Chapter Text
Kirk studied the polished, edged sword blade in the light angling through the windows of his apartment. He smiled to himself. Hundreds of years past, men assuming command of wooden sailing warships would wear a weapon very much like this one, a straight, medium-weight longsword made from stainless steel. They would fight enemy captains with it, capture the enemy ship and take it as a prize by one swipe of that glittering sliver of death. Kirk rubbed the flat side of the sword with his fingers and ruminated on what it must have been like, swashbuckling about the high seas with that weapon on your belt, fighting at close quarters with a man whose skill you couldn't possibly anticipate until you were face to face with him. Maybe he would find out soon. The Tecumseh was to fill the same role as escort frigates of the old sailing days, maybe even some Orion pirates were out there waiting to tangle with it - and with him.
The door chime rang, and Kirk glanced obliquely toward it, continuing to fondle the antique sword. "Come," he responded.
In came Mitchell, looking rather sober - not just in the absence of intoxication, but much more low-spirited than Kirk was used to seeing him.
"Hi, Gary," Kirk greeted him. "Ready for the big day next week?"
"Well, I was," Mitchell murmured with a second's glance at the sword in Kirk's hands. "Promise not to behead the messenger?"
"That depends. What's the message?"
"Admiral Fitzgerald's flag lieutenant was having a heart-to-heart with the Tecumseh's first officer in the lounge this afternoon. Sounds like you won't be getting that ship after all, Jim. They're giving it to Gionet."
"Pierre Gionet?" Kirk repeated, half disbelieving. "He was a class behind me, and he was in the second quarter of it!"
"Like I said, don't behead the messenger," Mitchell said, staring at the sword and waving his hands as if to surrender. "And don't ask the messenger where the message comes from. That's all I caught from them. Gionet is taking command of the Tecumseh on the same day you were supposed to."
Kirk sheathed the sword and stalked across the room to replace it on its display rack. "Relax, Gary, you're safe," he assured him. "I know who I need to ask about this."
Ray Brienzio braced himself as he plopped down behind his desk - rare were the times anymore when he could actually sit down without receiving a call from the outer office, almost as if his yeoman was lying in wait to forestall his relaxing. Sure enough, he had just shifted all his weight into the desk chair when the intercom buzzed.
Sighing, he laid a hammer blow on the button. "What?" he demanded irritably.
"Captain Kirk would like to see you, sir," the yeoman informed him in a subdued tone.
"Yeah, I figured he might," Brienzio grumbled. "All right, get him in here."
He not only thought Kirk might want to see him, he correctly assumed he'd be incensed. Kirk was practically in a huff as he marched into the office, tossing up his hands.
"Would you mind telling me what this is all about, Commodore?" he asked.
"Well, maybe if you wouldn't mind telling me how you got wind of it three days before you were supposed to," Brienzio returned.
"Word gets around even - or especially - when it's supposed to be hushed up. Now why is my command being turned over to a man who's junior to me by a class and a half?"
"Sit down, Jim." The mordant look on Brienzio's face indicated that it wasn't a request. Kirk sat, staring expectantly, as Brienzio leaned over the desk and sighed, staring at the desktop for a long moment.
"Matt's wife died a couple of weeks ago," he explained. "They extended his leave, another month for bereavement. He won't be able to take the Enterprise when she comes into Spacedock." He eyed Kirk for a moment, then continued: "So, now that he's out, and Chris Pike is taking command of a training squadron, the selection list for starship command is about half a dozen shorter. The name at the top of the list to take over the Enterprise was James T. Kirk."
There was a long silence. Kirk breathed in, breathed out, slowly. He wanted to ask Brienzio when he'd intended to tell him about the assignment change, but he'd just rendered the question academic. He stared at the top of Brienzio's desk, then finally said: "I see. I take it she'll be entering Spacedock on schedule, then?"
"Yeah, in two weeks. They're cutting your orders right now. Take the overhaul time to learn your way around the ship, meet your senior officers, train your crew, all that happy horse shit. They already promoted Spock, that Vulcan-human scientist guy, to be first officer."
"Oh, yes, I know Spock," Kirk smiled. "First met him aboard the Enterprise, in fact, during the episode with the deuterium refinery. He's a good friend. Which reminds me - is there any chance of hanging onto Gary Mitchell as my navigation officer?"
Brienzio nodded. "I'll tend to it. You know, Jim, I don't think we've ever had a man your age in command of a starship before. You really clinched it in that crazy-assed missile action above Dimidium."
"Well, I definitely can't claim all the credit for other men's work," Kirk said demurely. He paused, his mouth hanging open as if to add something. "Speaking of other men's work, what about Matt Decker? Will this end up damaging his career?"
"Family emergencies never killed a man's career that I can think of. Don't worry about him. The Constellation's on her way back in from a border patrol, and she's gonna need a couple of months' refit time as well. I'll have Matt take her out for her next fiver. As a matter of fact, you'll be doing the same with the Enterprise if you're up for it."
"A five-year exploratory mission?" Kirk's face brightened.
Brienzio could see him trying to contain his kid-at-a-birthday-party excitement. He chuckled and nodded. "I know what you said about being captain of the Enterprise at your age, but I got news for you, Jim - that's how it's shaped up. You'll be out there for five years, so you better go get her ready."
In unison, Brienzio and Kirk rose and shook hands across the desk. "Thank you, sir," Kirk said. "I do believe this will be a mission to remember."
"Be a damn disappointment otherwise," Brienzio said with a dry smile. "Good luck and have fun."
"I intend to. Goodbye, Commodore." Nodding in farewell, Kirk turned to leave.
"Hey, Jim," Brienzio called after him. "The Enterprise is a damn fine ship. Make sure you take good care of her."
"I certainly will." Kirk smiled gamely. And out of the office he went, radiating energy Brienzio had never seen in him before.
Christopher Pike stood at the railing of the observation deck overlooking the Enterprise's shuttle hangar. He smiled wistfully as he looked over the three hundred or so faces watching him from the hangar deck and the observation deck. Spock stood beside him, impassive as always, but Pike could swear he sensed some undetectable sorrow in the man. Not that he could fault him - he'd known Spock for a long time and he'd be feeling his own sense of loss, doubtless far greater than what Spock might experience.
"Well, my friends," he addressed the crew of the Enterprise, "I guess this is goodbye, at least as your commanding officer. We've carried each other through more than I can remember. But we've had some special moments that I can never forget, whether it was in action or just hanging out on a starbase messing around with Vulcan blunt-force instruments." He stole a sideways glance at Spock and smiled as he caught that cocking eyebrow. "Whether you're staying aboard Enterprise or taking transfers, I leave you with all the good wishes my heart can muster. I'm going to miss all of you, I'm going to miss serving with you, but doing so has been the great honor of my life.
"Those who might have been looking forward to seeing me get choked up and shed a few tears, sorry to disappoint you. That's for the far future. For now, we've all got a job to do. And to that end, I want to introduce you all to the man you'll be working for during the next five years or so - James T. Kirk, the man, the myth, the legend waiting to happen."
Pike stepped aside with a formal smile. Kirk stepped forward, legipad in hand, standing between Pike and Spock and looking like he was about to take his father's precious antique Corvette for a joy ride.
"I can only hope to live up to your already existing legend, Captain Pike," Kirk said dryly. He held up the legipad, raised his voice, and recited: "From Chief of Starfleet Personnel to Captain James T. Kirk, executive officer United Star Ship Merrimack outgoing. In accordance with Starfleet Order One-oh-four, Section A, you will report to the commanding officer, United Star Ship Enterprise, for duty as his relief. Order effective at thirteen hundred hours, Stardate Twelve-twenty-seven point one. Signed, Rear Admiral Mindzalindz Val Zilya, Deputy Chief of Starfleet Personnel."
Kirk put the legipad under his arm as he and Pike faced each other. "I relieve you, sir."
"I stand relieved," Pike answered, holding out his hand to shake Kirk's. "And I congratulate you and wish you the best of fortunes to come."
And with that, James T. Kirk was captain of the Enterprise.
"All ship's standing orders will remain in force until further notice," he addressed the crew. "All personnel will submit condition reports to their division officers by fifteen hundred hours. Engineering department will prepare a refit priority list and tentative schedule by eighteen hundred. Ship's company, dismissed."
As the crew broke up and scattered to their duties, Kirk and Pike strolled easily down the middle of the hangar deck toward the shuttlecraft that had conveyed Kirk to the Enterprise. Spock walked beside Pike and Mitchell beside Kirk, as the two captains carried on much of the conversation.
"Have to say I was a little surprised when you showed up, Jim," Pike said. "Word on the street was Matt Decker was taking over."
"He was, but there's been a death in his family and he's on extended leave," Kirk said. "Considering the shortage of qualified starship commanders, he's fortunate they gave him any leave at all."
"Trust me, you're the fortunate one," Pike smiled. "I wish I could say how fortunate, but most of my senior officers are transferring to other duty. Some for similar reasons."
"May as well make yourself at home, then, Jim," Mitchell said. "I know several people who would jump at the chance to serve in engineering and life sciences."
"As do I, so long as they're eligible to take transfers," Kirk said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Spock, but aren't you the only senior officer who's staying aboard?"
"I believe you will find that the ship's head nurse, Christine Chapel, is remaining," Spock answered. "And Nyota Uhura has been promoted to full lieutenant and will be assuming duty as head of communications."
Pike cocked his head dolefully as the four men drew up alongside the shuttlecraft. "Ah, that's a shame I won't get to see more of her. She did a hell of a job during this past mission. But if Christine's staying on, I can only hope you enjoy the insight into the human heart you're going to be getting."
"I do not understand your inference, Captain." Spock frowned critically at Pike. "Nurse Chapel must surely realize by now that I have no capacity to reciprocate her affections."
"When you wish upon a star," Pike said with an amused look. He turned to Kirk and took a deep breath. "Request permission to leave the ship, sir."
"Granted," Kirk nodded. "Be well, Chris."
"Thanks. Spock, take care of yourself. Stay in touch, huh?"
"Live long and prosper, Captain." Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. Pike patted his arm and forced half a smile. By now, he knew as well as Spock did that he had neither long life nor prosperity to look forward to.
He turned away and sighed apprehensively as he climbed into the shuttlecraft. Four steps up through the hatch: one step closer to meeting the fate he'd foreseen for himself on Boreth.
Spock glanced at Kirk and Mitchell with a strange look after the hatch had closed. "Curious."
"What do you mean?" Mitchell queried.
"To cast one's emotional desires across many thousands of light-years to a solar mass that cannot possibly affect their consequences is....most illogical."
Mitchell grinned. "Better get used to it, Mr. Spock. You're going to find an infinite diversity of emotional desire among an infinite combination of humans over the next few years."
Spock raised his eyebrows in an apparent gesture of resignation. Kirk looked at Mitchell and smiled boyishly. "One of the many IDICs we'll all have to get used to in the future, Gary. Meanwhile, we'd better let Captain Pike be on his way."
Matt Decker looked out the window to see the air taxi on descent, settling itself to the ground at the side of the house. He sealed his satchel, stood his regulation duffel bag on end, and faced Will, who had been packing alongside him in preparation for return to duty.
"Well, whaddya think?" he asked.
"I think it's a hell of a time to be leaving Brandi here all by herself, right before the end-of-year festivals," Will remarked.
Decker looked out the window and nodded. "No nonsense. She'll be all right. I've got some refitting to do in orbit, so I'll get back here whenever I can until Aunt Holly gets settled in."
"Whoever heard of one of the children of a house experiencing empty nest syndrome instead of a parent." Will's comment was as glib as it was rhetorical. "I'm just grateful Aunt Holly is willing to give Brandi a hand around here."
"You want to know something, Will? If it wasn't for your mother, I never would have learned the right way to raise a family like ours. And that was thanks to the family she came from." Decker picked up a legipad from the sideboard. "Is this mine, or yours?"
"Oh, that one's mine," Will said, glancing quickly at the address line.
Decker gave it a cursory glance as he handed it over. "Delta Four, huh?"
"Yeah. The Deltans have this nifty spherical cosmocompass they use for navigation, they read it in seven hundred and twenty degrees. It's nothing like our diaxial system, so I'm going there to help design a computer system that'll allow their navigation system to interface with Federation databanks."
"You're a regular Steve Jobs, my boy," Decker smiled.
"Well, I'm no Willis A. Lee, and that's a fact."
"Neither am I, for that matter. Hell, the only reason I'm retaining starship command instead of going to a division desk is there aren't enough qualified captains to go around."
"Would have been quite the feather in your cap if you got the Enterprise after all, though, wouldn't it?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, I'll make out fine with the Constellation. Might even get a chance to drop by Delta Four for a visit....if you can stand being seen with your old man."
Will laughed a laugh that felt awfully damn good after the sorrow and mourning of the past couple of months. They'd needed every minute of that period to process Maria's death, cope with their grief, execute her will and arrange for Brandi to have some company and help maintaining the homestead.
They came downstairs to find Brandi in the lounge packing up a couple of food tins. "I fixed you a little something for the ride," she told them. "Mother told me once how little repast you get on a starship that isn't a synthetic chicken recipe. So here's some good old-fashioned Wisconsin cheese and crackers." She paused with a knowing gleam in her eye - there was another shoe yet to be dropped. "And beefsteak," she added, smiling.
"Oh, my dear, you always do know what I like," Decker complimented her. "Is Aunt Holly here yet?"
"She's on her way. She's bringing Greg and Alison, too."
"Tell her to subspace me if she needs anything. And that goes for you, too, Brandi, you hear?"
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be okay. I'll keep the place warm."
Decker stepped forward and spread his arms with a sigh. "Guess it's time to get going, then. I'll beam down to see you whenever I can get away until the refit's finished."
"Love you, Dad." Brandi's voice was thick as she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Be safe out there."
"Love you, too, kiddo." Decker stepped back to let Will move in.
"So long, baby sister," Will said, hugging Brandi warmly. "Keep in touch, huh?"
"You, too," Brandi returned. "And take care of yourself." She released Will and leaned against the large easy chair, staring mournfully after the Decker men until they vanished from view of the doorway.
Extended family or no, Brandi couldn't quit the feeling that she might have seen both of them for the last time, that for the first time in her life she was totally, truly alone.
This time the air taxi took them to Weston, where they embarked on a three-leg highrail journey to St. Paul, then Portland, then back down to good old San Francisco. From the personnel office they collected their newly cut orders, and at Decker's suggestion, hung around the botanical gardens until nightfall. The gardens were the premium spot on the Starfleet HQ campus to gaze into the night sky and observe orbiting ships, spacedocks, satellites, and other platforms. Of the two of them, Decker would be leaving Earth's surface first, and it gave him a feeling of anticipatory thrill to speculate which of those spacedocks had just accepted his ship. For that matter he wondered if he might even rub nacelles with the Merrimack while getting ready for the mission to come.
The next day, bedecked in his dress uniform, adorned for the first time with his commodore insignia, Decker exited the flag officers' quarters to find none other than Andrew Carlington awaiting him in the foyer. Carlington, a short, slender man with handsome eyes and a starkly stratified haircut, had been Decker's yeoman ever since his stint at Starfleet Tactical and now bore the legipad containing his command orders. Greeting him with a handshake, Decker glanced around.
"Something missing, sir?" Carlington asked.
"Some one. I was hoping to - oh, here he comes." Decker motioned at Will, who was ambling toward them from the bachelor officers' quarters. "Why don't you go on ahead to the shuttlecraft, Andy. I have a little more father-and-son business to attend to."
"Yes, sir." Carlington crossed the foyer and exited to the shuttlecraft launch pad as Will approached his father with a wistful smile.
"Going to be hard learning all over again to think of you as my superior officer after these last couple of months," he said matter-of-factly.
"Just don't forget at the end of the mission, I'm still your old man." Decker patted him on the arm and led him on a slow walk toward the launch pad, where a Type F shuttlecraft waited a safe distance from the building. "In fact, the next time you and Brandi and I all get together again, I hear there's a newly discovered planet in the Munrovian cluster called Bacchus Five. From what I know, it's a happening place for a wintertime getaway."
"What, like a ski trip?"
"Or maybe an ice hockey tournament. Hey, maybe you'll have made lieutenant by then."
"You might even have made admiral, as far as that goes."
Decker chortled. "Have to live through this one first. See if I can't find at least one planet your mother would have wanted to retire to." He sighed deeply and gazed up into the sky, puffed with small white clouds. "When do you ship out?"
"Tuesday," Will said. "The San Jacinto will be taking me and the rest of the computer science team out to the Deltan system. Any chance you'll be passing through?"
"Couldn't tell you, not till I get my mission orders, and I won't receive those till we put to space."
"Then once again we say goodbye," Will said with a sad smile.
"Come on, now." Decker patted him on the arm. "We can make it for five years, son. It's been about that long since you entered the Academy, hasn't it?"
"Well, yes, sir." Will shrugged. "But it's just....this'll be the furthest I've ever been away from home, and I know what you said, but I'll still be worried about Brandi."
"I know. That makes two of us. But I'll make time to get home and be with her while the Constellation's in refit. and you'll have plenty to keep you busy on Delta Four. And you be careful around those Deltan women, you hear me? They may be hairless, but I've heard they can get awfully hairy just the same."
It was enough to elicit a laugh from Will - a short, chortling laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. He nodded, smiled wistfully, and held out his hand. "Listen, Dad, don't forget to look after yourself, okay?"
"Sure, Will, I sure will." Decker clasped his son's hand in both of his own and then pulled him into an embrace. "So long, son. I'll see you out there."
"Goodbye, Dad."
It seemed an interminable minute before Decker could step back and look away from that downcast face. He patted Will on the shoulder, turned away, and headed towards the shuttlecraft. He glanced only in the briefest at Yeoman Carlington and the shuttle's pilot before he looked back at Will and raised a hand in a last farewell.
He saw Will's chin tilt upward and his lips purse with emotion only a second before the doors to the shuttle closed. He sighed, scratched the back of his head, and headed for the copilot's seat on the starboard side.
"All right, Lieutenant, take us away," he said as he sat down. The pilot, a small-framed young woman with short, closely-cropped black hair, briefly acknowledged and thrust the shuttlecraft skyward.
"This is my favorite part," she remarked as the shuttlecraft exited the outer boundary layer. "Seeing one of these ships from outside and knowing what it's like to be able to handle something that big."
"You've helmed starships before?"
"Yes, sir, I sure have. Only reason I'm shuttling right now is...." The pilot looked away and bowed her head. "There was a death in my family here on Earth, and I've taken a temporary ground assignment. Just so we can all help get each other through it."
"Sure would be nice," Decker murmured.
"Sir?"
"I lost a family member recently myself. Definitely helps to have all hands on deck to help you cope with it. Of course the trouble with being a command-grade officer is they don't give you much time to take care of family business, especially not when there's a shortage of qualified starship captains and ships in need of a command structure."
"I have a feeling you and I could talk about this stuff for hours, Commodore," the pilot said with a humorous expression that was more of a smirk than a smile.
"How do you figure on that, Lieutenant....er...." Decker gestured, seeking for her to identify herself.
"Ortegas, sir. Erica Ortegas. I was chief navigation officer on the Enterprise for her last mission, under Captain Pike." Her expression turned from humorous to knowing.
"Ah, I see," Decker nodded consideringly. "Then you're aware of why there's a shortage of qualified captains."
"Painfully aware, sir." Pensively, Ortegas looked over the navigation display and adjusted the shuttle's heading toward the spacedock. "Sometimes I wonder if...."
"If?"
If Captain Pike will find some way to escape what's coming to him was what Ortegas had intended to say, but she and the rest of the Enterprise's command crew were sworn to secrecy on that subject. She glanced briefly at him and substituted: "If outer space really does want us all dead."
"It comes to us all eventually. Doesn't matter if it's outer space or some planetside accident or some extraterrestrial disease."
Ortegas's face turned suddenly serious. She looked like she was about to say something, but then she clammed up before shrugging her shoulders. "Well....in that case, I say we enjoy this while we got it." She reached forward, pushed a switch, and opened the viewing ports in front of the pilot seats.
The starship that awaited them in the spacedock was a vision, its hull burnished with faded silver, its running lights freshly cleaned and clear as Caribbean water, and its deflector dish and Bussard collectors removed for cleaning and refinement. Ortegas thrust the shuttle upward to allow Decker a view of the ship's tops. Its bridge dome was transparent, and it didn't seem to have so much as one hull plate out of alignment. Decker sat up straight for a better view and permitted himself an approving smile. The identification markings forward of the bridge, U.S.S. CONSTELLATION NCC-1017, were still perfectly legible despite the fade of the finish.
"She's a beauty, Commodore," Carlington remarked from his vantage point behind Decker's seat.
"You think she's a beauty now, Andy, just you wait till we're through with the refit."
"What's up with the registry number, though? Awfully low for a Constitution class, isn't it?"
Ortegas's droll smirk reappeared. "Maybe she's really just the Enterprise dressed up for Halloween," she offered.
Decker looked at her and chuckled. "They tell me she was originally an Achernar class, they were numbered in the one-thousand series. But she was damn near blown apart during the Battle of Antares Prime and they ended up rebuilding her to Constitution specs."
"Antares Prime, huh?" Carlington repeated. "She's lucky she made it out of that one."
"Weren't we all," Ortegas said.
"Mutual feeling, Lieutenant?" Decker surmised.
Ortegas nodded as she laid the shuttlecraft into a circular pattern around the Constellation's bridge. "Yes, sir. I was at the helm on the Hawking. The Klingons knocked out our main deflector and we were ordered to withdraw and switch position with the ship aft of us. So in they went with phasers blazing, but it wasn't five seconds before the Klingons shoved a torpedo right up their astrocompass." She paused and began to widen her orbit around the Constellation's saucer section. "Sometimes I can't quit thinking, it could have been us. Should have been us. There, but for the grace of Starfleet Command, go I."
"And is it also by the grace of Starfleet Command that you're now circumnavigating my ship's primary hull like some kind of Buck Rogers wannabe?" Decker inquired.
"Oh, hell, no, Commodore," Ortegas laughed. "Just giving you the grand exterior tour of your new command." She flew the shuttlecraft at an alarming velocity around the rim of the saucer section as the intercom whistled.
"Constellation to Shuttlecraft HQ-One," an urgent, emphatic voice blared from the speaker. "Lieutenant Ortegas, you are cleared for immediate landing in main shuttle bay!"
"Shuttlecraft HQ-One, copy that," Ortegas answered. "Should take about a minute or so for those hangar doors to open all the way. In the meantime, fasten your seat belts, my men!"
"Fasten our what?" Carlington was baffled.
"Sit down, shut up, and hold on, Andy!" Decker exhorted. It told him something that whoever had transmitted from the Constellation knew Ortegas by name and reputation alike. And sure enough, she increased the shuttlecraft's velocity by another fifty kilometers per hour as she completed her dash around the saucer section.
Thrusting upward, she zoomed along the top of the port warp nacelle, executed a sharp U-turn at the aft end and shot back forward along the top of the starboard nacelle. Upon reaching the nacelle's support pylon, she pushed the shuttlecraft over into a sharply angled dive ten meters above the pylon, straight at the Constellation's engineering section. Carlington made an unintelligible sound of consternation - it was here that he fully took in the import of Decker's warning when Ortegas suddenly jolted the shuttlecraft's nose upward and raced up the pylon of the port nacelle.
"Lieutenant, you are of course familiar with Regulation Fifty-five, paragraph nine," Decker said loudly.
"Of course, Commodore," Ortegas replied. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna collide with anything. Just sit back and enjoy the ride!" She gleefully hove starboard, zoomed toward the saucer section again and went into another breakneck loop around the ventral sensor array and phaser emitters. That move completed, she pushed the shuttlecraft into another quick dive of 45 degrees along the connecting dorsal and swooped in close above the engineering section. Suddenly Decker was ironically grateful he hadn't gotten command of the Enterprise - having this wild woman for a senior navigation officer would not have been good for his digestion.
"All right, Ms. Ortegas, that's enough!" he forced himself not to shout. "You're not flying a starship! Now get me on board before you break something!"
"I checked the inertial dampers myself this morning, sir," Ortegas said breezily. "Nothing to fuss about." Flying out aft of the engineering section, she slowed the shuttlecraft drastically and spun it 180 degrees on its vertical axis, to a view of the Constellation's hangar with its wide-open doors and its flashing landing lights. She thrusted ahead one last time at a speed better suited to breaking a close orbit than docking a shuttlecraft.
"And....kaboom!" Ortegas exulted as she hit the braking thrusters and brought the shuttlecraft to a dead halt. Then, with a gentleness Decker no longer thought her capable of, she lowered the small vessel onto the revolving landing pad, shut down the engines, and signaled for the deck crew to secure the hangar.
"Thank you for flying with Ortegas Starship Tours," she said in mock formality. "Please watch your step as you exit the spacecraft and enjoy the rest of your day."
"You know, Ms. Ortegas, before my wife died, one of the last things she noticed was all the gray hair I got out of Starfleet," Decker said acidly. "Well, let me tell you, she hadn't seen nothin' yet."
Ortegas's flamboyant grin faded, and she looked away. Her little flyby of the Constellation suddenly didn't seem quite as exhilarating alongside her profound sympathy for the recently widowed commodore. She turned up the gain on the comm system in time to hear the transmission from the operator's level: "Hangar doors secured. Hangar deck pressurizing. All hands, stand by for entry."
"Good luck on your new command, Commodore," Ortegas said quietly.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Decker said simply. He arose and moved aft to the hatch, which opened at almost the same time as the airlock to the main corridor. In filed the crew, two people at a time, forming ranks to either side of the hangar deck's centerline. Midgrade officers were first in, followed by crewmen and technicians. More midgrade officers and finally senior officers filtered out onto the observation deck ringing the hangar, with eight of them forming a clutch at the forward bulkhead.
With all hands present and accounted for, Decker looked down at the airlock again as three more men passed through it. He recognized Ray Brienzio as much from his build as his swaying, loping gait. The second person was evidently his yeoman, but the third, a tall, square-jawed commander in a gleaming gold dress tunic, Decker was sure he'd never seen.
Decker and Carlington descended from the shuttlecraft's hatch to the hangar deck, where Brienzio stepped forward to extend a greeting hand. "Welcome back, Matt," he said, in a low, man-to-man tone.
"You start that 'welcome-Matt' shit with me again and that nose of yours is gonna need a refit next," Decker told him with a mock warning look.
Brienzio chuckled, but his face summarily turned somber. "Hey, I heard about Maria. I'm sorry for all of you."
"Thanks, Ray," Decker nodded. "Best thing for me to do now is get back up and get out there for her."
"Did you enjoy your little thrill ride with Ortegas?" Brienzio asked, tossing a wry glance toward the shuttlecraft.
"Now what ever gave you that idea?" Decker chortled.
"Lucky guess," Brienzio said. He moved aside and allowed the youthful-looking commander to step forward, also offering his hand for a shake.
"Commander Richard Edgerton, sir. I'll be your first officer." The wiry, well-structured man had a hefty British accent and a dimpled smile. "Welcome aboard."
"Ah, pleased to meet you, Mr. Edgerton," Decker smiled. "This your first tour on a starship?"
"As first officer, yes, sir. But I've been with Constellation for one five-year assignment as tactical officer. Captain Hamel was rather pleased to learn you'd be taking over for him."
"Well, in that case, shall we?" Decker motioned down the clear aisle the crew had formed in the middle of the hangar. Nodding, Edgerton led the procession forward, Brienzio and Decker following him walking abreast, and their yeomen bringing up the rear. Men and women in dress uniforms of all colors packed both the hangar and observation decks now, all their attention drawn to the five men walking toward the airlock.
They rode a small lift up to the observation deck, where Edgerton moved over to stand with the group of senior officers. Two of them Decker recognized from the staff of Starship Division 2, the rest he was sure he would come to know in the months ahead. Brienzio, meanwhile, moved up to the railing overlooking the hangar deck.
"Attention, all hands," his voice boomed out over the assembly. "Commodore Matthew Decker is taking over today as your new commanding officer. Most of you know him by reputation - he earned his promotion in action against a hostile race. He is not afraid of a fight, and he is not afraid of the unknown. Those of you who are new on board can place your full confidence in your commanding officer, that these will be five memorable years of exploration to come. Those of you who have been aboard ship for a while, it's business as usual. Peaceful exploration and defense of Federation territory, but with Commodore Decker on the bridge, a lot of coming, seeing, and kicking ass!"
He paused for the laughter that rang about the hangar. Then he stepped back a pace, turned, and nodded his head. "Commodore Decker, you will now read your orders to your command."
"Yes, sir." As he took his legipad from Carlington and stepped up to the railing, Decker shot a short glance out one of the viewports of the observation deck. He could see at least three dozen stars just in that one tiny field of vision. Remembering all those ancient myths of departed souls watching from amongst those stars, he wondered which one of them represented Maria looking down on him from above. Then he suddenly remembered the line from the poem Will had read at Maria's grave: I am the soft stars that shine at night.
He took a deep breath, straightened up, and faced the assembled crew.
"From Chief of Starfleet Personnel to Commodore Matthew R. Decker, detached commanding officer U.S.S. Merrimack, NCC-1344," he read loudly and clearly from the legipad. "In accordance with Starfleet Order One-oh-four, Section A, you will report to U.S.S. Constellation, NCC-1017, to assume the duties of that ship's commanding officer. Order effective at eleven hundred hours, Stardate One-two-four-zero point six. Authorized signature, Vice Admiral Antonito Galindez, Chief of Starfleet Personnel."
He handed the legipad back to Carlington and faced Brienzio. "I, Matthew R. Decker, have received and acknowledged my orders to assume command of U.S.S. Constellation, and will carry out all duties and responsibilities of that position to the best of my ability."
"The Federation has every confidence that you and all of your crew will do the same," Brienzio answered, putting forth his hand. "She's all yours, Matt. Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir." Decker kept a straight face as he shook hands with the senior commodore: the crew was now his crew as he turned back to face them. "All ship's standing orders will remain in force until further notice," he continued. "Commander Edgerton, I will meet all department heads in Briefing Room One at eleven thirty. Dismiss the crew from quarters."
"Very good, sir." Edgerton stepped up beside him and elevated his voice to be heard throughout the hangar. "All department heads, kindly make yourselves available at eleven thirty hours in Briefing Room One. Crew dismissed!"