“Ma’am, is there anything I can say or do to have you reconsider?” the downturned officer asked.

“There isn’t anything left to reconsider that already hasn’t been considered many times over.” replied Captain Dupree. “I thank you and station command for your generous hospitality these past few days. Take care, lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Anna Clarke was the concierge assigned to Captain Dupree for her stay at Starbase Bravo. Her duties were to acquaint the captain with the facilities here, introduce her to key personnel, and prepare her for move in to a residence and office space. Now, she was standing in a docking corridor, watching Captain Dupree leave for what may very well be the final time. Tho she knew this was not her fault, Anna’s mind raced thru scenarios where this resulted in disciplinary action or even the end of her career.

Captain Dupree stepped into the airlock, and with an unceremonious rattling and hissing of the pressure equalization system, stepped thru the other side and onto the USS Vallejo for the first time.

She knew nothing of the Vallejo or it’s past tours, other than that it has been temporarily docked at Starbase Bravo for use by the academy as a training vessel for midshipman. Staffers had tried to fill her in on more details, but she had shut them all down mid-attempt. Anything she could ever wish to know, she could find in the ships computer systems. Things were going to move at her pace now.

Marian Dupree had just turned her back on promotion and prestige. After almost forty years of exemplary service, she had traveled to SB-4 for what was supposed to be her final assignment to cap off her storied career. She had planned and executed the trajectory of her whole life to lead up to this moment. And now, to the shock of everyone who knew her, she had just thrown it all away. For the first time in her professional life, she had acted on impulse.

Despite a career serving in many senior staff positions of all kinds, including one as executive officer of a starship, this was her first command of her own. But it was not a flagship or a prestigious assignment to a famous ship. This was at the other end of the prestige scale. A California-class utility vessel. Used and abused, this was the utilitarian grunt class of ships. She hadn’t expected much, but was surprised at the unexceptionalism anyway.

She made her way thru the deck and to the turbo lift. It was available as soon as she called it, and she stepped in. The ship was completely empty. She had managed to entice a skeleton crew of fresh academy graduates and some junior officers looking for a change of pace, but it amounted to the bare minimum needed to fly the ship.

“Bridge” she spoke. And the turbo lift whirred to life. Her first order, given to a machine.

She knew this was as good as it was gonna get on such short notice. She would have liked it to be more, but was happy for now it was somewhere mobile, instead of being stuck on a station. No matter how bleak things looked right now, she knew even this was a courtesy. With no properly trained bridge staff, a lot of her time was going to be going in to juggling various jobs, and finding or training more crew as she could. As it stood, there wasn’t even an executive officer available for assignment, and it was unclear if anyone she recruited even knew how to pilot the ship.

The lift came to a stop, and the doors to the modest bridge opened. She took her first step in to what would likely be the epicenter of her world for the remainder of her time at Starfleet. She turned to the plaque fastened to the wall, and read the ships dedication: USS Vallejo, NCC-75586. The quote read

“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding” — Albert Einstein

“Mary?” a voice called out from the captain’s chair.

She turned to see an aging older man with slick back greasy hair and a pair of novelty sunglasses dressed in civilian clothing, stand up from the chair and turn to face her. Before she could even start to address him, he began to speak.

“I didn’t believe what I’s was told, but now, seein you with my own two eyes…” he said. “I told em Mary is a consuminate professional, an officer’s officer. Ain’t no way she jump the track right at the end and ask to be put up in this old can.”

“How did you get on this ship?” Marian snapped.

“I was in the neighborhood, heard you was being transferred to SB-4. I wanted to surprise you, congratulate you, catch up after all these years. Heck, I thought maybe we could even grab a drink or two.” his face became downturned, and he gently removed his glasses and hung them off his shirt collar. “But then they told me what you said, what you asked from em. That you we’re ditchin the station. Takin the Val and shooting off into the stars.”

Marian stepped closer to the man, and asked again. “So what are you doing on my ship? On the bridge, in my chair. Before even I got to set foot inside. Answer me that.”

“Mary…” he squeaked softly.

“It’s Captain Dupree. Ma’am in a pinch.” she shot back. “And you, Mr. Spedero, have one final chance to explain yourself before I have station security exit you off of here via the nearest airlock.”

There was a long pause. No speaking, just complete silence.

“Captain, I asked to be assigned to this ship. I knew you’d have next to nobody to staff her for the foreseeable future, so I made a few requests, and got added to the duty roster at the last minute.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Marian said, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “I make one spontaneous decision for myself, ignore the book one single time, just to see what it’s like, and this is my reward? Chetson Spedero, disgraced former FCO, suddenly appearing on my bridge after almost fifteen years.”

“Well, you’re makin it out to be a bit dramatic, but I suppose that’s the short of it.”

“Dramatic.” Marian closed her eyes for a moment. “And so, what? I’m just supposed to welcome you aboard just like that? Spend the end of my service flying thru space with you?”

“Well, yeah… I suppose that was what I was thinkin.”

“And all this smooth talking you did to slip your way on here, you want me to believe they agreed to let you pilot a starship again?!”

Chet inhaled and slowly blew the air back out. “Not exactly. I won’t be doin any piloting. In fact, I won’t be anywhere near the bridge or even you.”

“What exactly is it you’ll be doing then?”

“Well… I’m your new bartender and lounge proprietor.” he said. “They’re givin me the run of The Back Nine.”

Marian look at him in disbelief. “You’re going to bartend? Serve drinks, make sandwiches? I have next to no staff of any kind, not a single chief of anything, or even an XO. But I can head on down to the tail end and get a cocktail from good old Chet the Jet? Well, here I thought command might be doomed to fail. But by the grace of god, here you are, come to save lunch time.”

“I’ll be outta sight, and outta mind. You won’t even know I’m here. I promise. And if you do end up finding your way down… well, perhaps it won’t be so bad after-all?”

There was another prolonged silence.

“Just get off my bridge.” Marian said. “I have a lot to process right now, and there’s just no room for this.”

Chet reached up and unhooked his sunglasses from his shirt, and placed them back on his face, in a smooth motion he’d done many times before. “As you wish… captain.” And with that, he proceeded into the turbo lift, and disappeared into the ship.

Marian let out a long sigh of relief, and turned towards the captain’s chair. She approached it slowly, turned, and sat down. She had a lot of work to do, work which would surely only be multiplied by Chet’s presence. But right now, she didn’t want to think about that. In less than an hour, she would welcome aboard her small group of recruits, and they’d make a last minute b-line to Calludia II to hopefully catch the tail end of shore leave. But she didn’t want to think about that right now either.

She closed her eyes and emptied her mind. Leaning back, she ran her hands along the arms of the captain’s chair. An upturned corner of metal caught the tip of one of her fingers. She yanked her hand away, and looked to survey the damage. A small bead of crimson had form on the end of her right index finger, and had started rolling down towards her palm.

“Dammit.” she said tiredly, under her breath. And with that, she was back on her feet and off to find the nearest tricorder.