Chapter Three
Carin stared into the mirror, scrutinising her dress uniform to ensure it was wrinkle, crease, and lint-free. Her tall, lithe figure was shown off decently in what really amounted to a dress, and her over-the-shoulder-length black hair had been rearranged from its usual elegantly arranged coils into a lustrous, wavy waterfall that fell freely around her face.
She was well aware that she was a beautiful woman by the standards of her own society and she was not adverse to showing that off in appropriate situations, such as this formal ceremony safely docked inside a starbase. The high-heeled shoes she was wearing accentuated her shapely, toned legs and boosted her usual 5’8” height to over five-ten.
Thus satisfied that her appearance was as perfect as she could attain with only forty minutes’ preparation, she left her quarters on the
Akyazi and made her way to the crew lounge on Deck Seven, Forward. On this brand new ship it had yet to be named or even properly decorated, as that honour was hers as the ‘plank-owner’ captain. This tradition hearkened back to when these “off-duty, anyone can attend, come as you are” social spaces were first introduced on the old Excelsior-class ships. As was this tradition, the space would take on something of the personality of the new captain and reflect some of their background and upbringing, as well as the defining the tone of the crew’s daily routine as thought appropriate by said captain.
As she walked into the shallow but wide medium-sized room on the bottom deck of the saucer, she took in its dimensions and layout, as well as its acoustic properties with over a hundred people crammed into it. She decided in between other random, excited thoughts that something along the lines of her grandfather’s pub back on Neo Caledonia might fit in well.
She spotted Vice Admiral Da-Rhotereii near the podium that had been set up at the front of the room, before the windows that showed the interior of Starbase 214’s zero-g dry-dock. As she made her way through the press of people towards the Efrosian flag officer, she was delighted to see some of her close friends from the
Endeavour in attendance. She gave them all a quick wave or nod as she encountered them.
“Ah, here she is, looking far prettier now than she ever did for me,” Captain Asamov mentioned to the admiral as an off-handed greeting to his former XO. The Efrosian squinted at her and waited for her to get close enough for his species’ notoriously incompatible-with-Human-normal visible light spectrum to give him a decent impression of her. Joining their personal space, she took in the Efrosian’s impressively white-maned appearance and decided it complemented her former captain’s more closely-cut silver mane quite well.
Having heard Asamov’s teasing comment to the admiral as intended, she ignored the older captain and retorted cuttingly, “I can assure you, Admiral, that my
former commanding officer is exaggerating as usual. I always look this pretty for people whose opinions actually
matter.”
The orange-skinned alien smiled and Arkady clutched a hand to his heart, signifying a mortal blow. “Oh dear, I do believe the promotion has gone to her head,” he fired back, smiling widely. “Just days ago she was all ‘Oh I’m not worthy, you’ll always be my favourite captain, blah blah blah…”
Carin shot him a look, at which he broke into chuckles. Carin and Da-Rhotereii joined in and the younger officer once again basked in the easy camaraderie she shared with her former captain.
“It’s good to see your confidence progressing, Captain Oshima,” the starbase and sector commander stated in his slightly gravely voice after they had subsided. “Captain Asamov speaks highly of you and tells me he’s expecting great things from you.”
Oh great! Way to set me up for a fall, Captain! she groused good-naturedly, again shooting him a look – which again he chuckled at, knowing exactly what was behind it.
“My former first officer’s feelings of performance anxiety aside,” he smiled at her with his irrepressible trademark smirk, “she’ll do fine as a captain. She has the skills – she had a great teacher after all – and she has the knowledge. She’ll be a great addition to resources, Sir.”
“Indeed, which is why we already have your first mission already waiting for you,” the admiral said evenly.
My first mission? I haven’t even officially taken command yet! she fretted, but was then immediately eager to get going.
You’re really pushing hard, aren’t you Arkady? Wanting me to do well. Can’t say as I fault the intention, but maybe I would like some settling in time first? It seemed as though Da-Rhotereii had heard her thoughts, or possibly read them off her face. “Do not worry, Captain. You will be given time to carry out a proper shakedown as this mission’s operational window only opens around stardate 45350. But your vessel has been marked for it, excepting any problems encountered during your shakedown.”
Carin nodded her understanding.
350 is… about three months from now. It’ll probably be our last test mission before gaining true ‘active’ Fleet status. “Can you tell me any more details about the mission, Admiral?” she requested.
The Efrosian shook his head in the Human manner. “Not yet, Captain. These details are being withheld until closer to the mission date. This is just an early notification so that you may keep your calendar clear.”
Carin nodded her understanding but justifiably felt a little teased.
I have to wait three months now to find out. I just hope this is not going to feel like an itch I cannot scratch. “Uh oh, here comes trouble,” Asamov observed, looking over Carin’s shoulder. She turned to see N’Trarr purposefully striding – “loping” might have been a
little too much of an exaggeration – towards them, and Carin simultaneously smiled and sighed.
“Well, if he’s going to cause a disruption I think we should get the ceremony started before that happens,” Da-Rhotereii observed in turn, and immediately stepped up to the podium before either Human could correct his assumption.
“Your attention please,” the admiral stated, his commanding, gravelly voice easily carrying over the hubbub of the room, which quickly quietened.
“We are here to commission a new ship into the fleet, with a new captain and a new crew. It will be up to each and every one of you to ensure that these three components are combined into a single entity that is proud to call itself and be known as… a Federation Starship.”
Carin suddenly had to swallow a lump in her throat and blinked away suddenly moist eyes at the way the admiral had said those words. It was possible she was getting sentimental in her old age. It was equally possible she believed with all her being in the words just spoken, in the regard that the admiral bestowed upon the instruments of Federation policy and ideals. Or maybe it was just the excitement of the moment, getting her captaincy and her first ship within weeks of one another completely out of the blue. Whatever the case, Da-Rhotereii’s words resonated within her.
That was beautiful, and emotive… yet so simple! Maybe that’s the definition of ‘profound’, she wondered.
“I know that very few of you won’t have heard speeches like this before, so I will shatter your expectations of admirals everywhere by keeping this short and not just talking to hear the sound of my own voice,” he continued dryly, to surprised chuckling from many. “I know you will do your ship, your Service, your nation, your species, your captain, your crewmates, and yourselves proud.”
Drawing himself up more formally, he stated loudly, “Attention to orders!”
The room stilled again and all present assumed a stance of attention.
“To: Captain Carin Oshima. From: Commander, Starfleet.
“Ma’am, you are requested and required to proceed with all due haste to Starbase 214 in the Grazer Sector before stardate 45122.3. There you are directed to report aboard the USS
Akyazi, where you will assume command of said vessel and cause her to be made ready to put to space immediately upon her commissioning.”
Da-Rhotereii looked up from his PADD and removed his round, dark blue-lensed spectacles. Giving the room’s occupants a final sweep, he called out, “Captain Oshima.”
She stepped up beside him and stated, “Sir.”
Facing her now, the admiral asked her, “Do you accept command of, and responsibility for, this ship, her crew, and their actions?”
“Yes Sir, I do,” she responded crisply and with pride, though a voice at the back of her head commented,
I now pronounce you Captain and Ship. You may kiss the bride. She fought to suppress an inappropriate smirk.
“Computer, transfer command codes to Captain Carin Oshima. Authorisation: Da-Rhotereii-Beta-Zero-Omicron-Eight-One-Espilon-Five.”
“Authorisation accepted. Command codes have been transferred. Captain Carin Oshima is now the commanding officer of the USS Akyazi,” the female voice of the ship’s computer intoned.
“Congratulations, Captain,” Admiral Da-Rhotereii told her, and offered her the ship’s dedication plaque, prepared beforehand with this stardate already cast onto it.
“Thank you, Admiral!” she replied enthusiastically as she took it and shook his now empty hand. Beside her, Captain Asamov started applauding her, and the rest of the room joined in. She turned to face the room at large and nodded and smiled. She suppressed hard the urge to hold the dedication plaque above her head and posing like she’d won a decathlon or something.
Once the applause died down, she spoke the traditional words of a starship plank-owner captain, only slightly modified from those of Earth’s wet navy days: “Crew of the
Akyazi, man this ship and make her ready for space!”
“AYE-AYE, SIR!” the assembled crew shouted the traditional acknowledgement, and those slated for the first watch departed the room to assume their stations. The other two thirds of the crew – Beta and Gamma shifts – were free to remain and enjoy the reception, and there were a few envious looks directed from and to both groups.
Carin noted some of them and smiled.
That’s the luck of the draw. Sometimes even when you want it and they don’t, you still don’t get it. “Now if you’ll excuse
me for a few minutes,” Carin called out to the room again, “I have a picture to hang on
my bridge. I’ll be back soon for the cutting of the cake, so carry on!”
Her
Endeavour crewmates grinned, as did some of her new crew, and Arkady’s lot variously patted her back, clasped her shoulder, and/or wrung her hand as she made her way to the turboshaft at the back of the room.
She made it through the press of the remaining majority of her crew and into the relative peace of the turbolift. “Bridge,” she ordered, while thinking
Phew! As it whisked her there, she gazed down at the dedication plaque and gave into the sudden urge to spaz giddily with a tattoo of boot heels against the floor. Some might have called it a victory dance, but to the amused regard at the back of her mind, it was most definitely a spaz.
The lift reached its destination a few seconds later, barely giving her time to calm down again before she stepped off it and onto a quiet but imbued-with-purpose bridge. She’d been here before, earlier today when she’d taken her tour of the ship, but she took the time to survey it now that it was fully staffed with the Alpha shift
She admired the compact, efficient nature of her ship’s command centre. She’d always felt that the
Endeavour’s bridge, almost identical to that of the Galaxy-class, was too roomy and arranged inefficiently.
At the very least, it was arranged with a Klingon’s attention to ergonomics, she thought now as she compared her own to it.
On
Akyazi’s bridge, she looked forward from the turbolift alcove in the aft bulkhead over her command chair, past the Ops and Conn stations to the main viewer, which showed the interior of Starbase 214’s cavernous drydock. Flanking the viewscreen at the forward end of the bridge were two sets of angled doors. The port door led into her ready room, the starboard to a ramp down to the offices and observation lounge/conference room on Deck Two.
On the left side of her command chair were the three science consoles. Science I and II were seated and facing aft, and III was a much smaller standing station facing forward over the Ops position. This arrangement was mirrored on the starboard side, though the aft facing seated stations were Communications and Engineering. The forward-facing standing position was Tactical.
The floor space was about half that of the
Endeavour’s bridge, and she was pleased that all she had to do to see any station and its crewmember was swivel her chair in their direction. She’d hated having to crane her neck and twist her head off to look at Tactical/Comms, or getting up to walk all the way to the front of the bridge and back around up those damn inefficient ramps to get to the science/engineering stations at the back of the bridge.
In other words, she heartily approved of
her bridge.
Pulling herself from her daydreaming, she found the spot on the aft wall of the turbolift alcove for the dedication plaque, and mounted it there with the magnetic fasteners. It seated itself with a soft but solid
snick and she stood back to admire it and make sure it was on straight.
Yup, she opined, still smiling slightly.
Now nothing will get that back off short of a complete power failure. Or the correct tool.She turned again, walked the five steps to her command chair and carefully sat down in it, then scanned her officers. Terev was here pecking at Science III’s controls, along with one of his junior science officers at the Science I’s far more comprehensive wall station. A Trill by the look of the man’s spots, but his name escaped her for the moment. Thelinar sat at the Ops console, focused on its readings, and a Caitain female sat at the Conn. The black leonine mane that was cut shorter than Carin’s own hair obscured the charcoal-grey of her fur, but that was visible on her hands as she worked her own controls. Carin remembered her as Lieutenant K’Shabanarett, or K’Rett for short.
Of special interest to her was the Bolian lieutenant at the Tactical console. He was Hranok, formerly of the
Saratoga, and a fellow survivor of the Borg attack at Wolf 359.
I’ll have to arrange a personal interview with him, Carin decided, noting the etched-in frown lines on the Bolian’s face as he pecked at his controls.
He may not want to trade horror stories, but I definitely want to get to know him better. We may be able to work together to come up with new anti-Borg tactics and weaponry.The Communications station was manned by a dark-skinned Vulcan lieutenant, and Engineering by a pale-skinned Human who could have come from Earth itself or be of any of the multitude of externally identical alien species. He ranked as a chief petty officer.
Having completed her visual survey of those who were likely to be her most common companions, she swung back around to address her first officer. “Mr. Terev, status report please.”
“Aye Captain,” he responded and launched straight into one. Clearly, he’d been waiting on that order. “The first watch has been set and all stations report manned and ready for departure. We are at Condition Green and all systems show fully operational. Starbase reports no imminent arrivals or departures except ours, so we are clear to leave at our discretion.”
“Thank you, Commander,” she acknowledged him courteously, and called on Thelinar next. “Ops, internal systems status?”
“All boards show green lights, no malfunctions. Shuttlebay is secure, computer datalinks are running well within capacity and tolerances. All systems are sure for warp speed.”
“Thank you. Tactical?”
“Weapons offline, shields down. Threat boards are clear and latest tactical and strategic updates have been received from Starfleet, Sir.”
Carin again noted the frown and his generally abrupt manner. Since she was asking for individual updates merely to get a base reading on how her new crew did their jobs, this is what she was trying to find: potential problems she could start working to fix right from the start of their time together.
“Very good,” was all she said in response and moved on to her other bridge crew. “Engineering?”
The human CPO swivelled his seat to face her and reported, “Power systems at start-up levels, power flow is nominal with no negative indicators,” the man said in an odd-sounding accent Carin wasn’t familiar with.
I’ll peruse the personnel records after everything here is taken care of, she promised herself as the man completed his report, which amounted to the same as all the others:
We’re ready to go, what else did you expect? With Communications and Conn reporting similar sentiments, Carin created her first log entry as the captain of a starship.
“Captain’s Log, stardate 45122.3,” she began, savouring the words. “The commissioning ceremony went without a hitch as expected and the reception, continues though it is currently awaiting my return for the cutting of the commissioning cake.” At this, she noticed several ears prick up and shoulders twitch. Smiling slightly, she continued, “Starbase 214’s Dockmaster has cleared us for departure as soon as we are ready to leave, and I see no reason to delay any longer than the end of the reception since my officers report all is well with the ship and her crew.”
She debated for a second or two about putting her next statement into the official log or a personal one, but finally decided to go ahead with it. Starfleet undoubtedly realised their officers were people not robots, and personal opinions and feelings were accepted as part of the official record.
Plus, she did want to record a personal log and didn’t want to do it in public.
Suppressing a smirk but not disguising the smile in her voice, she ended her log entry. “As a reward for their diligence in getting the ship ready, I will make sure to save them each a piece of cake. End log.”
She caught smiles on the faces of her nearest crew and was glad she’d added that in. Standing, she instructed, “Communications Officer, please compile all reports and data that Starfleet has received for the last five standard years regarding events in this region of space and the races with influence here and cue it to my terminal.”
“Aye, Captain,” the Vulcan responded briefly.
She nodded and returned to the turbolift, which whisked her back to the send-off party she’d put on hold with her ‘urgent task on the bridge’.
*****
Two hours later, Carin was in her ready room going through the updates her Commo had collected for her. The reception had gone well and ended about half-an-hour later with Carin escorting the Admiral and her former crewmates to the airlock back to the starbase. Fond farewells, congratulations and thanks were exchanged, and then her friends were gone and she was her own master at last. Leaving dock had been routine and uneventful, and the
Akyazi was on her way to a nearby star system for some muscle stretching exercises at a leisurely warp four.
Carin had already gone through the personnel files of all her officers, but had decided to familiarise herself with her enlisted crew later on in the day after names had started running together and away from the faces that owned them. She had discovered the names of her other three bridge crew.
The Trill junior science officer was one Lieutenant Ardez Jenai, the ship’s botanist and head of the Planetary Sciences Department. He was 27 and had previously served on the Sprinfield-class surveyor
Chandra.
Her Vulcan comms officer was one Lieutenant Savok, from the equatorial city of Tameh’Khar on Vulcan. This was his first posting from the Academy, but the sixty-year old man previously had a career as a theoretical researcher for one of Vulcan’s major interstellar communications companies.
The engineering CPO was really Human, and he was Grigoriy “Greg” Tedesco from the Human colony of Deneva. Still one of the garden spots of the galaxy, as a major botanical and agricultural centre many of the first colonists were from Earth’s “breadbasket” areas like Central Canada, the American Mid-West, and the Russian Steppes. Tedesco’s family was originally from Kansas State, but his accent had merged to combine its prairie twang with incongruous guttural Russian to give a definitely off-world sounding accent.
That was more information than she’d originally gone looking for, but being a child of mixed ethnicities herself this kind of thing caught her interest. While growing up, her mother’s family on Neo Caledonia had often remarked humorously on her mainly Japanese accent being overwhelmed by the strength of her Scottish burr on some words. Any word with an ‘r’ in it, for example came through with a fairly distinctive trill that was alien to the Japanese-speakers of her maternal grandparents. Years of schooling and Starfleet Academy had homogenised her accent, but she could speak Japanese, Federation Standard English, and Vulcan fluently. She could also make herself understood in the Andorian and Tellarite languages but had an apparently amusing accent in both, but her Caitian was atrocious.
Having sated her immediate interest on her crew, she took up the data on her area of operations to re-familiarise herself with what to expect. The
Endeavour had served in the Federation-Klingon-Romulan border region as well as the major Federation-Cardassian border zone while she had served aboard, so she was already familiar with the main antagonists of the region. However, she was being assigned somewhat further “south”, or to rimward, of the UFP’s core sectors for her first command. As such, this also involved the Talarians as major players in the area. Not to mention the possible-but-unlikely influence of the even more rabidly territorial and xenophobic Tholians.
All of these races had on-again, off-again diplomatic relations with the Federation that had on several, though infrequent, occasions exploded into tense stand-offs or actual shots fired over claimed territorial or cultural violations perpetrated on them by the Federation.
Thus, care definitely had to be taken in this region as, while open conflict and actual war was not probable, she could still find herself getting shot at by any of these nations for what seemed like no apparent or sufficient cause. Especially with so many unclaimed systems between the officially recognised spheres of influence of these four powers to bicker over.
Another thought occurred to her as she was tallying up all the people who might end up shooting at her: the Klingons. With the recent strengthening of the Federation-Klingon Alliance – in which the
Endeavour had played no small part – Klingon ships were freely allowed to transit Federation space on their own missions. The Klingons had a well-known antipathy for both the Cardassians and the Tholians, and could end up causing problems for her if any were in the area. She made a mental note to request the disposition of any Klingon units in the region if Savok had not already included such in his data.
With such priorities decided in her head, she settled down with her second mug of Vulcan mocha (sweet) into her comfortable desk chair and let the information she read to be soaked up by the hungry sponge that was her slightly Vulcan-enhanced brain.
Topic: Akyazi: Shake Up (Read 22040 times)