Eighteen months before the events portrayed
in “Star Trek: Nemesis”
May 2378
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Admiral
Peter J. Koester exclaimed as he stormed onto the bridge of the USS Sagan and up to the command
chair. “Have you seen this, Exec?”
Koester handed the padd to Rear Admiral Dari R’burt,
the Admiral’s Bajoran Executive Officer and the
Commanding Officer of the Hawking-class starship. Dari grasped the padd
in his hand and scanned the text. The
only indication the Bajoran officer gave that he did
not like what he was reading was the bristling of his thick mustache.
“They can’t be serious!” Dari
harrumphed.
“They’re totally serious, that’s the
most unsettling part,” Koester replied.
“We’ve spent over a month crawling back to spacedock
after that freak ion storm depolorized our warp coils
and damaged the subspace transceiver, and Starfleet Command has the nerve to
accuse me of neglecting my duties to the Federation?!?”
“Maybe once you present your
report…?” Dari started to say as he adjusted his body into a slightly more
comfortable position in the center seat.
“Unfortunately its all pretty much
cut and dried,” Koester said with a sigh.
“Admiral Arrh filed the charges. It’s pretty well known he’s been gunning for
my assignment behind the scenes since before my appointment as Aide to the
Federation Council President was even considered.”
“What are you going to do?” Dari
asked.
“I’m going to go there and…” Koester’s voice trailed off for a moment
before he sighed again, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Ahhh, I don’t
know. I know what I feel like
doing, but my ingrained sense of duty prevents me from just going and doing
it.” He looked up toward the main viewscreen where the blue-white marble called Earth was
just becoming recognizable. “Helm, ETA
to spacedock?”
“Nine hours, eighteen minutes,
present speed, Admiral,” the young Andorian at the
helm console responded.
Koester sighed one more time, then turned toward the turbolift,
saying as he went, “Notify me when we enter spacedock,
Exec.”
The turbolift
doors snapped shut behind Koester before Dari could say, “Aye, sir.”
Space, the Final
Frontier…
Star Trek: Personal Logs
“Homecoming” By PJK
Twelve hours later, Admiral Koester
materialized on the transporter pad in Starfleet Headquarters in
Normally a flag-officer of his rank
would likewise have an office in the headquarters as well, but being assigned
as the Aide to the President and commander of Starfleet-One, the presidential transport starship USS Sagan, his own small yet comfortable
office was n Paris, in the same building that housed the president’s
offices. Not that Koester even liked the
office much anyway, preferring instead to spend as much time as possible aboard
the Sagan. But if he had to spend time planetside, it was better in
The elevator doors opened onto a
plush anteroom, where a human female wearing lieutenant’s pips sat behind a
desk, her concentration intent on the computer screen in front of her until
Koester stepped up to the desk. The
lieutenant’s eyes glanced up in Koester’s direction, then
she suddenly sprung to her feet when she realized it was an admiral standing
before her.
“Admiral Peter J. Koester, reporting
to see Admiral Arrh as ordered,” Koester announced
formally. The Lieutenant glanced briefly
at her monitor before answering.
“Yes, Admiral, you’re expected. Admiral Arrh is in
a meeting, but will see you shortly.”
She gestured toward a couple of adequate yet uncomfortable chairs along
the wall, then returned to her work, glancing every
now and then at Koester, who had declined the seats, preferring to pace
impatiently near the chairs instead.
A few minutes passed before a soft
buzz sounded at the lieutenant’s desk.
The woman looked up at Koester, who had glanced over at the sound, and
said, “The admiral will see you now.”
She gestured toward the inner door which swung open at his approach.
Admiral Arrh’s
office was everything Koester remembered.
A full bar lined one side of the room, apparently used
for entertaining and diplomatic gatherings. A couch, low table, and two chairs exactly
like the ones in the outer office sat along the opposite wall from the
bar. A large desk,
almost as big as his whole ready room aboard the Sagan, Koester thought, dominated the center of the third wall,
which was a floor to ceiling transparent aluminum window with a spectacular
view of the Presideo grounds and the recently rebuilt
Behind the desk sat the man Koester
was here to see, Admiral Arrh. The Admiral was a portly Tellerite
who held much influence in Starfleet Command, too much some felt, in spite of
all the toes he had stepped on climbing the career ladder. And much to Koester’s chagrin, Arrh was not alone.
To the left of the admiral sat two other officers whom Koester
recognized. Rear
Admiral Powl and Captain Faarkidd. This meeting was looking more and more to
Koester like an ambush.
Koester stopped in front of the desk
and stood at attention.
“Admiral Koester, reporting as
ordered.”
Arrh
glanced over at Powl and Faarkidd,
a slight gleam in his eye, before returning his gaze toward Koester.
“Been a little out of touch lately,
haven’t you Pete?” Arrh asked, sounding as if Koester
had deliberately avoided contact with Starfleet Command.
“Begging the admiral’s pardon,”
Koester said, still standing at attention, “but have you read the report I
filed right after Sagan moored in spacedock?”
“I glanced at it,” Arrh said with a bored tone in his voice. “That the Sagan
was caught in an ion storm.” The admiral
picked up a padd from his desk and read from a list
displayed there. “Warp drive rendered
inoperable for both starship and all auxiliary craft. Subspace transceiver damaged, capable of
receiving only. Structural
damage to nacelles and support pylons.
Minor buckling of the spaceframe…” He looked up at Koester. “I hope you realize just how serious this is,
Pete. Why did you wait almost thirty
days to inform HQ of all this damage?”
Koester opened his mouth to reply,
his eyebrows knit in annoyance, but Arrh continued.
“What made you take the ship into an
ion storm to begin with? I would think
an officer with your experience would know better. It sounds almost like dereliction.”
Koester cleared his throat to
interrupt, then answered, “Sagan was
undergoing space-trials after our recent warp core upgrade. We had no warning of the ion storm, which did
not show up on long-range sensors, until we dropped out of warp right in the
middle of it, sir.”
Arrh
grunted, the implication sounding as if he did not believe the convenient
excuse in the least, before continuing as if he had not even heard Koester.
“Not only negligence, but in your
absence, President Retseok was invited to the
inauguration of the new governor on Celtus III. With Sagan
traipsing around who knew where, the president was forced to respectfully
decline the invitation. I can assure you
he, and the entire population of Celtus, were not
happy.”
Koester rolled his eyes without
being too obvious, knowing President Retseok detested
Celtus’ newly elected governor and would have used
any excuse not to attend, not to mention the fact the president could have been
transported on any other available starship in the Sagan’s absence. In his own
opinion, the least Arrh could have done was send
another ship to locate the Sagan
after they had lost contact. But before
he could actually say anything further in his own defense, Koester was
interrupted by Faarkidd.
“There are quite a few people in the
organization who believe they can handle your duties better than you’ve been
doing to this point,” the human captain noted.
“Really?”
Koester finally managed to say with a hint of sarcasm, his body relaxing
slightly from the position of attention he had held since entering the
office. He stepped over toward the large
windows between the bar and Arrh’s desk and, facing
away from the other officers in the room, looked out on the grounds of
Starfleet Command and the adjacent Academy.
Arrh, Faarkidd and Powl looked at one another, and sensing a form of victory,
exchanged smiles with one another before Arrh
continued talking.
“With all this in mind,
and with you out of contact for so long, it was decided you should be
reassigned to different duties. Another
officer will be taking your place as Aide-de-Camp to the President.”
Koester did not turn, since the news
really did not come as a surprise to him at all, but continued to gaze out the
window toward the immense orange bridge.
His hands moved up near his neck, as if adjusting his collar, and in a
voice somewhat softer than his usual tone he asked, “Who?”
“The final decision hasn’t been made
yet, but in all likelihood, either myself or Admiral Powl,” Arrh replied. “In the meantime, you’ll be reassigned desk
duty here in
Koester closed his eyes as if in
silent prayer for a moment, then turned and walked with a sense of
deliberateness back to Arrh’s desk.
“With all due respect, Admiral, I
think not.”
Koester had entered Arrh’s office hoping to walk back out with everything he
had carried in still in his possession, but as a matter of course he had been
prepared for every contingency. He
placed his padd on Arrh’s
desk, then dropped two much smaller objects on top of
the padd with a clatter.
“Gentlemen,” Koester said cordially,
bowing his head respectfully toward each of the three officers before turning
on his heel and heading out the door. Faarkidd watched Koester depart, then glanced at the padd, upon which two admirals rank bars now sat. Just visible on the screen below them were
displayed the words, “I, Peter J. Koester, hereby resign my Starfleet
commission, effective immediately…”
Arrh
simply stared in disbelief at the now-closed doors of his office,
somehow feeling like his victory had been snatched away.
* * * *
Nineteen Months Later
December 2379
Lunar
The apartment door slid open as
Peter Koester stepped in.
“Daddy!” shouted the
delighted-sounding voice of his 10 year-old daughter Gem as she ran across the
living room and enveloped her father in the biggest hug she could give
him. “You’re home early today!”
“Passenger traffic was a little
light today, so I gave myself the afternoon off,” Koester said, placing his
dark blue work jacket over the back of a nearby chair.
Since leaving Starfleet, Koester had
started working as senior manager of a small but successful intra-solar
transport service. Good benefits and a
steady work schedule that allowed him plenty of time to be with his young
daughter. But even out of Starfleet a
desk job did not suit him, so he had assigned himself as pilot of the
Earth-Mars-Jupiter Station shuttle, which ran three times a week. The whole route lasted just under six hours,
which allowed him plenty of time for his in-office work, plus had the added
benefit of maintaining his piloting skills as well. Life out of Starfleet was certainly different
than he had been used to. Koester had
even grown a mustache and goatee-style beard since living on the moon.
“You have a couple of messages,” Gem
said as she released her grip on her father and he headed for a seat in his
favorite chair.
“Anything important?” he asked,
intending to ignore the messages until after dinner so he could relax for a
short while.
“I think one of them is from
Starfleet,” Gem replied, sounding as if she were not sure if it would be
considered important or simply bad news.
“Starfleet, huh?”
Koester asked, already halfway into his chair before he decided he might as
well get the messages out of the way. He
walked over to the nearby wall-mounted monitor and said, “Computer, display new
messages.”
The computer bleeped in
acknowledgement and text started to fill the screen. Koester’s facial expression changed from
skepticism to sorrow as he read it.
“Oh no,” he commented.
“What’s the matter, daddy?” Gem
asked from across the room where she had started to work on some homework on
her own computer terminal.
“Someone daddy used to know,
Commander Data from the
* * * *
A few days later, wearing his dress
uniform for the first time since that day in Admiral Arrh’s
office over a year before, Koester and his daughter, dressed in her own best
outfit, attended Data’s memorial service on the grounds of
The key-note speaker of the memorial
was Data’s commanding officer, Captain Jean-Luc Picard,
a man Koester had raised more than one glass with during various encounters
through the years, who shared some insightful thoughts on his departed
crewmember. And later, as the memorial
service ended, Koester sought out an old friend he had spotted sitting on the
dais near Picard.
“Kate!” Koester shouted, waving is hand in the air.
Kathryn Janeway looked up at the mention of
her name and smiled when she saw who it was making his way through the
crowd. Koester stepped up and gave his
old friend and mentor a hug.
“Congratulations, Admiral,” Koester
said, emphasizing the rank. “On both the promotion and bringing Voyager home. I’m
sorry I hadn’t had the chance to see you any sooner since you returned to the
Alpha Quadrant.”
Janeway
smiled, dismissing Koester’s concerns, then commented,
“Back in uniform, I see? I heard you
took early retirement and not under the best of circumstances. Is this a sign of things to come?”
“Just for the memorial, Kate,”
Koester replied, then nudged his daughter forward with
his foot. “Gem, this is Admiral Kathryn Janeway.” He looked
at Janeway and added, “You may not remember my
daughter Gem. The last time you saw her
she was just a baby, a few months before you assumed command of the Voyager.”
“This little lady is Gem?” Janeway said in amazement, then
turned toward the awestruck young girl.
“My, but you’ve grown to be a beautiful young lady.” Gem blushed, then
tried to hide behind her father. Koester
and Janeway chuckled, then
continued to catch up on old times while the admiral continued to press Koester
to return to the fleet until they were joined a few minutes later by Captain
Picard.
“I’m afraid I must mingle some more
anyway,” Janeway apologized after expressing her
condolences to Picard. “Think about what
I said, Peter.” She offered her
farewells to Koester and his daughter, who still peeked shyly from behind her
father, and then disappeared into the crowd.
“Can I buy you a drink, Jean-Luc?”
Koester offered. “I believe it’s my
turn.”
“A cup of tea would be more
appreciated right now,” Picard replied, and the three made their way toward the
refreshment table set up nearby. Koester
retrieved three cups from the portable replicator on
the table, Earl Grey for Picard, coffee for himself, and coffee – very heavy on
the milk – for his young daughter and they moved toward some tables and chairs
that had been arranged under large open-sided tents along the edge of the
quad. A quartet of junior officers
jumped up and offered their seats as Koester and Picard approached, and as Gem
happily slurped her ‘coffee,’ Picard and Koester talked.
The Captain offered his insights
into the
“…Especially after what happened at Veridian III,” he added.
However, eventually the topic changed to Picard’s interest in how early retirement
was treating the former admiral.
“It’s… well… Fine,” Koester replied,
not sounding entirely convincing. “I
enjoy my job. I have plenty of time to
spend with Gem.” The little girl looked
up at the mention of her name, then returned her attention
to the coffee-milk. “In fact,” Koester
added, “it feels like, sometimes, I have too much time.” Koester sighed, then
added, “Frankly, Jean-Luc, I’m bored!”
Picard nodded as if he had suspected
as much and sipped his cup of Earl Grey, then asked, “Have
you considered returning to Starfleet?”
Koester shook his head, saying,
“Admiral Janeway asked me the same thing. But even if I were inclined to, I don’t think
I could. I’m not going to crawl in on my
knees. I don’t want to step right back
into the same situation I left everything behind over. Too many toes have been stepped on, mine
included.”
“I think you’d be surprised by how
much has changed at Command since you’ve been gone,” Picard said, placing his
teacup on the table. “Shortly after you
left, Admiral Powl and Captain Farrkidd
both retired rather suddenly, along with some other recently assigned key
personnel in the Aide-de-Camp’s office.
Apparently few knew exactly how much work you actually did for the
little prestige the job gave you.”
Koester’s eyebrows rose in surprise, though he admitted to himself the
situation was not entirely unexpected.
Picard continued, “The stress of the whole affair quite literally
sickened Admiral Arrh. He decided to step down a couple of months
after you resigned.”
Under the circumstances, Koester
tried to suppress the smile that slightly creased his lips, then
said, “But a desk job is not for me, Jean-Luc.
Put me behind a desk all day and I’ll be the one getting
sick. Why do you think my shuttle company’s
senior manager pilots the damn transport himself every few days?”
Picard smiled a knowing smile as he
replied, “Another captain friend of mine gave me some advice a number of years
ago, and I took it very much to heart. I
offer that advice to you now.” He took
another sip of his tea before continuing.
“He said, ‘Don’t let them promote
you. Don’t let them transfer you. Don’t let them do anything that takes
you off the bridge of that ship! Because while you’re there, you can make a difference!’ ”
Picard gazed hard at Koester.
“Come back to Starfleet, Peter! Get back your command! Make a difference once again!”
* * * *
Six Months Later
June 2380
The large metal doors of the council
chamber slid slowly aside to admit Peter Koester to the special session of the
Federation Council. It was the end of a
six-month journey that had begun that December day on the Academy grounds. Beings from worlds across almost half the
galaxy sat in the two long galleries which lined each side of the long
chamber. On the raised dais at the far
end were seated three people, representatives of the permanent Security
Council. One was Vulcan, another Terran.
The third, a native of Alpha
Centauri, stood as Koester, dressed much as he was six months earlier in his
Starfleet dress uniform, took his position before the dais. President Retseok
stepped over to a podium on the left side of the low stage.
“Our last order of business for the
day, the special request for reinstatement of commission by Admiral Peter J.
Koester, Starfleet, retired,” The President stated. “Upon review of your record and the
regulations of Starfleet and its charter, the Federation Council has found no
reason not to grant your request. By the
power vested in me by the citizens of the United Federation of Planets, I
hereby reinstate your commission as an Admiral in…”
“Excuse me, Mister President,”
Koester interrupted, causing some chatter among the various delegates and
raised eyebrows on a few of the Vulcans present. “If you have truly reviewed my record, as you
say you have, then you know where my chief strengths lie. Take for example my mission to the 20th
century which preserved history as we know it?
Or successfully uncovering a murder plot to kill the Arderan
ambassador? Not to mention when the Q sent my ship back to the battle of
Wolf 359! Our
successful negotiations to make Rohrer IV a protectorate of the Federation. Our participation in the Dominion War…!”
The President gestured for Koester
to stop as he looked around the council chamber.
“Reinstatement as an admiral
consigns me to a desk job, Mister President,” Koester finally added with a
sigh. “If that is my only choice, I must
respectfully withdraw my special request.
My first, best duty is on the bridge of a starship. The rank of a captain. If you cannot grant that, then I cannot
accept your generous considerations.”
The council chamber fell dead silent
for a moment, until President Retseok cleared his
throat.
“I had a feeling you would say
something like that,” he said with a grin.
The President then picked up a padd that had
been sitting on the podium the entire time.
He glanced at its display for a moment before continuing with a smile, “Admiral
Janeway tells me there is a starship at Utopia Planitia currently undergoing a long-delayed overhaul
following the battles of the Dominion War, awaiting a new Commanding
Officer. If you want her, she’s yours…. Captain.” He offered
the padd to Koester, who accepted it while smiling
from ear to ear before sticking it under the crook of his arm to accept the
President’s congratulations.
* * * *
A few hours later, changed into his
regular grey-shouldered duty uniform for the first time in more than two years,
Captain Peter J. Koester made his way through the streets of downtown
Eventually he reached his
destination, the imposing solid concrete face of the headquarters of Starfleet
Security. He placed his palm against the
reader alongside the door, which quickly scanned his print. The reader bleeped obligingly as its
indicator turned green and the main door slid open. Koester stepped inside and walked toward the
directory monitor to locate the office he was looking for. The entire lobby was decorated in shades of
Security-Gold, giving the entire building the feel of a pressed-latinum depository.
And the Captain could not help but notice that everyone in the lobby
around him wore the gold-colored shirt of the Security division. He even began to believe he might be the only
Command-Red shirt in the entire building when he detected the occasional
guarded glance in his direction.
Entering his inquiry into the
computerized directory, a pattern lit up on the floor for him to follow,
leading Koester to a bank of elevators, which whisked him up to the 7th
floor of the 15 story structure. Another
pattern on the floor led him to a nearby office. He smiled as he read the name next to the
door, neatly printed above the title “Assistant Head of Security – Sol Sector,”
then stepped inside.
“Captain Peter Koester to see the
commander,” he announced to the young ensign who manned the outer desk. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment.”
The ensign scowled slightly, whether
from the inconvenience of the unexpected visitor or the fact that said visitor
wore a command division red shirt Koester could not tell. The ensign looked up the daily office
schedule on his computer monitor, then commented, “The
commander is presently in an open slot in the schedule. Would you like me to announce you, sir?” Koester nodded and the ensign stood up and
walked into the inner office.
“Excuse me, Commander, but there’s
some command-division captain here to speak to you.”
Commander K’danz,
former Chief of Security aboard two of the starships commanded by Koester in
the past, looked up from the report she was preparing. Carrie, as she was known to her friends and
associates, was human, but had changed her name to a Klingon
form to honor the family of her half-Klingon husband
when they were first engaged to be married years earlier. She was annoyed by the interruption, since
she had to have the security briefing for the diplomatic conference on Mars
Colony completed by 1500, and open time slots on her schedule were rare. It took her a moment to recognize the
mustached and bearded face of the officer that walked in, but once she had her
expression quickly changed to shock, then joy as she realized whom it was who
stood before her.
“Peter!” she exclaimed, almost
vaulting over the desk to hug her former Commanding Officer. She then took a step back and looked at
Koester at arms length, a puzzled expression on her face. “What are you doing in uniform? And captain’s pips?? Last time we spoke you told me you had left
Starfleet for good!”
“The situation changed,” Koester
said with a smile, happy to see K’danz again. “The conditions seemed right for me to make a
triumphant return.”
K’danz
quickly remembered her manners and offered Koester a seat near her desk as she
stepped around to return to her own chair.
“But why a captain? Surely you deserved to be reinstated as an
admiral again?”
Koester shook his head.
“You know I was never happy with the
paper-pusher job. This was my condition
for accepting my commission back. Think
about it, where have I always performed best?”
“In the center seat,” K’danz replied without hesitation, amazed that the captain
had actually set terms for his own reinstatement. Koester nodded at her answer.
“Have they given you a ship?” K’danz asked, both in awe and shock that her former CO had
managed a feat not accomplished since the days of James T. Kirk. Again Koester nodded.
“Which one?”
A look of confusion suddenly crossed
the captain’s face.
“You know, the transfer order was
handed to me by the President himself, but I was so giddy with relief and
excitement that I rushed right down here to talk to you and didn’t even look to
see what ship I have yet!”
K’danz
chucked at her friend’s absent-minded behavior, then
asked, “Why rush here just to talk to me then?
I would think you’d be getting all the low-down on your new crew and
assignment.”
Koester’s expression suddenly turned
serious.
“Carrie, are you content with your
current assignment?” he asked straightforwardly. K’danz’s eyebrows
knit together.
“Are you kidding? I’m the Assistant Head of Security for the
entire Sol sector. On most days I have
paperwork up to my ears. There are times
when I have so many padds on my desk I can’t even see
my own door. My stress levels can be
measured in Astronomical Units. And the
closest I’ve gotten to the stars I joined Starfleet to explore in the three
years I’ve been assigned here is to look at them out my window when I work late
into the night, which is all too often around here.”
K’danz
stood up and walked over to the small window near her desk, pulling back the
gold curtain, dyed to match the Security division uniform color, and gazed out
at the scene below. Koester moved up
behind his former Chief of Security, looking out over her shoulder. In the distance beyond could be glimpsed
“There are days here when I feel as
trapped as if I were on that very rock in the bay back when it was a prison 400
years ago.” She smiled grimly, then asked hopefully, “Do you by chance need a Chief of
Security?”
Koester placed his hands on the
commander’s muscular shoulders as he shook his head and said, “No.” A look of utter disappointment covered K’danz’s face, but as she opened her mouth to ask why he
had brought up this conversation, the captain continued, “I do, however, need a
First Officer.” He tugged on the gold
collar of K’danz’s uniform and with a smile asked,
“How do you look in red?”
K’danz
could not believe her ears as she slowly turned around and looked in shock at
Koester’s smiling face.
“You’re not teasing me, are
you? Come on, play fair!”
“I’m completely serious. I need a First Officer. Captain Virgil Kane is off on his own assignment,
who knows where? Rear-Admiral Dari still
has the Sagan to command. You’re my next logical choice. I know you’re qualified and more importantly,
I know I trust you.”
Still half in shock, K’danz glanced around the small room that had been her
office for the past three years. There
was a part of her… a tiny, itty-bitty, extremely small and almost insignificant
part of her… that would miss her job in solar system security. And at least it allowed her a steady place to
call home with…
“Dar! I can’t just leave him behind on Earth!” Worry now creased K’danz’s
brow as she suddenly felt like she had to choose between a dream job and
staying with her husband on Earth.
Koester gestured for her to calm down.
“Let me buy you lunch,” the captain
offered, pointing toward the door. “We
can catch up on things and discuss my offer further. Afterward we’ll see what can be arranged. I’ll try and get Dar reassigned with us.”
K’danz
nodded, reassured, and followed Koester out into the waiting room. It had been, after all, a number of hours
since her last real meal, and all the excitement of the last few minutes had
made her hungry.
“Ensign, if anyone needs me I’m
going out of office with Captain Koester.
And if Fleet Captain Sedgewick calls about the
security arrangements for Mars, tell him it will be ready for his review by
1600. If he asks why it will be late,
just tell him something unavoidable came up.”
“Yes, Commander,” the young ensign
replied with the same scowl he had initially greeted Koester with.
As the two officers stepped out onto
the sidewalk of
“Do you really think you can get Dar
transferred to the crew with us?”
“I’ll do my best, Carrie,” Koester
replied.
“I really hope it can be worked
out,” she commented. “I want this
assignment so bad now, I can taste it!”
* * * *
Two weeks later a shuttlecraft
lifted off from the main hanger bay below Starfleet Headquarters and arced over
the
“Take her up to these coordinates,”
Koester ordered as he tapped a series of numbers into the console. K’danz glanced at
the monitor, then back at the helm as she adjusted the course into orbit.
“Where does that take up before we
head toward Utopis Planitia?”
K’danz asked.
Outside the viewports the sky turned from vibrant blue to the darkest
black as the shuttlecraft transitioned out of the atmosphere.
“Starfleet Yards orbiting
Shortly, the shuttlecraft was
maneuvering amongst the various drydocks and orbiting
office complexes that comprised Starfleet Yards San Francisco.
“By the way, thank you,” K’danz said sincerely as she piloted the shuttle past work
bees and transport pods. Koester glanced
at her with a raised eyebrow reminiscent of a Vulcan. “For arranging Dar’s transfer and managing to
get it approved,” she clarified. “I’d
hate to have left him behind.”
“It was simple enough,” Koester
reassured. “Once I found out our ship
was in need of a Chief Engineer, Dar’s file just happened to jump to the top of
my list. It took some arm twisting, but
thankfully I still have some influence at Headquarters.” He smiled as he thought back to his recent
meeting with Admiral Janeway.
“That reminds me,” K’danz added as she turned the shuttle in the direction
Koester indicated. A large orbital drydock floated directly before them, still several
kilometers away. “You never told me
which ship we were assigned to.”
“I never told you because I don’t
know myself,” Koester said with a wry smile as he peered closely toward the
orbiting structure they approached.
“Apparently someone in Starfleet Ops is having some fun at my expense,
and I suspect it’s my old mentor, Kate.
I checked my orders as soon as I got back to my quarters after our lunch
two weeks ago. All the orders stated was
‘Report to Utopia Planitia and assume command of the
vessel moored at Slip 29-Delta.’”
“So for all you know, we could all
be reporting to a garbage scow,” K’danz said without
humor.
“Oh come on, they wouldn’t do that
to me!” Koester said, glancing briefly at his First Officer, then with a
worried expression, added, “Would they?”
K’danz
shrugged her shoulders just as the shuttlecraft cleared the forward frames of
the drydock and the vessel contained within came into
view.
“Mother of God!”
Koester exclaimed.
“I’d heard the stories going around,
but I never imagined…,” K’danz started to say, her
mouth agape.
Nestled in the framework before
them, the Sovereign-class starship USS
Enterprise NCC-1701-E was undergoing major repairs. The entire forward end of the saucer lay open
in jagged tears and buckled hull plates, damaged almost beyond imagine during
the ship’s recent encounter with a Reman
warship. Even now, almost six months
after entering the repair yard it was evident there was much work to be done
before the Federation flagship would be spaceworthy
once again.
As the initial shock wore off,
Koester sadly shook his head, then looked at his First Officer, pointed at the
“Okay, enough staring at another
man’s misery. We have a ship of our own
to deal with, and no clue what condition she’s in,” Koester said, authority
filling his voice. “Set a course for
Utopia Planitia, Exec. Ahead three-quarter
impulse.”
“Three-quarter
impulse, aye. Course plotted and laid in,” K’danz responded
formally, then smiled at her captain.
“Very well. Engage.”
* * * *
Several hours later the shuttlecraft
entered orbit of Mars and closed on the Utopia Planitia
shipyard. A debate had ensued during the
voyage as to just what kind of ship Koester had been assigned. In the past the captain had commanded a scout
vessel, actually a modified Runabout, and then two starships, Intrepid and
Sovereign-classes. Koester was adamant
he was going to get a vessel at least the size of a Steamrunner
or Akira-class. K’danz
was still sure it would be a garbage scow.
“Open hailing frequencies,” Koester
ordered as the shipyard came into view. K’danz complied and the captain said, “Utopia Planitia Fleetyards, this is
Starfleet shuttlecraft on final approach.”
“This is Fleetyards
Mars,” a female voice responded.
“Welcome Starfleet shuttlecraft.
Please state your vector, destination and purpose.”
“Roger, Fleetyard. We’re currently on course 258 mark 9,
destination is the vessel at Slip 29-Delta, purpose is to assume command.”
The subspace radio frequency was
silent for a moment before the voice, sounding slightly more cheerful,
returned.
“Welcome, Captain. Your crew is expecting you. Alter your vector to 245 mark
5, altitude 160 kilometers, and slow to maneuvering thrusters. You are clear on final approach. Once again, welcome to Mars.”
“Thank you, Fleetyard,”
Koester said finally. “Starfleet
shuttlecraft, out.”
As the captain closed the comm circuit he looked out the forward viewport where their
maneuver had placed one of the Fleetyard’s many
orbiting drydocks directly ahead. The overall shape of a starship could be
glimpsed between the huge framework and lights of the structure, but no
detail. K’danz
slowed the small ship as it neared its destination. The wait and anticipation seemed almost
unbearable. Koester could not remember being
this excited to report aboard a starship since being assigned to the Al-Batani
right after graduating the Academy.
Finally, at almost a dead stop, the
shuttle cleared the framework of the drydock. There before him, glowing magnificently in
the bright worklights, was his starship.
Literally his
starship.
“I don’t believe this,” K’danz muttered.
There before them, painted in huge
alpha-numeric text on the saucer section of the Sovereign-class starship was
her nomenclature.
U.S.S. DAUNTLESS
NCC-75310
Koester
looked over at his First Officer, grinning like a new cadet, and said,
“Exec… We’re home!”
Space, the Final Frontier…
These are the voyages of the starship Dauntless!
Its ongoing mission;
To seek, to chart, to explore…
Slipping the surly
bonds of Earth,
Going where none
have been before!
Continue on to “Dauntless
Returning.”
Return to 2380.
Return to Stories Archive.