"Minor Duties"
Tremor3258,
Note: Set sometime during the Breen assault on Deferi space. Part of the STO forum Unofficial Literary Challenge 15 – "minor duties" had a focus on bridge officers.
K'Gan, first of Direslayer, strode the carrier's hallways, looking for any signs of dissent or lack on the part of its crew. This was the House of Noq'it's finest ship, a mighty carrier, and was crewed with its House's finest. Which were, sadly, not the same as the KDF's finest or the Houses of the High Council's fleets. The crew was large, and the efficiency of the weapons or shields was not as important as its dramatic fighter wings to keeping the morale and tribute up at Noq'it's holdings, a sign of how wealthy and strong the House was.
To Captain Kerr, that had been more than enough, but his third son was being born in the same month as his first was undergoing a Rite of Ascension, and so he'd gone to visit his estates. A 'jobbing captain' to maintain the ship was required, and was a way for KDF officers to build useful ties and experience with capital ships without risking the main fleet's ships being blundered into an asteroid, and Captain D'ellian, of the Orion House of M'ara, had come aboard two days ago for a month's tour.
And one day in, after carefully reviewing the ship's record of battle (sparse) and equipment readiness (within KDF tolerances) she'd declared an advanced schedule of drills and equipment evaluations to harden the ship into one for combat, cutting relaxation periods in half temporarily.
"That green tart has no appreciation for a warrior's needs," a growling, hushed voice said. Whoever thought they were soft had never hunted Hirogen, K'Gan mused, and he whirled – a technician was leading a small group of ratings, who growled agreement. "Besides the obvious of course," he finished with a saucy chuckle, and wiped fatigue from his eyes.
"Kerr knew the need to keep sharp, not this endless hunt for a percentage point more concentration in our disruptors," the technician continued, and K'Gan finally recognized him from his memorization of the ship's list. Sanpak, large, muscular, and boisterous, he'd served in ground forces a generation before going to technical training as his reflexes dulled. K'Gan frowned, this was the sort young Klingons naturally looked up to.
He strode over without breaking his pace, grabbed Sanpak's shoulder, and spun him around in an easy motion, before punching the Klingon off his feet. The ratings moved away, forming the loose expectant circle common to such things. Sanpak began to pull his officer's dagger, then hesitated as K'Gan stood calmly.
"If you have the energy to complain about additional duties, they remain insufficient," K'Gan growled, "Report to the operations officer for work detail, and we can leave this off your record of honor."
Sanpak stood warily, but K'Gan did not watch, turning his back and shoving through the circle, heading towards the rest of his rounds, the incident nearly forgotten in his generally dark mood. It was several minutes before he reached the captain's office thanks to the ship's vast size.
The captain was hanging a small model of an early-model Bird of Prey when K'Gan entered after announcing himself, in between some of the ship status repeater models. K'Gan felt a thrill of remembered pride, the tiny patrol raider had led onto other things, even if the 'prizes' sometimes felt like punishments. She'd hung her bat'leth already, of course, behind her desk.
"What is that?" he asked, when he glanced at the desk.
D'ellian did not turn at first, making sure the Bird of Prey was not about to fall. "Greetings first officer," the Orion said, "What says the crew?"
"Apparently, far worse than I thought," K'Gan said, still staring. A basic disruptor pistol rested on the desk, pointed at the door, in between the monitors. When called on for away missions, the slim Orion preferred longer range weapons, but one of the benefits of the standard sidearm was it could be taped under an officer's desk.
"Oh? Sorry – I found it behind the cabinet when I was unpacking, now that we have our patrol orders" D'ellian said, gesturing at the cases of decorations. "It feels like it must be Kerr's, it's in perfect regulation condition, not a transtator out of place." She looked frustrated briefly, and then her face smoothed into control.
"And even the grip isn't customized?" K'Gan said, recognizing her frustration. The Orion nodded.
"I'm not sure why Kerr had it – the crew is a perfect mirror of their main captain. I could stay in here the whole time, and just watch the topaline flow in, and they'd keep doing their drills to get their cut," she said, and brought up the patrol route, shaking her head. "The Federation can read a calendar too – this sector's quiet period ends when the freighters arrive."
The House of M'ara had been happy to provide Federation-grade mining equipment of uncertain vintage several years ago, part of the general Syndicate effort to buy their way to the Council. Combined with their far more genuine alliance with the House of Martok, a House that other Houses were paying attention again after the Planet Killer revelations, they'd been in position to offer their scion D'ellian when Kerr began hunting for a captain, as the rising star had been fortuitously ashore right when Kerr would need to arrange a command transfer.
And so an Orion captain, one of the first to command a Klingon capital ship, was overseeing the House assets just as they saw a massive increase in profits from their improved topaline refineries come online. Others would remember, and seek to arrange the same fortune. Very pat, and it would help lead to great improvements to the allied races in the Klingon empire with little actual effort from M'ara. And D'ellian had simply been in position with an honorable record and good connections earned through service, not bribes physical or financial, so she and her mother's polite cold war was not violated.
Absolutely perfect, as long as it didn't end in disaster from Federation raiders. K'Gan said, "The crew's training does not show falsification – they are competent, if not exceptional. These are palace guards, but I think the survivors will be a strong core."
"Assuming they don't stab us all in the back and accidentally blow themselves up at the first sign of a raid," D'ellian said, tapping some buttons, and bringing up Sanpak's picture. "Thraak was on watch and sent this down with the security tapes. This is the third report of anti-Klingon sentiment from our maintenance personnel. Would you agree it's becoming a problem on a serving vessel expecting combat?" she asked, folding her arms. Her posture was carefully neutral
K'Gan stiffened, and bowed his head. "I'm sorry Captain, but I did not consider how much accessibility our technical staff has."
D'ellian waved her hand, "We've been in First City for weeks, K'Gan – one can easily get used to ignoring it there, simply blunting oneself to it." She let that hang in the air for a moment, then sat, slumping. "I'm sorry K'Gan, I'm not mad at you," she said, "You know how much we all can offer the Empire, and we've shed blood on a dozen worlds to prove it."
K'Gan nodded, "Still, captain – I'm sorry – I should have forwarded it immediately. We are leading a battle group, if a small one, the larger context must always be remembered."
D'ellian nodded, "Yes, though I've never had a bunch of… palace guard before, our crews have always been trying to improve themselves."
"Well," K'Gan said, "That's why we were able to buy shares on that new ship with our crew."
"Yes," D'ellian said, "But something as advanced as a Mogh could be taken away by the effort of even a single House, and I will not embarrass Martok or myself with failure here." She looked at Sanpak's picture.
"We can handle it in departments," she mused, "At least long enough to get into a battle and start working to make this ship something more than a sword hammered out of pot metal, but the technicians are everywhere."
"Even as temporary captain," K'Gan began, "You have tremendous powers in regards to discipline –"
"He's already been disciplined," D'ellian interrupted, "And your actions were not wrong." D'ellian frowned, "No, he's old. He knows the tricks. Gutting him directly just means I have the Council's favor for the moment, not my own strength. I think I have to reach back a bit for this."
"Ah," K'Gan also frowned in distaste, "Will you need me, or…?"
"Oh, no," D'ellian said, "It's not our ship. Your responsibility is the crew on its behalf, so you probably shouldn't know, but do we have any drills ready to go."
K'Gan looked downright relieved. Give him open combat, or starship combat in all its variances, not politics. "Some emergency antimatter containment drills – Ch'gren recommended them, he thought their reaction would tell him what he needs to fix first in the impulse coil."
"That should do," D'ellian said, sighing. "K'Gan… I would prefer not to have to do this."
"I know that, but your record and your honor demand more respect, especially as he has never met you. And your species blocks the normal means. If we do not show proper respect for each other's heraldry, it can get bad with Klingons," K'Gan admitted.
"Very well, dismissed First Officer," D'ellian said, "Order Navigation to prepare to head to the third planet on our route – arrange a pattern to patrol the likely warp-in routes for Federation escorts with the system defense squadron." K'Gan nodded, held his fist to his chest briefly, and left.
She closed her eyes and stretched, going through some kinesthetic exercises. She was always amazed a race as focused on close combat was so bad at controlling their own body language.
"D'ellian to Chief Engineer," D'ellian said to empty air, "Captain's Seal." The encrypted channel to Ch'gren appeared. He was an unusual Klingon, turning away from shipboard duty to raise his children until the death of his mate had demanded a return to battle. He'd always shown more flexibility of thought than some military-caste Klingons, and as Ch'gren's mate had been D'ellian's superior, they'd been long-time acquaintances before her untimely death from their slug of a captain.
"Ch'gren, has anyone in your department shown a willingness to enter line duty? We'll need more for Demonslayer. I think they may be worth appraising more closely during your upcoming antimatter drills." D'ellian asked. The engineer's eyes widened briefly.
"Rankog has shown some promise," Ch'gren said cautiously. "He's spent four years in backsystem work, but he's had twins, and could use the rewards of privateering. Do you have someone to evaluate?"
"Sanpak, in the maintenance crew. He is old, and has a long record," she said, keeping her voice flat. "It is not especially honorable, but he surely has many skills, I would like to know more."
"Of course, Sanpak, yes, I have seen him," Ch'gren said, looking more relieved. "I am sure this will be a worthwhile pairing."
"Naturally – I can take the next bridge shift, if that is sufficient time to arrange the scheduling for the emergency drill?" D'ellian asked.
"I believe so," Ch'gren said, "Rankog has an understanding of the ways of the wider world. He's been delighted with the extra power we've been able to provide with even some simple tuning."
D'ellian smiled. Briefly. "Well, he will be truly delighted once we understand our state of repair well enough to know where we can really push."
Ch'gren also smiled. Or showed his teeth. "Yes, there are several areas of weak spots or where we are approaching recommended lifetime of components that I would certainly have replaced. I believe the drills will help teach the crew that."
"I do enjoy having an engineer who doesn't mind pushing their equipment," D'ellian said neutrally. "Continue maintenance evaluations as planned, Captain out."
D'ellian, five hours later, was naturally on the bridge as promised when the languid shift was disrupted as a whole bank of status lights flashed alarm.
"Critical undervolt on antimatter tank coolant loops three and four! Coolant temperature rising – estimated failure two minutes" the bekk at the engineering repeater fairly screamed in disbelief. Suddenly, with no warning, the superconducting magnetic suspension coils were in danger of being merely conducting, and then everything within fifty kellicams was in danger of being vapor in roughly two minutes. Two at once, the young engineer was amazed. A failure of two coolant systems at once was supposed to be impossible.
"Drop us out of warp - begin warp core shutdown procedures," D'ellian ordered, moving over to hover reassuringly at the engineering technician's shoulder. "Ready emergency valves – tie in coolant flow from warp systems; the pipes can take it for a few minutes. Communications: Alert the station we will be late. Security report to coolant stations – alert for sabotage!"
The engineering technician tapped and checked his readouts. "Emergency crew responding to intercoolers," he said, then slightly surprised, "Oh – well done captain, temperature increase rate dropping. Failure point estimation now ten minutes." The warp coolant was active and corrosive, but could carry a tremendous thermal load.
"Even tactical captains can adapt, engineer," D'ellian said without rancor, "Ready emergency force fields for antimatter purge, now that we have time," D'ellian said, still calm. "Prepare radiation containment procedures for lower deck."
"Ch'gren to bridge! We have a casualty! Request drill suspension!" came the engineer's voice over the general intercom.
"D'ellian to medical – emergency crew to engineering. Stand down from emergency purge. Computer: Disengage simulation. Ch'gren – report!" she ordered, moving back to her central chair.
"Unclear – it's Sanpak, one of the technical officers," Ch'gren said, "He didn't bother to scan the release valves and the warp coolant…." Nothing more needed to be said. The best that could be said of the active formulations that could handle the temperature load of a warp core was that it was a swift killer.
"A single loop failure, should we be so lucky, he would have been fine," D'ellian said, shaking her head and letting the energy briefly leave her body. "But he died doing his duty – we should all do so well," she intoned, looking around the bridge, all of whom were finding their readouts more interesting.
She straightened, but inwardly sighed. The freighters would be here within three days. There'd been no time to try and bring a stubborn old fool around. Pheromones, perhaps, but that wouldn't last in the long term. The crew would be more aware of the unexpected, be more careful and less trusting of their equipment… and Sanpak would be reported as an unusual, but possible, casualty as a result of drill.
But the Direslayer would continue, and perhaps the rest of the crew would have a chance to succeed, and her captain might work for a day when the whole Klingon intonation of honor would be less empty.
Direslayer meanwhile, hung fat and dark, before after a few minutes, its nacelles flickered back to life, and in a blur of motion, returned to subspace as it continued about its duties, for House, Glory, and Honor.