The viewing gallery was mostly empty, a not unexpected state given it was deep within the base’s gamma shift. Normally filled with chatter and bustle, it was a popular site for meeting and lunch dates due to the stunning views afforded by the transparent wall that looked out onto the internal dock of Starbase 72. Captain Varen’s only company, a young Bolian who was quietly clipping the small rose bushes on the other side of the lounge, continued to inadvertently serenade the man as she hummed an old nursery rhyme beneath her breath. Beyond the clear material a half dozen vessels slumbered in their berths, wrapped in invisible blankets of tractor beams they hung motionless in the airless dockyard, their hulls speckled with the sporadic lights of crewman either working late or rising early. Most would be departing from the base when the alpha watch came around, setting courses for distant stars and the next adventure. A comforting wash of serenity lapped against Varen as he stared through the almost invisible wall, imagining the next exciting chapter for each vessel, desperate to pluck them from their shelves as he had his models as a child on Bajor.
“Do you often hang around in lounges after dark?” Tanek accused from behind, catching the man lost in his imagination.
“Only when I need to meet with elusive Captains.” Varen eyed the older man as he came to sit on the curving sofa next to him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ever since the debrief you haven’t answered my calls, you’ve had your officers divert me all over the base; you even hid from me when I came aboard Daedalus in person.”
“Lies and slander.” Tanek relaxed back into the sofa, placing his feet laid up on the table as he looked out into the dock. “Who told you I’d be here?”
“Bahir.” Varen offered the small stripped bag in his hand, its top rolled outwards to make a small pouch, filled with round shapes. “Bon-Bon?”
“I’d hate to take that new pip off him already for betraying his captain.” Tanek reached out, taking a pastel pink sweet from the bag. Cupping his other hand under the falling snow of icing sugar he raised the sweet up to his mouth. “Strawberry?”
“Like there is any other kind.” Varen smiled, in the fifteen years he had known Captain Tanek, he had never once refused a sweet. “Don’t be too hard on Bahir, I may have insinuated that he would loose the pip if he didn’t tell me.” A mischievous look spread across his face as he popped a pink sphere into his own mouth, the young Saurian officer had turned a similar colour of pale pastél when Varen had cornered him in the Daedalus’ mess.
The two men shared a comfortable moment, the sound of chewing in counterpoint to the almost imperceptible melody of the Bolian gardener who continued her ministrations on a distant Ficus.
Varen set down the striped bag on the sofa between them and turned to the aged Denobulan “I just wanted to check in.”
“I’m fine.” The answer was cold, professional. “I’ve lost crewmen before.” The man sat stone-faced, his fixed face of cool stoicism hard earned over the decades.
“But it was Khos. He was special.” Varen could feel the lump beginning to form in his throat. He had spent a great deal of time with Dil Khos when he was aboard Starbase 72 between missions, including sharing stories one too many nights over fruity ciders, smuggled from the homeworld. The two men had become firm friends, brothers from different sides of the Bajoran experience. His loss aboard the Borg Sphere continued to leave a void and an empty place setting at Varen’s dinner table.
“Did you come here to ask me the same question as everyone else?” Tanek stared out into the dock, his focus like a phaser carving away at the glass as his voice dripped with detached frustration.
Varen’s breath caught in his throat as the tone sent a chill down his spine. “No Captain.” He offered a padd from the table. “Command has some new orders for you.”
An unexpected tension slumped down between the two men, its sticky tendrils working their way into Varen’s friendly intentions as Tanek scrolled through the data on the padd. “47?”
“Yes, I’ve been transferred, apparently my diplomatic talents might be useful in the Thomar Expanse. I thought you might like to come with, see some smiling faces for a bit?” Varen picked another sweet form the bag as he offered it across the sofa, hoping to draw Tanek back into conversation.
“Daedalus isn’t exactly designed for diplomacy. As much as I’d like to see some smiling faces, we’d have to host them in the cargo bay.” his tone had warmed slightly, Varen took this as a good sign.
“She’s a great ship but she’s a first responder Tanek, she’s only ever going to be on the front lines. Plus I thought you might need a slightly bigger office.” Varen reached up to his badge and after wiping the icing sugar that hung to his short beard, tapped the combadge. “Varen to Ensign Jamers. ‘Operation Sunshine’ is a go.”
Outside the tall windows, directly across from the lounge a series of long lighting fixtures burst into life as electrical currents surged through their elements and flooded the shadowed docking bay with cool, blue tinged light. They silently clunked into action, swelling in slow sequence down the length of the previously unseen grey hull. The leading edge of main hull caught the light first, creeping across the wide disk and around the recessed bay doors protected within the notch at the prow. A small deflector caught the growing illumination next, held close beneath the main hull, nestled safely in the heart of the growing ship. The light crept further backwards, picking up pace as if the ship was wresting to escape its bonds as twin catamaran pontoons cast shadows down the central line of the vessel; a wide hexagonal module perched atop them at the rear as they tapered into nothingness. Two nacelles stretched out behind them, hanging delicately, clean and sharp, waiting to cut through the waterless ocean of deep space. As if on cue a single light clicked into existence at the bow of the ship illuminating the tall black letters of its registry, USS Helios.
Tanek offered a slow clap as the sole audience member. “What did you promise…”
“Two whole cases of Bajoran fruit tarts. They’re already en-route from DS9.” Varen admitted. “Was it worth it?”
“She’s… impressive.” Tanek’s eyes were growing wide. This was an even better sign. “But she’s a warship.”
“She’s also got over a dozen specialist labs, a state of the art sensor package after her recent refit, which also added a large diplomatic suite… beautiful carpets by the way… and retrofitted a portion of the shuttle bay for industrial replicators and fabrication modules.”
“She’s still carrying a big gun.” Tanek eyed the Bajoran out of the corner of his eye, his focus locked on the large weapons pod sat atop the sleek catamarans.
“Which we can both agree should stay cold.” Varen turned to face the other man, it was time to lay all the cards out. “Tanek. I’ll be honest with you. The Federation is in the midst of a crisis, no-one has faith in us anymore. I need you to go out there and win some hearts.”
“Kiss some babies?”
“If needs be yes. And this…” he motioned to the now fully illuminated ship as it hung in its berth, patiently waiting “…Is a symbol. The Federation is committed to the safety of our allies and supporters but we’re looking forward to a new era of prosperity. We’re ‘beating swords into ploughshares’ to borrow a human phrase.”
“It’s still an awfully sharp ploughshare.” Tanek turned to meet the young Captain’s eye.
“Then it’s a good job you’ll think twice before you use it, isn’t it?” Varen offered a pleading look, the last mote of icing sugar falling from the edges of his moustache. “Not everyone is as big a fan of farming as we are.”
The lounge had fallen silent, the Bolian gardener having departed to inspect the next set of green patients. The two men’s held their breath noiselessly for a moment. An eternity dragged itself across the sofa between the two Captains.
“Tell me about the carpets.” Tanek conceeded, reaching for another bon-bon from the bag.
“They’re a lovely shade of teal… I know… just stay with me now…”