Disclaimer: I own Captain Michael Larson, Patrick Wood, and Lieutenants Seth Marquez and Nicholas Casey. All the other characters mentioned by name do not belong to me. I also own the Federation starships USS Champion, the USS Bradford, the USS Pennington, and the USS Avignon, and the Shuttlecraft Volvo.
Ten Years Later…
(The year is now 2408. The setting is Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco, Earth.)
Captain Michael Larson was walking through the corridors in Starfleet Headquarters. He was looking around for one room in particular, but the directory was not providing much use to it.
How typical he thought. Leave Starfleet Headquarters for about a decade and they change the entire layout. Finally, he pulled one man aside and asked him "Could you please tell me where I might find Fleet Admiral Paris' office, ensign?"
"Of course, sir." said the young officer. "Follow me."
The ensign led the Captain upstairs and down a few more hallways. Finally, they reached the room the latter had been searching for.
"Thank you very much, ensign." Larson thanked the young man.
"It's my pleasure, sir." the ensign grinned as he walked back to wherever had been his original destination. Captain Larson then focused his attention on the door in front of him. He made sure his shirt was tucked in and he was all straightened out. Then he rang the bell on the door.
"Come in!" said a voice from the other side.
The door slid open and Captain Larson walked into the room. The man he was expecting to see was at his desk, but his chair was turned to the large windows. While looking out the windows, he said in a stern voice without turning around "You're five minutes late."
"I'm sorry." said Larson. "I got lost. I thought your office was on the first floor."
"It was moved up, remember?" said the Admiral.
"Well, I'm glad I know now." said Larson, grinning. "I'll remember its location for the next time when I need to meet with you."
"Just keep one thing in mind." said Admiral Paris.
"What would that be?" inquired Larson.
Finally, the chair was revolved around 180 degrees. There was Fleet Admiral Paris in uniform.
"Commanding a starship- and life in general- is like a game." he elucidated him. "You should always take your part seriously, but always remember: you are out to enjoy yourself, and to have fun!"
Larson chuckled and said "I'll keep that in mind, sir."
Paris stood up, walked around his desk, approached Larson, and gave him a friendly hug while giving an amused laugh. Larson joined him in the laugh and the hug. When they came apart, Paris asked him "How are you doing, Mike?"
"Oh, I'm doing just fine." replied the Captain. "How about you, Tom?"
(That's right! This Admiral Paris isn't Owen; he's Tom!)
"Oh, I'm doing good." he told him. "B'Elanna and I just finished moving into our new apartment."
"Ah, yes." Larson recollected. "I would conclude that with all three of your children out of the house and the youngest at Starfleet Academy, you and your wife would have no need for such a large house anymore. But you and B'Elanna have been living alone for almost three years now. One would think you two would have gotten a new house sooner."
"Yeah, but all the same, it was hard to part ways with it." said Tom. "It was hard enough having to part with all three of our children when they off to Starfleet Academy. But we figured: if we could part ways with Voyager, we could part ways with anywhere else just the same way."
Mike saw the point that Tom was making. Before either of them could make another query about the other's personal life, Mike asked him "Should we get down to business?"
"Ah!" said Tom. "Of course. Come, sit down."
Captain Larson sat down at the chair in front of Tom's desk. The Admiral went over to a replicator and ordered a light syntheholic beverage from it. Turning back to his colleague, he asked "Can I get you one?"
Mike humorously rolled his eyes and said "You know I don't drink."
Tom shrugged and said "You never know. Changes happen."
Gesturing to the rank insignia on Tom's collar, Mike said "I would have to concur with you on that."
Tom sat back down at his desk and put his drink to the side. He said "So, Captain Mike Larson. When I was your age, I was still a Lieutenant Commander."
Mike shrugged and said "We all get our promotions at different intervals."
"I know." said Tom. "But still, 'Captain' certainly has an impressive tone to it. I can still recall when you were Ensign Larson."
"So do I, Tom." said Mike. "I remember back when I was your Operations Officer aboard the Bradford. You were always commenting on how 'clean' my reports were, how I was very 'graceful' in my work, and how you claimed I was unique from the rest of the crew and be hugely successful in my own Starfleet career. My, how your jokes amused me so."
At that, the smile dropped from Paris' face. He said to Larson in a stunned voice "You thought I was joking whenever I said those things?"
"Well, not all the time." Mike admitted. "But the manner in which you delivered a few of them was a bit… extravagant."
Tom sat up in his desk and looked Mike straight in the eyes. He told him "Mike, while I may have a reputation of being one of the more social and eccentric Starfleet officers, I was never joking when I complimented your work. I was always serious when I told you that you were destined for greatness. And quite frankly, I believe you still are."
"Really?" said Larson, touched by the Admiral's kind words.
"Well, I didn't promote you to lieutenant after just eight weeks because I was bored!" Paris replied lightheartedly.
"Why, thank you." said Mike. "Though I must admit, returning to the subject of the Champion, I've never seen a crew of a starship put together so quickly in my life. I've barely had time to read half of the crew's profiles."
"Well, it was somewhat short-notice." Tom explained to him. "You see, the workers at Utopia Planitia finished construction of the Champion long before their deadline. When they reported they had assembled the ship sooner than expected, Starfleet Command was eager to get the ship out in the fields as soon as possible. So they searched out who they believed to be some of the most superb officers in Starfleet and put them all together."
"It still would've been helpful if they had given me more time to get to know more about my crew before I had to work with it." said Larson.
Paris picked up his drink and said "Just look at it this way: getting to know your crew is part of the assignment. Hence, it's part of the fun."
Mike smiled and said "I can only imagine how much 'fun' Admiral Janeway had getting to know the Maquis during your trek through the Delta Quadrant."
"It didn't take that long, actually." said Tom. "She generated an atmosphere of comfort and trust that everybody felt content with. I'm sure that you'll manage to do just the same thing."
Wanting to address the subject at hand, Mike recommended "Shall we discuss the new assignment itself?"
"Of course." said Paris. He pressed a button on his desk and said "Send in Seth."
"Right away, Admiral." said a voice from the other side.
The doors to Tom's office opened and a man in his early thirties entered the room. He was holding onto a large leather bag. It had a long strap which was wrapped around his right shoulder. He approached the desk and said to Tom "Reporting for duty, sir."
Tom nodded and said to Larson "Mike, this is Lieutenant Seth Marquez, one of the men who headed the construction of the Champion. Seth, I'd like you to meet Captain Michael Larson."
Marquez smiled and held his hand out to Larson. Mike took his hand and shook it firmly.
When their handshake was finished, Paris continued with "Seth here will be going over all the basic and complex items pertaining to the functions of the Champion. He'll only be giving you a brief summary, as a brief summary is all you will need, but remember to take good clean notes."
"I'll keep that in mind." said Mike.
Admiral Paris slightly dimmed the lights in his office as Lieutenant Marquez prepped a large monitor in the room to show a diagram of the interior and exterior of the USS Champion. While he did this, he explained to Larson "Now, the USS Champion is the archetype of its class. It has 56 decks, top speed just slightly under that of the Warp 10 Threshold, mass of 6,250,000 metric tons, crew ranging from 123 to 1596, and it runs on bio-neural gel packs the way we run on our brains."
Marquez pressed a few buttons on his PADD and the monitor brought up a list of the Champion's smaller vehicles, armaments, and weapons. Then he went on with "It is currently stocked with 64 shuttles, 375 photon torpedoes, 80 quantum torpedoes, and 23 phaser arrays. It also contains an advanced Yellowstone-class runabout in the main hanger."
Then Marquez briefed Larson over all of the ship's basic functions, even though the Captain himself had already gone through the list of them after receiving the assignment.
When the overview was complete, Tom stood up and said "Well, if there is nothing further, gentlemen, we're off to the Utopia Planitia Shipyards."
"Then let's get going." Marquez suggested.
Paris stood up and he walked around his desk. He took his beverage and returned it to the replicator, even though he hadn't had even one sip of it. As he walked back over to the other two men, he said "We'll take the transporter room to the hanger a few miles away. Two members of the Champion's crew are waiting for us there at my private shuttle."
"One more thing, Admiral." said Larson as he rose to his feet. "I was told that a transport vessel will be delivering all non-Starfleet family members to the Champion within the next few hours. May I know which vessel this would be and what time it will be departing?"
"It is… the Pennington." Paris answered him. "It will be leaving Earth at 1500 hours. So don't worry, Mike. You'll see your wife soon enough."
Mike smiled and said "Thanks. She and the twins have been looking forward to this for such a long time."
"I can imagine." said Tom. "It's all Miral can talk about whenever she comes home for dinner."
"Oh, that's another subject I wanted to address." said Mike. "Your daughter will be on board as my Tactical Officer, and as an emissary on some events. I just want you to know that you should expect nothing but optimism and benevolence in the communiqués she sends you and her mother."
"I'm sure she'll have nothing to talk about other than how much fun she's having." Tom agreed.
"I'm sure you'll be having a lot of fun, too." Paris assured him. "We've put together a very efficient crew. For example, your Second Officer- Patrick Wood- he's brilliant. He graduated from the Academy after just his second year."
"I know. His profile was one of the few I was able to get a good look at." said Larson. "Based upon it, he is very serious about his work, but has a decent sense of humor. You can tell me all about him while we're on the shuttle. But let's get to the shuttle first."
"An excellent plan, sir." said Marquez.
The three men walked to a transporter room in Starfleet Headquarters and had the person there beam them to the hanger bay located a few miles away. They arrived just a few meters from their shuttle. Inside, there were two people. Both of them wore the pips of lieutenant junior grade on their collars. One of them was a burly but pleasant-looking man with tall flat hair. The other one was a few years older, had small forehead ridges and was easily identified by Captain Larson and Tom Paris as the latter's daughter Miral Paris.
Upon seeing their visitors, the younger of the two stood up straight and said "Admiral and Captain in the shuttle!"
Miral quickly stood up straight with him, but gradually eased down when she saw who the Admiral was.
"Thank you for that, lieutenant." Tom said to the younger officer. "Now just do it with a little less frequency."
"Yes sir." said the lieutenant quickly.
Paris turned to Larson and told him "I know you already know who Miral is. But this is Lieutenant Nicholas Casey, the Chief Conn Officer of the Champion."
Larson shook hands with Casey. "You must be Captain Larson."
"That's correct, Lieutenant." said Mike. Paris patted him on the back and said to Casey "Mike here was my Operations Officer aboard the USS Bradford for three years."
Casey gave a light chuckle and said "Well, sir, I myself considered signing up at tactical when I was given a field commission. But I have always felt content being stationed on the bridge at the helm."
"Whatever makes you happy, Lieutenant." said Larson. "You are the Chief Conn Officer, after all."
"Should we get going?" asked Miral.
"That would be a good idea about now." said Admiral Paris. He turned to Nicholas and asked him "Would you do us the honors, Mr. Casey?"
Casey actually looked a bit eager, as if he had something else in mind. He nervously looked at Tom and told him "Admiral, I have a request."
"Name it, Lieutenant." said Tom.
Casey began tapping his fingers together, and then he said "Would you… would you… care to… take us out of the bay?"
Paris smiled and said "Forgotten where the launch control is already, Lieutenant?"
"No, sir." said Casey. "It's just that… Miral has told me a lot about your piloting skills, and they are some of the most well-renowned skills in all of Starfleet. I was just wondering if you could let me see some of that first-class piloting for myself."
"Please, Dad?" said Miral.
"Oh, alright." Tom agreed willingly. "But I should warn you, it's been a few years since I've piloted something."
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Dad." said Miral. "Just do what you did back when you served on the Avignon."
"That was twenty-five years ago, Miral!" said Tom as he took his seat at the pilot's chair. "But no matter. Time does nothing to talents people are born with."
Miral sat next to her father at the co-pilot chair. Casey, Larson, and Marquez sat behind them in the three back seats. Tom went to work on initializing the takeoff procedures. He announced "Engines are online. Thrusters ready to go."
Miral looked over the panel in front of her and said "We're ready to go. All key systems are up and running."
Tom nodded and said "Open a channel to the take-off coordinator."
She pressed a few buttons and said "Channel open."
Tom said "This is Admiral Paris aboard the Shuttlecraft Volvo requesting permission to depart."
"Volvo?" Marquez whispered to Larson.
"It's an old type of car from the twenty-first century on Earth." Mike explained. "Studying early Earth land vehicles has always been a favorite of Tom's."
"I see." Marquez commented.
Tom got his response from the take-off coordinator, who said "This is launch control to the Volvo. Admiral, you are clear to proceed."
Tom focused on the helm. He gracefully took control of the ship's motor functions and pulled her up in the air. Then he said "Hang on. This could be a bumpy ride."
Tom flew the Volvo out of the hanger and out into the sunlight. He then flew close by the Golden Gate Bridge, allowing the others to take time to admire its beauty. Finally, he had the ship fly upwards towards the sky and soon made it out of the atmosphere. After they exited Earth's orbit, he said into the comline "Admiral Paris to launch control. We have broken orbit and are proceeding on course to the Utopia Planitia Shipyards."
After a few moments, the response was "Have a nice day, Admiral."
"You too." said Paris to the launch control. He turned to Nicholas and offered him "Mr. Casey, perhaps you would care to take over now?"
"Oh, yes sir, thank you." Casey switched places with Tom and manned the helm. He proclaimed "We're on a course to Mars now, and we should be arriving within two hours."
"Nothing to do but wait now." Tom commented to the others. They all just sat in silence for about a half-hour while Casey piloted the ship and Miral monitored the ship's main systems.
