CAPT Richard Pullman, commanding officer of USS Glendale, reached the starboard airlock. While the port airlock was typically designated the primary access point when the ship was moored, most of the passageways on the port side of the ship remained unpressurized. To most observers, either side of the ship served as well as the other; end of observation. But to the former chief engineer, little things mattered. For example, how the airlock controls were mounted to the left, providing access to the port airlock’s controls in three fewer steps when approaching from the nearest turbolift. Or more importantly, how the ship’s ceremonial quarterdeck trappings were stored in a port space, currently inaccessible.
“Good morning, Captain,” came the formal greeting from the petty officer standing watch as Officer of the Deck behind the makeshift podium.
“Good morning, Petty Officer Bauer,” Pullman responded. One of the few benefits of running a ship with a skeleton crew was that it was easy, almost mandatory, to meet all crew members. BM2 Georgia Bauer: received an early promote on her last eval, frocked to E-5 as soon as she reported aboard for duty, relatively young for her position. She was book smart, but lacked experience in the fleet; that was exacerbated by her not having a full crew to help her develop her leadership skills and confidence on this deployment. Her most memorable feature, at least when Pullman was around, was she seemed a little ‘jumpy,’ definitely intimidated, whenever they interacted.
“Been here long?” Pullman asked casually, trying to alleviate her nervousness.
Bauer blinked, surprised at the seemingly random question from her CO. Definitely jumpy. “Um, since 0400, Captain.”
It was 0915, 15 minutes before his visitors were scheduled to arrive. “Are you here by yourself?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“When’s your relief?”
“1600, Sir.”
“That’s a long shift to stand alone. Do you need a break?”
The petty officer blinked in surprise again. “Um, no, Captain. Someone will be along in a while to give me a break.”
“Seriously, Petty Officer Bauer. If you need to make a head call, I can keep an eye on this airlock for a few minutes.”
Bauer hesitated, unsure how to respond. Pullman made the decision for her. “Actually, I have a better idea. We have some visitors coming aboard. Civilians, so who knows when they’ll actually arrive. I’ll wait here for them and when they get here, I’ll call you back. Deal?”
“Um, deal, Captain,” came the hesitant reply.
“I relieve you, petty officer.”
“I stand relieved, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”
As Bauer stepped from behind the podium, Pullman stopped her and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “This is just between us, right? You’re not going to report me to the XO are you?”
The petty officer chucked and smiled, acknowledging the joke. Aboard a ship, the XO usually handled disciplinary problems. The CO did not usually get involved unless there was a serious infraction involving a formal review and hearing. But the punchline in this case was that Glendale was operating without an executive officer, so a discipline report would go straight to the captain. “It’ll be our secret, Captain.”
Pullman gave a melodramatic sigh of relief. “Wow, that’s a relief!” He smiled at the petty officer. “Enjoy your break.”
Bauer thanked her captain again, then quickly scurried down the passageway towards the port shuttle bay.
Back in January, when the warp core spiked, the chief engineer sacrificed the ship’s electrical systems to save the core. Dumping the core’s raw power into every power circuit aboard allowed the core to stabilize enough that a controlled, emergency shut down was possible instead of a core ejection. But that enormous power surge literally melted every conduit and coupling throughout the ship in a few microseconds. When Starfleet ordered Glendale to launch a few weeks ago, most of the wiring had not yet been replaced. That is why few systems had power, including the motors that unsealed and retracted emergency bulkheads, the valves and pumps to pressurize compartments, and most annoyingly, the replicators and the plumbing. During their trips to Starbase 80 and back, the starboard shuttle bay was converted into a mess facility while the port shuttle bay provided shower and head facilities. It had not been the most pleasant transit for the passengers or crew.
Following regulations, Pullman recorded his assumption of the watch into the quarterdeck log. He then checked the ship’s records to see how many people were aboard Glendale. Twelve members of the permanent party remained aboard, 13 if he included himself. Sixty-two shipyard workers from the starbase were aboard, most of them engaged in ripping out and replacing the kilometers of melted power lines and couplings running throughout the ship.
Glendale was a hollow shell and would remain so for approximately five months. Chief Engineer Kaminsky assured the captain she and her engineering team could finish the remaining repairs in less than two months. Pullman had vetoed that plan, reminding her that her engineers had been working non-stop for almost a year getting the ship refitted, first at Beta Antares, then again here at Starbase Bravo. Instead, she and her engineers were required to take at least two weeks of leave and were banned from setting foot aboard for three. Pullman wanted the engineers well-rested and fresh for the final sprint to the shakedown cruise, not exhausted after pulling double shifts to replace wiring for two months.
[[Fifty minutes later]]
The alarm notified Pullman that someone had entered the station’s airlock and was heading towards the ship. He closed the report he was reviewing and quickly recalled Bauer.
As the visitor approached Glendale‘s airlock, Pullman rose and moved to greet them. His guest was Armando Flores, the mediator assigned to the diplomatic negotiations in the Flaxos Sector. Glendale would be Flores’s home and base of operations during the negotiation process. The time estimates varied between six months to two years. Permanently assigning a diplomat to a ship and a ship to a single diplomatic mission was a novel approach to the negotiation process. It was also an untested hypothesis, with an unlimited number of variables that could turn the diplomatic innovation into a diplomatic flop.
The first sign that there was trouble was the number of people walking down the gangway. Not just Flores, but Flores and an entourage of fourteen. Pullman’s invitation was for the mediator only; a single assistant would not be unusual, but an entire crew?
The moderator crossed the threshold into the ship. Pullman extended his hand. “Senior Moderator Flores Sánchez, welcome to Glendale.”
The UFP diplomat reluctantly took Pullman’s hand and managed a feeble, bored shake. “You must be Captain Pullman. No need to be so formal; just call me ‘Senior Moderator Flores,'” he commanded. “We’re on the same team, after all.”
Although his face did not betray his feelings, Pullman instantly disliked this negotiator. It was rare that he took a dislike to someone this quickly, but the negotiator’s arrogance was an instant turn-off. “Thank you, Senior Moderator.”
“Flores,” reminded the moderator, as if correcting a small child.
“My apologies, Senior Moderator Flores.”
“Not to worry; you’ll come around,” Flores casually remarked.
It was official. Pullman despised this man…the man he would be working with for a better part of a year, if not longer.
Pullman turned to the gaggle of beings behind the senior moderator. “And who are your companions, Senior Moderator Flores?”
Flores did a quick take behind him, then casually flicked his hand and rolled his eyes in dismissal. “Don’t worry about them. They’re the fortunate few who get to accompany me on this historic mission.”
The senior moderator’s attitude quickly changed and he squarely faced Pullman. “But enough of the banal pleasantries, Pullman. It’s been a long trip from Earth. You, or one of your underlings, can show us to our quarters now. Once we’re settled, my secretary will schedule a meeting so I can explain how this mission will run.”
The complete breakdown in communication overruled the anger building in Glendale‘s CO. “Senior Moderator Flores, I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. Over half of the ship is uninhabitable, including the decks where your quarters will be. As I mentioned in my communique, the engineers and shipyard workers will need about a month to open all decks and make the ship safely habitable.”
“Engineers lie and exaggerate,” Flores stated as a fact.
The former chief engineer decided to ignore the denigration and focus on the problem at hand. “Furthermore, Senior Moderator Flores, the ship cannot accommodate you and fourteen members of your staff. Your quarters are set up for two people, three if you don’t mind things getting a little cozy.”
“Unacceptable!” Flores erupted. Pullman half-expected the diplomat to stamp his feet in protest. “I will file a protest with Starfleet Command and you will hear from my office, Pullman. This mission is too important to be sidetracked by incompetence.”
Pullman took a deep breath and centered himself. Fortunately, his research on the moderator revealed Flores’s caustic personality and childish outbursts. “I completely understand, Senior Moderator Flores. But I’ve reviewed the mission orders and they clearly authorize only you and one assistant as crewmembers for this upcoming mission.”
“Bureaucrats!” Flores spat. “Ignorant fools with no thought processes other than building walls to obstruct people with vision.”
The former bureaucrat again resisted taking offense to the moderator’s insult. “I wholeheartedly agree with you, Senior Moderator Flores.” Pullman raised his hands in defeat. “But orders are orders, and your quarters…what can I say?”
“Mierda!” Flores harumphed. “I am surrounded by stupidity and incompetence!” Flores fixed his angry glare on Pullman. “Hear me well, Pullman. The art of diplomacy is destroying the obstacles impeding your goal. I am a master of my art. Don’t become an obstacle.”
The senior moderator turned on his heels and marched towards the airlock.
Pullman was tempted to let Flores storm off. Although it would end the immediate confrontation, he would still have to deal with the repercussions during the mission. Addressing the issues now would improve the chances of a successful mission. And, perhaps, it might begin to mend their currently non-existent working relationship.
“Senior Moderator Flores,” Pullman called out. “When shall I reschedule our meeting?”
Flores stopped and turned to face Pullman. The moderator’s face was flushed red with anger. “What is there to discuss? I sent you detailed specifications for the spaces needed and other requirements for this mission. You assured me all was in order when you asked me to come to this meeting.”
This time, Pullman was unable to stifle his anger. So far, he had absorbed the diplomat’s abuse to keep the peace and keep the working relationship cordial. But kowtowing to the outright lies of the entitled diplomat crossed a line the captain decided would not be crossed. He took three slow, deliberate steps to step directly in front of the diplomat. Although Flores was four inches taller, Pullman’s determination and anger overshadowed the taller being.
“Mister Flores. I received and reviewed your specifications. In theory, everything is above the line. In practice, they are completely unrealistic. Even if Starfleet agreed to modify a ship to meet your specs, the earliest it could be done would be in two years. What I proposed to discuss in this meeting is a very small window of opportunity where we might, and I cannot emphasize ‘might‘ more strongly, be able to incorporate some of your requirements into Glendale during these next few months of repairs.”
Pullman paused and took a deep breath. “Now, you can either file your complaints with Starfleet, in which case everything going forward will occur by-the-book and following the mission orders, or we can work together to try and make your working conditions more favorable. The choice is yours, Senior Moderator Flores.”
The two men silently regarded one another. Eventually, Flores realized that Glendale‘s CO would not back down.
The moderator called out over his shoulder. “Pablo, make arrangements for lodging and work spaces on the station.”
He again faced Pullman. “I suppose I would be remiss if I did not consider your window of opportunity before lodging a complaint.”
