—- Starbase 86, Senior Officers’ Lounge —-

“So your last First Officer killed a bunch of Romulans,” asked Commander Olivia Carrillo.

Captain Adriana Cruz nodded, “He was a member of the Klingon Defense Force, and an exchange officer. I’m still recovering from another attack, so I was off the ship when he did it. But yes, continuing a run of First Officers who’ve left.”

Carrillo smiled, “Well I can’t promise I’ll stay but I’ve never served under a Latina woman captain before, so I hope to stick around.”

”I’ve had the opportunity to pickup who I wanted to, and a lot of people like us had careers that had stalled out. So there’s a few of us onboard,” Cruz said. She smiled, “I joke that I’m working up to an all Latina ship. I’m not actually but after serving on ships of all white male senior officers, I don’t feel that I’m out of line.”

”My last ship was ninety percent Vulcan,” Carrillo said, “Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong.”

Cruz sat down with her glass of wine, “I missed you at the Academy by a few years. But your background in Klingon studies and Security was what I needed. We’re not on an exploratory assignment any longer. At least for now we’re doing border patrol.”

“We’re refitting for a tactical mission pod?” Carrillo asked.

”We are,” Cruz nodded gesturing out the windows at the ships being worked on. There the USS Luna was being refitted with a few pod to handle more tense encounters. After losing a Romulan scout ship to the Klingons they were going to be ready next time, as Cruz had joked they were no longer bringing a protractor to a knife fight.

”I’ve never been here before, it’s quiet,” Carrillo said.

”Commanders and up only,” Cruz said, “I imagine at one time this was all a certain kind of man. We’d have been arm candy at best.”

Carrillo nodded, back in Archer or Kirk’s day there was no rule against women of Latina women being in positions of authority, it just never happened. They’d had Vulcan admirals before that, heck they both could count on one hand the number of Latina Admirals there had been in their lifetimes.

”I‘m going to need you to work with my Chief Security Officer,” Cruz said, “Sorry our officer. She’s a Lieutenant and a bit green but bright and I think she could be up for a new pip in a year or so. She just needs, guidance.”

 “We also have a Romulan advisor,” Carrillo asked.

”We do. I was thinking of making her First Officer, but I want whatever we do to be our decision, and not dictated by the Romulans. She can advise, nothing else,” Cruz said, “As a Klingon expert what are we facing?”

”Lots of confusion. Nobody’s sure where Martok is or if he’s really dead. Some Klingons are happy with peace with us and the Romulans, most want war with the Romulans and some was war with us and the Romulans. Right now there’s as you know, raids on Romulan ships and colonies but nothing directly on us yet,” Carrillo said, “Though with the wrong ship, at the wrong time that could change. The Klingons are armed to the teeth and even the ones who are on our side don’t want us to tell them what to do.”

Cruz nodded, “Is peace even possible?”

”Not impossible, but unlikely. There’s elements of the Klingons that haven’t ever really accepted the Khitomer Accords and others who see us and our alliance as having served its purpose. War for them is the natural state of being, and they’ll try goading us into striking first,” Carrillo said, “and then they’ll use that as an excuse to invade. Like old nation state of the United States of America invading Vietnam due to the Tonkin incident.”

“So they’ll push us until we push back and then they’ll say we started it?” Cruz asked.

”Probably, yes, if you want to describe our alliance with the Klingons like a sibling,” Carrillo said.

”I’ll introduce you to the senior staff tomorrow,” Cruz said, “We’re in dock for just over a week. Then back out into the fray.”

—- Starbase 86, Conference Room 4 —-

“Alright thanks everyone for taking time out of your day to meet our new First Officer and Introduce yourself,” Captain Cruz said. Continuing she added, “Most of you have leave, and I know this isn’t what any of us would want to be doing right now. So please welcome Commander Olivia Carrillo our new XO.”

Adjusting her uniform with a tug as she stood and gave a small wave Carrillo smiled, “I’m glad to be joining up with you. I hope to be of use.”

“Updates from left to right, what’s the state of your department, anything we should know that sort of thing,” Cruz said.

Lieutenant Commander James Young stood up first, and after giving his name added, “I’m the Chief Engineer. We’re in good shape. We were in a few battles on our shakedown cruise and came through them with little to no damage. The mission pod will be in today which gives us four extra torpedo launchers, and two hundred extra torpedos. Other than that I don’t have a lot to report.”

Next up was Lieutenant Yuhiro Kolem the Chief Counsellor who also introduced herself then went into her status update, “Crew is pretty shaken but the week of leave will be good. I would guess we’ll not be staying in Federation space, but it felt good for people to get back here after the attack on the Romulan ship.”

If there was one overriding sense that Carrillo got through the array of officers who went on to present was that they were dedicated but still shaken up from the series of events that had hit them on their first mission on the new ship. From a series of murders to the attack on a peaceful Romulan ship by their former First Officer, it seemed that there was a lot of morale to rebuild, though nobody would admit to being down. The crew was loyal and would soldier on no matter what, not wanting to let down their captain or their fellow team members.

Later when Carrillo retreated to the officer’s lounge on the station, she spotted Acting Chief Medical Officer Thomas Elordi. “So are we broken beyond repair,” he asked only half jokingly.

The pair sat down to enjoy their drinks, “Maybe, certainly wounded in a way. War is a time of trauma but then I don’t have to tell the ship’s doctor that.”

”I’m not a counselor,” Dr. Elordi said, “I don’t fix those problems.”

”Well hopefully Lieutenant Kolem is up to the job, and is as good as the Captain thinks she is,” Carrillo said,  “Because this war is just beginning and we have so much more trauma to go through.”

Doctor Elordi nodded, “We’ll grow together, and we’ll rise to the challenge, I’m sure. I’ve only been with this crew a few months now and I don’t have any doubts.”

”Well doctor,” Carrillo said after a silence, “I hope you’re right.”

First Officer’s Log: The USS Luna left Starbase 86 and has headed into the Triangle, a region of space that if essentially a No Man’s Land between the rival empires of the Federation, the Romulan Free State and the Klingon Empire. The conflict between the Klingon and Romulans has further drawn away attention from the region leaving the criminal gangs and pirates unchecked in this area. Meanwhile I’m still finding my footing as a First Officer, and a member of this crew. Thus far life has been comfortable, and it’s obvious that in the designing of the USS Luna the intent was to create a place comfortable for human and non-human life on a long voyage. So far the arboretum is a favorite of mine, and much larger and lusher than the holographic green space that we had aboard my last ship.

 

The crew itself is perhaps a bit green, with most of the senior staff either having moved on or been beset by various tragedies, but they’re all eager and willing to learn. The ship is full of dedicated crew but most of them are so young that they can’t imagine being at war with the Klingons. It’s never happened within my lifetime, and so I can’t blame anyone who sees the seemingly perpetual peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire as being the only state of being that’s acceptable or even possible. Few of us have faced war before, especially not the prolonged violent conflict that any war with the Klingons will be. 

 

The crew though is adaptable and while they’ve been through more hardships than most crews I’ve seen I have faith in their reliance and their abilities come the end of peaceful relations with the Klingons.

 

For now though we are patrolling the Triangle, ensuring that the chaos going on in the galaxy does not come to Federation colonies which still need to be supplied and protected. 

—- USS Luna, Bridge —-

Commander Olivia Carrillo sat up a bit straighter as the ship appeared on the screen. Part of settling into the new position aboard the USS Luna had been figuring out how hands on the Captain wanted to be for things like this, semi-regular stops of ships in unclaimed space to see it they were pirates or something more sinister. She stood from the center chair and tugged downward on her black uniform with the red piping of command and glanced meaningfully at Lieutenant Junior Grade William Hume at tactical, “Don’t raise shields yet, but be ready to. Bring us alongside it, bridge to Captain Cruz we have an unidentified ship we’re closing in on.”

The Captain signaled that she was on her way, and entered the bridge from the Ready Room, she nodded at Carrillo and then glanced at Hume, ”Hail them Lieutenant on screen.”

An Orion popped up on screen looking nervous, he smiled, “I’m Captain J’tall of the Orion Free Trade Group.”

Cruz nodded, “I see, and what are you carrying captain?”

”We are carrying medical supplies to Federation colonies. We trade for their produce,” J’tall said.

“That sounds wonderful, I’m assuming that you wouldn’t object to us inspecting the cargo then. I could have a security team do a sweep in a few hours, wouldn’t slow you down much at all,” Cruz said.

J’tall frowned, “I would need to contact my superiors and get permission of course. Meanwhile Commander Carrillo here will put together an away team, so we don’t slow you down.”

The screen switched off, and Commander Carrillo gestured at Hume, “Lieutenant Junior Grade Hume, let Lieutenant Avila know that she’s joining us along with Lieutenant Voosha. And get armed, we’ll be polite but let’s assume they’re preparing a trap for us.”

Hume nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“Mister Winfield,” Carrillo said to the man on the starship controls, “We’ll take a shuttle over since transporting to and from an Orion ship could be tricky, get yourself a relied officer and you can take us.”

Winfield nodded and the Assistant Chief Flight Control Officer called on the conn for a replacement officer so he could leave the bridge. In just under half and hour the away team was on their way over to the Orion ship via shuttlecraft, docking alongside of it, and entering. About five minutes after that a much larger Orion ship dropped out of warp.

—- Orion Ship #1 —-

The away team had donned the Hazard Team’s armor since the members were all on the Hazard team. With side arms as well as phaser rifles they began their exploration of the ship. J’Tall who had greeted them at the airlock watch on as they opened up crates to find hyposprays and medical supplies as promised. Carrillo tapped her Commbadge, “Away team to Luna, this all looks standard.”

When there was no response she tapped it again, and again got nothing.

”The walls of the ship could be interfering with our comm badges”, Voosha said. Though the Intelligence Officer is the group she did not want to jump to conclusions yet. However everyone was thinking the same thing, there comms wouldn’t work here because this was a pirate ship.

”Would you like to raise your ship in our communications room?” J’tall asked, behaving as if he did not understand the problem. 

This made Carrillo suspicious, but their options were limited. The other option was returning to the shuttle where Lieutenant Junior Grade Winfield was waiting for them, “Fine, comms room then.”

At alert and with phaser rifles drawn, if on stun, the group walked to the comm room. J’tall offered them a computer to raise the and then left them alone, closing the door to the room behind him.

”He just left,” Hume observed.

Carrillo worked on the computer, “Computer’s not working, we can’t hail the Luna, Hume open the door.”

Hume struggled with the door,  failing to open it, “It’s locked.”

There was a hissing sound. “What’s that?” asked Voosha, looking around the room for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from all around them. She kept turning as Carrillo gave the computer another attempt and then hit it.

”It’s a trap, not a comms room,” Avila said being the first to speak the obvious. She swallowed, all of a sudden her mouth was feeling dry, and her head hurt. She glanced down and figured out the source of the sound, “Gas.”

Switching her rifle from stun Carrillo fired, striking the door with a blast. It remained unaffected. Carrillo was trying to increase the output of the rifle when Voosha fell over. Her own vision blurred, her eyes drooped and she felt herself suddenly pitch forward as she tumbled towards the ground and into blackness.

—- USS Luna, Bridge —-

The Alpha shift had come on with the arrival of the second Orion ship. This one was armed to the teeth, and seemingly even outclassing the USS Luna. Captain Cruise knew that they had to tread carefully now, as the Orions had just called their manager. Compared with a Starfleet ship it was unbalanced, all weapons and teeth like drawings of ancient dinosaurs on Earth or the great white sharks with rows upon rows of teeth. 

”Tactical analysis,” Captain Cruz asked her Chief Security Officer Lieutenant Claudia Jara.

Jara frowned not liking the sight of the ship, and her assessment upon looking at her console did not improve. The computer was still identifying weapons, and like any good pirate ship they probably had a few hidden from easy sensor readings.

”I’d feel better if we were in a Sovereign-class ship,” Jara said, “That thing is all elbows as Hume would say.”

It was, she understood, a reference to the ancient Earth sport of hockey.

”Hail it,” Cruz said taking her seat.

On screen appeared a scantily clad but beautiful green woman who smiled sweetly at the crew of the Luna as if she had not just arrived in a flying death trap. 

“Starfleet people, how delightful,” she said, “I suppose the intruders my crew on my other ship has caught were yours?”

”If you’ve kidnapped them, then yes,” Cruz said, “I’m Captain Adriana Cruz of the United Feder….”

”Oh dear, I know the speech. I’m Dorana but most men, and women, just call me Mistress Delightful,” she said still smiling as if this was a great day, “Now you’re here I imagine to discuss your surrender.”

”I’m not surrendering,” Cruz said.

”First to try to pirate my vessel and then you refuse to go quietly,” Dorana said making a ‘tsk tsk’ sound with her tongue, “You Starfleet types are sure bold. But from one woman to another Captain, why don’t you come over and we can discuss the situation.”

”After you just kidnapped my away team, I don’t think so,” Cruz said.

”Then I’ll come there, but I think you’d rather talk than we exchange shots, you Starfleet types don’t like that,” Dorana said, “Besides I hold all the cards at the moment Captain.”

”We have VIP facilities, why don’t you and a delegation come over in about an hour,” Cruz said seeing no way around this.

”Perfect,” Dorana said, “See Captain Adriana Cruz, already we’re getting along famously.”

The transmission cut and Cruz stood up, heading to the turbolift, “Jara get your security staff down to sickbay. We need to make sure their pheromones aren’t going to affect us. She seemed too eager to meet in person for my taste. I’ll be at sickbay as well. We have one hour people, let’s be ready for guests.”

—- USS Luna, VIP Lounge —-

Captain Adriana Cruz sat waiting as a security team lead two Orion women into the lounge. One was Dorana and the other was slightly younger and more modestly dressed, at least for an Orion. The two had a resemblance, but Cruz was not sure what to chalk that up to. She stood and nodded in greeting, wanting to be formal with the Orions, treating them like this was a real diplomatic negotiation and not just trying to deal with the hostage taking at hand.

“Captain, I do find it insulting that your security team met us, as if we’re here to steal secrets,” Dorana grinned her white teeth contrasting with her dark green skin tone. She smiled, oozing disdain for the security team and the measures that the Starfleet crew had put in place to handle the Orions, including being inoculated against the mind altering pheromones, an inoculation that Cruz herself had undergone.

Cruz shrugged, “Well you want something you’ve kidnapped our crew. Now let’s have a seat, and we can negotiate.“

The door opened and Sub-Lieutenant S’anra Navana entered, Cruz introduced her, “Sub-Lieutenant Navana will be joining us, as a representative of the Romulan government. Since you’ve yet to tell us what it is you want.”

Dorana took a seat, “Well I want two things, and given that I have your people and a much larger ship I expect you to agree to them. Or you’ll find out how ruthless I can be. First let my ship pass, we’re not in Federation space so there’s no place or need for a check. If there was illegal contraband on the ship, well, perhaps talk to your colonists about that, and not the middle man who’s just delivering it.”

While Cruz did not want to cede on the point of being able to search pirate ships for contraband she also knew that not only where the away team’s lives at risk, but also everyone on the USS Luna given that fact that Dorana’s ship was so much better armed than them. Better to let one ship pass than to die and let it pass anyway.

”What’s the other thing?” Cruz asked, this whole situation had been setup by Dorana for something. She’d arrived quickly when they’d sent a boarding team aboard the ship, she must want something else.

”Why Captain this next favor is for your own good. I want you to become a mother,” Dorana said her face beaming as if she was delivering the most delightful news.

”Excuse me?” Cruz asked, not understanding what was being asked of her.

”The Triangle is becoming increasingly fraught, dangerous even. You would be surprised at some of the shady characters here Captain. Now an expansionist Klingon empire has taken more liberties here than they used to and unrelated I ended up owing some dangerous people some Latinum,” Dorana explained, “Now I’ve got a crew I trust and there’s not a lot of ways to get to me, but…“

”But,” Cruz said still not understanding what this had to do with her having a child.

”But my daughter was not cut out for this life, and she’s my weak spot,” the Orion said, “Captain let me introduce Vanuoma my daughter.” 

Dorana nodded to the younger Orion woman to her left. The only one she had come aboard with, she was likely in her early twenties, not a child by any stretch, but though it was hard to judge the Orion women’s age, suddenly it made more sense, and if Dorana had had Vanuoma at a young age, comprehensible. Cruz stole a glance at Navana who only rose an eyebrow in a Vulcan like gesture.

”We’re not a Galaxy-class ship we don’t take civilians,” Cruz said.

”Make her a Lieutenant Commander or something, she can be a part of your crew,” Dorana said.

”I’m not making someone a Lieutenant Commander at the drop of a hat,” Cruz said, “But I can find something for her to do, but she’s subject to all the rules and laws of the Federation and Starfleet if she comes with us. If you want to come with us Vanuoma.”

The younger Orion nodded, “Mother says it’s safer for me. I’ll come, and follow your laws.”

Cruz glanced at Navana again and then back at Dorana, “Why us?“

”I waited for a female Captain specifically. So there’s less chance of Vanuoma being taken advantage of. Men at times have certain expectations for the role Orions play, especially Orion women,” Dorana said, “Your ship‘s leadership is mostly women, I trust that you’ll do your best to look after her.”

Cruz nodded, “Fair point, though most Starfleet ships and Captains of any gender would have been fine.”

”Most but not all,” Dorana said. 

“Give us our people back and I’ll uphold my part. Vanuoma you’re now a Crewman, we’ll figure out where to put you later but welcome to the Luna,” Cruz said with a nod.

”I hope this is a start of a beautiful friendship Captain,” Dorana said grinning.

”You’re a pirate,” Cruz said.

”I’m an independent business woman just trying to make my way in the galaxy,” Dorana countered.

—- USS Luna, Holodeck 2 —-

“This doesn’t get any easier does it,” asked Lieutenant Yi Zhang, mostly as a joke. 

The pair was taking the containment filters from the Holodecks and replacing them. The ‘materials’ that they collected would be treated and then broken down into their component molecules for us in the replicator. It was ensuring that nothing, no matter how gross, was wasted. Everything was reused and recycled, which was helpful on the kind of multi-year missions that the USS Luna had been designed for. The fact that their multi-year mission had been cancelled due to looming war between the Romulan Free State and the Klingon Empire did not change the fact that they still made good use of everything.

The crewwoman Vanuoma Vedda, who had just been assigned that rank last week by the Captain after they had agreed to find the Orion a home on the Luna, frowned, “So this is the kind of thing I have to do all the time.”

“It’s not the only job you’ll have but yeah, the holodecks get cleaned at least twice a month maybe once a week depending on usage,” Zhang said. The Lieutenant did not usually take care of these jobs any more, but like most he’d started off with the worth jobs on the ship and worked his way up. Now he was passing his knowledge on to the next generation of guck cleaners. 

Vedda seemed unimpressed, “I miss nepotism.”

Her mother was the Captain and leader of an Orion criminal faction, that called itself a free trade conglomerate, and so she had never had to do any grunt labor like this. Arguably the standards on the Orion ships she’d lived on had been lower, but there had still bean biological matter to clean. Now she had to actually work, and worse by order of the Captain she was on pheromone blockers that ensured she did not mind control anyone into doing her work for her, which she had often done back on her mother‘s ships.

Zhang shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, but I assume it’s nice to have an admiral father or something to sort of speed your career on. As much as we pretend it doesn’t exist, well…“

After a day’s worth of work, and several more holodecks, the pair finished and Zhang sighed, tiredly, “I forgot how much hard work it is to have to do all that stuff. Next week you’re on your own, or with another crewman, so that’s nice for me at least.”

He grinned and said, ”Hey did you want dinner? I’m meeting Lieutenant Junior Grade Torma for dinner, but we can forgo the officer’s lounge for the mess hall if you want to join us.”

Not wanting to impose Vedda shook her head, “No, thank you. I’ll see you at 08:00 tomorrow morning.”

Zhang shrugged, “Suit yourself, see you tomorrow.”

—- USS Luna, Mess Hall —-

The replicators did not do Orion food justice. While the mess hall’s standards were well above what the main bulk of the crew got aboard Orion vessels that she’d grown up on, the Orion food was not as good, likely a result of the rather small percentage of Orions that were in Starfleet. Vedda had learned that it was not entirely unusual, but it was certainly nothing like Vulcans, Andorians, and Humans who still made up the backbone of the fleet and as a consequence had much nicer and more accurate food. Tonight Vedda had opted for a human dish that sounded interesting, raw fish that they called sushi.

She sat and poked at the fish, popping a sashimi in her mouth. It was not bad, though not quite what she was used to. She had been eating for about ten minutes, tentatively poking through the fish on rice when a shadow was cast on her. Looking upwards she saw a man in red with the officer’s rank of Lieutenant and some curious facial hair.

”Mind if I join you?” he asked and then sat down without waiting for an answer.

Vedda poked at her fish. 

”I’m Lieutenant Randolph Mckenzie,“ he said, “Chief Communications Officer.”

Vedda picked up a roll with some crab and something as green as her in it and popped it into her mouth.

Clearly expecting the announcement to have been impressive Mckenzie frowned at the lack of response, “And you are?”

”Off duty for the day,” Vedda said, “So I’m done cleaning for you Lieutenants.”

Mckenzie nodded, “I was most trying to make your acquaintance, get to know some of the faces on the ship. I just transferred onboard at Starbase 86, I’m still working on learning how the ship works.”

”I am newer than that,“ Vedda said, “I have no idea how the ship works, go talk to someone else. They’ll be more helpful.”

”I’ll confess that some of my interest is that you’re quite attractive,” he said, “if you don’t mind me saying that.”

Vedda studied him, “You know Orion women are always told that they’re quite attractive, over the centuries we’ve learned to use that and males’ weakness to our advantage. You think I would be so easily impressed by compliments of that kind?”

He shrugged, “Alright, I’ll leave you be.”

Vedda sighed, “Fine, stay sitting down Mister Randolph of Communications. Maybe you can explain why you have that on your face beneath your nose?”

”My mustache,” the Lieutenant asked surprised, “I just like it, it grew while I was on leave a few years ago and I haven’t shaved it off yet.”

Vanuoma Vedda seemed unconvinced that this was a good addition to his facial features but said nothing. She was finding it hard to have gone from being the daughter of the Captain and thus an extension of her to a lowly crewwoman, or crewman, or whatever she was. It seemed like everyone outranked her and while she had not expected to be made a Lieutenant Commander or whatever her mother had initially requested some deference would be nice. Instead she was forced to speak with humans with weird facial hair.

Finally accepting the offer to sit down he relaxed into his seat. Many officers seemed to eat in the lounge which was just for officers, and Vedda had only seen while also cleaning that. That Mckenzie was not a part of that was a sign that he must not have been welcomed into the Senior Crew yet. He had a sandwich of some kind and proceeded to take a bite of it, letting roast beef hang from it as he chewed and set it on his plate.

”So you like sushi?” Mckenzie asked, trying to make conversation.

”The Orion food the ship’s replicators make is sub-standard, I wanted to try raw fish but this is too delicate,” Vedda said.

”I guess you could ask for like an uncooked steak or something,” the human suggested, offering a shrug. He knew that Orions were rumored to have varied tastes, but he wasn’t sure if raw beef would suit what she was looking for. 

“Perhaps I will ask for that next time,” she said, “but I have consumed enough calories for the time period of after work.“

”Did you want to grab a drink or something, take a walk in the arboretum?” Randolph suggested, “You know as social friends, I can show you some of my Orion language knowledge.”

He attempted to speak Orion.

”You have just said that your shoes are tasty,” Vedda said, considering the offer of social company, if not his language skills. She finally nodded, “Fine we will look at the plants Starfleet keeps on their ships, as if we were on a planet and not a ship.”

Quickly stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth Mckenzie got to his feet, “It’s to help people not feel homesick in between long voyages.”

”It’s shocking your entire race was not enslaved and sold to the Klingons,” Vedda said as she stood and returned her tray to the area where someone at the crewman rank like he would recycle the left over food to be eaten again. It was apparently the way these humans, and other Federation types lived, and she knew that sadly it was the way that she too now lived.

—- Captain’s Log, USS Luna —-

Our mission to explore Romulan space has been changed to patrolling the Triangle a section of unclaimed and unexplored space between the Romulan Free State, Klingon Empire and Federation. Up until now it was mostly unexplored because with no conflict between the three states there was no need to. Now it’s become more dangerous to venture away from home, no matter what government you belong to. The Klingons are on the warpath, the Klingon factions that have made this their home after failing to overthrow the empire are on the march and with Federation ships responding to incursions into the Romulan Free State’s territory the Triangle is less and less protected emboldening pirates and cartels.

 

We are without readily available backup and while as sensors are state of the art, what we don’t see is the problem. As one of a diminishing supply of ships protecting this space, we become that much easier to just avoid and continue doing whatever you want elsewhere. When we do catch a pirate, as with the Orions last month, it’s too easy to show up with a more powerful ship and convince us to look the other way.

 

As Captain I have to keep up the illusion that we’re making a difference out here, but all I feel is frustration as to how little we’re actually able to accomplish.

—- USS Luna, Bridge —-

Captain Adriana Cruz took her seat after completing her log in her Ready Room. Commander Olivia Carrillo stood and took her seat next to the Captain nodding a greeting at the other woman. Carrillo was not without her own concerns about their current mission, but her job was more complicated. In some ways she was there to support the Captain and in other ways she had to be a source of inspiration and energy for her commanding officer. While the Captain did not show her frustrations it did not take a Betazoid to feel them when you sat next to her as much as Carrillo did.

“Captain I’m getting a distress call in Federation standard,” said Chief Communications Officer McKenzie, “It’s weird though, it sounds like Starfleet, but the wording is different.”

”Lieutenant Jara, can you identify the ship?” Cruz asked, glancing back at the tactical conn.

The Security Chief squinted, “Yes but it doesn’t make sense. It’s a Miranda-class, it’s in our computer banks as the USS Boston.“

Cruz blinked, “What, anything on the Boston in our records?”

Chief Science Officer Gabriella Miller nodded, “Only that it served around the time of Kirk’s Enterprise, and vanished in an ion storm a year after launch, near Andoria. It was believed to be destroyed.”

Carrillo said, “Best speed to the ship, try to hail them.”

”I’m trying, no answer just an automated message,” McKenzie said.

 ”Well this should at least be interesting,” Cruz said glancing at her first officer, then to the Vulcan pilot she asked, “How long until we arrive at the Boston?”

”A day and a half at warp seven,” Pr’Nor said. 

“Go faster bring us down to a day,” Cruz said, “We don’t want the scavengers getting their first.”

—- USS Luna, Captain’s Ready Room —-

“How are you settling in?” Cruz asked as she poured two glasses of red wine, one for herself and one for her Executive Officer. 

Carrillo took it and sighed, she had not been performing to her expectations, though that was only one away mission and so the sample size was small. 

“Settling in, but I need a few missions to go well to feel like I’m helping,” Olivia Carrillo said.

Cruz nodded, “When I had your job half the crew got poisoned during a first contact mission, so go easy on yourself. Your knowledge and worth is apparent, don’t forget them in your haste to prove yourself.”

“I get the ‘we all make mistakes’ aspect of it, but I got taken captive along with my away team on our first mission,” Carrillo said.

Cruz smiled, “I’m not used to pumping up first officers, the only ones I’ve had were all sure of themselves. But I picked you out of a long list, and not just because you remind me of me. This life, this career, there’s enough people who are going to doubt you that you don’t need to do that work for them.”

Carrillo nodded, “So do we know how the Boston got out this far from Andorian space?“

”No clue, but if it’s been drifting all this time someone would have spotted it don’t you think?” Cruz asked, “Similarly if it was warping, even warp one by now it’d be further out. We’ll get there tomorrow, make sure you have a team in mind to board the ship, we may not have as much time with it was we want. It’s in unclaimed space, but a discovery like that is going to draw attention.”

”Yes ma’am,” Carrillo nodded, “I’ll draw up plans for boarding her tonight.”

”Don’t forget to get some sleep, and try to make some friends it’s a lonely life being a Captain. A First Officer is where you get to socialize a bit more,” Cruz said with a smile.

—- USS Luna, Arboretum —-

Commander Olivia Carrillo said, “Can you repeat that?”

”It’s a Vendek Pine,” the man said, “A kind of Betazoid tree. It changes color based on your moods.”

“A mood tree?” Carrillo said, not quite sure if she was being tricked.

”Well the leaves,” the man said, “I do not quite know how the pigmentation works, but watch, it can read my emotional state.”

He set his hand on the trunk of the tree which went from a blue-ish green leafy coloring to a more reddish coloring in the leaves. It was surprising, but then Carrillo had never been to Betazoid, and so she was not aware of all the plant life that the planet supported.

”How did you know that?” she asked.

”I am a Betazoid,” the man said, then volunteered his name, “Aasus Breasi. I am a warp core specialist. You are the new First Officer Olivia Carrillo.”

Carrillo nodded, ”You read my mind?”

”No I looked at the roster when we stopped at Starbase 86. Engineering got a few new officers, as did other sections. I am trying to learn everyone on the ship,” he said, “besides I’ve learned that non-Betazoid find it intrusive to have us in their thoughts.”

”We’re more private than you might have been used to,” agreed Carrillo. She set her hand on the trunk of the tree and Breasi withdrew his, it went a more pinkish hue. Then Breasi added his hand setting his atop hers the tree went a deeper shade between what it had been with his only and hers only, but then it seemed to go orange a bit.

”You’re quite forward,” Carrillo said.

”Forgive me, I sensed you were lonely,” he said withdrawing his hand.

”No, I am, I’m just observing. You might have skipped some steps, reading minds might make you lazy,” Carrillo smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face and studying Breasi. She was aware of the reputation of the USS Luna, it was something she’d been warned about. But still it was not as though she were his supervisor and the Betazoid seemed far too confident and seemed to know his own mind. 

“It probably does make me… lazy,” Breasi agreed, “but then can I buy you a drink?”

”Are you asking me, I’d like that,” Carrillo said.

—- USS Boston, Bridge —

It was the next day when Commander Olivia Carrillo and her team appeared on the bridge of the other Starfleet ship. The fact that it had a stable environment was surprising. Being lost for so long, they had assumed that there would be no environmental systems still going. Still though it seemed to be drifting there was a stable environment through at least part of the ship.

Chief Science Officer Gabriella Miller opened a tricorder and began to scan, “Not the whole ship, bridge, what we think is the mess, and one turbo lift.”

”So what you’d want if you were a survivor?” Carrillo asked.

”How could anyone survive here for over a century,” Chief Security Officer Claudia Jara asked.

“McKenzie, try to get that computer running, establish contact with the Luna and have the ship look through any logs,” Carrillo said. She signaled for the rest of her team to proceeded toward the turbolift and off the bridge. There was not much of the ship that seemed to have life support active, so they stuck to those bits, a few crew rooms and a gym. The USS Boston pre-dated holodeck technology, so there was nothing like that on board and the gym was a physical space.

“I’m picking up one life sign,” Miller said, gesturing to one of the crew bunk rooms, “In there.”

Jara drew her phaser and slowly advanced, they forced open the door and all moved into the room to find a human male sleeping in a lower bunk bed. He opened his eyes, and blinked in surprise.

”Who’re you?” he asked in Federation standard.

”The question is who are you?” Carrillo asked. He wore a goden uniform that back in the days when this ship had been active would have been command, but the captain of the USS Boston had been, at least according to records, a woman. 

“I’m Lieutenant Pierre Lambert, the navigator of the USS Boston,” he said, sitting up, “And who are you.”

”Well I guess we’re here to rescue you Lieutenant, just a few hundred years late,” Carrillo said.

—- USS Luna, Conference Room 1 —-

Lieutenant Pierre Lambert watched as the other officers threw around ideas for how to return him to his time. He felt at once both superior to them as he was technically over a hundred years their senior and inferior to them as they had a century plus more of scientific discoveries at their fingertips. They were children of children playing with technology that was beyond him.

”So Lieutenant Lambert was shielded from the radiation that buffeted the ship as it travelled through the slip stream from the past,” Lieutenant Commander Miller the Chief Science Officer concluded, “He would have survived because of the chance happening of being sent into the shielded weapons locker just as they were sucked into the slip stream.”

Captain Adriana Cruz sighed, “And thus everyone else died shortly after.”

Lambert nodded, “When I got out and we were drifting trying to get or engines online everyone was violently ill. Within a few hours they began to die.”

”Ship’s logs are incomplete, but by our initial examinations that seems to be the case,“ agree Chief Engineering Officer James Young. He glanced at Lambert, “The paranoia in early ship design around photon torpedoes leaking radiation is what saved him. It’s a design feature we wouldn’t have these days now that we’re more confident in torpedo design.”

”So the very thing that was meant to protect the ship from radiation instead protected the Lieutenant,” the First Officer Carrillo who Lambert had met back on the USS Boston said, summarizing.

”Can we send him back?” was the Captain’s next question.

Young shrugged, “If he were to hide in the shielded area again we could but there no way for him to stop the journey through the slip stream. He may ended up pre-warp or elsewhere along the time line. To construct a ship capable to transversing this event would take weeks, and it’s doubtful that Starfleet would be able to in time. The slip stream is showing signs of collapsing.”

“How long?” Cruz asked.

”Days, maybe,” Young said.

”Anyone have any ideas?” Cruz said.

”We have crew who were alive in the time period Lambert is from. Vulcans are able to live that long, not to mention myself,” Tashi the Al-Aurian said, “It’s not as if he can say anything to contaminate the past, in the future. Thus…”

She shrugged and Cruz nodded, “Thus he poses no threat to the timeline. The USS Boston is recorded as being destroyed, and all hands killed. Thus if you have changed the past we don’t know about it, and likely you’re stuck here Mister Lambert.”

”So I go in a museum or what?” he asked, his gold uniform contrasting with the dark black uniforms with colorful accents around him.

”Well that’s up to you. We can drop you off at Starbase 86 the next time we go there, or, I could offer you a position here. As Lieutenant on the USS Luna,” Cruz said.

“Those are my options?” Lambert asked.

”I wouldn’t want you to mess up the past by ending up in 18th century France or anything,” Cruz said, “but you wouldn’t be expected to reamain a Starfleet officer if you choose not to. You’ve served for well over a century, you could retire.”

”I assume my girlfriend is gone, and so is my family. I might have great nephews or something, but no family waiting for me,” Lambert mused. He seemed resigned and nodded, “I will remain on the ship, and re-enroll in the Fleet.”

”Commander Carrillo, please show him around, and get him situated in the navigation department. She will be your contact for now, until we get solid directives from Starfleet, but I’m assuming they’ll follow my lead,” Cruz said, her crew was getting bigger though unexpected new crew members.

”Young,” she asked, “how long to get the USS Boston up and going?”

Young nodded, “A week. Conversely we could tow it, that would be what I recommend.”

“Long range scans have picked up ships moving in this direction, we have a few days at most,” Miller said.

”Get me a tactical analysis of the ships as soon as you can, or have Lieutenant Jara prepare it for me,” Cruz said, “Alright, we all have stuff to do, dismissed for now.”

—- Luna, Tranquility Base Lounge —-

“And that’s the USS Luna,” said Commander Olivia Carrillo as she entered the lounge of the ship trailed by the time lost Lieutenant Lambert. 

Lambert nodded, not quite sure about all of this. Occam’s Razor suggested that it was more likely that he had hit his head against a bulkhead and was in some kind of coma rather than being the sole survivor of the USS Boston trapped in the twenty-fifth century. The ship did not make sense, it was too large, there were too many people aboard and whatever powered this ‘Holodeck’ thing that he had just seen seemed like a fever dream. Perhaps he had died and gone to heaven which was run mostly by women, who seemed keen on showing him new technology.

Pierre Lambert smiled, “It’s nice, I’m curious about this synthahol stuff. Is it really as bad as they say?”

Carrillo smiled, “Honestly I think most people just play up the fact that they can taste a difference, and most can’t. The only real difference is that you can shake off the buzz of being drunk if you want, and be sober instantly.”

She got them both drinks and they sat down. 

Lambert tentatively tried his scotch and nodded, “I was never what some call a wine snob, which seems counter-intuitive since I’m French. This scotch tastes fine.”

“Some people can do the academy and grow to love booze, but I rarely drank during my years there, and haven‘t since, so I don’t really notice any difference,” Carrillo said. Shifting the conversation she said, “So I assume it won’t be easy, but anything we can do to help you settle in we will. I have Operations getting you a room and new uniforms and stuff.”

Lambert looked down at his yellow navigators uniform and the rank on the sleeves and then glanced at the Commander’s pips on her collar. Her Starfleet insignia was a comm badge too, and he’d seen in working when she’d found him in a bunk on the USS Boston. He glanced out a window and caught a glimpse of the USS Boston.

”My stuff, I mean it seems silly but photos and stuff,” he said nodding to the window and his ship.

“We’ll get that,” Carrillo said, “and you can use the computer to look up anyone you want. At this point we’re all assuming your stuck here.”

”The oldest person on the ship,” Lambert joked.

”Our head of Ops, Tashai who you’ve met is 423,” Carrillo said, “She’s young for an El-Aurian and we have a joined Trill whose symbiot is older.”

Lambert nodded, “Well then most out of date, past by ‘Best Before’ date crew member.”

The Commander shrugged, “The USS Luna is for all kinds, catching up with technology and science will take a bit, but you have experience that we don’t. You’ll find a place as disorientating as this all is.”

”I was going to be married on my next shore leave,” Lambert said, “To an artist. She is, was, waiting for me.”

Carrillo looked at her glass, “I’m sorry. It won’t be without difficulty, but I think you’re better off alive out of time, than the alternative.”

Lambert nodded, “Yes, maybe. I could have been a body just like the rest of my crew.”

—- USS Boston, Navigator’s Quarter’s – Lieutenant Pierre Lambert —-

“Well your new room at least is bigger,” observed Commander Carrillo as she wandered through the cramped quarters of the Reliant-class mid ranked crew member’s quarters. Lambert had a modern Starfleet duffle that he was dropping books and a few other things into including a model of the USS Boston.

He picked up a photo of a young blonde woman in a dress, “My fiancé.”

He’d looked her up, she’d become a notable artist and had married. She had a family, and passed away decades ago. His own family had lived on, the current generation in Amiens in the north of France where he had been born. Nobody was still alive that would know him, and he didn’t feel like he had much to go back to find. Maybe one day, he’d already sent a message to them, unsure of how they’d react to a long lost great-great uncle showing up.

”It’s nice to see you could balance life in Starfleet with a relationship,” Carrillo said sitting on the bunk.

”We patrolled Federation space, we weren’t the explorers like the Enterprise or something, we got home often enough,” he explained, then gesturing broadly added, “Unlike the Luna.”

Lambert was in the current uniform now, his rank on his collar. The pair seemed out of place with this museum like atmosphere, everything old but new. A two year old ship at the time of its loss, the USS Boston had had a great career in front of it.

”Anything else you want to get?” Carrillo asked, “I don’t think anyone would mind if there was something you always wanted to take.“

Before Lambert could answer her badge chirped with an incoming hail. She tapped it.

”This is Lieutenant Kolem, time’s up we have pirates in coming,” the Third Officer and Chief Counselor said, “They’ll be here in five.”

Carrillo nodded, “Beam us up on my mark. Well Lambert this may be your last chance.”

The pair exited his quarters and made their way to the bridge where Lambert and Carrillo removed the dedication plaque. The final piece that the Lieutenant added to his bag. Before the pair beamed off the USS Boston and onto the USS Luna. Leaving only memories and ghosts in their wake.

—- USS Luna, Bridge —-

Lieutenant Pierre Lambert followed Commander Olivia Carrillo onto the bridge and took a position that had already been worked out with the captain at one of the rear engineering stations. A young woman nodded at him, and gestured to the console which was set up as close to a conn on the old Relian-class ships as you could get while still using touch screen technology. 

“Tactical assessment Lieutenant Jara,” Captain Cruz asked, as the viewscreen showed three vessels closing in on the USS Luna and the USS Boston.

”Three pirate vessels, all heavily armed,” Chief of Scurity Lieutenant Jara said, adding, “Three against one aren’t great odds.”

“Hail the pirates,“ Cruz said sitting down in her central chair. She nodded politely at the gnarled face of a biped from a species that she could not immediately place glared at her. Beside her Commander Carrillo took her own seat.

”I am Captain Adriana Cruz of the Federation ship the USS Luna, how can we help you?” Cruz asked.

“I am Tjora of the coalition,” he said, seemingly uninterested in exchanging pleasantries with the Federation vessel. It was clear that he was fairly confident in the overriding force that he had brought along with him and the Starfleet captain’s not wanting to risk conflict. It was this assumption that Captain Cruz hoped to push on, and to test to its limits.

”You know usually you pirates have a much more involved name like the Organization for Interstellar Peace,” Cruz noted dryly. She was starting to find that all these competing pirates and criminals was getting frustrating. Better to deal with a government, even as one as currently dysfunctional as the Klingon Empire than all these tiny titans believing themselves important just because they’d wrangled together a handful of ships. 

The pirate captain shrugged bored, “By right of salvage I claim the ship that we’ve discovered.“

The USS Boston was not a new ship, and did not have any technology that would make it particularly valuable. Yet it was still Starfleet and despite being a relic of the past Captain Cruz was not ready to give it up without a fight. She glanced over at Ensign Constable, and Lieutenant Lambert who nodded, they were ready.

”That’s clearly a Starfleet ship and we’re just having issues with the communication systems, you have no right of salvage,” Cruz said.

”Three against one give us the right of salvage Federation,” Tjora said and cut the feed. 

“Like we talked about people,” Cruz said, “Lieutenant Lambert, let’s change the equation.”

Lambert nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

Using a touch screen only interface was not as intuitive as his old console back on the USS Boston, but the controls were mapped 1:1 onto the interface allowing the engineering station to become a remote conn allowing him to control his ship. First he brought the shields up and then fired his first round of photon torpedoes, and phasers. He then piloted the USS Boston toward the nearest pirate ship. 

“Raise shields. Jara give them a full speed of quantum torpedoes, full phasers,” Captain Cruz said.

Jara nodded and fired. The pirate ships, all three of them, began to back away.

”There’re doing the math on whether this fight is worth salvaging a century old ship,” Carrillo said.

”Let’s hope they don’t realize with nobody on the Boston we can’t load another salvo of torpedos,” Cruz said, adding to Jara, “Another round of quantum torpedoes Lieutenant.”

The USS Luna fired again and the pirate captain hailed once more. 

Tjora seemed just as bored as before as he appeared on screen, “Well, given that the ship is operational we’ll allow you to keep it Federation. I suppose it isn’t lost and found at all.”

One by one the three ships warped out of the sector leaving the two Starfleet ships alone. Lambert lowered the shields to the USS Boston and the USS Luna lowered her own shields before taking the older Starfleet vessel in a tractor beam and beginning the journey back to Starbase 86. 

“Good job Mister Lambert. Miss Constable, thank the rest of Engineering for getting the Boston back into working order at least long enough to do that,“ Captain Cruz said. She nodded at the two crew members and headed towards her Ready Room.

—- USS Luna, Tranquility Base Lounge —-

“To the last fight of the USS Boston,” Commander Carrillo said raising her glass of blueish liquid.

“To the Boston,” Lambert said, nodding. His face was serious. Though the Boston had survived and would likely go to a museum somewhere now, he felt like he should too. He was part of the crew that had died on the ship, and the only thing separating him from everyone else onboard was pure luck. 

“Something bothering you Lambert?” Carrillo asked.

”I read about Captain Scott, how he was trapped in a transporter for decades. And Lieutenant Riker,” Lambert said, “Out of time officers don’t last too long, we don’t fit in.”

”I read about Captain Montgomery Scott, he’d have been what a Lieutenant Commander when you left. But when he left he was an old man, he wasn’t looking to relearn how the world works. I can’t speak to Lieutenant Riker, I never heard of him, just Captain Riker of the USS Titan. The difference between you and Scott is that you’re young, and you’ll learn how things work now,” Carrillo said, smiling sympathetically.

”I never met them, the Enterprise crew, I suppose Spock is still alive,” Lambert said.

Carrillo shook her head, “That’s another story, and you’ll hear it. About the Romulan supernova and how that’s changed.”

Lambert fiddled with his glass looking glum, “It’ll take me a bit to learn.”

”We’re at odds with the Klingons now,” Carrillo said, “and friendly-ish with the Romulans.”

”Well Klingons never change,” Lambert said.

”You’d be surprised,” Carrillo said.

Lambert nodded.

”Starbase 86 is going to be exciting for you,” Carrillo said as she studied him. She felt for him, she was an outside on the ship, having just joined the crew that had been together in some way or another since the USS Anaheim, but as much as she was an outsider Lambert was from an entirely different era. While they had slapped a modern uniform on him, and assigned him his own room he was still very much the man she’d found on the USS Boston.

Lambert nodded, “Will you be my guide?”

”To Starbase 86, sure,” Carrillo nodded. 

Lambert gave a small smile, “Thank you, that makes me feel… more connected to something other than my old ship, and my old crew.”

”Us newbies need to stick together,” the Commander said, only half joking. 

The pair were quiet for awhile, starring out the window and each thinking their own thoughts. Space was big, bigger than either of them and they both felt along and lost. At least they’d found something to hold onto, even if the other person was as adrift and unmoored as them.