<Beep> ‘Captain, Quarterdeck,’ came an urgent call.
CAPT Pullman, sitting at one of the benches in the shuttlebay, answered immediately. “Pullman.”
‘Captain, that ambassador just came aboard. He’s pretty upset and he’s making turns for your location.‘
The captain suppressed a smile. I think he just read this morning’s status report. “Thank you for the warning, Petty Officer Bauer. Pullman out.”
A week ago, Glendale received updated orders that astonishingly attached a starfighter squadron to the ship. It was part of the senior moderator’s roadmap for the Flaxos negotiations. California class ships were not designed to hold starfighters, so Pullman immediately tried to meet with the senior moderator to get the details of this detachment and figure out how the ship would accommodate it. In keeping with their usual confrontational interactions, Senior Moderator Flores dismissed Pullman’s concerns as a Starfleet detail for Pullman to handle, and admonished the captain for straying outside his Starfleet lane.
Frustrated with Flores’s secrecy and condescending nature, Pullman licked his wounds and responded with malicious compliance. He gathered the requirements to support a starfighter squadron and adjusted Glendale‘s refit repair order. The malicious part was that almost all of the squadron’s accommodations came by substituting them for features originally planned for the diplomatic complex being constructed by the Starbase Bravo engineers and technicians. Pullman left the bare minimum necessary elements for Flores to perform his mission, but converted every other planned diplomatic feature into squadron space.
As if on cue, Senior Moderator Flores appeared, dropped a PADD on the table in front of Pullman, and exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this, Pullman?”
Pullman rose, ignoring the PADD. “Senior Moderator Flores, a pleasure. I was not expecting you,” he lied. “Please, have a seat and I’ll fetch you some tea.”
“That won’t be necessary, Pullman.”
“Oh, but Senior Moderator Flores, if I’ve learned nothing else from you, it is that formalities must be observed whenever possible.” Pullman took his time finding an acceptable coffee mug and cream to serve the moderator’s tea. He felt slightly guilty exacting this reversal of roles where Flores, not Pullman, was the one impatiently waiting for the formalities to conclude. But the satisfaction of having the senior moderator stew in impatience overwhelmingly superseded the very minor guilt he was experiencing.
“Much better,” announced Pullman after Flores took his first sip. “Now how can I be of service today, Senior Moderator Flores?”
Flores’s earlier annoyance was gone. It was unclear whether he recognized Pullman’s petty revenge and accepted it or whether he was pleased that he had finally instilled some refinement into the uncouth starship captain. He nodded towards his PADD. “This morning’s report shows major modifications to the diplomatic complex. Those modifications are unacceptable and I do not approve.”
Pullman proceeded carefully. The petty satisfaction of his plan briefly morphed into concern–had he placed the senior moderator’s mission in jeopardy? No. He followed all Starfleet guidelines and carefully ensured that the revised, modified upgrades to Glendale still met the mission requirements, quadruple checking everything prior to submitting the revised orders. He had merely eliminated the bells and whistles that Flores had gushed over which had been possible prior to the updated staffing requirements.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Senior Moderator Flores. Which modifications, specifically, do not meet your approval?”
Flores’s serene facade evaporated. “All of them, Pullman! Where is the holosuite? Where is the staff conference room? Where are the suites for my staff? Everything is gone.”
“Senior Moderator Flores, the current orders for your upcoming mission specify that Glendale provides two diplomatic guest accommodations, accommodations for up to 10 diplomatic observers or moderators, accommodations for you and one optional assistant, a conference room appropriately apportioned for diplomatic negotiations, and a starfighter squadron. In order to support a starfighter squadron, some of the non-essentials we planned are no longer possible.”
“They are essential to the mission.”
Pullman chose his words carefully. “I’m afraid I must contradict you, Senior Moderator Flores. The holosuite, the conference room, the extra suites…those are not elements contained in our orders. Those were additional elements we thought we could add. Unfortunately, we were mistaken. We do not have the space for everything.”
“If you need more space, convert another cargo bay.”
Pullman shook his head. “That is not possible.”
“Why not?” challenged Flores. “You did it before.”
“There are three challenges, Senior Moderator Flores. First, you are aware of the construction and remodeling that will occur on one of the colony’s space dock?”
“Of course. It is all part of the negotiation package.” Flores did not hide his irritation.
“Glendale is tasked to delivery a majority of the supplies and material for that construction. Taking another cargo bay offline would destroy the fleet logistic office’s manifests. They are already incensed about the one missing bay. If we take a second bay offline, that will again disrupt their schedules and they will undoubtedly file a protest. Someone will investigate why we can’t transport a full load, discover our unnecessary and non-standard modifications, and have us return the cargo bays to their original purpose. If that happens, you will also lose the conference center. Your meetings will have to be held in our main conference room, which is a very plain closet compared to the one being built in the cargo bay.”
“I have influence, Pullman. We can get the manifests adjusted.”
“That’s good to know, Sir, but there is the second issue. There is a limited number of crew allowed on Glendale. The main limitation is imposed by the escape pods. It is a mix of the total pod capacity and the distribution of the living and working quarters of the crew. It is impossible to keep your ‘extras’ and still accommodate the 50 squadron personnel and their work areas.”
The senior moderator appeared confused. “Why so many people?”
“I don’t know how many people will be assigned to the incoming squadron. So I must be prepared for the most likely size.”
Flores frowned. “There will only be four people.”
Pullman could not–did not want–to believe what he just heard. “I beg your pardon?” he finally managed in response.
“Four pilots, Pullman,” he repeated. “Only four.”
“Only four,” Pullman repeated. Another thought occurred to him. “How long have you known this number, Senior Moderator Flores?”
“From the beginning, of course. It is all part of the negotiation package.”
Pullman was not a violent man, but finally receiving details he had repeatedly requested days and weeks ago made him want to jump across the bench and strangle Flores with his bare hands. He settled on gripping the bench with all his might and taking and holding a deep breath.
Following the typhoon of anger, a subtler wave of clarity followed, revealing the source of the miscommunications leading to this point: Flores’s secrecy and indifference to the details outside his negotiations. Flores intended to provide four runabouts to the Flaxos colonies, and apparently four pilots/trainers. In the diplomat’s mind, that meant delivering four ships and four people…and that was it. To Starfleet, without further elaboration, that meant four ships, four pilots, maintenance crews, and an administration team…for starters. That was how the need for four pilots morphed into a fighter squadron.
“It is unfortunate that detail was not revealed until now.”
“Yes, well now you know. So go back to the original plans.”
“I’m afraid that brings us to the third challenge, Senior Moderator Flores. We have run out of time to make changes. Any changes now, especially as drastic as going back to the holosuite configuration, will delay Glendale‘s launch. Both you and Task Force 21 have emphasized that the launch date cannot be missed.
“I’m sorry, Senior Moderator Flores, this is the final configuration.”
The finality of Pullman’s announcement sank in and Flores’s attitude quickly changed from outrage and confidence to genuine concern. “But my plans, my negotiations….”
Pullman’s earlier anger now changed into sadness. The diplomatic complex they had designed would have been a unique tool. Had the senior moderator been less secretive, they could have kept all the changes and easily accommodated the additional personnel.
“How could this happen?” asked Flores. Not an accusation, but internal reflection.
“If I may, Senior Moderator Flores. I know you prefer keeping the diplomatic details separate from the Starfleet details. But in order to succeed, this really needs to be a partnership. When I’m forced to make decisions in isolation, it can inadvertently harm your efforts.”
“Yes,” agreed Flores. “I understand now. It was a mistake to keep details from you.”
The senior moderator’s confidence returned. “Well, this is a setback, but not insurmountable. The art of diplomacy is not letting a setback stop your progress. Shall we reconvene in my office to share details in, say, 30 minutes, Captain Pullman?”
Pullman’s mood brightened. “I would be my pleasure, Senior Moderator Flores.”
