Chapter 11 - Stolen Command
While he waited in queue at the transporter station, Kirk considered how he'd gotten to such a place in just a matter of hours. With Starfleet stretched as badly as it was, promotions did tend to be based on desperate necessity and luck. There were certainly a lot of personnel at the bottom who wouldn't be in uniform without the same necessity. It would be a sign of normalcy when the service could be choosy again.
Even so, his instincts told him there was more to it than that. Was he being protected or gotten out of the way? Was he being given a golden opportunity or being set up to fail? The last possibility failed to bother him. He half hoped it was true.
A feed scrolled on the wall of the transporter area. There seemed to be more than the usual number of ships limping on the main spaceways around Orion, creating a hazard to navigation. Outside the station, a group of press had stopped to greet each other on the plaza. Kirk shook his head. He had too much to worry about already. He had a ship to run and he was going to do that and forget the rest of it.
Station 6 was larger than Kirk imagined. It had been expanded to three times its previous size and every berth contained a vessel. Kirk looked over the directory and decided to walk rather than take the station shuttle to the second to last berth beside the bulk of the space station proper.
Ship after ship hung in eerily uniform illumination in various states of retrofitting and rebuilding. The Colony War was originally supposed to be short, the colonists too technology poor to handle a drawn out conflict. But it had been four years and three months now since the colonists on Petranum Eleven had dropped bots on the Federation outpost in their system claiming they had exhausted other avenues to shake Federation interference in their affairs. Turned out to be a signal for a lot of colonies to decide if they were in or out. They'd been sharing robot designs for over a century, for everything from farming to mining to manufacturing, including, ironically enough, robots. The Federation had helped them set that up.
Once the atrocities started, war was a natural given, likely the express purpose of that first attack. The overconfident Federation had complied with the rebels' wishes, could do nothing else.
Kirk stopped when the Ranger came into view. One-hundred thirteen meters, Dionysus class, a rapidly produced, smaller version of the old Hercules class. She appeared to float, patchy white from repairs against the deep of space. She had only one gantry, on the port side to support some welding near an access panel. Everything about the ship was awkwardly abbreviated and inverted from the Eclipse class Sanchez with its oversized warp nacelles which sat well below the hull like an animal eager to spring. The Ranger's disk ran directly into the cylindrical hull with a bulky collar at the join. The bridge sat on top of the domed disk, looking hard to shield. The nacelles were foreshortened and almost straight out to the sides, limiting the warp field potential.
Kirk felt like a new parent who has just been handed an ugly newborn. She'd look beautiful eventually because she was his.
On the starboard side a gangway stretched across to the upper hull. A group of red shirts lounged standing up, partly blocking the entrance. Kirk walked further along and surveyed the side of the ship through the windows on the pier between vessels. He stopped before the end where a woman in a short red uniform stood with arms wrapped around herself, looking bleak. She wore her blonde hair in an elaborate weave. He considered saying something, until she turned her head aside to dab at her eye. He wouldn't want to be approached in that state, so he walked slowly back to the gangway portal.
There was something about security crew with nothing to do. They had a tendency to intentionally stand in the way. They paid Kirk no heed as he passed between them. At the open hatch, Kirk slowed to step inside with intention. The deck felt nice and solid underfoot.
Footsteps came running around the bend in the corridor and an unusually slim man in red about Kirk's height came to a flailing stop.
"Sir," he said crisply.
"You must be Riley," Kirk said.
Riley's face transformed into joyous. "Yes, sir. The notice of your assignment only came through half an hour ago. So things are a little chaotic here. Let me show you to your quarters."
As they walked, Kirk said, "We're supposed to push back at oh eight hundred."
"Yes, sir."
"Are we ready?"
"We can be."
Riley opened the door to Kirk's quarters. "We can key it to your biometrics right now if you like."
The quarters were long and narrow, smooth walled with everything closed up in drawers and cupboards on either side leading to a small head at the end with a curved door that swiveled into a pocket in the wall.
Riley began pulling things out and shoving them back again, like the bunk, lockers, desk. "You'll get used to it. You have a yeoman, but she's not on duty right now."
Kirk turned abruptly. "I have a female yeoman?"
"We had a female commander until half an hour ago, sir."
"Yes, of course."
Kirk put his sack down in the locker.
"That all you have?"
"Everything in the world at the moment." That bundle. And this ship.
Riley pulled out the desk, tested that the desk monitor functioned, and set a padd out on the desk. Kirk scooped it up and handed it back to him.
"I want to see the manifests and the repair logs of the retrofit."
Riley keyed those in and handed it back. He stood with his hands behind his back, bounced on his toes once. His gaze grew more eager to please as the minutes past.
Kirk said, "I'd like you to go with me on a tour of the ship, but let me finish looking this over first."
"Yes, sir. I'm sure the crew is eager to meet you. Command sent over a summary dossier to be distributed to the crew so we could get to know you."
Kirk was reading engineering change orders, trying to get a sense of where the chronic problems might be. He raised his head.
Riley said, "You didn't know?"
"No."
Riley bounced once up onto his toes. "It was quite impressive, sir."
Kirk thought, I woke up this morning as a lieutenant worried about a downgrade. The Rear Admiral of all of Starfleet apparently went out of his way to help him out with his new command.
"I'm a little worried what's in it," Kirk said, to explain his reaction.
"You survived the battle of Wolfram."
"It was barely a skirmish. Just me and two launchers and lots of bots. An actual battle would have been better."
"It's been the turning point in the war, sir. That's why everyone is marking it."
Kirk thought, not for the reasons everyone thinks.
That's why Command wanted him out of the way. They were writing a narrative and didn't want it damaged before it took hold.
Riley said, "Are they giving you another medal, sir?"
Kirk realized he'd lowered the padd when his thoughts dived off elsewhere. He quickly paged through the last week's officer logs.
Riley went on, "It said on the dossier that you had both an Antaras Cluster and a Karagite Order of Heroism." He turned and pointed at the wall by the door. "There is actually a case mount here, if you want to display them." He sounded like an excited puppy.
"I don't have them. Remember the sack?"
"You sound like you don't actually care."
Kirk lowered the padd. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Riley. But in regards to medals. The times things get bad enough that someone has to step up and be a hero, they usually prefer it didn't have to happen that way in the first place. Better would be that no one need be a hero, because it would mean things are going swimmingly."
"I see." He sounded disappointed.
Kirk scrolled through the logs again. "You've done two shakedown cruises? And more retrofitting, down to the last spring and screw." He looked up at Riley. "You've been stalling."
Riley dropped his eyes and nodded. "When Commander Overlander was first injured it wasn't supposed to be this serious. But she reacted to the transplants. Some people do, apparently. She's expected to recover, but it's going to be months. They tried modifying her genes so the transplants would take, but that didn't work either. We hoped that we could finish getting the ship ready and, by that time, she'd be ready."
"So, this ship is in really good shape for one just out of retrofit."
"Yes, sir. We've put her through her paces and worked the kinks out. She's not a bad ship. She won't sustain a high warp speed for long, but she's quick and maneuverable under impulse. I think you'll like her well enough, sir."
Kirk smiled kindly so what he said wouldn't be mistaken for sarcasm. "I expect so. And we'll see if by the time this mission is through, we can get you a medal without the bad memories to go with it." He patted Riley on the back. "Let's visit the ship."
The bridge was probably the largest open area on the vessel short of the cargo bay, which was packed full. People were at their stations and a simulation was in progress. They stood as Kirk entered and Riley overzealously announced, "Captain on the bridge."
Kirk realized only at that moment how hard this was going to be. He had thirty seconds to make an impression and he used ten of them meeting each person's eyes. Grudging curiosity seemed to be the rule of the day.
A warning went off at the helm as part of the simulation. The woman there reached down and silenced it. She had native American features accentuated by braids that wrapped around her head like a crown. He had memorized the names of three shifts of bridge personnel, but there was no reason to assume this was any particular shift.
"Fairfeather, correct?" Kirk said.
"Yes, sir."
Kirk stepped over to the scanner's station on the starboard side of the forward viewscreen. The tall blond man with flat grey eyes nodded officially. Kirk guessed this was Toyvan. The scanner station looked entirely new, whereas helm and navigation were clearly the old panels.
Kirk was running out of time. He spun and turned to the bridge at large.
"I realize I'm stepping into someone else's shoes. And I don't expect anyone to be pleased by this change in arrangements, but it is what it is. I also realize that I need to earn every ounce of respect that you are accustomed to giving Commander Overlander."
He looked around with a wry smile. "Starfleet needs this ship out where it can make a difference. There are rebel ships and bases yet to be located and disabled. Somewhere there is a planet or likely a moon where the rebels are still manufacturing bots. If we don't want to meet anymore of them, it would be handy to find that. On another front, Militants made a hit on another Federation installation in the last 24 hours."
"No better than the Romulans," someone muttered.
"At least the Romulans have honor."
Kirk said, "I have noticed that the Militants don't ever operate anywhere near Romulan Space. As if they'd prefer not to match up with them. Or something."
There were a few smiles.
Kirk said, "In short, we have a job to do, and we need to get out there and do it."
Kirk and Riley continued the tour. The ship consisted of fifty eight officers and crew, crammed into extremely tight quarters. Kirk learned every name, noted every face he thought was too young or struck him as underprepared or of the wrong temperament. Too many ended up noted. He could count on two hands the crewmembers he thought he could rely on in all circumstances.
Security was the end of the tour, a low ceilinged area with steeply sloping walls just above the cargo bay. The loungers from the gangway platform were lounging here. They made a show of coming to attention and made a show of it being a show. Riley didn't seem to notice this. He introduced Lt. Yarrow, the head of security, a man with tiger stripes shaved into the stubble on his head.
"Commander. Sir."
Kirk said, "Before we push off for possibly months, are you outfitted properly? Spare reflective plate, rifles, launchers, should it come to that?"
This at least sparked Yarrow's interest. "The ship has three armories, spread out in case of damage to the ship. One small one near the bridge, one here near hq and the brig, and one on the torpedo deck. Would you like to see them?"
"Yes, I would."
Back at the door to Kirk's quarters, which Kirk navigated to on his own, Riley said, "With your permission, sir. May I return to my other duties?"
"Yes, of course. Thank you for the tour." Kirk opened the door to his quarters, saw the desk pulled out exactly as they'd left it. "By the way, I don't think I saw my yeoman."
Kirk could tell by the way Riley's shoulders stiffened that he didn't like this topic coming up.
"She's not on board right now, sir."
"Where is she?"
Riley took a slow inward breath. "Rand is often visiting Commander Overlander, sir, in the base hospital."
Kirk said, "Does she have blonde hair in a weave?"
"You saw her, sir?"
"I think so. When she gets back have her report to me immediately."
Riley dropped his gaze. "Of course, sir."
Kirk reviewed his orders. He reviewed the logs of the last two days. He felt like he needed to do more to catch up with the status of his ship, which despite the tour, felt like a stranger. He really should go to the bridge, although a bumbling captain wasn't a boon to getting things done.
He opted to read logs and feeds. He put his feet up and did so.
His door chimed. It was the woman he saw on the station.
"Yeoman Rand, I presume."
She did not appear to have been crying. She just appeared unmovable.
"You wanted to see me, sir."
Kirk was certain she was looking for a reprimand. Why he was certain, he didn't know. Maybe it was the lack of explanation for her absence. She didn't look interested in a personal introduction so he didn't offer any.
"Come with me to the bridge, Yeoman."
On the bridge, the crew were at their stations, running systems checks before push back. He was handed reports to look over. There was no way he could read them all. He scanned them, asked Rand about one of them just to engage with her. She responded competently and fell silent.
There was a message in the pile, redlined from Admiral Pritchard's office, strongly suggesting he remain on board until departure.
Kirk put a hand on his first officer's shoulder. "We on schedule, Riley?"
"Yes, ahead of it. We could have pushed back two days ago." With a jerk of his head, he glanced at Rand and away again as if accidentally speaking a dark family secret.
Kirk handed the padd back to Communications even though Rand put her hand out for it. "Yeoman, you presumably know how to get in and out of the base hospital without attracting too much attention."
Her face went from hurt soft to firmly defiant. "Yes, sir."
"Good, I want you to take me to see Commander Overlander."
"Why?"
"Why, sir," Kirk corrected her. "Because I feel I should apologize properly for stealing her ship. I'd certainly be annoyed and frustrated in her place. Shall we?"
Comm said, "There is a lot of press hanging out by the gangway, sir."
"There is? What for?"
"Don't know sir. There often are a few for a ship launch, but they are never this early."
Kirk leaned over her board. "There is a gangway from the second hull. Is that clear of civilians?"
She flipped through the cameras monitoring the work on the vessel. "It's clear."
"That's two levels down, base side, in the cargo loading area." He turned to Rand. "Can you find your way from there?"
She nodded.
"Riley, give me your communicator." He handed Riley his.
"Sir?"
"You are going to cover for me on the remote chance Admiral Pritchard calls."
"You mean. Rear. Admiral. Pritchard?"
"The very same." Kirk started for the lift.
"What do I tell him?"
"That I'm in an engineering access tube, or in a radiation suit inspecting the power core. Make something up."
He had exceeded Riley's self confidence. Badly.
"You'll do fine," Kirk told him. "Anything comes up . . ." He waved Riley's communicator.
The bridge crew were smiling when the lift doors closed.
Rand led the way with a long-legged stride that made Kirk have to jog a few times. They were outside Overlander's room in less than twenty minutes.
"Let me go in, sir?"
"Of course."
After a time, she waved him in.
Overlander was hooked up to more equipment than Kirk expected. He had not heard the details of what had happened before the treatments had failed. She was reclined in a bed, her left arm and part of her torso were entirely inside a machine. Just her swollen fingertips were visible on that side.
"You must be Kirk," she said. She had to breath in deeply and talk with clear effort.
"Yes. I'm the bastard taking your ship."
She snorted. "If I wanted it, I had to not reject a standard tissue rejuvenation. Come a bit closer. On top of it all the Retinex Five wore off.
Kirk stepped up to the bed and took her good hand off the covers and held it casually. She looked over his face.
"You born on earth?"
He replied with some confidence. "Yes. Iowa."
"I never trust earthers."
Kirk laughed.
She breathed in. Spoke. "Admiral Pritchard assigned you, I hear."
"I sense another trap," Kirk said.
She smiled faintly. Her eyes fluttered. "I will eventually walk out of here, but I need to lower my expectations for what's waiting beyond those glass doors downstairs."
"There's always something you don't expect waiting."
"I'll agree with that. It's never what you expect."
She fell silent, appeared to be gathering strength. "You'll take care of my ship?"
"Yes, I will."
Her eyes closed. He wasn't sure if it was fatigue or emotion.
Kirk leaned closer. "When I bring her back, I'll give you a free shot. An un-opposed sucker punch."
She smiled without opening her eyes, gripped his hand. "I'm going to hold you to that."
He squeezed her hand back and set it back on the bed.
She said, "I want to talk to Janice alone."
Kirk departed, wandered down the corridor, which was strangely quiet. There were windows beyond the nurse's station overlooking the docking bays. He walked that way. The nurses paid no attention to him. Kirk heard the same voice he'd just left, breathing in. Making an effort.
"You need to stay. Take care of him. He's just as young and inexperienced as the rest of them."
Kirk looked around. Saw that the monitors in the rooms were on a panel behind the long desk where the nurses were huddled together, talking.
Maybe he wasn't fooling anyone.
A/N: Short terminology note. The captain, as a role, is the person who is in charge of the ship, at any given time, while on the bridge. So, for this setting, the ship has a commander, the bridge has a captain (and helm, and nav, etc.) In TOS the rank and role of captain were always conflated probably to avoid confusion. But there aren't enough personnel of captain rank to command all ships, especially in a war. A small ship would be normally commanded by a Lieutenant. A large one by a Captain. We're in the smallish, mid-size here with the Ranger, in a ship class I invented for the story.
Role overrides rank, just in case that comes up at some point. If you were a lowly lieutenant in command of a ship carrying an admiral and said admiral did something out of line, said lieutenant could kick his/her butt. Handing out responsibility without authority would cause a lot of problems.
I'm going to use role on the bridge almost exclusively to avoid having to introduce too many minor characters.