Shipyards were always busy. Incoming, Outgoing, Loading, Unloading, and Refitting. The sea of yellow shirts was a sight to behold. Michael Senior “Pops” had lived his life in this setting. You could point to any random yellow shirt, and without missing a beat, he could tell you exactly what they were assigned to and/or doing at that very moment. 48 years’ worth of engineering know-how is exactly why Michael ‘Junior’ wanted his father to join him today.

The two could already see their destination through one of the port windows. A small starship, no bigger than four runabouts long and three runabouts wide, sat in one of the pressurized docking bays, its metallic hull glimmering in fluorescent spot lighting. It had been powered down for some time while the crews finished their work, but it was almost ready to fly again.

“No crew?” Pops remarked, looking down at the small vessel. Michael shook his head, “It came in for its first refit just before that whole under-space disaster hit. At that point, they had already taken her half apart and didn’t have the time, resources, or manpower to put her back together in time. The former Commanding Officer and crew were reassigned to other stations that needed their support. They just got back around to putting her back together again.” He explained.

New commands were always exciting, but rarely was one afforded such an intimate tour, unburdened by the hustle and bustle of crew and chore. She was all his; he just had to get the final pieces to get her back in service and running again. The two men took a turbolift down to the ground floor, where the registry number [NCC-84632] in etched font, larger than their bodies, beamed in their views on the way down.

As they approached the vessel on foot, a dock foreman, a Chief Petty Officer, greeted them. “Michael Angelus?” he asked, holding out a data PADD.

“Yes.”/“Yes!” the two men announced at the same time. Michael shot his father a knowing side-eye, the elder snickering, unable to pass up the opportunity. “Commander Angelus.” Michael introduced himself, taking the PADD from the engineer. “All is in order, Commander, just sign here and she’s all yours.” The chief explained. Michael read over the standard command transfer protocol document and signed in his bio-print.

Handing back the PADD, the engineer signed off as well, “If you like, we can get you up to the Docking area, or beam you aboard.” The chief offered, but Pops held up his hand. “No, just drop the shuttle bay loading ramp, we’ll work our way up deck by deck. Don’t wanna miss an inch.” Michael nodded at his father’s assessment, acknowledging the request to the foreman. “Alright! Good luck and Godspeed, Sirs!”

The Aft section of the ship began to rumble as the docking bay doors to the rear shuttle bay slid open and extended a walking plank for the two to access. “You ready, kiddo?” Pops inquired, Michael still standing in awe at the ship, recalling the recent events that led up to him standing here today…

[FLASHBACK]
Starbase Bravo
79619.1 (August 14th, 2402)
[Continued from–>>]

Michael approached his personal terminal, which was still trilling for the incoming call. He pressed the screen to initialize the message. “Authorization Angelus, 157-115 bravo.” He announced. The Trilling stopped as the screen reacted to his authorization code and switched screens from the standard Starfleet Insignia to a blond-haired human female in a command-red uniform. Michael felt a little underdressed for this call, but he was still wrapping up from shore leave. “Hello…uh…” looking down at the bottom of the screen, he could see her name and designation, “…Commander Maori. Sorry for the delayed response, just unpacking from Mellstoxx.” He finished, taking a seat.

“Commander Angelus, it’s nice to put a face to the name. I won’t take but just a moment of your time. First, I’d like to say congratulations to you on being award command of the USS Fox.” Aelin spoke and then waited for the man on the screen in front of her to respond.

There was a moment of silence, almost as if the feed froze on the screen. A blank look flashed across Michael’s face as he tried to process what she just said. “I’m sorry…what!?” Michael managed to sputter. He looked up at the screen at his father, who only shrugged. Pops had just been informed about his re-promotion, but a command order was news to him. Michael looked back down, a mix of confusion, excitement, and slight panic visible. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am, you’ll have to excuse me. I just got back and found out…two minutes ago about my rank, this is the first I’m hearing about a command.”

“I understand that completely, Commander. Do not worry and take your time. I am quite honored to be the first to inform you.” Aelin offered a smile. She knew she had a reputation that painted her to be stern and rigid. That had honestly served her well throughout her Starfleet career. Despite that, she genuinely cares for those under her command and hopes to do a better job in the future of letting those around her see that side of her.

“Well, I most definitely appreciate it, Ma’am,” Michael confessed. It was as if the universe was reversing the neutron flow of karma that had washed over his life in the past month. As he adjusted himself in his seat, he opened two new tabs on his screen, keeping Commander Maori in view, “Give me one moment…” he requested. The first screen he pulled up was the Starfleet Registry for the USS Fox, and the second was Starfleet Personnel Records for the Commander he was speaking with.

His eyes darted between both screens as he processed the information: Aquarius-class, Currently Docked at Starbase Bravo, and Task Force 47 Executive Officer were his two main takeaways. “I see the Fox is here, in Sector Charlie? It’s been here for a while.” He commented, more to himself than to the commander. Realizing, he snapped his attention back to her, “Sorry, yes! I graciously accept! I just need to know the standing orders. Am I to report to Deep Space 47? Might take me a while…” He had just made the trip from Starbase 38 to Starbase Bravo recently in a shuttlecraft; now he would have to backtrack even further, at least this time in a proper starship.

“Correct, Commander. Your orders are to report to Deep Space 47 as soon as you can. Upon arrival, you will receive further instructions. Do not stress about the amount of time it takes to arrive. Focus on getting to know your starship. This is a big moment for you, and I am glad to be the one to get to share the good news with you. Congratulation again, Commander,” Aelin provided.

“That’s clear Commander. Thank you again, and I look forward to working with you! Angelus Out.” Michael signed off, looking up at his father, everything was falling into place finally!

TAG

[PRESENT DAY]

The two men stepped into the shuttle bay of the USS Fox. Emergency lights were all that illuminated their vision. It appeared more like an oversized cargo hold compared to a normal shuttle bay, but given the craft was only 4 decks, it’s amazing they were able to squeeze one in at all. A Type-12 Shuttlecraft sat in the center of the bay, the words ‘Kitsune’ written in bold red Prestina font along the dorsal sides. “That’s cute…” Pops remarked on the name. “Well, at least if it gets lost, they’ll know what ship it belongs to,” Michael smirked.

At the end of the bay was a cargo transporter on the left, and a Work-Bee and EVA Suit storage closet on the right. Everything so far looked new and in pristine condition. There was no turbolift access, only a staircase heading upwards. Pressing on the staircase forked in both directions, leading to Deck 3. The lights were still dim, but given the close quarters feel, the emergency lights were enough to see everything they needed to. The aft section of the deck was filled with various bunk rooms and crew quarters.

Reaching the fore section, they came across Engineering. It was nestled into the center of the ship, with the single Warp Core spanning all four decks. “Class 6 Warp Core, biggest they could fit in these tiny frames.” His father announced, looking at the span of the warp core. “Didn’t the Defiant-class have a bigger warp core?” Michael asked, glancing at an Engineering Terminal. “Marginally, but it was also taller than this one. The Aquarius-class was designed to be a cross between a Defiant and Nova. And they were general companion craft to the Odyssey.”

Across from Engineering, at the fore of the ship, was the Mess Hall and Transporter Room, each modestly sized. The pair ended up taking the stairs once more on the left side of engineering to Deck 2. As Deck 3 was generally the width of the ship, Deck 2 was half the size. The fore of the deck held the science lab, with the Medical Sickbay taking up the midsection. There was a single-occupant living quarters just opposite the sickbay, next to the Turbo lift. Michael pondered for a moment as his own before continuing the tour. At the aft of Deck 3 was the Security Office, a Stocked Armory, and 2 Brig Holding Cells.

They moved in silence, keeping most of their thoughts to themselves as they reached the end of the tour, heading back up the stairwell, reaching deck one, the Bridge. The doors slid open to the operations center of the ship. It loosely resembled the bridge of a Defiant Class, which was surprising to Michael. The screens were all in standby mode, and the view screen showed the docking port just outside. Pops took a stand over by the Captain’s chair, which stood center of the bridge. “As far as first official commands are concerned, you could have done worse. But at least she’s all yours.” He commented, patting the headrest of the captain’s chair.

Michael nodded, slowly approaching and taking his place in the hot seat. “Computer. Initiate System Reactivation Procedures.”

There was an audible trilling response from the computer at his command. “Voice authorization acknowledged. USS Fox is now under the command of Commander Michael B. Angelus.”

At the computer’s acknowledgement, the ship sprang to life. The emergency lights hummed with power as full lighting illuminated the ship, the screens now all displaying their proper terminal information. The Fox was now truly alive and reinstated. “Common son, we got alot of work to do if were going to get this girl back in the stars.” his father stated, clasping his hand proudly on Michaels shoulder.

[To be continued]