Darrian Blair learned a great many things that day. The starship that
had saved them was named the USS Shadow Falcon, registry NCC-83317, the
ship that the shuttle ferry had been heading towards in the first place.
Apparently, the ship's bridge crew, lead by the Vulcan Chief of Operations
and acting captain K'Sathe, had detected weapons fire around the shuttle
that was supposed to be ferrying its captain and had left dry-dock ahead of
schedule and had arrived just in time to rescue Blair and co. and had
warded off the Defiant with a few well-placed phaser bursts.
The Shadow Falcon was Steamrunner class, with a standard crew complement of two hundred and fifty men and women. And all of them, apparently, were under Blair's command.
For the moment, Blair and the two other officers had silently agreed to play along, and had been given a tour of the ship by K'Sathe. The tour had ended in the ship's Engineering section, and Blair had elected to stay there while Conserkk and Aerin were being shown to their quarters.
The Shadow Falcon had just been built, and it nearly literally reeked of newness, much like 20-21st century automobiles, fresh out of the construction plant. The overhead lighting was subdued and the countless panels that dotted the large room glowed, giving the area an aura of relaxation that seemed to be a central theme Starfleet was trying to get back to with its post-war construction efforts. The carpeting of both the upper and lower levels of the deck was spotless. The soft humming of the new warp core reverberated in the large chamber, illuminating the quasi- dark room with a soft blue-green glow. Several junior engineering officers milled about, checking and making adjustments to panels and occasionally making a mellow comment to a peer. None of these officers, Blair noted, were over the rank of Lieutenant. Another effect of the war.
Blair had been standing there on the upper deck staring into the pulsating lights of the warp core for quite some time—perhaps twenty or so minutes—before Conserkk walked up to him and leaned onto the railing beside him. She spoke in a subdued voice.
"Darrian… you okay?"
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." Blair's eyes darted down to a PADD that Conserkk held in her right hand. "What's that?"
"Oh, right. Here, look at this." She handed him the PADD and he examined it, but she summarized verbally anyway.
"You remember how it said before that the three of us were killed? Now it says how. You remember how the Defiant fired at the Starbase? The sections that were destroyed in the attack included our guest quarters…"
"So everyone does think we're dead." Blair nodded, handing the PADD back to her and staring back into the glow of the pulsating core. He paused, looking like he was about to say something. He stopped himself, then regained his composure and steadied his voice.
"Did… did everyone make it off the O'Donnell before it went up?"
Conserkk took in a deep breath, then shook her head. "No. Most made it off though… a lot of people were already near the escape pods when the captain gave the abandon ship order."
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "None of the senior staff made it… and you know about the captain."
Blair nodded and paused, then shifted his weight slightly on the railing. "What about… you know…"
Conserkk swallowed, letting her vision follow Blair's, into the mesmerizing lights of the core. She paused. "Lindsay… Lindsay didn't make it. She was still onboard the O'Donnell when she went up… didn't make it to an escape pod in time… I'm sorry…"
Blair hung his head low, clamped his eyes shut, and had pursed his lips together hard. He remained that way for a few long moments. He then spoke, without moving his head.
"Do I get a ready room on this bucket of bolts?"
"Yeah, I guess… on deck 1."
"That's where I'll be." Blair straightened and composed himself, tugging down on his uniform tunic in an effort to straighten it out. "You and Orion try and get more information on this whole mess." Without waiting for a response, Blair about-faced and made his way down a spiral staircase to the lower level, and from there towards the exit.
"But Darrian…!"
"Just do it!" Blair yelled right as he walked out the door, drawing the attention of nearby engineers, who looked to Conserkk quizzically. She ignored their gazes, looking after Blair with a mix of insult, sorrow, and sympathy.
***
Blair stormed into the captain's ready room and ordered the computer to lock the door. He walked the three paces necessary to bring him to a couch along the wall of the room and flopped down on it and dropped his face into his hands. Tears welled in his eyes—the release of the tension he had to fight on the journey from engineering to the bridge… completely different areas of the ship. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do.
He had been dating Samantha Maréz for nearly eight months. She was a bright young ensign who worked in Stellar Cartography—Blair and she had met at one of the O'Donnell's monthly socials. He usually didn't go to those types of parties, but Conserkk had convinced him to attend. She had even done him the favor if introducing him to Samantha. They seemed good together from the start—Maréz had the Chief Science Officer title in her sights, and Blair wanted to make captain before he was forty. Both of their schedules had been hectic, but the fact was, they felt for each other. So, a few times a week, they made time for each other. A quiet dinner here, a trip to the holodeck there. In fact, just the other night, they had shared dinner and a bottle of champagne (non-synthaholic—it took a bribe or three from the ship's bartender) to celebrate the return to port. The only reason why she hadn't disembarked with Blair and the others was because she wanted to put some extra analysis and some finishing touches into a report that was due the following morning.
Blair lifted his face from his hands and straightened a bit in his seat. His cheek, which had been stained by a single tear, was soon wiped dry with the sleeve of his uniform. No time to worry about that now, he told himself. He had bigger fish to fry. This was his ship, after all.
Somehow.
He cleared his throat and looked around the room for the first time since entering. The size of the captain's ready room was slightly smaller than that of the Galaxy class O'Donnell—it had the more metallic, bare- bones motif as the bridge, which perhaps made the room appear smaller than it really was. It was fairly bare—a trio of large bay windows were on the far wall, in front of which was a desk—the captain's desk, presumably—with a computer terminal on top of it and two padded chairs on the opposite side. Then there was also the couch, on which Blair was currently sitting. The remaining two walls were bare, save for a single one by three-quarter meter painting of the Shadow Falcon. Either Starfleet had some serious economic concerns, Blair mused, or it was because captains were supposed to customize their own ready rooms—more likely the latter, he supposed. Blair sniffed loudly, almost in a manner the opposite that of a sigh. If he got to keep this tug, he'd have to do a bit of redecorating.
He stood and slowly walked behind the desk, and after a quick inspection of its surface, glanced out one of the three windows that spanned the upper half of the wall.
The Shadow Falcon still hung in space near where Dry Dock 47 had been. Several small Starfleet support vehicles swarmed around what was now a fairly large debris field—mostly cleaning up the wreckage for further analysis, either at Starbase 002 or at Earth. Blair grumbled a bit to himself. The loss of a dry dock of that size would probably put back Starfleet ship repair operations by at least a few months.
Blair squinted out the window at the wreckage. It wasn't moving, was it?… no, that was this ship. The stars moved and the debris fell out of view. They were moving away.
He had a moment to wonder why before the internal comm chirped, and K'Sathe's voice was heard. "Captain to the bridge."
It was another moment before Blair realized that it was he who was being called. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat before acknowledging and exiting the ready room at a brisk pace.
"Captain on the bridge!"
Blair paused for a moment just inside and gave a nod to K'Sathe. He then proceeded at a slow pace to the center of the room.
He eyed the center chair as he made his approach, all by itself at the center of the bridge. He walked slowly behind it, then stopped just to the right of it and folded his arms. He looked at the viewscreen and tried to appear non-chalant as he waited for a status report.
"Captain," K'Sathe reported. "Since we are the closest and most able starship, Starfleet has given us orders to investigate the destruction of the USS O'Donnell. Command indicates that a surveillance satellite orbiting Saturn has some data of use to us. Our ETA is four minutes at warp one point six."
"Very well." Blair nodded in response. "Inform me when we get within sensor range."
K'Sathe nodded and returned his attention to his console.
It was then that Blair's attention became refocused on the command chair that he was now standing beside.
In truth, he had only sat in the "big chair" once during his posting on the O'Donnell. It was during a particularly volatile diplomatic mission, where both the captain and the XO were involved in negotiations and most of the senior officers were occupied with other tasks. He had gone nearly half of the shift without getting within a meter of it, and when he did finally work up the courage… he felt small. Insignificant. He melted into the chair like a black hole would crush a Class 1 probe. Unfit for command, definitely. Of course, he was only lieutenant junior grade at the time, and that was nearly two years ago.
His hand reached for the headrest of the chair, and he grasped it firmly. He looked it over. Probably hadn't even been sat in before. The leather (or some replicated material, Blair mused) almost had a remnant of that "new furniture" scent that was prevalent on 20th and 21st century vehicles.
It was then when the turbolift doors opened, giving Aerin and Conserkk access to the bridge. Blair turned around and acknowledged their entrance with a slight smile and a nod. Aerin returned the nod and brushed past Blair. Conserkk moved to Blair's side.
"Something wrong with the chair?" She smiled and backed off a step.
Reluctantly, Blair eased himself down into the chair. Comfortable, in his summation. Meanwhile, Aerin had relieved the ensign at conn and was familiarizing himself with the controls.
Conserkk sensed Blair's sense of confusion, and answered his unasked question with a whisper. "Orion's at the helm, same as on the O'Donnell."
Blair nodded, whispering back. "Makes sense. He's only damn near the best pilot in the fleet." His eyes slowly made their way up to hers. "What about you, what's your assignment?"
Conserkk smiled broadly. "Guess."
Blair's jaw dropped, and he had to contain himself to make his voice sound routine. "You're kidding!"
"It gets better. CMO and first officer."
"Well. Then technically, you can relieve me of command by yourself."
"Don't temp me." She winked and took a step back. She was happy to say, it looked like he was feeling better, at least for the moment.
Blair raised his voice enough so that the whole bridge crew could hear. "Are we within range?"
"Just entering range now," K'Sathe reported from the Operations console.
"Lieutenant, go ahead and establish a datalink with the satellite… Helm, take us within five thousand kilometers."
The Shadow Falcon was Steamrunner class, with a standard crew complement of two hundred and fifty men and women. And all of them, apparently, were under Blair's command.
For the moment, Blair and the two other officers had silently agreed to play along, and had been given a tour of the ship by K'Sathe. The tour had ended in the ship's Engineering section, and Blair had elected to stay there while Conserkk and Aerin were being shown to their quarters.
The Shadow Falcon had just been built, and it nearly literally reeked of newness, much like 20-21st century automobiles, fresh out of the construction plant. The overhead lighting was subdued and the countless panels that dotted the large room glowed, giving the area an aura of relaxation that seemed to be a central theme Starfleet was trying to get back to with its post-war construction efforts. The carpeting of both the upper and lower levels of the deck was spotless. The soft humming of the new warp core reverberated in the large chamber, illuminating the quasi- dark room with a soft blue-green glow. Several junior engineering officers milled about, checking and making adjustments to panels and occasionally making a mellow comment to a peer. None of these officers, Blair noted, were over the rank of Lieutenant. Another effect of the war.
Blair had been standing there on the upper deck staring into the pulsating lights of the warp core for quite some time—perhaps twenty or so minutes—before Conserkk walked up to him and leaned onto the railing beside him. She spoke in a subdued voice.
"Darrian… you okay?"
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." Blair's eyes darted down to a PADD that Conserkk held in her right hand. "What's that?"
"Oh, right. Here, look at this." She handed him the PADD and he examined it, but she summarized verbally anyway.
"You remember how it said before that the three of us were killed? Now it says how. You remember how the Defiant fired at the Starbase? The sections that were destroyed in the attack included our guest quarters…"
"So everyone does think we're dead." Blair nodded, handing the PADD back to her and staring back into the glow of the pulsating core. He paused, looking like he was about to say something. He stopped himself, then regained his composure and steadied his voice.
"Did… did everyone make it off the O'Donnell before it went up?"
Conserkk took in a deep breath, then shook her head. "No. Most made it off though… a lot of people were already near the escape pods when the captain gave the abandon ship order."
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "None of the senior staff made it… and you know about the captain."
Blair nodded and paused, then shifted his weight slightly on the railing. "What about… you know…"
Conserkk swallowed, letting her vision follow Blair's, into the mesmerizing lights of the core. She paused. "Lindsay… Lindsay didn't make it. She was still onboard the O'Donnell when she went up… didn't make it to an escape pod in time… I'm sorry…"
Blair hung his head low, clamped his eyes shut, and had pursed his lips together hard. He remained that way for a few long moments. He then spoke, without moving his head.
"Do I get a ready room on this bucket of bolts?"
"Yeah, I guess… on deck 1."
"That's where I'll be." Blair straightened and composed himself, tugging down on his uniform tunic in an effort to straighten it out. "You and Orion try and get more information on this whole mess." Without waiting for a response, Blair about-faced and made his way down a spiral staircase to the lower level, and from there towards the exit.
"But Darrian…!"
"Just do it!" Blair yelled right as he walked out the door, drawing the attention of nearby engineers, who looked to Conserkk quizzically. She ignored their gazes, looking after Blair with a mix of insult, sorrow, and sympathy.
***
Blair stormed into the captain's ready room and ordered the computer to lock the door. He walked the three paces necessary to bring him to a couch along the wall of the room and flopped down on it and dropped his face into his hands. Tears welled in his eyes—the release of the tension he had to fight on the journey from engineering to the bridge… completely different areas of the ship. She was gone, and there was nothing he could do.
He had been dating Samantha Maréz for nearly eight months. She was a bright young ensign who worked in Stellar Cartography—Blair and she had met at one of the O'Donnell's monthly socials. He usually didn't go to those types of parties, but Conserkk had convinced him to attend. She had even done him the favor if introducing him to Samantha. They seemed good together from the start—Maréz had the Chief Science Officer title in her sights, and Blair wanted to make captain before he was forty. Both of their schedules had been hectic, but the fact was, they felt for each other. So, a few times a week, they made time for each other. A quiet dinner here, a trip to the holodeck there. In fact, just the other night, they had shared dinner and a bottle of champagne (non-synthaholic—it took a bribe or three from the ship's bartender) to celebrate the return to port. The only reason why she hadn't disembarked with Blair and the others was because she wanted to put some extra analysis and some finishing touches into a report that was due the following morning.
Blair lifted his face from his hands and straightened a bit in his seat. His cheek, which had been stained by a single tear, was soon wiped dry with the sleeve of his uniform. No time to worry about that now, he told himself. He had bigger fish to fry. This was his ship, after all.
Somehow.
He cleared his throat and looked around the room for the first time since entering. The size of the captain's ready room was slightly smaller than that of the Galaxy class O'Donnell—it had the more metallic, bare- bones motif as the bridge, which perhaps made the room appear smaller than it really was. It was fairly bare—a trio of large bay windows were on the far wall, in front of which was a desk—the captain's desk, presumably—with a computer terminal on top of it and two padded chairs on the opposite side. Then there was also the couch, on which Blair was currently sitting. The remaining two walls were bare, save for a single one by three-quarter meter painting of the Shadow Falcon. Either Starfleet had some serious economic concerns, Blair mused, or it was because captains were supposed to customize their own ready rooms—more likely the latter, he supposed. Blair sniffed loudly, almost in a manner the opposite that of a sigh. If he got to keep this tug, he'd have to do a bit of redecorating.
He stood and slowly walked behind the desk, and after a quick inspection of its surface, glanced out one of the three windows that spanned the upper half of the wall.
The Shadow Falcon still hung in space near where Dry Dock 47 had been. Several small Starfleet support vehicles swarmed around what was now a fairly large debris field—mostly cleaning up the wreckage for further analysis, either at Starbase 002 or at Earth. Blair grumbled a bit to himself. The loss of a dry dock of that size would probably put back Starfleet ship repair operations by at least a few months.
Blair squinted out the window at the wreckage. It wasn't moving, was it?… no, that was this ship. The stars moved and the debris fell out of view. They were moving away.
He had a moment to wonder why before the internal comm chirped, and K'Sathe's voice was heard. "Captain to the bridge."
It was another moment before Blair realized that it was he who was being called. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat before acknowledging and exiting the ready room at a brisk pace.
"Captain on the bridge!"
Blair paused for a moment just inside and gave a nod to K'Sathe. He then proceeded at a slow pace to the center of the room.
He eyed the center chair as he made his approach, all by itself at the center of the bridge. He walked slowly behind it, then stopped just to the right of it and folded his arms. He looked at the viewscreen and tried to appear non-chalant as he waited for a status report.
"Captain," K'Sathe reported. "Since we are the closest and most able starship, Starfleet has given us orders to investigate the destruction of the USS O'Donnell. Command indicates that a surveillance satellite orbiting Saturn has some data of use to us. Our ETA is four minutes at warp one point six."
"Very well." Blair nodded in response. "Inform me when we get within sensor range."
K'Sathe nodded and returned his attention to his console.
It was then that Blair's attention became refocused on the command chair that he was now standing beside.
In truth, he had only sat in the "big chair" once during his posting on the O'Donnell. It was during a particularly volatile diplomatic mission, where both the captain and the XO were involved in negotiations and most of the senior officers were occupied with other tasks. He had gone nearly half of the shift without getting within a meter of it, and when he did finally work up the courage… he felt small. Insignificant. He melted into the chair like a black hole would crush a Class 1 probe. Unfit for command, definitely. Of course, he was only lieutenant junior grade at the time, and that was nearly two years ago.
His hand reached for the headrest of the chair, and he grasped it firmly. He looked it over. Probably hadn't even been sat in before. The leather (or some replicated material, Blair mused) almost had a remnant of that "new furniture" scent that was prevalent on 20th and 21st century vehicles.
It was then when the turbolift doors opened, giving Aerin and Conserkk access to the bridge. Blair turned around and acknowledged their entrance with a slight smile and a nod. Aerin returned the nod and brushed past Blair. Conserkk moved to Blair's side.
"Something wrong with the chair?" She smiled and backed off a step.
Reluctantly, Blair eased himself down into the chair. Comfortable, in his summation. Meanwhile, Aerin had relieved the ensign at conn and was familiarizing himself with the controls.
Conserkk sensed Blair's sense of confusion, and answered his unasked question with a whisper. "Orion's at the helm, same as on the O'Donnell."
Blair nodded, whispering back. "Makes sense. He's only damn near the best pilot in the fleet." His eyes slowly made their way up to hers. "What about you, what's your assignment?"
Conserkk smiled broadly. "Guess."
Blair's jaw dropped, and he had to contain himself to make his voice sound routine. "You're kidding!"
"It gets better. CMO and first officer."
"Well. Then technically, you can relieve me of command by yourself."
"Don't temp me." She winked and took a step back. She was happy to say, it looked like he was feeling better, at least for the moment.
Blair raised his voice enough so that the whole bridge crew could hear. "Are we within range?"
"Just entering range now," K'Sathe reported from the Operations console.
"Lieutenant, go ahead and establish a datalink with the satellite… Helm, take us within five thousand kilometers."
