Deck 3; Engineering

The doors to Engineering opened with a resounding ~WHOOSH~, as Michael Angelus entered. At the end of the room, monitoring a console by the Warp Core, a Female Officer in a crop-top uniform and yellow shoulder pads had her back to him, monitoring the data on the screen. However, a second officer, in a black and yellow-shouldered bomber jacket, who was casually sitting on a console next to her, perked up at the Commander’s entrance.

“Aye, Cap’n!” the male spoke, hopping down from the terminal to approach with his hand outstretched. Michael accepted the handshake but shook his head, “Just Commander will do.” Michael remarked. The man looked a little taken aback, as if he accidentally insulted the commanding officer. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I thought traditionally, C.O.s were called Captains despite rank. And ya don’t look like one who’d take ta Skipper.”

Michael smiled, reassuringly. “Oh no, you’re right. It’s just a preference. When I’m finally called a Captain, I want to have the pips to back it up.” The holographic man nodded as if he understood, “Well, we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m the Emergency Navigation Hologram. Archie said ya liked us to have names, so you can call me Yeager.” The two shook hands again, “Yeager, after Charles Yeager? Did you choose that yourself?” Michael inquired. “Aye. Tough old bastard that one. But I’m not just yer pilot. My programming is also tied to sensors and communications. I’m yer eyes, ears, and wings of this ol’bird.”

The woman, who was steadily monitoring the data on the terminal in front of her, raised her hand behind her towards Yeager, flipping him the middle finger. “Well, if he’s the eyes and ears of this ‘Bird’, then I’m the heart and soul.” Finally turning around to address the commander, the woman gave a Vulcan-esque bow. “Emergency Engineering Hologram Beatrix, or Trixie for short. My programming is tied to all the systems of the ship, making me the literal personification of ‘this old bird’.” The last part of her sentence, she shot Yeager a glare.

“Just how in-depth is the link between your programming and the ship’s systems?” Michael asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “Oh, mine is mostly all diagnostic; it allows me to monitor all systems. His remote access is only for the systems he mentioned. Don’t worry, we’re not rogue AI.” Trixie assured. “Aye, that’s what a rogue AI would say. I’d keep an eye on this one, skipper.” Yeager teased. Michael could not help but chuckle at the brother/sisterly vibe the two gave off in their back-and-forth banter.

“So how are we doing here?” Michael asked, looking past the two to the Warp Core itself. “Tier Six Matter/Antimatter Warp Core, Operating at 99.962% efficiency. Cruz speed warp six; Max speed warp eight. I can push it to 8.75 for about twelve hours, but we would need to shut down for about six hours for a cooldown.” Trixie reported. “Any chance to push for Warp 9?” Michael probed. Trixie shook her head. “Not without a bigger warp core, and another year-long refit period.”

“Most of the Fox’s speed isn’t from her warp drive anyway. Sub-light, she’s quicker and more nimble than any other in our weight class. Warp power has been tied to the driver coils, like rechargeable capacitance cells. She can tuck and roll like a Valkyrie, but I wouldn’t push it too much given the tax it takes on the inertia dampeners.” Yeager further explained.

“Noted. So, Engineering and Navigation are good to go?” Michael verified. Both looked at one another and gave the Commander a thumbs up, “All good here, Sir.” Michael nodded, “Alright, Mr. Yeager, please head up to the bridge and proceed with pre-disembarking procedures.”

Deck 2; Security Office
-10 Minutes Later-

The doors to the Security Office opened with a resounding ~WHOOSH~ as Michael Angelus entered. Unlike before, the officer inside quickly turned from the station he was at, saluting the Commanding Officer. Michael nodded, returning the salute with a casual “At ease.” The two men then met in the middle of the room to shake hands. This one was the large, burly one he had seen materialize in the mess hall the night before, this one being the only holographic officer with red shoulders. “Romen, Sir.” He introduced himself.

“A Pleasure to meet you, Romen. Designation?” Michael asked. Folding his hands together in front of him, in a parade rest stance, Romen explained. “Tactical, Security, Weapons, and Containment. If you don’t like it, I get rid of it, one way or another.” Romen announced proudly. Michael nodded in approval. “A handy skillset to have. Is your programming linked to the weapons systems, too?”

Romen continued to finish up his work, finalizing the inventory on a crate of hand phasers as the two talked. “Ahh, I see you met Goldie Lox.” The tactical officer replied with a smirk, obviously referring to Trixie. “No, the gold shoulders are linked in with the ship, Her more than Him. The rest of us just have to rely on the combined programmed knowledge of our respective Federation forefathers.” Romen described as he verified the last phaser on his PADD and packed them back up. “Temperance of a Vulcan, Grit of a Klingon, Nerves of an Andorian, and the Verbal-Judo skills of a drunk and surly Tellarite.”

Romen picked up the crate of weapons and walked deeper into the security office, to the Armory Room, which was behind a secured bulkhead. Michael could see various weapons, personnel armor, and ordinance neatly secured within. “How’s our Inventory?” Michael asked as Romen tucked the crate away. “So far, all accounted for based on the numbers given to us by Bravo. Ships too close quarters to perform proper functionality tests, but diagnostics and updates so far have all come back clean.” Romen reported. “Good. Anything for the Wishlist?” Michael inquired.

Romen paused for a moment, “Wishlist, sir?” he asked, a bit taken aback. “Yes, anything you think we should have that might benefit us and our missions down the line? Upgrades, Modifications, and the like?” Michael clarified. Romen crossed his arms, placing one hand on his chin, and he pondered. “As far as personnel equipment, I think we should have a small set of authentic factional weapons. A handful of disruptor flavors, plasma pistols, something to shake things up in case we need to go incognito, or in the event someone is well prepared for a Phaser Fight.” Romen extrapolated.

“As far as ship weaponry, I’d love to snag some Type-Twelve Pulse Cannons off a decommissioned Defiant, but that’s a pipe dream.” Romen mused, clearly enveloped in the thought of upgrading the Fox’s weapon systems. “Well, if I ever get the chance, I’ll make sure to submit that when we reach our new F.O.B. Regarding the personnel weapons, file a requisition, and I will submit it once we make it to Deep Space 47. I’m always open to improvement and suggestions.”

“Aye, Commander.” Romen acknowledged. Before either of them could continue their conversation, Michael’s communicator chirped. [“Sickbay to Commander Angelus.”]. Michael looked slightly confused, but tapped his communicator, “Angelus here, go ahead.”

[“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but before we disembark, I need to complete your pre-flight medical evaluation. Please report to Sickbay at your earliest convenience.”]

“Confirmed Doctor, I’ll be enroute shortly,” Michael responded, clicking his communicator off.

“Does this mean -we- to get a physical too?” Romen asked, half joking. “Or would Blondie have to perform the exam since she’s technically our computer expert?” Romen snorted at his own remark, as Michael left the Security office chortling.

Deck 2; Sickbay
-A few minutes later-

The doors to Sick Bay opened with a resounding ~WHOOSH~ as Michael Angelus entered. “Reporting as Ordered, Doctor,” Michael announced. The Holographic Doctor was the only one that had been designed outside of the usual Federation Uniform. An average Asian-decent male stood next to one of the bio beds, with a White Medical coat and a comfortable blue polo shirt underneath. He looked more like a general practitioner than a Starfleet Medical Officer, but he also had a more…approachable vibe to him. “Sorry, sir, just getting the last items checked off the list. And since you’re our only biological onboard, you get singled out.” The doctor replied, motioning for the commander to have a seat on one of the tables.

“It’s fine, Doc. I was already on the floor when you called.” Michael stated as he leaned halfway onto the exam table, sitting on it more like a barstool. “I guess while you’re getting to know me, I should get to know you as well. Have a name?” he further inquired.

The doc pulled a tricorder out of his pocket, waving a hand-scanner over Michael in a slow sweeping motion. “Nah, Doc is fine enough. There is not much to me. I’m pretty simple compared to the others. Medical Database, triage protocols, and biological data of thousands of species. I tend to focus more on the work and less on individuality, which keeps my bedside manner palatable to a wider range of patients. Previous iterations seemed too snobby or winey.” The doc responded as he continued to scan. “I just want to keep everyone calm, happy, and healthy to the best of my ability.”

Michael nodded. He remembered his own interactions with the Mark-II EMH in his early Lieutenant days, which personally were less than stellar. “So, tell me, Commander, any underlying conditions I need to know about? Keeping your blood sugar in check?” The doctor asked, continuing to scan with one hand and review the data on the PADD in his other.

“Oh yeah, no issues,” Michael responded. Doc looked at his PADD, then back to the Commander, with a ‘I know better’ expression on his face. Knowing his physical levels were at least within acceptable parameters, the Doc snapped his tricorder shut and returned it to his pocket. “According to your medical records, I see you’re a little behind on your mandatory after-action therapy sessions. I understand shore leave, and your sudden appointment has thrown your social calendar in a bit of disarray, but I would highly recommend you pick them back up. I am fully functional as a therapist, or if you prefer, you can follow up with your former doctor via comms.” The doctor explained.

“Oh, I should be good now to call all of that off.” Michael quickly mentioned. Doc rolled his eyes, “We’re not going to be -that- Captain, are we?” the doctor said exasperatedly. Michael held up his hands in surrender, “No, no, I mean…I think shore leave did a lot of good for me.”

The doctor considered this for a moment before nodding in approval. “That’s good. Sometimes, time away from it all is all we need for a restart. I would like to perform an exit session just to close out your file on the matter if you’re ok with that.”

Michael nodded in approval, “Yeah, that should be fine. Going to have plenty of free time between here and the Cardassian Border.”

The doctor turned his back to the Commander, setting his tricorder on its charger as he began typing on a terminal. He looked up at a screen before him, but in truth, he was looking at the Commander through the black-reflection in the screen. For a moment, his brown eyes flickered a luminous gold, “So, I see your father is on board. Is he staying with us for the full ride?” The doctor questioned casually.

“No, I think we will be making a stop at Starbase 12 on our way. He’ll hitch a ride back to Luna from there.” Michael verified. The doctor accepted this, turning back around and pulling a chair up to sit next to the Commanding Officer. “Ahh, so it will just be us after that. Unless you plan on picking up someone special? A Friend? Colleague? Lover? Not Vulcan, I hope…” The doctor remarked with a sly grin.

“How do you know about that?!” Michael snapped, his face quickly flashing from relaxed to nervous. Doc simply waved the PADD in his hand. “Medically Sealed. Your Command might not know about it, but any CMO with clearance to your medical records can. Don’t worry, Cadet Casanova, your secret is safe with me, as long as you’re still being careful.” The doctor continued to tease.

Michael relaxed a bit at this information, still a little raw from the ribbing he was now receiving. “No, been focusing on my career…you know how that goes. And yes, I’ve learned. But that was NOT my fault.”

Doc was now the one holding his hands up in surrender, “Hay, no judgment from me. Just remember, even though you’re the C.O. now, I still need to be briefed before initiating an intimate relationship with an alien species.”

“Are we done here?” Michael moaned, clearly done with the topic. Doc only gave him a playful smile, “Medical’s all clear, sir.”

Deck 1; Cargo Hold
-15 Minutes Later-

The doors of the Aft Cargo Bay opened with a resounding ~WHOOSH~ as Michael Angelus entered. The room was a large and empty, 30 by 30 space with support struts and access panels all along the inner walls. In the center stood Archie and his father, glancing around the room whimsically as if plotting the internal decoration of the surrounding space. Seeing Michael enter, Archie gave him a beaming smile, “Ahh, Commander. Gotten acquainted with the rest of the Crew? How do you like them?”

“They seem like a pretty solid skeleton crew. And because of that, it looks like we’re on schedule to depart soon. What have you two been up to?” Michael inquired. Archie stuttered for a moment before Pops chimed in without missing a beat, “Just lookin’ around in here. See what can be done with it.” Pops pointed to one of the access panels, “Got EPS Taps all around the room, so you can configure this into whatever you like.”

Archie, finally finding his voice, added, “Yes, since we can repurpose most of the living quarters on deck three into dedicated storage areas, this room can serve a more functional purpose.” Michael nodded in agreement, “Any ideas?”

Once again, Archie was at a loss for words, but Pops followed up, “Could use a holodeck.” Archie straightened up once more and concurred with the Angelus Elder, “Well, yes, at the risk of sounding self-serving, a Holodeck would be an excellent addition to any federation vessel.”

There was no whooshing of the doors to indicate anyone had followed him in, yet the voice of Doc came echoing behind him as if he had been standing there the whole time. “A holodeck would be a good means of stress relief and extracurricular activities for sure, would hate for you to catch cabin fever being the only biological aboard during our long voyage.”

Michael slightly jumped at Doc’s words, only because he didn’t realize he was there. He jumped again when Romen’s words came from deeper in the room, where he had definitely not been beforehand. “And a holodeck can easily fill the role of conference room, astrometric lab, or a joint fleet ops command station.”

“Ok! You all have good points, but could you please stop doing that!?” Michael managed, scanning the room once more to make sure none of the other holo-officers snuck in. Pops chuckled with his arms folded across his chest at his son’s disarray. “Their holo’s kid, door biometrics don’t register them, so they just pop in and out when needed.”

“Our apologies, Commander. I’ll program a sound notification for when we transfer rooms, and instruct the crew to approach doorways as normal crewmen might do, just before transferring.” Archie announced, with Romen and Doc both bowing their heads in understanding. “Yeah, that will work.” Michael agreed.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Pops snapped up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two devices into his hands. “Managed to scrounge up two spare Holo-Emitters.” He stated, handing them over to Michael. These resembled the standard Comm-Badge that would be pinned onto the Hologram’s chest, instead of its normal position on the arm. “Once I head home, you’ll be on your own, and Starfleet won’t want a ship’s captain to be the only one to go on away missions.” He explained. “This way, you can take a few of them with you as needed.”

Michael looked at the new Holo-emitters in his hands and smiled. “Thanks, Dad, I didn’t even think about that.” He acknowledged. “Beautiful thing about being the head honcho kid, you don’t have to always have the answers.” The father and son shared a brief hug as the other officers stood in silence, out of respect for the moment.

Once they finished, Michael looked to Archie. “Can you open a ship-wide channel?” he asked. Archie snapped his fingers, and the traditional boatswain whistle echoed through the Fox. “All hands, ready stations for departure. Senior Staff, report to the bridge in 5 Minutes.” Pops looked at his son with a proud grin, “First Walk, First Words, and First Command Announcement.” He teased, Michael giving him a return smile. “Common, let’s get this show on the road!” Michael proclaimed as the doors whooshed open at his approach. Romen followed at Michael’s flank out of the Cargo hold.

As the two were out of view, Doc looked to Archie, a flash of concern on his face as he looked to the Blond Hologram and Pops, then back to Archie. The hospitality hologram shrugged his shoulders, a look of apprehension mirrored on his own face as he too looked to Pops. But the Elder Angelus was not concerned, holding up his hand and shaking his head, as if it were no big deal. The doors whooshed again as Pops headed out, flanked by the two Holograms himself.

Deck 1; Bridge
-5 Minutes Later-

“Impulse Engines Ready, Warp Core at optimal output,” Trixie reported from the Engineering Station.

“Weapons and Shields, primed and awaiting command,” Romen reported from the Tactical station.

“Departure Clearance Confirmed by Bravo Station Docking Control,” Yeager reported from the Helm.

There was a momentary pause as everyone looked to Pops, who was sitting at the science station. “Don’t look at me. Nothing’s blinking red over here.”

The bridge erupted in a quiet burst of laughter as Archie approached from behind the Captain’s Chair. Michael sat firm, his hands gripping the armrests, his body wriggling in the new upholstery of the seat, the weight of the meaning behind it still feeling foreign to him, as his First Officer cleared his throat. “On your orders, sir.”

Michael nodded, refocusing his attention on the moment at hand, “Helm, take us out.” He ordered.

The Airlock the Fox had been sitting in was already depressurized as the Space Doors slid open. The thrusters of the Aquarius-class starship hummed to life, lifting the vessel off its landing gear. The impulse engines flickered for a moment, pushing the ship forward into the openness of space. Michael watched in amazement, despite seeing this same scenario time and time again, only this time he was in command, real command, this was -HIS- departure.

“Helm, head one-half impulse, till we clear the spaceport,” Archie commanded, as he turned once more to Michael. “Coordinates, sir?”

“Right. Set coordinates for Starbase 12. We will drop off my father and proceed to Starbase 375, then to Deep Space 47.” Michael announced. To his surprise, no one yet moved; in fact, all the seats had turned to look at him, as if in anticipation. There was a moment of confusion on Michael’s face before Pops stood up, “They’re waiting…” he stated.

Michael’s face turned to his father, an even deeper furrow of perplexity on his brow. His father smiled and continued, “Since the days of the first enterprise, every captain or commanding officer has said ‘the thing’. It’s their specific word or command that finalized their orders. It’s never been something that you had to think about or prepare, but something genuine that comes from the heart. I’ve always called it a Captain’s Quirk. So what will it be son?”

Michael looked down once more at his chair, then up at the screen, his eyes scanning across everyone on the bridge whose eyes and ears were locked onto him. He understood the hesitation, figuring his father must have set it up in private prior to their departure.

“Mister Yeager…” Michael stated, standing up and adjusting his uniform top.

“Floor it.”