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

USS Reykjavík
Federation Frontier – Sector 37044

“Scratch three Gatherer marauders,” Nandi Trujillo said by way of greeting to her two fellow starship captains.

They were displayed on a split-screen image imposed on her ready room tabletop interface. Captain Demora Sulu of the Excelsior-class Yorktown, and Captain Serma of the Belknap-class cruiser Aenar sat in their respective ready rooms aboard ships in adjoining sectors.

Serma, the first Bolian officer in Starfleet to make captain, smiled thinly. “Did you take any prisoners?” he inquired.

Trujillo nodded. “Indeed, twenty-three of them. Following their interrogation we’ll be handing them over to Deep Space Two for repatriation back to Acamar.”

“How bad was the attack on Sedrosis II?” Sulu inquired, her features creased with concern.

“Thankfully there was very little damage and few casualties,” Trujillo explained. “The last time the Gatherers raided the planet all we had there was a pre-colonization survey station. I think they were surprised to find a full-blown colony established there this time. They made quite a mess trying to dismantle a fusion reactor located on the colony’s college campus but couldn’t get past the safety interlocks that they clumsily triggered. They gave up trying after we pulled into orbit and then attempted to shoot their way past us.”

"And?" Serma prompted

Trujillo shook her head with derision. "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes."

Sulu chuckled. “You sound disappointed.”

Trujillo cocked her head then candidly offered, “No, not disappointed. This just really wasn’t worth our time, Captain. This would have been a perfect operation for the Border Service, except they aren’t allowed to operate out this far yet.”

“You realize that the Border Service expansion has been significantly slower than the regular fleet’s,” Serma noted.

“Only too well,” Trujillo acknowledged. “And that’s because the powers-that-be decided to push Federation expansion into these sectors without sufficient appropriations for Border Service coverage. Reykjavík should be patrolling the Romulan Neutral Zone or keeping the Kzinti in check, not rounding up Gatherers that I could have brought to heel with a Daedelus-class crewed with midshipmen.”

The comment elicited smirks from the other two.

“Speaking of that,” Sulu observed, “you’ve been pushing Border Service expansion out here pretty hard with Admiral Markopoulos lately.”

With a mock-roll of her eyes, Trujillo said, “If the Chic Greek has become tired of my constant entreaties, he need only give me what I want. They built DS2 with expansion in mind. The Corps of Engineers could add a full Border Service command and logistics hub onto the station in less than six months.”

“Is that all?” Sulu replied with amusement.

Trujillo directed a pointed look at her comrades. “If the two of you added your names to the request, it would give the idea more weight with Command.”

“You’ll have it,” Serma offered without hesitation. His eyes then turned to Sulu as well.

“The Sulu name wields a lot of influence,” Trujillo observed emphatically. “Especially since a certain captain’s father just retired from the C-in-C post.”

“Fine,” Sulu relented after a moment. “I’ll back your play, Nandi. But if I end up commanding a deuterium-hauler because of this, I know where to find you.”

Trujillo inclined her head gratefully to the both of them. “You have my thanks, Captains. And Demora, if it comes to that, I’ll kneel to accept my just rewards. Just make it a clean killing stroke.” She turned her eyes to Serma. “How goes it for you? Still chasing sensor ghosts?”

He sighed. “No sign of whatever’s been shadowing us, if there was ever really anything other than a sensor malfunction. In other news, did either of you know that a Class-Five comet is comprised of thirty percent or more of carbon monoxide, methane, and ammonia?”

That triggered laughs from the women.

“What about your diplomatic mission to Baohiri?” Trujillo inquired of Sulu.

“We’ve got all the factions to the negotiating table,” Sulu divulged, “but I’m not holding my breath. There’s a lot of bad blood there, and too many of the parties are still yearning for vengeance. If it all blows up in our faces, both of you should be ready to run out here and help me flex Federation muscle to discourage another shooting war.”

“I’m always up for a little intimidation in the guise of diplomatic neutrality,” Trujillo confirmed.

“Count me in,” Serma agreed. “If I have to read one more long-rang sensor sweep analysis I’m going to pull out my hair.” This coming from a man as bald as billiard ball.

An alert icon began to flash in the corner of Trujillo’s screen. “Duty calls,” she announced. “It appears that something that requires my attention may have actually happened, unless Commander Glal has taken to triggering the notification merely out of spite.”

“That would be so unlike him,” Sulu laughed. “Please give the crusty old space dog my regards,” she offered in parting.

“I’ll do that, and before you ask, no you can’t have him back,” Trujillo said as she terminated the comm-link and cut over to a visual feed from the bridge.

Glal’s porcine, tusked face appeared on the monitor. “We’ve picked up a distress signal from the USS Esau, Captain. She's one of our colonization survey ships in Sector 37128. It’s an automated beacon with no encrypted substrate.”

“ETA to intercept,” she asked.

“Thirty-eight hours at maximum sustainable warp, sir.”

She frowned. A lot could happen in thirty-eight hours. It was a long time for a small ship and crew to fight for their lives, if that scenario had prompted their call for help.

“Inform DS2 of the distress call, then set course and engage at best possible, Commander. Stand to yellow alert.”

“Aye, sir.”

Trujillo drummed her fingers on the desktop, lost in thought. Once again they were rushing headlong into the unknown, the dependable old soldier pushing into the deepest, darkest cave with her sword in one hand and a torch in the other. Be there dragons here?

Such was their calling.

* * *

USS Reykjavík
Deck One – Conference Room

Trujillo strode into the conference room, as always the last to arrive. As she saw it, her time was the most valuable aboard ship, and so she elected not to spend it awaiting others.

The senior staff stood in unison as she entered, pausing for her to take her seat at the head of the conference table before resuming theirs.

Unlike the designs of most newer starships, Reykjavík’s conference room had no exterior view ports and was instead situated behind the bridge under the same armored blister of tritanium and duranium composites that protected the command center. However, the compartment was tastefully decorated with realistic-looking faux wood paneling, giving it an ancient Earth nautical aesthetic. Along the bulkheads, pictures of previous Starfleet vessels named Reykjavík were interspersed with photographs of the ship’s namesake, the Icelandic capital city.

On one bulkhead was mounted the ship’s seal, an inverted yellow triangle emblazoned with the dragon-head prow and sail of an ancient Viking longboat bearing the ship’s name, registry and motto. U.S.S. REYKJAVÍK NCC-3109. ‘First to Advance, Last to Retreat.’

Arrayed around the table were the ship's executive officer Lt. Commander Glal, Operations Manager Lieutenant Arwen DeSilva, Chief Engineer Lt. Commander Kura-Ka, Chief Medical Officer Dr. Lawrence Bennett, Chief Security Officer Lieutenant Gael Jarrod, and the junior-most of the senior staff, Ensigns Farouk Naifeh and Rachel Garrett, of Helm and Sciences respectively.

“What have we got?” Trujillo asked.

Glal toggled a control interface set into the tabletop, triggering the large painting of a Viking longboat sailing Reykjavík’s Faxaflói Bay set into the interior bulkhead to vanish, replaced by a viewscreen displaying the image of a Federation starship.

“USS Esau,” Glal said. “Soyuz-class, crew complement of one-hundred eighty-three officers and enlisted personnel, plus fifty-seven civilian personnel from the Bureau of Colonization. Lt. Commander Ngư Minh Thông commanding.”

Glal nodded to Lieutenant DeSilva who picked up the narrative from there. She self-consciously brushed a cascading bang of brown hair from in front of her eye as she began, “For the past eight months, Esau’s been assigned to surveying Class-M planets in four adjoining sectors for potential Federation colonization efforts. These are the preliminary studies that determine if an uninhabited planet would be biologically compatible with one or more Federation member species, prior to a dedicated science vessel being dispatched to conduct a more comprehensive ecological analysis.”

DeSilva gestured to Jarrod, a striking young Caucasian Human male with well-kept wavy black hair and neatly trimmed mustache and goatee that seemed to emphasize his reserved demeanor. In a clipped Oxonian-English accent, Jarrod said, “Esau had been transmitting scheduled updates to DS2 every twelve hours until forty-six hours ago. At that time, she went emissions quiet. DS2’s long-range scans have proven inconclusive as Esau was surveying a planet in a particularly volatile binary star system. The system’s radiation emissions have created a corona effect that’s especially difficult to penetrate with long-range sensors.”

Glal frowned, the gesture accentuated by his tusks and bushy beard. “Why would they be surveying a system that basically blocks sensor activity?”

At the end of the table, a young woman with reddish hair tied into a bun and piercing brown eyes cleared her throat. The crispness of her uniform spoke to its newness, as did the shine on her ensign’s chevron affixed to her tunic’s division-gray shoulder clasp.

All eyes turned to her and Rachel Garrett seemed to gather herself before speaking. “If I may, sir, the radiation profile of this close binary pair, called the Abemeda Sisters, may have little effect on the Class-M planet in question. If the planet’s electromagnetic field is sufficiently strong, it would shield life-forms from the localized stellar radiation.” She turned her gaze from the XO to Trujillo. “Additionally, locating a Federation colony and perhaps a space station in a system immune to long-range scans could prove a strategic asset, should we encounter any adversarial species in the vicinity.”

Trujillo smiled at this and shared an approving look with Glal. Garrett had been a very recent addition to the crew, coming aboard two weeks earlier during their last layover at Deep Space Two. The young woman was fresh from the academy, having graduated fifth in her class. She’d originally been slated to serve aboard the Centaur-class Hemingway as a third-string science officer, but that ship’s captain had owed Trujillo a rather sizeable favor, and subsequently Garrett’s orders had been changed. She was now Chief Science Officer aboard a cruiser at the age of twenty-two. Granted, it was an attack cruiser with little for a science officer to actually do, but she would gain invaluable leadership experience in heading up a shipboard department that would hold her in good stead.

“What if this is just some kind of comms failure?” ventured Dr. Bennett.

The Zaranite engineer, Kura-Ka, turned his fleshy head toward the physician. His voice issued through the face mask which delivered his homeworld’s fluorine-rich atmosphere. “If it were a communications systems failure, Doctor, there has been more than sufficient time for them to effect repairs. Failing that, they would have dispatched a communications relay buoy out of the system to update Starfleet as to their situation.”

Bennett accepted the explanation with an inclination of his head.

“Known threat species in the vicinity?” Trujillo queried.

Jarrod responded, “The Gatherers, though owing to our recent experience with them I’d hardly credit them with being able to overwhelm a starship. There have been some few incidents of Orion piracy, but they don’t tend to venture this far out into the frontier. And again, attacking a Starfleet vessel would only attract unwanted attention to them. There are dozens of softer, far more lucrative targets for piracy in this region. We’re on the opposite side of the quadrant from either the Klingons or Romulans, and we’ve had no reports of any Tholian or Gorn activity out here.” He shrugged with his hands, palms up. “This could always be someone new. More than a few of our First Contact’s have resulted in attacks on our deep space explorers. We may have inadvertently wandered into someone’s backyard.”

“Perhaps, but not likely,” Glal countered. “We’ve been sending deep-space probes out here for decades. There haven’t been any indications of aggressive space-faring civilizations anywhere within thirty light-years of our position.”

Trujillo scanned the faces around the table. Her officers knew that she appreciated brevity, and anyone without something valuable to add to the conversation remained silent. “Very well. Anything else?”

No one replied.

She continued. “In that case, we’ll continue on course. I want a Class-II probe fitted out to reconnoiter the Abemeda system before we make our final approach in three hours. Doctor, prep Sickbay for a potential mass-casualty response, utilizing whatever cargo space and other resources you deem necessary.” She nodded her head in Jarrod’s direction, “Weaps, I want you to compile a list of tactical contingency plans based on potential multi-threat encounters. Work with Ensign Naifeh on pre-planned attack and evasion patterns for such an eventuality. Commander Kura-Ka, have an engineering team equipped and standing by in case we need to assist Esau with emergency repairs upon arrival. Everyone keep the XO updated as to your readiness, final reports due thirty minutes before system penetration.”

She made another visual scan of the room. “Questions?”

There were none.

Trujillo stood, prompting the others to rise from their chairs. “This meeting is adjourned,” she announced. “Resume your stations; XO has the bridge. Ensign Garrett, please remain behind,” she added as the assembled officers began heading for the exit.

Garrett stood at the opposite end of the table. Trujillo gestured for her to take the seat closest to her. “I make it a point to meet with all of my officers after they’ve reported aboard. I regret our recent situation with the Gatherers has delayed my speaking with you until now.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Garrett moved to the offered chair, seating herself only after Trujillo had resumed her own.

“You did well, especially for your first senior staff meeting,” Trujillo observed. “I hadn’t expected any less, but it’s gratifying to see one’s hopes realized.”

“Thank you again, sir,” Garrett demurred. “On that point, Captain, may I ask a question?”

“By all means.”

Garrett took a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. “Have I done something wrong, Captain?”

Trujillo was unable to stop the surprised expression that flit across her features at that query. “Not in the least, Mister Garrett. Why do you ask?”

“My appointment to the Hemingway, sir. Based on my graduation standing, I was afforded the opportunity to choose my first posting. I selected Hemingway based on Captain Erlichman’s reputation and the fact that she was just completing a refit prior to being assigned to a three-year deep space exploration assignment.”

“Ah, yes,” Trujillo cocked her head, totally unprepared for this reaction from the newly minted ensign. “You realize, of course, that you’d have been a junior science officer aboard, working the worst shift rotations and grinding out all the scut-work those more senior to you in the division didn’t feel like doing?”

Garrett nodded. “Yes, sir. I knew that going in, Captain. That’s the expectation, no matter what ship or installation I ended up on. When I last spoke to Captain Erlichman, he’d expressed excitement about my joining his crew. So, if I may, I’m understandably confused by my sudden change of orders. I was placed aboard a high-warp courier for a five-week trip out to DS2, followed by two weeks since I've taken up my post here. Still, I've received no explanation.”

“Fair enough,” Trujillo assessed. “Ensign, I make it a habit to recruit the finest officers I can so that this can be one of the best, most sought-after posts in the fleet. In the four years since she launched, Reykjavík has garnered an admirable number of unit citations, as well as individual medals and awards for her crew. After reading your academy transcripts, I identified you as being a high-achiever and one whose career I wanted to advance to the extent that I’m able. Because of that, I took the opportunity to steal you away from Captain Erlichman’s command.”

Garrett absorbed that for a long moment before replying. “While I very much appreciate the promise you see in me, Captain, I hope you will understand that I had my own expectations of the kinds of experiences, knowledge, and training I was going to gain on a deep-range mission. I recognize that leading a department here will doubtless look excellent on my service jacket. However, there’s very little genuine scientific opportunity to be had on an attack cruiser, even one with Reykjavík’s sterling reputation.”

Then she added, “And if I may speak freely, sir?”

Trujillo nodded silently as she digested Garrett’s words.

“With all due respect, Captain, you did not recruit me. You poached me from another command. I was never consulted about the change of orders.”

It was not often that Nandi Trujillo was rendered speechless, but this was definitely one of those moments. The import of what she’d done crystalized in her mind, and the conversation took on an almost out-of-body quality for her. Trujillo had simply taken it for granted that any new officer starting out would jump at the chance to serve aboard a cruiser as a senior division officer rather than a long-range explorer as a junior one. She hadn’t even bothered to ask Garrett what it was that she’d wanted, if a move to Reykjavík would be compatible with Garrett’s own ambitions. With a sudden thrill of dread Trujillo realized that if someone had done the same to her right out of the academy she would have been incensed.

The captain sat back in her chair, her expression somber.

Garrett blushed fiercely. “I apologize, Captain. I was out of line. Please for—”

Trujillo silenced her with a raised hand. “The only one owed an apology here is you, Mister Garrett. I… I can’t begin to explain the thought process that led me to believe that ripping you away from Erlichman without your consent was in any way appropriate. I suppose it’s the difference between the way things should be done, and how we actually do them in the fleet.”

She shook her head as if trying to cast away a bad dream. “I’m sorry, Rachel. The last thing I want is for you to feel like I’ve derailed your career at the outset." Taking a moment to compose herself, Trujillo offered, "I’ll make you a deal. You give me two years here, and I promise that I’ll call in every marker I have to get you your choice of next posting. With your graduation standing, you’re almost guaranteed to make jay-gee after one year. You give me three years here, I can get you posted anywhere you want as a full lieutenant. That would go a long way towards getting a senior science officer post on an Excelsior or Constellation.”

Garrett dipped her head. “I thank you, Captain, but that’s really not necessary. I just needed to be heard on the matter, and I feel I’ve done that.”

“No dice, Ensign,” Trujillo countered. “I’ve wronged you, and whatever other character flaws I may have, I always pay my debts.”

“In that case, Captain,” Garrett said, extending a hand, “I accept.”

Trujillo stood, prompting Garrett to follow suit. She shook the ensign’s hand firmly.

“I know I have a reputation for being stern and uncompromising,” Trujillo confided. “It took a great deal of poise and courage for you to confront me about this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrett offered, not knowing what else to say.

“Dismissed, Mister Garrett.”

The ensign made good her escape and Trujillo sat heavily back into the chair.

“Well… shit,” she said disconsolately, then heaved a deep sigh.

* * *