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Part of USS Crazy Horse: Blood For Blood and Bravo Fleet: Blood Dilithium

Like Leaves on the Wind

Starbase 75 - Drunken Sailor Pub
January 3, 2401 14:00
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The Drunken Sailor Pub was a dive bar in every sense of the word,  but Starfleet crews had been coming here for decades.  Owned by a human and Orion couple the drinks were cheap, the music loud and the food was good.

The senior staff of the USS Crazy Horse sat at a table in the far corner. The table littered with empty beer mugs and shot glasses, baskets of wings with their sauces smeared all over the wax paper liners.

“To the Crazy Horse,” Commander Torin said raising his glass of Romulan Ale. “It was one hell of a ship with one hell of a crew.”

“Here! Here!” The assembled officers shouted.

“I know Commander Torin and I are relative new comers to this crew,” Órlaith said, “but I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

“And we couldn’t ask for better replacements,” Erin said. There were general mummers of agreement around the table.

Órlaith sighed, “Now for the element in the room.  The Crazy Horse is not going to be repaired any time soon… if at all. My money is that Starfleet does not put her back into service with the new Excelsior II-classes being commissioned, but they do say ‘never say never’.  This is likely the last time we will all be together in one place.  It has been an honor to serve with you all.” Órlaith produced a stack of PADDs.  She let them slide through her fingers using the table to stack them neatly.  “Our new assignments are in.”

Órlaith handed out the PADDs to the crew. She let them look it over, “Who wants to share?”

Shrin looked up from her PADD, glanced around, and shrugged, “I guess I can. Chief Science officer here on Starbase 75.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Marcus said with a grin. “Looks like Assistant Chief Engineer aboard the USS Montrose.” There was disappointment in his voice, but there was little he could do. 

“That is unfortunate,” Shrin observed.

“A damned crime if you ask me,” Anthony replied.  “Hell of a demotion, not that I’m getting one myself.  Chief Helm Officer, USS Barstow.  It’s a California-class.  Not even a fun piloting gig.

Erin looked up from her PADD and sighed,  “Relay Station 53.”

“Oh man,” Anthony sympathized, “That’s even worse than the Barstow.”

“It’s probably safe to say that is the worst possible option given your talents Commander,” Torin gave his two cents.  “You are too good of an officer to be stuck on a sub-space relay station.”

“Ensign Talon is right. That assignment is criminal,” Washington added.

“Would you like me to see if I can do anything about it?” Órlaith asked.

Erin shrugged, “Not sure if there is anything you can do, but I won’t turn down some help. But, I guess the silver lining is that it will be my first command.”

“A command of two,” Anthony said. “Not exactly resumé padding material.”

Erin simply nodded and took a long drink of her piña colada, but she was suddenly no longer interested in the drink and pushed it aside.

“Captain, you want to go next?” Torin asked.

Órlaith shrugged, “It’s between us two. Sure.  Starfleet Academy, Advanced Fighter and Weapons School. I’m going back to being an instructor.”

“Not another ship?” Washington asked incredulously.

“It would seem I am undeserving,” Órlaith said.  “I expected something like this.  I didn’t think they were going to give me another command.  Command was not happy about how I handled the Devore and losing the ship.”

“As I recall I supported your actions Captain,” Torin said.

“I took full responsibility Commander.  I did not want my black mark to mar your record too. I had the final say.”

“Then I… I owe you a major debt of gratitude,” Torin started.  He paused for a long moment letting the silence fall on the table.  “I have been given command of the USS Terror.”

“Congratulations Com…” Órlaith smiled and corrected herself, “Captain.” She raised her glass to Torin, “To Stafleet’s newest captain. May you always find fair seas and winds to your back.”

The other’s raised their glasses in salute, “Here! Here!”

Órlaith sat back and tried to enjoy the moment as the official conversation faded into stories of a close knit crew.  They had been through hell and back, Starfleet chose to punish most of them, and yet they reacted with jokes, and shared experiences.  Órlaith was going to enjoy this, for tomorrow they would be like leaves scattered on the wind.