of Frame 32 on Deck 18.” T’Vran confirmed as they both entered the Turbolift and she intoned to the ship’s computer “Deck – 18.”

“Trouble with the Antimatter Generator?” Sam commented, exhibiting her newly acquired knowledge of the layout and systems of her new command.

If T’Vran was impressed or phased, she did not let it show.

“Secondary Graviton Polarity Generator 3, to be precise Captain.” T’Vran turned to face Sam. “EPS management has ever been a challenge of ships of this class and era Ma’am – even when they were in line – service. Part of the refit specifications has been to upgrade and update the EPS Manifold junction-integration to better compensate with increased load dynamics, but an accordant issue in flow – regulation has arisen with phase – feedback in the main – bus inverters.”

Samantha nodded, this much she had already surmised from official briefing data, but it was gratifying to learn how astute her new Executive Officer was.

T’Vran interrupted her thoughts, however.

“There is another matter, that has recently developed Captain, that is equally unharmonious. That of the “Bluesome Twosome.”

Sam blinked at the reference. It seemed so colloquial and out of place coming from the mouth of a Vulcan.

“Excuse me?” It was Sams turn to raise a quizzical eyebrow.

“I apologize Captain.” T’Vran looked uncomfortable, “It is a moniker that has been applied, somewhat ubiquitously but affectionately in recent days to Ensigns Bysea Wanat and Ithariar Sh’eshikrar.”

“I see, very droll.” Sam commented, aware from their service records that the young officers were of Bolian and Andorian descent, respectively. “And what has transpired that brings my Lead Helm and Tactical Officers into my particular orbit at this time?”

T’Vran looked even more uncomfortable as she reported.

“It has been confirmed by Starbase 72 Security that Ensigns Wanat and Sh’eshikrar are currently being held in the Brig – following an incident of affray aboard the station, this morning.”

Now, THAT made Sam stop.

“Really?” She mused; she had hoped that the challenges of command would come gradually – maybe after she had actually exited the Turbolift – but a Captain meets the challenges head on.

“Unfortunately, it is without question Captain.”

Sam straightened her tunic and nodded.

“Very well Number One, have Lieutenant Hayes transport over the station and take the two officers into his custody. I will put in a call to Captain Williams and arrange for them to serve out whatever punishment is attributed to this debacle, when they are back on-board ship.” Sam frowned. “We have orders to be underway with all due haste and I think we will be hard pressed to find another Helmsman or Tactical Officer within that timeframe. Have them both report to my ready room, with Security Chief Hayes, when he effects their release.

“Very Good Captain.” Lieutenant T’Vran nodded as the doors opened to Deck 18 – at the very bottom of the ship.

Samantha stepped out and turned to T’Vran.

“I can find my way from here Number One.” She nodded in the right direction of Frame 32. “Thank you for such a warm greeting and efficient sitrep. I am sure that you are very busy and are, doubtless, required on the Bridge.”

“Very good, Captain.” Lieutenant T’Vran bowed slightly and the Turbolift ascended, leaving Sam alone.

“At the end of the day, we must make do with the Tools we are given.” Lieutenant Samantha Hyland repeated to herself in the empty corridor (not for the first time that week) – but this time with a tinge of irony – as she went to seek out her Chief Engineer and give him a hand with his.