At this hour, there were scant few people still occupying this area of the station. Most were either enjoying one last hurrah with their shiftmates or procrastinating going back to their quarters for one reason or another.
There were fewer, still, who were haunting the dimly lit cafeteria.
Which, for Lesmila zh'Gryph, was something akin to perfection. Zha was free to enjoy zhar dinner in peace, without worrying about sideways glares or glances, the incessant chittering tones of crew wondering and gossiping about the Andorian with black scarring that denoted zhar as a member of the minority infected with Gareb's Syndrome. The admonished, bluntly discriminated against and, perhaps, even feared, minority who had sacrificed everything to fight the Romulans and their gods-damned drone ships.
Another sip of zhar soup quieted the thoughts.
Lesmila's spoon clacked and jingled against the shell of the bowl as zha set it down. It was a simple sound, palpably enjoyable, especially when it came against the din of background noise that continued, without end, from the kitchen areas. Inside, a throng of human, Andorian, and Denobulan chefs yelled their scandals, opinions, and private lives unabated, only interrupted by the occasional fwoosh of a fire left uncontrolled. Adding to their chorus was a cacophony of spatulas scraping burnt out skillets, knifes clattering together as they're tossed into an overflowing sink, and the unmitigated scent of something pungent enough that Lesmila could only surmise that it was a set of spices devised by the Denobulan sous-chef.
Zhar thoughts were interrupted, quite forcibly, as the intrusive telepathy sliced through zhar mind again. In a flash, zha saw zharself, but from behind, and a plate of food that was blurry and unfocused through the secondary mind's-eye position. There was a myriad of feelings, but the overbearing weight of one crushed the others: Excited trepidation.
A human, undoubtedly.
Shifting zhar weight to a relaxed position, Lesmila allowed Monika Paige, the Starfleet commander in charge of the shipyard and zhar best friend and confidante, to slip into the opposite seat.
"What is that?" Lesmila asked, zhar eyebrows raising as zha considered the plate of food that Monika had set down.
"Pork pot stickers," Monika answered cheerily, which in and of itself was rather odd considering how particularly withdrawn the human had been for the past month, "Captain Matsura dropped them off when he passed through the system yesterday. Which," She said, pausing only to mouth an entire piece, "Is good, because I badgered him about it every single day that the Daedalus was here for maintenance a few months ago. If he'd forgotten about them I very well may have set up an automatic messaging bot to spam him for the next three cycles."
"It looks like an Andorian tube root, just," Lesmila paused as zha examined the contents more closely, taking note of the oily sauce that was more akin to a pool than a condiment, given how much had been liberally applied, "Greasier, and not as appealing or healthy."
"That's because you can't appreciate a good human palette, Les," Monika said, stabbing her fork towards the Andorian, "Which, speaking of, I've got something for you. Straight from the palette of Starfleet Command's braintrust."
Lesmila's spine involuntarily shivered, though zha didn't show it. Where Starfleet Command was concerned so, too, was the Andorian Imperial Guard.
"Why do I get the sense that this isn't good news?"
"Can't answer that for you, Les," Monika replied, still using that same name-shortening affectation she'd used for half a year, "Because I, for one, find it particularly thrilling, and not just because there's a promotion to captain in it for me."
"While I'm absolutely thrilled to hear your promotion, Mon, you'll pardon me, of course, if the former does not exactly send my hopes to the stars," Lesmila answered with a gentle smile.
It was fantastic news to hear that they were finally considering rewarding Monika with a promotion, Lesmila thought she deserved the world, but a captaincy would be nice too. It was also good to see Monika with some colour in her cheeks again, and to see the human smiling and harnessing the energies of the universe to deliver her words again. She was pretty when she smiled, and, despite her working demeanour, the human had always gone out of her way to make Lesmila feel not only included, but accepted. It had been a continuing effort that had helped to foster their friendship, and, despite Monika Paige manifesting somewhat of a haunted presence around herself when she'd first taken charge of the shipyard, something that had drawn Lesmila to her in the first place, it was something Lesmila had desperately needed at the time, and something that still helped to buoy zhar spirits. It was nice to see Monika smile again, especially since she'd been melancholier than a green-blooded Vulcan over the past month. Admittedly, that mischievous smile also intrigued Lesmila's curiosity more than zha let on.
"Don't worry, this one's a good one. I was a little skeptical at first, but I think we can really make this work," Monika dug into her satchel bag and handed a padd to Lesmila, "It's as good of an excuse we're ever going to get to leave the station, after all."
The use of 'we' caught the Andorian's attention immediately, but the mention of leaving the station firmly hooked zhar.
"Leave the station? As in you, me, on a starship?" Lesmila asked, excitement trickling into zhar voice as zha took the padd.
Monika nodded in reply, taking the briefest moment to put her fork down and ingest a healthy amount of her iced tea before resuming her wholesale inhalation of the oily human food.
"Cargo bay? Passenger quarters? Or, do you mean," Lesmila let zhar words trail off, knowing that Monika would answer the unspoken question.
"You, me, and a bridge. Our own starship, setting course as far from Andoria as we can go."
The Andorian's antennae twitched and curled with excitement, and zha smiled widely at zhar friend. The human had an incessant habit of doing that to zhar, but never like this before. The chance to escape Andoria's cold, unflinching judgement? To escape, however briefly, the hallowed halls of the shipyards and the mind-numbing memories? To fly among the stars again, reminding the galaxy that Lesmila zh'Gryph, that Andoria, was still something to be feared and respected? The honour of the chance alone left zhar mind racing.
Reading the padd, however, immediately deflated those thoughts.
"Patrol Fleet?" Lesmila said, rolling the two words, all three syllables, around in zhar mouth, as if they were alien and unflappable. Monika didn't answer, either because she hadn't heard or wanted Lesmila to keep reading. Lesmila chose the latter and read further down the unending document.
The rest wasn't any more appealing than the initial paragraph, which zha had already flinched at when zha'd read Admiral Shran's name.
It smacked of something suspicious, and of something that was treated with an inherent distrust of the people who signed up for it. With all the restrictions and consequences and disciplinary codes and conduct rules, the entire document outright reeked of skeptic misgivings and not a single chance for trust- on either side if the part about advisors was to be believed.
To allow zharself to be placed back under an authority that held no faith in zhar was as unappealing as it was terrifying- the only positive being that, unlike the Imperial Guard, this 'Patrol Fleet' was at least up front about their distrust of zhar.
"Monika," Lesmila began, slowly at first, but deciding better and just getting it over with, "This is horrible. This is worse than the Imperial Guard, and you thought I'd be interested in this?"
Monika seemed taken aback, if not by zhar words then by how forcefully zha had delivered them.
"Even worse," Zha added, scrolling through the document before shoving it back to her, "You signed off on this?"
The human swallowed her food and wiped her mouth clean, pushing her plate to the side as she gently nudged the padd back towards Lesmila.
"Admiral Taylor said that my unique beliefs are exactly what they needed, and she allowed me to make several revisions right on the spot. Of course I signed it, and I think you should too, Les. I can understand it's a little restrictive, but-"
"Restrictive? I am perfectly fine with restriction, Monika, but I am not comfortable with the idea that every single movement I make will be scrutinized by someone parsecs away. That, if this is anything to go by, I can't even be trusted to trust my own judgement is something I am beyond uncomfortable with, and you know how much I hate being talked down to like this."
"It's not that bad, Les," Monika replied, attempting to dismiss zhar concerns, "I know it reads like that but in practice we actually have a decent amount of trust placed in us by Command."
"It is that bad, and don't attempt to fool yourself into believing otherwise," Lesmila shot back, not allowing the human to wiggle out of the conversation, "This 'Patrol Fleet' distrusts its officers from the start. You of all people should understand my issues with that without me having to spell it out."
Monika paused, and her jovial expression dropped away, replaced by one that Lesmila had seen a number of times. Zha had made it clear that this was not something zha was willing to go for, and zha would not let zhar closest friend dismiss zhar concerns either. In light of that, the human had decided to get serious. It was a rewarding response for Lesmila, in its own way, to have someone take zhar seriously without zhar having to fight and plead with them like zha'd done with the Imperial Guard's medical staff.
"Alright, you're right, there's some issues with it, but I think we can buff most of them out once we're out there," Monika began, giving Lesmila an unwanted spike of anxiety as it seemed she was about to sidestep the problem again, "However, before we do that, I need you fully on board with this, so tell me what your main concerns are and we'll work them out here and now. After all," The human added slyly, giving just a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, "If I can't convince my best friend to join up, then this idea is going to go down the proverbial toilet pretty quick."
Despite zharself, Lesmila returned that small smile.
"So," Monika continued, "Tell me what your biggest issues are, and I'll see how far out of the park I can knock them," At Lesmila's confused look, Monika quickly added, "Human expression. Just tell me what's wrong and we'll discuss it."
"Well," Lesmila's antennae perked up as zha spoke, "This 'advisor' business particularly unnerves me. The Imperial Guard, in its earliest forms, had something similar, and it allowed for a Vulcan saboteur, disguised as an Andorian admiral, to seize total control of our fleet and force us to give up massive swaths of space. I'm surprised to see that Admiral Shran signed off on this inclusion, given that he has no lesser knowledge of that event than any other Andorian alive."
"If you look at the appendices section," Monika said as she swiped the primary document away, "Admiral Shran made his feelings on the issue just as clearly as you did. The advisor system is only going to be used for one standard year, and they're only there to ensure that no Patrol Fleet captain or crew oversteps their boundaries."
"Ah," Lesmila said, with no attempt to hide zhar contempt, "So these advisors only have a year to create all the bureaucratic havoc they desire. I'm sure that stringent time limit would not encourage them to act on their own personal interests in order to advance their own careers at our expenses at all."
"If they had the freedom to do so, I'm sure that would be a possibility," Monika shot back, "However they're under just as stringent protocols and regulations as we are. If their judgement is in question, then the issue goes to a tribunal of Patrol Fleet captains. If that decision is doubted, then the elected representatives of Earth, Andoria, and Vulcan are brought in to decide the issue."
"What you are describing," Lesmila said with a rare smile, "Is the definition of bureaucratic havoc."
"All I'm saying is that there is little way we could have a saboteur, political agitator, or personal gainer take us down, there are too many levels of supervision and separation for them to get far. Somebody, at some point, would check and balance them."
"Mon," Lesmila answered, using the shortened affectation of zhar friend's name, "You and me both have dealt with the Ferengi, yes? While they can be detestable little creatures, they are rarely fools. Their commerce guild's Rule of Acquisition number one hundred and fifteen clearly states, 'Influence can be bought, and courts can be influenced.'"
"Likewise," Monika countered, "The two of us have interacted with the Aenar to an extent that you should recall one of their favourite sayings, 'Once words are spoken, they are impossible to retrieve.' The mere femtosecond an advisor made the wrong judgement call, whether selfishly or not, they would not be able to hide from the consequences."
"Oh yes, the Aenar, the same people that Admiral Shran," Zha spat the name with more venom than intended, "Whom you seem to think made these provisions out of true intelligence rather than political pandering, now stomps his boots upon."
Despite being able to clearly read Monika's shock without aid, Lesmila felt zhar wounded antennae twitch toward the human as zhar latent psychic abilities involuntarily probed the human's emotional state. That shock was quickly sidelined, however, in favour of a driven curiosity.
"Les, what are you talking about? Admiral Shran has been extremely vocal on the Federation Council about supporting the Aenar."
"Yes, you and every other human in the quadrant is easily fooled by the words of an Andorian well-versed in treachery. For those of us who know him better, though," Zha spoke through gritted teeth, letting the anger and hurt seep through their cracks, "Shran is an opportunist at best."
Monika paused, swallowing the Andorian's words before continuing. Slowly, she reached a hand across the table, gently laying it atop Lesmila's. It was cool to the touch, and would have been comforting were it not for the righteous anger that boiled through zhar blood. Lesmila, for zhar part, fought back the instinct to immediately retract zhar own hand.
"That doesn't exactly sound like the Shran I've heard about, Les. Plus, I thought you of all Andorians would idolize him, given how much he does for those suffering from Gareb's Syndrome."
Lesmila's ice-blue eyes radiated a sharply edged hatred, one that caused Monika to involuntarily flinch when her own eyes connected with them.
"Admiral Shran gives the same lip service to Gareb's Syndrome as he does to all Aenar," Zha said, zhar voice quavering, "Yet, if you heard him at my discommendation, or hear the distinct lack of his voice as Andoria's government continues to push for further expansion and encroachment on Aenar territory, you would understand that he cares for little but his own pride."
"Shran was at your…" Monika's voice trailed off as she began to realize the gravity of the situation.
"Yes, and he pushed as hard as he possibly could for my immediate removal from the Imperial Guard. He said I was 'compromised', that the Romulans now had total influence and control over my actions, as if I was simply another hijacked ship. All because of this," Zha pointed to the gnarled, black and blue scar tissue, "Me, and every other Andorian who would have given their life for the Empire, were a danger to Andorian civilization and threatened the very continuation of the Coalition. Shran may have been an admirable man once, once, but his fear and his trauma of the War have blinded him to those qualities, and they have cost me and a hundred other Andorians our honour, our lives."
"Then take them back, Les," Monika replied, squeezing zhar hand, her eyes as serious as Lesmila's were teary, "For you, and every other person Shran left behind. Joining the Patrol Fleet will allow us to force him to reckon with the sins of his past, because we'll be on the exact same level of influence and command."
"You keep talking about us, about how we can make this massive difference, even to someone like Shran" Lesmila noted, biting back zhar tears far enough away that zhar eyes could begin to dry, "But why would you ever want me on something like this? I know what you meant when you said that Admiral Taylor chose you for your 'unique beliefs.'"
"Because I may be a little naïve, but I'm not an idiot," Monika said firmly, "The galaxy is a wonderful, vibrant place, but it needs a guiding hand, someone there to hold it accountable and keep it honest without resorting to violence. Every great reformer I've read about either tore down the entire system, or worked with what they had and kept it in check, made it work for them instead of the other way around. We'll be the ones to keep the galaxy, and the unsavoury types in it who might want to take advantage of honest people, in check. Besides," She added slyly, "There's nobody else I trust as much as I do you, Lesmila. Even if we," She paused, attempting to avoid the inevitability of where their discussion was heading, "Have differing ideals, I know that I need someone there to back me up."
"You could never tolerate just how differing our ideals are if we had to actually put them to the test out there. I have always respected your pacifism as much as I can, Monika, but if we were out there, together, could you really, truly, respect my instincts?"
Whatever emotions they had exchanged only a few moments before immediately vanished as the conversation abruptly turned to a topic they seldom, if ever, broached. In its place, a void of awkward silence took hold, and they slowly slipped their hands away from each other, each one placing them back under the table as the uncomfortable reality set in again.
It was several moments before Monika found the courage to speak.
"I know that I want to, because I know I need someone there to tell me when I'm wrong. I know I need someone with enough tactical experience to back me up. Yet," She said with a sharp intake of breath, "How do I put this? I've got such big hopes and dreams for this, I've got every single big, milestone, moment planned out. I need someone out there to hold me accountable. No matter what happens though, we cannot, and I can't stress this enough, we can not act in any way that could end up killing someone. That cavalier type of attitude brought the Romulans to our doorstep in the first place, and I won't have it bring any more death or destruction to the galaxy if I can help it, especially under my command."
"You speak with a certain level of frustration," Lesmila replied, briefly seeing through Monika's eyes as zhar synapses sent a pulse of psychic energy through zhar nervous system, allowing zhar to feel the simmering fires at the edges of Monika's words, "And while I understand your anger, it does perplex me as to how you think you could ever forge an enterprise such as this without some measure of force."
"That one is out of my hands," Monika sighed, "Admiral Archer is equipping the first line of Patrol Fleet cruisers with phase cannons, albeit I was able to get him to concede on only using ones based on pre-War schematics."
"So, I have tools at my disposal, ones that could potentially save us and our crew if the situation called for it, and you would rather bind my hands and allow us all to perish?"
"No, not that, exactly," Monika said, looking away and shifting uncomfortably in her seat, "I know I can't do that."
"Even if I could put aside my own feelings about being under an authority that openly distrusts me, or about being in the same realm as Shran's influence, how could I possibly be expected to manage tactical situations if I'm going to be shot down without debate when I tell you that our only option was to open fire?"
"I mean, you're very intelligent," Monika stumbled, "I don't doubt that it's within your capabilities to outthink anybody else in the galaxy when it comes to a firefight and find a way out of it without firing a single shot."
Lesmila, again, rewarded Monika with a rare smile, sardonic as it was.
"I, too, have zero doubts that I would be able to do so, but you know what I mean. I might as well be back under the Imperial Guard if I'm going to be so heavily restricted."
Monika averted her eyes again, suddenly finding the table and her fidgeting hands quite interesting. The silence had just begun to settle over the pair again when Monika let out a frustrated sigh and whipped her head up, giving Lesmila a hard look.
"I need you Les, there's not a better tactical officer in the entire Quadrant, especially for what I'm asking. I can trust that you can fight back, but I know you'll do so only after I've exhausted every other possibility, and I know that I can rely on you to use the most minimal amount of force possible, and, frankly, I'm very tired of trying to beat around that bush. I can't condone it, but I need you, and I need you at your best."
The sudden influx of honesty was refreshing for Lesmila, especially considering how difficult it must have been for zhar friend to admit it. Different as they were in this field, Lesmila knew zha could abide by Monika's wishes, even as foreign as they were to zhar finely tuned military mind. If nothing else, it would provide a useful avenue of exercise for some ideas zha could never have imagined implementing while in the Imperial Guard.
"I swear, on my honour, that I will follow your orders to the letter, but I will always check you if I think there is no other option."
Monika smiled at her friend, thankful not just for zhar understanding, but for the trust that Lesmila placed in her as well. She could trust the Andorian's instincts, even if she had to fight every single instinct of her own to do so. She could abide by the idea, if only as the last possible resort.
"So," Monika began slowly, "Can I take that as a sign that you'll ship out with me?"
"You could, on one condition."
Monika raised an eyebrow, but nodded to her friend.
"We have to leave this better than we found it," Lesmila said, zhar tone all business once again, "The Patrol Fleet is too restrictive, and, if I know Starfleet, we'll also be too thinly spread. By the time we're done, we have to have found a way to fix that, and we have to leave something lasting. Something we can leave as a beacon of hope for centuries to come."
"I agree," Monika followed, feeling the familiar chemistry between the two of them begin to spark up again, "The first fleet will be made up of four cruisers. One will be a prototype, just to prove that the new design works, and the other three will be more standardized. We'll patrol from Orion to Tarod, in conjunction with a Starfleet command ship, the Potemkin."
Monika leaned in, pulling up the various schematics on the padd, as well as accessing a holographic map of the Beta Quadrant.
"So, the entirety of the Romulan Neutral Zone, and then some?" Lesmila asked, leaning in as well as zha studied the star chart.
"Until they get Utopia Planitia up and running at full capacity again, we're the only shipyard capable of constructing this new fleet. Frankly, 'stretched thin' is an understatement."
"This is what I meant. We couldn't possibly keep a fleet alive with that much ground to cover. With each of those captains having an advisor breathing down their neck as well, the crews of those ships are going to be pushed to their absolute limits. They're going to make mistakes, stupid ones at that."'
"Starfleet can't afford to help us out either," Monika said grimly, "They have every high-warp capable ship assigned to exploring the Western reaches, and every other cruiser dedicated to watching the Klingon border, keeping the Nausicaans in line, or keeping an eye on the Romulans from Algeron."
"Sounds like they're just as badly out as we are," Lesmila said, pulling zhar stark white hair back into a bun as zha switched attention between the schematics and the maps.
"From what Admiral Taylor told me, if the Andorian Empire weren't supplying a large number of battlecruisers, they certainly would be," Monika added with a wink.
"It wouldn't be the first time we saved you pink-skins from mortal danger."
"Well, the galaxy better get ready to be saved by the alliance of Andoria and Earth once again. Because you and I are shipping out as soon as the ship down in docking bay A-Nine is finished."
"A-Nine? I was just there earlier today," Lesmila looked up and found zhar human companion's eyes were alight with mischief, "You can't be serious."
"I am. That ship that we've been working on for the past two months? It's the first real starship of the new line. They're calling them the Justice-Class," Before Lesmila could respond, Monika continued, "By order of Admiral Taylor, as of oh-three hundred hours today, as soon as it's completed it's ours."
Lesmila, despite zharself, felt a mounting pressure in the back of zhar mind. A deeply set feeling of dread, a feeling warning zhar of all the things that could happen if zha stepped back into that great unknown, if zha allowed zharself to accept the assignment, to take on the responsibility, and everything that came with it.
Yet, that dread, that undeniable self-doubt that had plagued zhar every hour since the day the High Command had struck zhar down, was outweighed by something greater, something stronger. An unshakeable sense of pride, of sharing an experience like this with Monika Paige, the only human she could consider a truly close friend, outweighed that doubt a thousand times over.
"Captain Paige," Lesmila said, zhar teeth bared in a full, unbridled smile that zha hadn't managed to muster in several years, "I would be honoured to serve alongside you."
Monika, an innate sense of pride radiating off of her as much as it was Lesmila, extended her hand across the table.
"To thumbing our nose at Admiral Shran."
Lesmila accepted the hand, grabbing onto the human's wrist as she grabbed onto zhar's.
"To showing Starfleet what pacifism can accomplish."
They both tightened their grip, Lesmila's antennae twitching as a psychic link allowed them to finish in unison.
"To the Patrol Fleet, for a better galaxy."