The Song and Dance
Posted on Wed Jun 26th, 2024 @ 2:37pm by Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara
Edited on on Wed Jun 26th, 2024 @ 2:37pm
Mission:
Take My Hand
Location: Admiral's Ready Room
1402 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure
The desk was gauche, Yoshi decided. Someone had convinced him of red, to match the colours of the Task Force. Some holograms and a bit of time, and the desk was back in one piece, the red material that had been poured into the gaps - though Yoshi suspected it was more likely replicated in place - looked of some kind of metal. It had just the right luster to it that it looked like it could even be a precious metal from some world. They had even agreed, as Asahi had suggested, to match the tea set to it, bringing the entire collection together in a nice set. He almost liked it, but something just rubbed the engineer in him the wrong way and he couldn't place what it was specifically. Regardless, he had his office back, and from the couch in the corner, watched carefully out at the shipyards. Yesterday the protective casing had come off the Vesta's bay, and she was exposed to vacuum. From where he sat, the Admiral could see the very faint outline of his ship, the peak of his career as far as he was concerned. "Computer, expand to show shipyard bay sixteen please." A brief pause, and the window seemed to shimmer for a second before a holographic display overlaid on it enhanced the view zooming in so he could better see the ship. His expert eyes followed the details. To anyone else it looked basically brand new, so seamless she may have just been pushed out of drydock. That was, if you ignored the fact the last Vesta-class entered service eleven years ago. Still, it looked new. But he could see.
There were panels that were slightly off, not quite the same position. The heat sink was different, an upgraded and improved model designed for more efficient cooling. Allegedly it would allow them to push Quantum Slipstream Velocities upwards of 5.625 for up to twenty minutes. The new phaser arrays, generation two type thirteen systems looked slightly out of place, like someone had raised them out of their original slots. They were, however, more effective. And then there was the ablative armor, a new alloy that while painted to look like the original was not quite the right shade. An almost perfect replicate of how she looked when she first launched, but not quite right. A chip came off his desk, but he didn't move. Perk of the rank. He instead watched first as lights in the various rooms came on, the slow spread of power throughout. Then came the glow of the nacelles as plasma was pushed through the warp coils, warming them up, and finally heating up the bussard collector to do its job. The deflector sprung to life, its soft glow illuminating the hull in front of it, before finally the navigational and market lights came on. Umbilicals detatched, and the ship fully came under her own power. Once more his child drew breath.
The chirping had grown insistent, and switched to a tone he'd picked specifically for when another admiral was trying to get his attention. Yoshi's eyes darted to the desk, and he sighed, approaching it, and seating himself in his chair. He let it ring, just a moment longer, to get one final stick in before he placed his most pleasant "I am an Admiral" smile on and let the display come to life. The smile flickered slightly when he saw the diplomatic corps logo on his screen, and the image kicked over the a rather cross looking Betazoid man glared back at him. "Admiral Minawara," the man said crossly, and Yoshi's smile stretched ever so slightly.
"Admiral Malor, what an unexpected surprise. How can Task Force Seventy-Two help you today?" Yoshi and the man across from him had recently exchanged a bit of tit for tat over the posting of a civilian diplomatic arm to the station, and not giving his regional authority control over it.
"The Diplomatic Corps needs a favour Yoshi," the man said, slipping into the ease of formality that Admirals were careful to do when they needed to play nice. Whatever it was about to be, it was a big favour for sure. No response, Yoshi just raised an eyebrow. "You're familiar with the Shalia situation, right? civilization under observation within Federation space, experienced a technological explosion in the last decade and achieved warp travel. We made first contact, and they needed time to prepare their people for the realization they weren't alone, so we gave them a year to figure it out. Well the year is up, and we aren't the only interested party." As the man talked, Yoshi had pulled up the report on the planet and had looked at the data. It was pretty much dead square in the middle between here and Obsidian Command for their spot, with a few diplomatic outposts near by. The closest he could see looked to be the Romulans.
"Free State or the remnants of the Empire?" he asked, skimming over the planets survey results. It had been a rather sudden increase, with their industrialization and scientific explosion almost rivaling that of Earth. They'd been fairly slow until the end there. Carelessly he drummed his fingers, studying the curve. It looked familiar. He was waiting for a response, but realized the pause had hung in the air a little long, before his eyes drifted back to his opposite. "Joret, is it the Free State or the Empire?" he asked again, this time more carefully as his eyes narrowed. The diplomatic Admiral was known for his enthusiasm for handing out assignments, his delay was odd, and his fidgeting with something unseen was odder still.
"Well, it's Qoird," finally the other man said, a sheepish cross between a smile and a grimace crossed his face. "And before you get uppity, they haven't responded to any of our hails, and have refused diplomatic engagements. We need our best qualified people on this, and at this moment that is you and Miss Cerin." Yoshi groaned and rolled his eyes.
Waving a hand about Minawara crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, offering a sigh. "Of course it's the Qoird, that makes sense now. They probably influenced them and uplifted them. And I wouldn't say we are qualified," Yoshi shot back, "we almost started a firefight with them. We'd have had them dead to rights for sure, but we still caused a first contact disaster. Hell, I'd bet the Braxians are still trying to find the alien coconspirators in their government ranks..."
Joret raised a hand defensively and offered a weak smile. "We know, and if anyone other than the pair of you had been able to actually talk to them, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But unfortunately the circumstances are what they are. And if you can secure us a proper foothold and their alliance the Diplomatic Corps would be in your debt. Uh," he paused, and winced a little, "metaphorically speaking anyways. There obviously wouldn't be an actual debt."
"Obviously," Yoshi retorted. The implication was clear, and he was learning to play the political game of the Admiralty. There was a debt to be paid somewhere, at some time. A silence hung for a while, as the two men stared at one another, before Yoshi broke it off and regarded the small planet again. He pondered on it for a minute, and then sighed heavily. "Fine Joret, we'll depart in two days."
"Thank you Yoshi - Admiral Minawara. We appreciate it. Malor out." The line went dead and Yoshi stood to walk over to his coffee bar, pouring himself a cup and then turning back towards the window. There drifted the Vesta, slowly pulling free of her moorings and headed for the regular docking berths, to await her crew back soon. He had never wanted to command her, he had always wanted to be her Chief Engineer. Run her as long as they could. But he's argue he'd been a good Captain, a great Captain even. It had been hard, and complicated, and they'd faced odds together many Starfleet Captains never saw. But still both of them were here, changed and not quite right, but here.
Maybe he'd make a good Admiral too.
"Computer, have Captain Darrow, Commander Soren, and Miss Cerin report to my office please."
