10-18-2023, 10:37 PM
==Bridge, USS Crusader==
==One week after launch==
Aitrus walked onto the bridge with a smile on his face. Sure, the Crusader could have arrived at the Desolatia system three days earlier, but the crew was still getting a feel for the new ship. Marina had been in a constant cycle of tweaking and tuning the engines as they went, making sure that everything worked just the way she wanted. Samantha had been doing the same to the sensors, getting each of her divisions to test and retest all of their equipment. Baz had been doing the same down in medical, as they fortunately had yet to have any injuries more severe than a scrape or bruise.
He’d been most impressed with Spirit, the new tactical officer. They hadn’t been able to stop for a proper weapons test, but he had instead had the tactical department running simulated drills surrounded with level one diagnostics of the phasers and torpedo launchers. It wasn’t the same as a true weapons test - which Aitrus had promised as soon as they had an opportunity, likely after this first visit - but it at least gave them the best chance to make sure they were operating correctly, both from a technical standpoint as well as personnel wise.
Nathan had, for his part, also been busy making the department his own, and having a bit easier time than Spirit had. The forthcoming mission hadn’t imposed any specific needs, but that hadn’t stopped the new security chief from starting rounds of simulations and drills. They needed to learn who their comrades were, he knew, and how they reacted under pressure - all valuable information that Nathan needed as well, and Aitrus knew he’d been spending long nights collating that data as well. He suspected Nathan had something to prove; hopefully Aitrus could eventually convince him that the only one who needed that proof was Nathan himself.
So as Aitrus took his seat, he was more than confident in not just his ship, but the crew as well. They may not all have been his people from before, on the Luna, but old and new alike were working well enough together that he was pleased. “How are we doing, Commander?” he asked his first officer as he took his seat.
“So far, so good,” the Romulan said. Aitrus knew he had wanted desperately to join in the tactical preparations, but he’d done well and not hand-held the new head of his old department. For one, he’d been too busy with the minutiae of being the first officer of a much larger ship, and a brand new one as well. For another, Aitrus had noticed he’d matured a lot over their jaunt to the Delta Quadrant, and was glad that his friend was settling into the new role so well. “We’re set to arrive any moment now.”
As if he’d been watching the helm himself - Silran had been a pilot, and seemed to still have a preternatural sense for the engines - the stars slid back to points. “We’ve arrived in the Desolatia system, Captain,” the young ensign at the helm said. “Our approach to Desolatia III-B should have us arriving in about thirty minutes.”
Samantha had teased him all week that the entire reason they were coming here was because the planet was actually the moon of a gas giant in the star’s habitable zone. Already rare enough to have a natural Class-M moon, Desolatia III-B actually orbited the gas giant at ninety degrees to the system’s ecliptic, and yet its rotation both about its axis and about the gas giant gave it four seasons, a beautiful temperate climate, and a fantastic sky. It was an oddity in the quadrant, and she was preparing several teams to gather data about the system while they were here.
“Excellent,” Aitrus replied, and stood back up. “They should be expecting us, but go ahead and hail the planet anyway,” he said to Lieutenant Spirit, who immediately bent to the console to comply.
Moments later, the screen sprang to life with the image of Parson Salinchar, the Desolatian Minister of the Exterior and Aitrus’ point of contact since the Federation did not currently have an ambassador on the planet. The fact that they hadn’t appointed anyone to the role in the past five years was a point of contention that Aitrus was going to have to delicately smooth over. [Good afternoon,] the man said, golden head bobbing on the screen. [Welcome to Desolatia.]
Aitrus smiled and bowed his head. “Good morning, Minister,” he replied - ship time being out of sync with the planet at the moment - with as much respect as he could offer. “On behalf of the Federation and the people of the USS Crusader, I thank you for letting us come and speak to you.”
[It is our pleasure,] Salinchar replied. [We’ve always had good relations with the Federation, though obviously things have been more… strained… these past few years. We look forward to renewing that friendship.] Aitrus nodded in approval, but the minister continued before he could formulate something appropriately diplomatic. [In your absence, we’ve had to turn to other sources for succor and friendship.]
“Other sources?” Aitrus said questioningly. “Who might those be, if I may ask?”
[You may ask,] the minister replied, [but I believe that might be a matter for our meeting in person. We show you arriving in orbit in about half an hour?] Aitrus nodded, the question still on his face. [Then perhaps we can meet here in my office in one hour. We shall send details shortly.] The screen blinked, and was replaced by the live forward view it normally had.
Aitrus stood there for a moment, blinking at the empty screen before he turned first to Silran, and then to his wife Samantha at the science console. “What the hell was that?” he asked.
“Sounds like they left us for another suitor,” Silran said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a smile across his face.
Samantha rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I doubt that,” she rejoined. “If they were looking to join up with someone, the only other option for them is the Cardassians, and I’m sure they weren’t that desperate.”
Aitrus, used to playing the mediator between them, cut through to the facts. “Do sensors show anyone else in orbit? Anything that might indicate what he meant?” Samantha turned to her console, a tad sheepishly if he was any judge of his wife of nearly two decades.
“Not picking up any stations or the like beyond the small one they’ve built themselves,” she said. The Desolatians were warp capable, but hadn’t done much with the technology in the fifty years since they joined the galactic scene. They’d managed to avoid taking part in galactic politics in that time mostly by the expedient of not being worth the trouble; they didn’t have any resources worth the effort to exploit them, and while they sat between Federation and Cardassian territory they weren’t exactly on the most expedient paths between them, limiting their strategic worth.
“I am picking up a couple of ships,” she continued, “just coming over the horizon. They look like…” She trailed off, and he had to look over at her. She had slumped a bit, and was rubbing the bridge of her nose in a well-worn look of annoyance. “It’s a large freighter and an escort,” she said. “And they’re Ferengi.”
==TBC==
==One week after launch==
Aitrus walked onto the bridge with a smile on his face. Sure, the Crusader could have arrived at the Desolatia system three days earlier, but the crew was still getting a feel for the new ship. Marina had been in a constant cycle of tweaking and tuning the engines as they went, making sure that everything worked just the way she wanted. Samantha had been doing the same to the sensors, getting each of her divisions to test and retest all of their equipment. Baz had been doing the same down in medical, as they fortunately had yet to have any injuries more severe than a scrape or bruise.
He’d been most impressed with Spirit, the new tactical officer. They hadn’t been able to stop for a proper weapons test, but he had instead had the tactical department running simulated drills surrounded with level one diagnostics of the phasers and torpedo launchers. It wasn’t the same as a true weapons test - which Aitrus had promised as soon as they had an opportunity, likely after this first visit - but it at least gave them the best chance to make sure they were operating correctly, both from a technical standpoint as well as personnel wise.
Nathan had, for his part, also been busy making the department his own, and having a bit easier time than Spirit had. The forthcoming mission hadn’t imposed any specific needs, but that hadn’t stopped the new security chief from starting rounds of simulations and drills. They needed to learn who their comrades were, he knew, and how they reacted under pressure - all valuable information that Nathan needed as well, and Aitrus knew he’d been spending long nights collating that data as well. He suspected Nathan had something to prove; hopefully Aitrus could eventually convince him that the only one who needed that proof was Nathan himself.
So as Aitrus took his seat, he was more than confident in not just his ship, but the crew as well. They may not all have been his people from before, on the Luna, but old and new alike were working well enough together that he was pleased. “How are we doing, Commander?” he asked his first officer as he took his seat.
“So far, so good,” the Romulan said. Aitrus knew he had wanted desperately to join in the tactical preparations, but he’d done well and not hand-held the new head of his old department. For one, he’d been too busy with the minutiae of being the first officer of a much larger ship, and a brand new one as well. For another, Aitrus had noticed he’d matured a lot over their jaunt to the Delta Quadrant, and was glad that his friend was settling into the new role so well. “We’re set to arrive any moment now.”
As if he’d been watching the helm himself - Silran had been a pilot, and seemed to still have a preternatural sense for the engines - the stars slid back to points. “We’ve arrived in the Desolatia system, Captain,” the young ensign at the helm said. “Our approach to Desolatia III-B should have us arriving in about thirty minutes.”
Samantha had teased him all week that the entire reason they were coming here was because the planet was actually the moon of a gas giant in the star’s habitable zone. Already rare enough to have a natural Class-M moon, Desolatia III-B actually orbited the gas giant at ninety degrees to the system’s ecliptic, and yet its rotation both about its axis and about the gas giant gave it four seasons, a beautiful temperate climate, and a fantastic sky. It was an oddity in the quadrant, and she was preparing several teams to gather data about the system while they were here.
“Excellent,” Aitrus replied, and stood back up. “They should be expecting us, but go ahead and hail the planet anyway,” he said to Lieutenant Spirit, who immediately bent to the console to comply.
Moments later, the screen sprang to life with the image of Parson Salinchar, the Desolatian Minister of the Exterior and Aitrus’ point of contact since the Federation did not currently have an ambassador on the planet. The fact that they hadn’t appointed anyone to the role in the past five years was a point of contention that Aitrus was going to have to delicately smooth over. [Good afternoon,] the man said, golden head bobbing on the screen. [Welcome to Desolatia.]
Aitrus smiled and bowed his head. “Good morning, Minister,” he replied - ship time being out of sync with the planet at the moment - with as much respect as he could offer. “On behalf of the Federation and the people of the USS Crusader, I thank you for letting us come and speak to you.”
[It is our pleasure,] Salinchar replied. [We’ve always had good relations with the Federation, though obviously things have been more… strained… these past few years. We look forward to renewing that friendship.] Aitrus nodded in approval, but the minister continued before he could formulate something appropriately diplomatic. [In your absence, we’ve had to turn to other sources for succor and friendship.]
“Other sources?” Aitrus said questioningly. “Who might those be, if I may ask?”
[You may ask,] the minister replied, [but I believe that might be a matter for our meeting in person. We show you arriving in orbit in about half an hour?] Aitrus nodded, the question still on his face. [Then perhaps we can meet here in my office in one hour. We shall send details shortly.] The screen blinked, and was replaced by the live forward view it normally had.
Aitrus stood there for a moment, blinking at the empty screen before he turned first to Silran, and then to his wife Samantha at the science console. “What the hell was that?” he asked.
“Sounds like they left us for another suitor,” Silran said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a smile across his face.
Samantha rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I doubt that,” she rejoined. “If they were looking to join up with someone, the only other option for them is the Cardassians, and I’m sure they weren’t that desperate.”
Aitrus, used to playing the mediator between them, cut through to the facts. “Do sensors show anyone else in orbit? Anything that might indicate what he meant?” Samantha turned to her console, a tad sheepishly if he was any judge of his wife of nearly two decades.
“Not picking up any stations or the like beyond the small one they’ve built themselves,” she said. The Desolatians were warp capable, but hadn’t done much with the technology in the fifty years since they joined the galactic scene. They’d managed to avoid taking part in galactic politics in that time mostly by the expedient of not being worth the trouble; they didn’t have any resources worth the effort to exploit them, and while they sat between Federation and Cardassian territory they weren’t exactly on the most expedient paths between them, limiting their strategic worth.
“I am picking up a couple of ships,” she continued, “just coming over the horizon. They look like…” She trailed off, and he had to look over at her. She had slumped a bit, and was rubbing the bridge of her nose in a well-worn look of annoyance. “It’s a large freighter and an escort,” she said. “And they’re Ferengi.”
==TBC==