Chapter Text
With the Constellation having a bit more meat on its bones than the Merrimack, Brienzio walked Decker up to the captain's quarters, pointing out the ship's vital systems as they went. "I hear Jim Kirk got the Enterprise while I was away," Decker said conversationally as they stepped off the turbolift.
"Yeah, just in time for her overhaul," Brienzio said dryly. "So he'll be busy overseeing that for a few months, then post-overhaul trials, then working up a crew that's about ninety-eight percent green before he takes her out for a fiver."
"You know, after you first said you were going to try and get me on that ship, he told me he was jealous. And if I'm going to be totally honest, Ray....the feeling's kind of mutual."
"Ah, well, there's no rescinding the orders now that you've both read 'em."
"Well, if I didn't have my reasons why I wasn't available, I might even be inclined to fight it."
"It was out of my hands, Matt. Damned if I know who you'd have to fight."
"I'd just hate to think some desk spacer on the top floor felt that I had to prove myself all over again, that I'm still fit for starship command after losing my wife."
"Pike would've kept the Enterprise if they weren't sending him up to a training command, so the Constellation here might've ended up going to you anyway. Hell, if things didn't shake out like they did, Jim might have gotten her instead. At least she didn't run into any trouble out on the Klingon border, so you'll be ready to fly a lot sooner."
"And head where, the Neutral Zone?"
"What, along Romulan space? Beats hell out of me, but I have a hunch you're going a tad deeper than that." Brienzio drew up in front of a door whose name plating designated the deck and section numbers and simply read, "COMMANDING OFFICER." The plate bearing the name of the Constellation's former captain had already been removed.
"All right, this is where I'll be steppin' off," he said. "I think Jerome left you a message in there, a 'same ship, different captains' kind of send-off."
"Decent," Decker said. "Well, then, Ray, I'll see you in a few years."
"Here's hoping," Brienzio said as they shook hands one more time. "So long, Matt. Take care of your ship, your crew and yourself, willya?"
"You bet I will." Decker clapped Brienzio on the arm. Then his old shipmate turned away and ambled back the way he'd come.
Inevitably, Decker drew a comparison to his erstwhile lodgings on the Merrimack as soon as he entered the captain's quarters. These quarters were somewhat more spacious, with a separate compartment for sleeping and personal hygiene. Viewing ports high on the bulkhead were made of reinforced, galvanized transparent aluminum and afforded a view directly ahead of the ship. In the main compartment, a small galley with a dining table nestled against the inner bulkhead, and against the outer bulkhead, a leisure space with a work desk, a reading chair, and some shelves. Of course there would be a little time during the next couple of months to visit Brandi, bring back some of his personal effects from each visit, and decorate the space to his liking. He moved over to the work desk and picked up the legipad resting beside the monitor screen.
Dear Matt,
I suppose I should shed a tear to be leaving the Constellation after almost a decade's travel, but how does the saying go? "There's no place like home." When a man has seen his share of exploration and action, no one will take issue with his need for a little rest. I've had an Earthside assignment to look forward to for some years now, and thus I bequeath you a grand adventure in a starship as solid and powerful as Federation engineers can dream of. Believe me when I tell you that you can trust your life to your senior officers as implicitly as they trust theirs to you. I sincerely congratulate you on your promotion, your assignment, and your fortune to command the worthiest vessel ever to fly among the stars she was named for.
Yours,
Capt. Jerome Hamel
Decker nodded to himself and reread the message once. He didn't know Jerome Hamel that well, but if he was any kind of starship captain, it wouldn't even be two years before he would be requesting transfer to another deep-space command. Decker glanced about the bulkheads again and wondered about Jim Kirk, and what distant new stellar horizons would be waiting for him and the Enterprise when they next broke out of the solar system. What was it he'd told Kirk about that ship during their promotion celebration....that it always seemed to get a hard case for a captain? Well, Kirk certainly fit the bill. Damn that Veloran redstalk, damn it to botanical hell. But then again, was it as much the loss of Maria that had affected this development as perhaps some desk spacer who thought Decker wasn't a hard enough case for a ship like the Enterprise?
Maybe he should find out and try to fight it after all.
There were too many other people for him to wonder about, from Kirk to Will to Brandi and her cousins, to the officers waiting for him in the briefing room down the corridor. He turned away from the reflective surface in his mind and took up the short yet authoritative march from his quarters to the briefing room, entering to find everyone who had been standing behind him when he read his command orders, with the exception of Brienzio and the division staff officers.
"Attention on deck!" The piercing shout came from a tall, trim-figured woman, ranked as a lieutenant commander, standing next to the door. Every foot turned, every posture stiffened and every eye came to bear on the door and the man who had just stepped through it. Decker looked all of them over: most of them were human, with the exception of one Andorian in a gold command uniform, a Vacotian in the red dress of engineering, and a Bolian in a tunic that matched his complexion almost to the shade. Edgerton stood in the center of the room: apparently he'd just been in deep conference with two others of the command staff.
"As you were," Decker nodded. With a questioning look and an outstretched hand, he turned to the woman who had called attention.
"Seppala, sir," she said. "Chief of security."
Decker nodded again as he shook her hand and then moved to the next man who approached him, a blue-tunicked lieutenant commander with an Asian countenance. "Masada, sir. Chief science officer."
The Vacotian, short, stocky, green-skinned and bristly-haired, came next. "Veltanoa, sir. Chief engineer."
"Dorian, sir. Communications." This from a stoutly built human with a thick thatch of black hair.
"Samuels, sir. Navigation." The smiling young lieutenant seemed fresh and eager - but only time would tell if he would be able to fill Pete Brent's chair behind that helm.
"Jol, sir. Chief medical officer." The tall Bolian's voice was gravelly and soft, his handshake gentle.
"Molinos, sir. Personnel." The dark-eyed woman had a deep Filipino accent.
"Zhour, sir. Weapons and tactical." The short, wiry Andorian didn't exactly fit Decker's ideal image of an efficient weapons officer, but there were few other races better suited to his posting.
The last officer, a small, blonde woman wearing no braid on her sleeves, seemed momentarily to avoid eye contact as she spoke in a soft, timid tone. "Galbraith, sir. Supply and logistics."
"Well, let's all have a seat." Decker gestured at the table and sat at the angled captain's position beside the science panel as the rest of his officers took seats of their own. "A pleasure to make the acquaintance of all of you," he addressed them, picking up a pair of computer disks from the science station. "And I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm looking forward to getting away from Starfleet bureaucracy for the next five years."
A few guarded laughs darted quickly about the table. "Before we begin, Commodore," Edgerton said, "on behalf of all of us, I should like to express our condolences on your wife's passing, sir. When we learnt you were taking over for Captain Hamel, the news got round rather quickly."
Decker lowered his eyes and nodded, fingering the computer disks he'd picked up. "Thank you, Commander. Death is nobody's favorite business, but we can live in hope it's the last time any of us has to deal with it for a while. As such, I'd like to be brought up to speed on the overall health of the ship's personnel before we put to space. No sense in bringing along a crew member who's susceptible to disease."
"I'll allow Dr. Jol to speak to that one, sir." Edgerton gestured at Dr. Jol, who wore the rank of a lieutenant commander on his cuffs along with a pleasant, demure smile.
"Welcome to the Constellation, sir." Jol slowly bowed his head. "I believe you'll find the crew is in excellent health, to a man. Also, while you were on leave, your former CMO, Dr. Suslowicz, pulled some of his newfound weight at Starfleet Medical. At his behest, the Constellation is to be a test bed for a shipwide life function monitor, called Starlife. Once it's linked with the internal sensors, it should enable us to get a feel for the general health and wellness of the crew on both physical and psychological levels during periods of varying stress and new experience."
"Well, I've always wanted to be a guinea pig," Decker said dryly. "Commander Veltanoa, status of our propulsion plant?"
"We'll be having our impulse engines removed and replaced this time in," Veltanoa answered in his raspy Vacotian growl. "We will be receiving a new and improved sublight propulsion system. Per standard post-deployment protocol, warp drive has been defueled as the antimatter pods await replacement."
"Very well. Lieutenant Molinos, would you mind giving me a breakdown of new crew members, experienced people and those ready for rotation?"
Molinos pushed a legipad across the table toward Decker. "Here's a general rundown, sir," she said. "There are no more plate owners on board, they were all rotated to other duty some years ago. Aside from yourself, we have some fifty personnel who are new on board, twenty of whom have blank service records. The most experienced crew are assigned to engineering and life sciences, and some two hundred have been aboard for one or two deployments already."
"Good, I like having a competent ship's company." Decker briefly scanned the contents of the legipad. "All right, Miss Galbraith, going off this roster, we obviously have a more multiracial crew than most starships. I want you to assure that the food processors are able to satisfy everybody's culinary preferences. Also, get into a huddle with each of the other department heads and work out a priority list for parts and equipment."
Galbraith still didn't look at him, but she nodded wordlessly, her eyes darting hither and yon about the tabletop. "Beg your pardon, Ensign?" Decker prodded her.
"Yes - yes, sir," she stuttered briefly. "I'll see to it."
"Very well. And, ah, Ensign, be a little more responsive with me forthgoing, will you?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
Decker pushed the legipad away and surveyed the ten people sitting around the table briefly. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, that covers everything that comes foremost to mind. Unless any of you has a pressing concern you'd like to address, we may as well disperse and get ourselves to work."
"There is one thing, Commodore," Security Chief Seppala spoke up. "Commander Edgerton and I were both curious if you intend on leading landing parties yourself, or delegating them to the most qualified officer."
"I think we'll play that one by ear," Decker said without hesitation. "But let's get one thing straight, Commander - when it's a question of leadership among members of my crew, I am the most qualified officer. Whoever is in charge of a task unit on the Constellation, or on the ground for that matter, isn't beaming anywhere without my orders, is that clear?"
"Entirely clear, sir," Seppala nodded. Catching Decker's glance, Edgerton nodded assent.
"Very well. If there's nothing else, let's get to work. Dismissed."
Decker arose, joined in a second by the rest of his command staff. As they dispersed into the corridor, Dorian fell in beside Masada.
"Does the name Philip Francis Queeg mean anything to you?" he asked in a low voice.
"No," Masada said. "Does he even exist, or is he strictly literary?"
"I think we'll find out soon enough. At least this guy didn't appoint a morale officer cold-turkey right off of Julia's legipad."
"Somebody ought to enlighten him about Laurie Galbraith, though," Masada muttered. "Commodore Brienzio has an autistic niece, I don't think he'd appreciate the way Decker spoke to Laurie just now, even if they did serve together before."
"I run communications, I'll communicate it to him if I have to," Dorian said as they turned a corner and headed for the officers' lounge. "You just better hope Decker doesn't start causing us any graver threats than we're facing as it is."
"You don't think it's going to come to that, do you?" Masada gave him a sidelong, piqued look.
"Well, that's why Section Thirty-one planted the both of us here, isn't it?" Dorian dropped his voice to barely more than a whisper. "Threat assessment and response is our raîson-d'etré. But tell you what, Toshiro, with Decker in the big seat, I think we've got our work cut out for us."
Sitting in his quarters, Edgerton rubbed his prominent chin as he pored over the duty roster for the refit. Just as well to have experienced crew relieving brand-new members wherever possible and making sure everything had been done correctly. Although, that new sublight propulsion plant they were getting would require no shortage of new procedures and drilling for greenies and veterans alike: at least Veltanoa was equal to the challenge.
Presently, the door buzzer sounded. "Yes," Edgerton responded.
Decker passed through the sliding door and held up his hand to bid Edgerton to relax. "Take it easy, Mr. Edgerton. You got a minute?"
"Yes, sir, of course. What can I do for you?"
"Well, first of all, what's your pleasure? Richard? Richie? Rich the son of a bitch?"
Edgerton laughed good-naturedly, gratified that his new commanding officer was inclined to temper his curmudgeonly air with a gruff sense of humor. "Richard will do nicely, sir."
"Good, because if there's gonna be one son of a bitch on this ship, it's damn well gonna be me." Decker looked past Edgerton at the framed image resting on the shelf behind him, an image of Edgerton standing beside two pre-teenage girls. A fortyish woman with dark brown hair and a crinkly-eyed smile stood opposite him.
"Your family, I take it?" Decker said, nodding at the image.
"Yes, sir." With a proud smile, Edgerton turned briefly to touch the image. "My wife Shona, and my wonderful girls, Madeline and Catriona."
"It's a damn nice thing to have a family to come home to. I have a son stationed on Delta Four, and a daughter who's keeping things in order at home since their mother died. But whether she's up to it or not, that question's never going away. So don't lose touch with those ladies while we're out there, whatever you do."
"I dare not, sir."
"Wise man." Decker folded his arms and squarely faced Edgerton - it was time to get down to business. "Now, give me your evaluation of Ensign Galbraith."
"Is there some problem with her?" Edgerton said curiously.
"Nothing earth-shattering, but I'm still waiting for her to return an inventory of library computer disks. As a matter of fact, I've noticed it can be difficult to get through to her most of the time, like she's off in her own little world or something."
"I would say she simply needs a little time to get acclimated to the way you run things on this ship. She is autistic, after all. And as such, what she lacks in sociality, she more than makes up for in attention to detail."
"Meaning what, in practice?"
"Meaning whether it's computer disks or hand phasers or circuit connectors or what-have-you, Ms. Galbraith has an almost clairvoyant knack for recall. She was but a deck hand on our last cruise, but somehow she picked up on an irregularity in the dilithium reaction chamber when we were patrolling perilously close to the Klingon border. Would have badly prevented us from outrunning any Klingon forces had they jumped us, and thus it was that she earned a field promotion to ensign."
"Well, in that case I can imagine what Captain Hamel thought of her, but proving her worth to me is going to take some doing."
"I doubt she'll disappoint you, sir." Edgerton wore a dim smile. "Ever since then, Ms. Galbraith is almost never mistaken on her accounts of supplies and equipment. Frankly, my evaluation of her is that she's an incredibly efficient logistics officer, despite her occasional social lapse."
"I see," Decker nodded slowly. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. But I'm nobody's fool at picking up irregularities myself, and it's true they can really screw up a mission. If Ms. Galbraith hasn't acclimated to the way I want things done before we're ready to get underway, she'll have to acclimate to a whole new assignment."
"I understand, sir." Edgerton took a deep breath, preparing for his attempt to change the subject. "If you don't mind me asking, how went your checkup with Dr. Jol?"
"Nothing to worry about, I'm in commanding trim. He has a better bedside manner than one or two other ship's surgeons I've had."
"No doubt he told you he'd just finished his internship on Bolias before first contact, almost immediately after which he applied to Starfleet Medical. He's become a very well-known name there since then. Revered, in fact, what with the exponential increase in extraterrestrial graduates who studied with him. You'll find his knowledge of xenobiology almost as impressive as his humanoid expertise."
"He didn't have quite that much to say about his reputation. But I can't say as I've ever served with a Bolian before. We only contacted them what, ten or so years ago?"
"In twenty-two fifty-two, yes, sir. Still not many of them in Starfleet, though. I've known of only one who received a commission through the Academy, and she was the talk of the starship flotilla when her first deep-space assignment was to the Enterprise. But Dr. Jol has been with us for one exploratory mission, and so long as he has the medical staff he needs, I can confidently say he'll keep us all alive and kicking until we resume our present orbit."
"Hmm." Decker's gaze dropped. "I don't suppose he would have known what to do with a case of Veloran blood plague if he'd been in a different time and place."
"I....couldn't honestly say, sir," Edgerton said quietly, recognizing the reference Decker was making. "And I hope we don't have to find out by bringing a case of it on board."
"No, best we don't let that happen. Thank you, Mr. Edgerton. Carry on." Then Decker turned and exited the cabin.
Star Date: 1246.3
From: Chief of Starfleet Operations
To: Commanding Officer, U.S.S. Constellation (NCC-1017)
Via: Commander Starship Division 2
Subject: OPERATIONAL ORDERS & MISSION BRIEFING
When in all respects ready for deep space operation, U.S.S. Constellation will depart Spacedock no later than Stardate 1282 on an exploratory mission beginning in the Eridani sector. A resupply stop is scheduled at Starbase 9 where you will receive additional orders and updated briefing on political situations involving the Federation. Your exploratory course will include Sectors M-400; K-200; J-700; L-300; M-800; and N-100. A prearranged course has been uploaded into Constellation's navigational computer, subject to change in accordance with further operational orders and/or the Commanding Officer's judgment of developing conditions. Return to Starbase 9 for debriefing no later than Stardate 5963.
Numerous planets in the above listed sectors are believed to be inhabited. Per standard exploratory protocol, Constellation personnel will avoid contact with inhabitants until ascertaining their state of cultural development. No contact whatsoever shall be established with pre-industrial races. Cultural observers may, at the Commanding Officer's discretion, mingle with the members of an industrialized or space-capable civilization to determine their level of advancement. The Commanding Officer is reminded of the terms of the Prime Directive and is strictly ordered to adhere to it.
Upload the findings of your planetary surveys to the general Federation data bank as soon as practical. If previously unencountered alien races show signs of domestic or extraplanetary hostility, you will first attempt to establish contact. If an immediate response from Starfleet is unavailable, the Commanding Officer's discretion will govern.
Extraterrestrial races in Constellation's assigned vicinity that are considered hostile by Starfleet sociologists include the Klingons, Sieseksti, Nausicaans, Binesefians, Yupiaki, Kasiesiks, and Welakchulians. Each of these races is known to be expansionist and conquisitive. Additional orders received at Starbase 9 will outline areas where you are most likely to encounter one of them. The Klingons in particular continue to be warlike and are a race of extreme concern. Take whatever measures are necessary to avoid hostility. If a combat situation is unavoidable, notify the closest Starfleet Command base at once before taking defensive action. You are authorized to use any force necessary in defense of yourself or an innocent party.
Authorized Signature:
Adm. J. E. Komack, SFC-UFP
Chief of Starfleet Operations
Commodore's personal log, Stardate 1281.9. The past month has gone by quickly as we prepare the Constellation for the mission ahead. Removing the impulse engines, we were quick to discover, facilitated most of the work that needed to be done on the primary hull; and post-overhaul trials demonstrated that the new impulse engines are top of the line with 97.8% efficiency. Most notably, I've found that none of my senior officers have so far forced me to submit a poor fitness report for them. They each know what needs to be done, and when. During the past several weeks, I've come to understand that their efficiency rests on one pair of shoulders - and they aren't mine.
We will be ready to depart spacedock shortly, and as I count down these last few minutes in Earth orbit, I find that am not entirely ready. I never will be, not knowing what will become of my daughter Brandi now that she's at home by herself at such a young age. I told Will she would be all right, that she could take care of herself, but with both Will and myself returning to duty only a couple of months after losing Maria, no father is ever truly ready to leave his little girl on her own in the wild. The last time I visited her was by far the roughest, because post-refit trials were finished and we knew it was only a matter of days before the Constellation was ready to leave spacedock. By now Will has been on Delta IV during this same past month, and I feel Brandi is grossly fortunate to have Maria's extended family close by so she doesn't have to live in that house completely alone. She's only just grown to womanhood and now has to face a more uncertain future than she's ever had; leaving her to face it on her own is right up there with burying my wife for difficult stages of living.
Meanwhile, I am waiting. Not for any last-minute reports, not for any calls from the bridge, and I hope not for any surprise change of orders. I am waiting to meet one person on board to whom I need to speak about peak performance.
The door to Decker's quarters buzzed. He responded, the door slid aside, and Ensign Galbraith, looking nervous, took a hesitant half-step into the doorway. "You wanted to see me, Commodore?" her voice trembled slightly.
"That I did. What time is it, Ms. Galbraith?"
"It's, uh, sixteen fifty hours, universal coordinated time on Earth, sir."
"Good. Come with me." Decker exited his quarters and motioned for her to follow, keeping his pace slow to allow her to keep up with him as he moved down the corridor.
"Commodore...." she said, pausing to swallow. "If this is about the confusion in the storage bay on deck twenty-one...."
"Not exactly. We're ready to get underway, and I want all department heads on the bridge. I also want you to see something." They entered a turbolift, which Decker ordered to the bridge. "I was concerned at first about the time you were taking to submit some of your reports," he went on.
Galbraith inhaled sharply. "I'm - I'm sorry I haven't been more punctual, sir," she said earnestly. "I - "
"I'm not finished, Ensign. Dr. Jol took some time to enlighten me about your neurological condition. He's the first Bolian I've served with, and thanks to his education, you're the first neurodivergent human I'm aware of serving with. The mission hasn't even started yet, and I've already had these for new experiences."
"Do you intend to transfer me?" Galbraith asked timidly.
"If I did, we'd be headed for the transporter room instead of the bridge." The lift halted, the doors opened, and Decker marched onto the bridge to find all stations manned, Seppala and her deputy security chief standing to either side of the lift, and Edgerton sitting in the command chair.
"Commodore on the bridge!" Seppala announced. Without looking, Edgerton stood up, stepped to one side and nodded to Decker as he sat down. The bridge instruments hummed and bleeped in such harmonious rhythm as to be almost comforting: Galbraith took on a relaxed posture against the bulkhead between Seppala and Veltanoa.
"Well, Mr. Edgerton, you ready for space?" Decker asked.
"I am indeed, sir."
"Good. Systems report, engineering."
"All engineering spaces manned and ready," Veltanoa said. "Impulse and warp engines on the line. Maximum speed available, warp eight point five."
"Very well. Helm?"
"Helm ready, sir," Samuels said, turning in his seat. "Moorings engaged. Course plotted toward Alpha Centauri."
"Very well. Tactical?"
"Phaser banks charged and ready," Zhour answered. "All photon torpedoes on board, secured, and unarmed. Deflector shields available for defensive posture on command."
"Very well. Life sciences?"
"Sensors functioning, sir," Masada replied. "All computers operating, exoscience labs manned and ready. As I like to say, condition green."
Decker smiled briefly. "Very well. Medical?"
"Sick bay manned and ready," Dr. Jol said from his unobtrusive stance next to Masada. "Bio-labs prepared, Starlife system is active and indicates a high state of health and morale."
"Very well. Communications?"
"Communications ready," Dorian sad, pressing one hand to his ear antenna. "All hailing frequencies active. Yard Command has cleared us for departure."
"Very well. All right, ladies and gentlemen - let's do it. Mr. Samuels, clear all moorings. All thrusters at station keeping."
"Aye, Commodore." Samuels made a rapid series of whirring, buzzing motions over his helm console, looked over his shoulder, and nodded. "All moorings cleared."
"One-quarter impulse power," Decker ordered.
With a flourish, Samuels pressed the appropriate switch. The deck vibrated, the new impulse engines rumbled, and the Constellation edged forward, creeping at first, then gathering momentum one kilometer per hour at a time. First the C frame of the spacedock disappeared at the edges of the main viewscreen, then the B frame, and finally the A frame. Earth was still partly visible on the port side. Decker held his gaze on that pristine cradle of nature as long as it hung in view, swore to himself that in memory of his beloved Maria, he would never let that or any other planet come to harm as long as he breathed.
Supply vessels and worker craft scurried out of the Constellation's path as it lumbered out of the spacedock. Samuels watched the screen with one eye and his navigation display with the other. He was confident, relaxed. Early in the refit, Decker had learned that Samuels had been flying since he was tall enough to pilot a hang glider. Well, as long as he didn't fly the Constellation the same way Erica Ortegas had flown that shuttlecraft.
"We are clear and free to navigate," Samuels announced.
"Very well," Decker said. "Show time. Ms. Marlowe, lay in your course for Alpha Centauri. Mr. Samuels, full impulse power."
"Full impulse power, aye, sir." Samuels punched several more switches as Lieutenant Marlowe bent over the astrocompass to adjust the ship's heading.
"Sure you wouldn't like to take a look back, sir?" Edgerton said quietly.
"No, it's time to look ahead," Decker answered. "There's a lot of galaxy out there that we've never seen, Richard. A lot of planets to discover and defend if need be." He settled back, slung his arm over the back of the chair and turned to see Galbraith still standing beside Seppala next to the turbolift.
"Come on down here, Laurie," he said, beckoning. Galbraith flitted down to the well of the bridge and stood beside him, looking inquisitive.
"This, Ms. Galbraith, is what I wanted you to see," he told her. "We're out of spacedock and underway exactly on schedule. No hang-ups, no unforeseen casualties, no annoying inconveniences. For me, that's another first."
"I'm glad, Commodore." Galbraith wasn't sure what else to say.
"You should be. I don't think anyone else recognizes it, but everyone on the senior staff has learned to depend on you to keep this machine of ours well-oiled. You saw to it everyone had their supplies and equipment when they needed them, and you kept everyone apprised of the opportune time slot to get their work done. And about that cargo bay thing, well - that was a minor hiccup all right, but you caught the yard workforce's error in the photon torpedo stowage in the meantime. If you hadn't raised an alarm about it, who knows what kind of domino effect could have resulted."
"I...." Galbraith seemed to be struggling with her words. "I'm obliged for your confidence, sir. Although I am somewhat at a loss to understand how I've incurred it."
"Richard, what was it you said about Ms. Galbraith's ability to recall?" Decker asked, turning to Edgerton.
"I believe the word I used was 'clairvoyant'," Edgerton smiled.
"And a damn good word it was." Decker looked approvingly back over at Galbraith. "You're a hell of a good officer, Ensign. In fact I'd say you're arguably the best logistics officer I've ever had. So now you can go on below and sort out that storage bay." He smiled and winked.
"Yes, sir," Galbraith said. "Thank you, Commodore." She smiled back, gratefully, and trotted back to the turbolift, where she received another encouraging look and a pat on the arm from Seppala as she passed from the bridge.
"Position report, Ms. Marlowe," Decker said.
"One half AU from Earth, sir," Marlowe answered. "Heading two seven zero mark eighteen."
"Go further west, young man," Decker nodded to Samuels. "Take us to warp two."
"Warp two, aye, sir." Samuels seemed ever eager to punch the propulsion controls. The stars flashed past the screen, faster and faster, as the familiar string-orchestra hum of the warp engines welled up from below. The Constellation shuddered, lunged quickly ahead: then it grabbed a firm hold on the space in front of it, stuffed it through the warp nacelles and spewed it out astern as it shot across the warp threshold with a mighty whoosh.
In no time, Earth was hundreds of millions of miles distant.
Captain's log, U.S.S. Constellation, Stardate 1282.7. Commodore Matthew Decker recording. We have cleared Earth's solar system and are on course and on schedule for Alpha Centauri, where we will alter course toward Starbase 9 before beginning the next five years of our lives. Thanks to my senior command staff, all systems are functioning normally, all crew performing their duties to the peak of their ability. Note commendations on Lieutenant Commander Veltanoa and the engineering crew for their hard and diligent work refitting the ship's impulse engines and refining the warp drive; Lieutenant Stanley Dorian for maintaining constant lines of communication with Starfleet HQ and the shipyard workforce; and Ensign Lauren Galbraith for her efficient coordination of all departments and their activities. The possibility of a field promotion to lieutenant junior grade is in the offing if she proves to be as proficient while underway as she has in spacedock.
The Constellation herself seems to be running smoothly, although allowing for the fact that she and I have only just gotten acquainted, I get a sense that she feels a bit reluctant to be headed back out to deep space so soon. Far be it from me to anticipate what calamities we might encounter along our course, but it's almost as if the Constellation knows what lies ahead of us and is apprehensive about facing it. To my thinking, however, there is no cause for concern. A fine crew, good at their jobs and better at their judgment, are all I and this ship need to rely on. I expect we will reach Starbase 9 in four days free of incident, and set out on this mission free of worry.
In a remote corner of the galaxy, the star designated Dinius shone on the surface of its six planets, warmed the surface of the third for its lupinoid inhabitants. At least, to Earth science they would be considered lupinoid, looking like human-sized wolves but possessing a rudimentary sentience, better suited to their hunting habits than to interracial relations. They were the kind of race the Prime Directive would stipulate as "no contact" at their current level of advancement. Even if they eventually evolved into a limited-contact race, introducing them to the gray wolves of Earth would not suit their pack mentality at all.
Dinius III was Class L - extremely rocky, rugged, cold and windy, but its inhabitants had well evolved to those conditions. The mountains were their home and the caves their shelter. They had no need of fire: they subsisted on the raw meat and bodily fluids of the planet's smaller creatures, and hydrated from underground hot springs. Between the heated, effervescent liquid, the natural warmth of their food supply, and their own furry hides, they kept as warm as they needed to.
Thus, when the ground shook so hard as to splash one of the hot springs across the floor of its cave, the first instinct of the pack leader was to make a mad dash for the surface, two other pack members hot on his shanks. Angrily and aggressively, they pounded toward open air, ever ready to counterstrike against whomever was crashing their territory.
They reached the mouth of the cave just in time for a veritable rain of boulders and shale to come tumbling past it. The geological storm, strangely enough, had come from low ground to the east, not at all like an avalanche from further up the mountain. Looking up the slope, trying to identify the source, one of the pack members slapped his leader on the side and gestured into the sky.
All of them stood transfixed as they beheld a strange, dark splotch against the star. It looked like a pointy chunk of rock lying sideways. Then it changed shape, changed position. A blinding yellow shaft of light spurted from it and struck the mountains to the south this time. Gigantic chunks of minerals were blown loose, flew thousands of feet into the air, crashed indiscriminately into the surrounding landscape.
The hunters of Dinius III went fairly ballistic. Eyes flashing with fury, teeth bare with wrath, they snarled and roared and raged at the splotch on their sun, unidentifiable but clearly hostile to them, bent on destroying their land. The splotch changed shape again and spewed another beam of blinding yellow light. This time the ground all but disintegrated at their feet. The boulders flew, the mountains crumbled, and the Dinius lupinoids died, never knowing why, what had killed them or what chance they might have had of fighting back.