Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

Commander Jadaetti Davula ran her hand down the front of her uniform blouse, searching for wrinkles, loose threads, or anything else that shouldn’t be present.

She checked her reflection in the mirror, noting the crisp lines of the newly produced and exquisitely tailored uniform. Davula had just graduated from Starfleet’s rigorous Advanced Tactical School, a six-month program that had taught her more about combat strategy and tactics than she had learned in the first sixteen years of her career.

It was, she believed, the perfect accompaniment to her other professional achievements. Davula had already earned the titles of scientist, explorer, diplomat, survivor and that of full commander, Starfleet. Now her sights were set on the executive officer’s position aboard the starship Reykjavík.

She found her reflection tolerable, noting that the command white turtleneck undershirt did not accentuate her cobalt Bolian skin as well as sciences blue had. A cartilaginous bifurcated ridge bisected her body down the midline, dividing her bald head and all the rest the uniform concealed. Born to the Eastern continent of Bolarus IX, her head lacked the darker horizontal striping associated with those of her species from the westernmost landmass.

She suppressed her nervousness, telling herself this was just one opportunity of many available to her. She was a woman accustomed to challenges, and however today played out, it would not define her.

Davula stepped out of the starbase guest accommodations and made her way towards the docks.

* * *

Rachel Garrett came to attention in front of Commodore Trujillo’s ready room desk.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.”

Trujillo offered the younger woman a warm smile, gesturing to the chair facing the desk. “At ease, Ensign. Please, have a seat.”

“I’ve asked you here to discuss… something rather awkward, I’m afraid,” Trujillo hedged.

Garrett fought to maintain her composure, her worst fears realized. “Sir, if I can just explain…”

Trujillo appeared nonplussed, but acquiesced, making a vague ‘go on’ gesture as she sat back in her chair. “By all means, Mister Garrett.”

“I take full responsibility for my actions, sir. I allowed myself to drink too much, and although our… liaison… was completely consensual on both our parts, I regret the lack of discipline I demonstrated.”

Trujillo nodded slowly. “I appreciate that. Now, can you please explain what you’re referencing?”

Garrett blinked. “The party. Farouk and I… afterward.”

“You and Lieutenant Naifeh engaged in extracurricular activities following the party?” Trujillo arched an eyebrow. “Well, while that’s all terribly interesting, it isn’t why I asked you up here.”

“It’s… not?” Garrett couldn’t control the rush of blood to her face. She raised a slightly trembling hand to cover her eyes. “Dear God.”

Now it was Trujillo’s turn to struggle for composure. She had the most outrageous impulse to burst out laughing, like one might do with a similar admission from a close friend.

“Rachel, whatever happened between you and Farouk, that’s entirely your business. You’re both adults. I’m clearly in no position to lecture you or anyone else on the hazards of engaging in relationships with your fellow officers.”

Garrett dropped her hand, nodding feebly. “I’m sorry, sir… I’d just assumed…”

“Yes, clearly,” Trujillo allowed with a chuckle. “I actually called you here because, as you’re aware, Captain Sulu will be attending the wedding. Now, what you may not know is that once upon a time, the good captain allowed me to steal away her second officer, a rather colorful Tellarite of our mutual acquaintance. When this happened, Captain Sulu made it very clear that at some future point, I would be expected to return the favor.”

Garrett nodded fractionally, following along.

Trujillo held up a hand. “Now, before I go further, I want to make perfectly clear that nothing will happen without your express permission, Ensign.”

“Sir?”

“When you confronted me about having stolen you away from Captain Erlichman, I told you that I’d make it up to you by assuring sure you got a plumb assignment moving forward. Yorktown is about to undertake a five-year deep space exploration mission, and Captain Sulu has just lost her chief science officer to a Daystrom fellowship. She is very interested in you, Ensign.”

“Me, sir?” Garrett’s eyes widened. “In what capacity, sir?”

“Chief science officer, of course,” Trujillo replied. “It would come with a promotion to lieutenant, junior-grade.”

“I—” Garrett paused, looking torn. “I agreed to serve here for two years, sir. It’s barely been a year.”

Trujillo nodded. “I’m aware, and I’m fully prepared to amend our standing agreement.”

Garrett looked inexplicably discomfited. “Sir, we’ve just lost our chief operations officer in the line of duty. Now we’re losing our XO and chief of security at the same time. That’s an enormous turnover in just a few weeks. I can’t leave you in the lurch and compound the problem.”

“I very much appreciate your loyalty, Rachel, but that’s my problem, not yours. Point of fact, I assembled our entire senior staff when I took command five years ago, and this time I’d only be replacing half. I certainly don’t want to lose you, but opportunities like this don’t come along very often.”

Garrett inclined her head. “I will give the offer every consideration, sir. How long until Captain Sulu requires an answer?”

“Day after the wedding, so two days from now.”

Garrett stood. “Whatever I decide, sir, I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

Trujillo stood as well. “One more thing, Rachel.”

“Sir?”

“I need… a maid of honor.”

Garrett was surprised. “I just assumed Captain Sulu…”

“The captain will be performing the ceremony, actually.”

A broad smile erupted on Garrett’s face. “Then it would be my honor, sir.”

“This is a personal favor, Rachel, so when we’re off duty, you can call me Nandi.”

“Yes, sir. Nandi, sir.”

Trujillo sighed, prompting a laugh from Garrett.

* * *

Shortly after Garrett’s departure, the annunciator chimed and Trujillo granted admittance to Lieutenant Shukla and an officer the commodore had never met in person.

Shukla made the introductions. “Commodore Nandi Trujillo, Commander Jadaetti Davula.”

Trujillo stood and the women shook hands. “A pleasure, Commander.” She nodded to Shukla. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The tall Sikh took his leave and Trujillo invited Davula to take a seat.

Trujillo moved to the food replicator slot set into one bulkhead. “Something to drink, Commander?”

“Yes, thank you, sir. Acamarian tea, if you have it.”

Trujillo input the drink orders, the device humming quietly. Trujillo gestured to her desktop computer interface. “I see you just completed ATS,” Trujillo noted. “How did you find Kuala Lumpur?”

“Beautiful city,” Davula replied, “not that I had very much time to explore Indonesia while I was there.”

“Advanced Tactical School is a demanding program,” Trujillo admitted. “You graduated with high marks, however.”

Davula inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“You found the coursework challenging?”

“I found it… tame, to be perfectly honest, sir,” Davula appeared uncomfortable with the admission.

Trujillo retrieved two steaming cups from the replicator and turned back, a slight smile creasing her features. “Based on your service jacket I can believe it.”

Trujillo handed Davula her cup of Acamarian tea and took a seat with her own cup of coffee.

“I see that you attended ATS after a six-month sabbatical. I trust you’ve recovered from your last assignment?”

“Yes, sir,” Davula confirmed. “I went home to Bolarus after returning from the Omega Centauri expedition. I spent some time deciding if I wanted to return to Starfleet service, and in what capacity.”

Trujillo nodded. “After perusing your service record, I became curious and started to read Yichang’s mission logs last night. I found I couldn’t put it down. Kept me up half the night… harrowing stuff. That was quite the eventful expedition.”

“You have a gift for understatement, Commodore. I started the mission as a junior-science officer and returned as the XO.” Davula paused, sipping her tea. “Captain Sanjrani’s working on his memoirs now. He wanted to call it A Series of Unfortunate Events, but apparently that title was taken by a Terran author back in your 20th century.”

Trujillo picked up her data-slate, skimming the contents. “What was supposed to have been a five-year mission lasted eight years, spanning nearly fifteen-thousand light years. Your crew made a full dozen First Contacts, three of whom proved wildly hostile, and your ship incurred seventy-two fatalities. In the course of that mission you completed your command school training remotely during off-shift hours over a period of three years. You achieved that while serving as the ship’s second officer and chief science officer, later promoted to first officer after your exec was killed. Following that mission you received promotion to full commander and were awarded several medals and citations.”

Davula stared off into the middle distance for a moment, her tea forgotten. “We limped in to dock at Deep Space 5, and the Corps of Engineers decided to decommission Yichang about thirty-minutes into their damage inspection. They couldn’t believe we got her back to Federation space, given the extent of the damage and the space-frame fatigue.”

“Your former chief engineer is to be congratulated,” Trujillo offered with genuine admiration.

“She received the Montgomery Scott citation for her miraculous performance, but it was also a team effort,” Davula replied. “Most of us spent our fair share of time in EVA gear welding patches on the hull.”

“Sounds like you had a tight-knit crew,” Trujillo observed.

“We did, indeed, sir. However, a lot of them mustered out of the service following that mission, both officers and enlisted. I’m one of only a dozen surviving officers who’s remained in uniform.”

Trujillo took a guarded sip of her coffee, studying Davula over the rim of the cup. “What are your career ambitions, Commander?”

“A captaincy in the next few years, sir. I’ve spent the majority of my career on research installations and exploratory vessels, and Reykjavík would be a chance to serve aboard a defense ship.”

“Warship,” Trujillo corrected. “Though Command gets anxious when I say that, it has the benefit of being the truth.”

Davula raised her cup, as if in salute. “Warship,” she repeated. “So noted, sir.”

Trujillo gestured offhandedly to the data-slate on the desktop. “I don’t have to ask if you’ve been in battle before, and saying your references are impeccable would be a disservice.”

The Bolian woman met Trujillo’s gaze impassively, saying nothing.

“I’ve concluded my interviews for the position. This was it. There were no other candidates that came close, Commander. The position is yours if you want it.”

“I do, sir. Very much.”

Trujillo stood, prompting Davula to do the same, setting her cup aside.

The commodore extended her hand. “Welcome aboard, Commander Davula.”

* * *