01-22-2025, 02:59 AM
The room was starting to fill up, and Jenny's deep-routed anxieties about such occasions had wormed its way to the forefront of her mind. She had stood staring at the obscured windows overlooking the bay where her ship had finished (allegedly) her course of repairs and refit. Though she could not physically see the vessel through the opaque viewport, part of her knew that her ship was out there, she could "feel" her in a way she'd not felt a ship since the Voltaire. She'd been told on more than one occasion, usually by crusty old salts in the engine room or retired Captains with nothing else to do, that a Captain bonded with their first command in a way that couldn't be matched. The Yeager wasn't Jenny's first ship (though it would likely be her last if she kept pushing the limits with Starfleet Command), but she felt the same kinship with it that she'd felt with the Voltaire.
She'd put so much of her blood, sweat, and tears into the construction and maintenance of the Voltaire and the recommissioning of the original Yeager that they'd felt like family. Every quirk, idiosyncrasy, and flaw. So much of the previous Yeager had made its way into the current ship, it didn't feel like a different ship at all, despite the state-of-the-art equipment.
It was more a refit than new construction, probably how Nahamcam snuck it past the SCE. Shame Starfleet assigned it a random registration and didn't slap a dash-A on it.
Speaking of random, Jenny turned and looked out from her isolation on the stage. Her crew were assembling and mingling with the guests from Starbase 214 and further afield. They were as much a mishmash of components as the Yeager itself was; the renegades, the rejects. The Yeager crew was, for the most part, a real-life representation of the Island of Misfit Toys. The newer crew, those assigned straight from the Academy, were free from the stigma and baggage that came with 75% of the crew's service records; they would be the redemption of the Yeager in the court of public opinion.
Or the Yeager would inevitably corrupt them, too.
Let's recap:
First Officer - Mutineer. Sleeping with Security Officer?
Helmswoman - Murderer.
Tactical Officer - Assaulted an Admiral's kid.
Engineer - Lost his ship, on top of being Gorn.
Science Officer - One of Adaran's bunch.
Security Officer - Mutineer. Sleeping with First Officer?
Medical Officer - Klingon expat.
And that's just the Senior Staff...
If anyone on the outside were to look at her crew and the list of crimes and misdemeanors on their service records, they'd assume that either the records were inaccurate, or that Jenny had created some kind of Dirty Dozen/A-Team for a deniable operation behind enemy lines. It wasn't even beyond the realms of possibility that that was exactly what the higher-ups had planned for her and her crew...
Mentally shaking herself out of her rabbit hole, Jenny allowed herself a small smile. They weren't a polished team like the crew of the Enterprise or Voyager, but they were a good crew, with the same rough edges and can-do energy as the Cerritos or Starbase 80 some twenty years previously. They got stuff done in their own way, and were unapologetic about stepping on toes or offending the sensibilities of foreign diplomats. That was probably why even this ceremony, supposedly an official commissioning, was distinctly lacking in attending VIPs.
Jenny decided she preferred it that way.
Which one is most like Beckett Mariner? And who would be Boimler?
She'd put so much of her blood, sweat, and tears into the construction and maintenance of the Voltaire and the recommissioning of the original Yeager that they'd felt like family. Every quirk, idiosyncrasy, and flaw. So much of the previous Yeager had made its way into the current ship, it didn't feel like a different ship at all, despite the state-of-the-art equipment.
It was more a refit than new construction, probably how Nahamcam snuck it past the SCE. Shame Starfleet assigned it a random registration and didn't slap a dash-A on it.
Speaking of random, Jenny turned and looked out from her isolation on the stage. Her crew were assembling and mingling with the guests from Starbase 214 and further afield. They were as much a mishmash of components as the Yeager itself was; the renegades, the rejects. The Yeager crew was, for the most part, a real-life representation of the Island of Misfit Toys. The newer crew, those assigned straight from the Academy, were free from the stigma and baggage that came with 75% of the crew's service records; they would be the redemption of the Yeager in the court of public opinion.
Or the Yeager would inevitably corrupt them, too.
Let's recap:
First Officer - Mutineer. Sleeping with Security Officer?
Helmswoman - Murderer.
Tactical Officer - Assaulted an Admiral's kid.
Engineer - Lost his ship, on top of being Gorn.
Science Officer - One of Adaran's bunch.
Security Officer - Mutineer. Sleeping with First Officer?
Medical Officer - Klingon expat.
And that's just the Senior Staff...
If anyone on the outside were to look at her crew and the list of crimes and misdemeanors on their service records, they'd assume that either the records were inaccurate, or that Jenny had created some kind of Dirty Dozen/A-Team for a deniable operation behind enemy lines. It wasn't even beyond the realms of possibility that that was exactly what the higher-ups had planned for her and her crew...
Mentally shaking herself out of her rabbit hole, Jenny allowed herself a small smile. They weren't a polished team like the crew of the Enterprise or Voyager, but they were a good crew, with the same rough edges and can-do energy as the Cerritos or Starbase 80 some twenty years previously. They got stuff done in their own way, and were unapologetic about stepping on toes or offending the sensibilities of foreign diplomats. That was probably why even this ceremony, supposedly an official commissioning, was distinctly lacking in attending VIPs.
Jenny decided she preferred it that way.
Which one is most like Beckett Mariner? And who would be Boimler?