One month later, and the very final pieces of the once skeletal superstructure were being laid down and welded into place. Pre-flight checks were being done all across the starship, as was evidenced by numerous spacesuit-clad engineers and construction shuttles orbiting the hull from bow to stern. The bluish-black hue of the new, advanced Andorian Tarah-armour plating gleamed under the light from Andoria's distant sun. She was a sight to behold for her new command crew. Through the intrusive empathic connection brought about by zhar affliction, Lesmila zh'Gryph could quite easily feel the awe and excitement among zhar fellow commanders- even from the insufferable Vulcan, Doctor Sokra.
From Monika came the clearest emotions, due in large part to their ease and long-standing friendship. Even as she betrayed little outward hint of emotion beyond a subdued pride, inside Lesmila could feel her excitement, her still hidden doubts, and such an unshakeable sense of rightness that Lesmila felt zharself inadvertently growing surer of zharself as well.
From Doctor Sokra, assigned to the mission not only as zhar personal physician but as Chief Medical Officer too, there were the unmistakable rumblings of contented self-satisfaction, but they were buoyed by a certain feeling of success and progress that were most likely coming from this upcoming advancement in his career.
Most unreadable, unsurprisingly, were the feelings of the newest member of their strange little cohort. A diminutive human, who kept her hair tightly coiffed and wore a definitively non-standard uniform, Corporal January Autumn sat quietly in the seat behind Monika, her fingers gently fiddling her quarterstaff in small circles. From the official record, which Monika and Lesmila had reviewed separately, Corporal Autumn came to them from the United Earth Cargo Service, with a strangely blended, yet extensive, history in security and mental health care. The Corporal was cheerful but sedate in her attitude and demeanour. Undoubtedly, she was perhaps the most neutral and serene sentient Lesmila had ever met. Perhaps she felt like an outsider, since she came on the direct recommendation of Admiral Qaletaqa Taylor, or perhaps it was simply the way she was, Lesmila hadn't quite figured that part out yet.
The only unsettling part was the one person of the command staff who wasn't aboard the shuttle, the ship's 'Advisor'. Hand-picked by Admiral Archer himself, apparently she was being kept as far as possible from the senior staff until the last possible moment. Monika and Lesmila had discussed the issue before they left the shuttlebay, and they had both agreed that, regardless of their respective opinions, it was an ominous signal that the Advisor wouldn't be arriving until the rest of them had settled in.
Regardless, as zha fought back the intrusive telepathy and wrenched zhar mind back to the physical world, Lesmila returned zhar attention to the ship they were slowly on an approach vector for.
Registered, officially, as the U.S.S. Helicanus, NCC-45, she was the first ship of the Justice-Class. With two sister ships at other shipyards in the quadrant, themselves receiving the finishing touches before their own inaugural launches, the Helicanus would be the United Federation Patrol Fleet's ambassador ship, setting the tone and stage for all that followed her. With that in mind, Lesmila, despite zhar innate engineer's pride at having helped construct most of the ship, couldn't help but wonder how this design ever got approved.
With the primary body simply being a repurposed NX-class prototype design, sans most of the typical accoutrements, molded and crafted over in the dark black and blues of the Kumari-Class armoured, it cut an imposing shadow to be sure. However, that shadow was softened by the unmistakable Starfleet warp nacelles attached to the underside of the hull, separated from the body only by a pair of wide, bisected struts. Their gentle blue and reddish-orange glow illuminated the ablative armouring above them. For Lesmila, a proud Andorian even in zhar exile, zhar patriotism was wounded further as zha spied the tell-tale signs of a Tellarite sensor phalanx dotted across the bow of the cruiser. In addition, some genius without an ounce of tactical sense had slapped an octagonal command bridge near the rear of the ship, situating it perfectly as a tempting, tempting target to any would-be attacker. Not only that, but the phase cannons, the outdated Starfleet weapons Monika had so desperately bargained for, flanked the bridge on both sides, and the impulse engines, although reinforced with extra armouring, then flanked those as well. To borrow the human aphorism, whoever had blueprinted this ship had put all their eggs into one very small basket.
Monika, seeming to sense her friend's hesitation, clapped her hand on Lesmila's shoulder and offered zhar a smile.
"Hey, chin up, it's not nearly as bad as I know you want to think it is."
"It was beautiful, once," Lesmila said softly, well-aware of just how melodramatic zha likely sounded, "But somebody should be fired."
Monika chuckled and looked beyond the controls of their shuttlepod, gazing up at the Helicanus.
"She's a bit rough around the edges, but she's meant to be. The Helicanus represents each member of the Federation, and, in terms of construction, shares nothing but the strengths," Monika continued, pointing to each section as she did so, "The Tellarite sensor array is one of the most advanced in the Quadrant, the Tarah-Class armouring and design from the Andorians gives us enhanced protection and stability throughout, as well as allowing us to be more agile than most starcruisers. In addition, those warp nacelles are warp six class, with a maximum speed of warp seven for two minutes if we really push it. Wrapping them in Andorian armouring even gives them better protection than most Starfleet nacelles will ever receive."
"And that hideous command bridge? You can't honestly tell me that it isn't horrifically placed."
"I'll grant you that it is a little too tightly clustered together, but the impulse engines are the most advanced ones the Andorian Empire has developed to date. We'll be able to wiggle our way out of anybody who even gets so much as a lucky shot off."
Lesmila sat back and crossed zhar arms, tapping zhar fingers against a bicep as zha contemplated the design again.
True, the nacelles were usually Starfleet's biggest weakpoint, and reinforcing them with the finest armour in the galaxy was a nice touch. At that, the bridge was protected by Andorian reinforced pulsed phase cannons, situated in the middle of each wing. Still…
"I will give you this, pink-skin," Lesmila said, throwing a sly gaze towards zhar friend, "Your kind are eternally optimists."
Monika returned the look with a satisfied smirk and then refocused her attention on getting them safely aboard.
"Perhaps, old friend, but she's a beauty to me, nonetheless. If for nothing else, then at least for the future she represents. Now," She said, tuning the instruments on the control panel, "Prepare lateral thrusters and alert the docking crew that we're ready to come aboard."
The shuttlepod continued its ascent through the spacedock, nimbly and carefully avoiding the construction crews. And, regardless of zhar own personal feelings, Lesmila still stole more than a glance out at the Helicanus, and zha too, briefly, admired the ship. It really could be a thing of a beauty, and, out on the frontier, Lesmila had zero doubts zha would consider it the finest one zha had ever served aboard.
Aboard the U.S.S. Endeavour, NCC-06, Admiral Johnathan Archer, Captain T'Pol, and Advisor, formerly Major, Sylvia Faust finished their voyage from the, thankfully brief, trade conference at Vulcan. After the Romulan Star Empire's disastrous defeat in their war against the United Federation of Planets, a seemingly endless number of new and independent territories had come to the Federation's attention as the Romulans curtailed their borders. Many of these new territories had applied for economic and diplomatic alliances with the Federation, and the calls seemed to increase in volume with each passing day. Thankfully, unlike some of the others, the avian Roselalcons had been pleasant and easily-appeasable.
Still, Sylvia thought to herself, if she never had to hear the incessant shrills and squawks of their native language again, it would be too soon.
Likewise, it seemed that Admiral Archer was just as happy to be moving forward again, even if it was just to tackle yet another diplomatic brush-fire that had popped up somewhere else. Unfortunately, for Sylvia at least, she would not be joining him. Instead, she would soon be dropped off at the Earth-Andoria Shipyards for her new assignment, one that carried with it more than a little inherent trepidation.
Which was precisely the reason she and Admiral Archer were now facing each other in the silent confines of the ready room, while the immutable Captain T'Pol continued to command the Endeavour on the bridge.
"I know that this isn't exactly the posting you were hoping for, Major," Archer said, referring to her with her previously held rank, "But it is every bit as vital to the Federation, and to me, as the mission to Tandar is."
His attempt at personalizing her new assignment, calling on her own personal loyalties to him, was not lost on Sylvia.
"With respect," She began, subconsciously straightening her back even further, "I fail to see the connection, sir. I could still be of great assistance with the mission, especially if the rumours are true that the Sulibans are once again the cause of the trouble."
Archer looked up at her, his eyes showing the same mix of weariness and age they had been since the end of the War, before he looked away to the opposite wall, past the window, and to the stars outside. For her part, Sylvia remained standing at rapt attention, awaiting his response.
Finally, Archer spoke again, softly.
"I need you for this assignment, Major. I didn't pull you up from the ranks of the Atlantis during the War because I needed just anybody, I pulled you from the Atlantis because I needed someone professional and skilled enough to be my eyes and ears where I couldn't have them otherwise.
This Patrol Fleet that Qaletaqa came up with, it's a good idea, it could have some long-lasting consequences if done correctly. But I have some serious reservations about the person she put in charge of it. I went along with it because I didn't have any other viable alternatives, but what I saw with Captain Paige a month ago certainly reaffirmed my concerns."
Archer turned his attention back to Sylvia, pursing his lips and folding his hands together on the table. It was clear that, regardless of their years serving together, he was choosing his next words carefully. Ever since he had been elevated to admiral it seemed, to Sylvia at least, that he put extra time and consideration into everything he said, which somehow seemed to add just that much extra gravitas to each decision he made.
"Feel free to speak freely and tell me I'm wrong, but Monika Paige could be dangerous, or unhinged if left unchecked. I get the sense that she's doing everything from a sense of fear, of failure, maybe, that would make sense given how quickly she was promoted to commander. The War just churned us of good officers, combine that with rapid field commissions and you've got a dangerous combination when someone like Paige reaches the rank of commander about five years before she should. Now Qaletaqa's gone and promoted her to captain, at least ten or fifteen years before she's ready," Archer shook his head, mulling things over as he stared at his desk, before looking back up at Faust, "Regardless of how I feel about her, though, her command staff isn't much better, in my opinion. One Andorian zhan who is perpetually suffering from Gareb's Syndrome, a Vulcan doctor with a very short track record of postings, and, for some reason I still can't fathom, a monk from the United Earth Cargo Service that Qaletaqa handpicked herself. Each of them is a wild card, and on a new venture like the Patrol Fleet even one would be something we could ill-afford."
"I understand and agree completely, Admiral. Captain Paige was never properly vetted after the Battle of Sol, and being pressed back into service so quickly likely has affected her to a greater degree than she is willing to acknowledge. It is unlikely that she will perform optimally, given the circumstances of the frontier."
Likewise, each of Sylvia Faust's own words was carefully analyzed and chosen, each one examined down to the syllable, so that they came out perfectly and lead to an exactly singular, controlled outcome. She was as well versed in Captain Monika Paige's psychological profile and service record as Admiral Archer and Captain T'Pol were, as always, ensuring that she had combed over every single file with Vulcan precision. It would simply not do to have done any less.
"I will observe her every movement and decision with keen and optimum efficiency, Admiral, and make sure that my reports are filed and transmitted to you, punctually."
The Admiral looked Sylvia over, his lips pursed thin as he mulled over her words.
"Maybe it's T'Pol rubbing off on me, but I'm sensing some apprehension, Major. If there's something you need to tell me…" Archer let his words hang in the air, clearly inviting a response from someone he had once considered a possible protégé.
Sylvia, for her part, did consider it. She considered sharing every single feeling, good and bad, that she had about this new 'advisor' position. How she doubted it would succeed, how their deliberate decision to only allow her onboard just prior to the official launch was short-sighted, how she would likely be seen as a pervasive and untrustful force, one meant to cause division in the ranks and force them to constantly double-think themselves. A dozen other doubts rose up within her mind, each one squashed back by years of diligent mental conditioning. They were not necessary for the present moment, and they would deal with themselves in time. Right now, she needed to be focused on the assignment, the mission, and Admiral Archer's faith in her.
"No, sir, nothing," She said after only a second, betraying no hint of the torrent that had just spun itself up in the back of her mind, "I was simply wondering how long it will take for Paige's supposed pacifistic ideals to be tested and proven for the façade that they really are."
The Admiral pondered her for a moment more, opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the quiet chirping of the intraship communicator. Archer stood and turned to the communications panel on the wall, thumbing the activation switch.
"Archer here, go ahead."
"This is T'Pol, we are on final approach for the Helicanus and the Andoria system. I would recommend that you and Advisor Faust proceed to the transporter."
"Copy that, the Advisor and I are on our way. Archer out."
The communication ended and Archer headed for the door, all business once again, with Advisor Faust close behind.
The bridge of the Helicanus was as cramped as it was dark, the lack of proper lighting giving the entire area an entirely too sinister sense of foreboding, including, but not limited to, shadowing the deckplating to the point that the brightest points in the room were the soft azure glows from the consoles and workstations. The cramped construction also meant that, as a consequence, everybody had to crowd around the captain's chair in order to properly strategize and plot out their course on the starmap built into the arm of the chair.
"I suggest," Lesmila said, breaking Monika's train of thought, "That we maneuver around Denobula Prime and then Barradas, as that will allow us the best opportunity to properly test the Helicanus' defensive systems without too much trouble. If we run into any Romulan scouts or rogue states out there, we'll be far better prepared this way."
"The suggested course," Monika replied, "Is to proceed straight to Calder and Yadalla, and then to proceed along the border to Starbase Ten. We're just out to show the flag and do some routine sector patrols to make sure the Helicanus can stand on her own two legs. This is a shakedown cruise, Les, don't forget that. We're only running with about twenty or so crew, present company notwithstanding, we can't afford to take the ship into danger too soon."
The Andorian zhan shook zhar head, the infected antenna quavering as zha did so.
"I'm not forgetting that, but heading straight out that way leaves us in too much open space. With as bad as the reports are getting, we need to ensure that the Helicanus is prepared to deal with a firefight. I know, I know," Lesmila continued as Monika opened her mouth to speak, "We're a ship of peace, but you're not naïve enough to think that the best time to test the defensive systems is on the fly."
"There are merits to tests under suboptimal conditions," January Autumn spoke up, that same serenity in mood that Lesmila had sensed earlier coming through in a wilted voice, "The results of which would prove far more accurate than controlled simulations."
Monika and Lesmila exchanged a glance, not the least of which because this was one of exactly four times their helm officer had spoken since they had met the day prior.
"Corporal Autumn has a point, Les. If things really are getting hot in the open space between the core and Romulan territory, that'd be the best place to mark as the Helicanus' proving ground."
The Andorian conceded the point, "Fair enough. It may also allow us the chance to properly stress the heavy ablative armour and see how it holds up to a direct attack."
"If we come under attack," Monika added, stressing the 'if', "We'll also be able to see if the Federation's budget skimped out on more than just the internal spacing."
The pair shared a small laugh, Corporal Autumn simply smiled pleasantly beneath the hood of her simple duty robes.
Broken from their reverie by the whoosh-hiss sound of the turbolift door opening, all three turned their attention away from the starchart to see who had arrived.
Standing as still as stone, her hands firmly and tightly clasped behind her back, and her gaze as unflinching as it was unreadable, Advisor Sylvia Faust made slow, deliberate, eye contact with each of them. After a moment, she made one swift step onto the bridge, allowing the turbolift doors to close behind her. Her black, Vulcan tactical jumpsuit complimented her closely cropped auburn hair, and matched dark, steady eyes. Another pause.
"Captain Monika James Paige," Her voice spoke with a one-note authority that commanded an automatic deference, "I have read about you. I do not agree with many of your positions, and I believe that you think you are better than everyone else. I am here, in part, to remind you that you are not. Now," She continued without missing a beat, "You will proceed directly to Sector S-Ten at maximum warp. The Endeavour will accompany us until we reach Azati Prime, at which point they will depart for their own, separate, mission, and we will continue onwards to Sector S-Ten. From there, I will give you further direction."
The silence was as terse as it was long.
Despite the abrupt interruption and coarse delivery, with no regard to the actual captain's input, or the other members of the senior bridge staff, Monika was determined to not let the Advisor derail the inaugural voyage. Working a thin smile forward, Monika turned her chair to Advisor Faust and stood, straightening her uniform as she made her way over.
Extending a hand, Monika greeted her surrogate first officer, "Welcome aboard, Advisor Faust. I was just about to contact the Endeavour when I received word that they had entered the system, but I see you've beaten us to the punch."
The Advisor did not even spare a glance to the extended hand. Instead, she looked past the captain towards Lesmila.
"Commander Lesmila zh'Gryph, are all systems nominal? Have the remaining crew been properly assigned to their posts?"
"Systems have been nominal for the past two hours, Advisor," Lesmila grated, irked by the fact that zha was being grilled by someone who wasn't even passingly familiar with the ship or crew, "Precisely when the Endeavour was slated to originally arrive."
Without missing a beat, the Advisor continued, "When did you last inspect them, Commander zh'Gryph? At what hour did you last check in with your respective department heads?"
Monika could feel Lesmila's mood souring, and quickly stepped in between the Advisor's line of sight.
"Every system has been inspected, and we have routinely checked in with the chiefs of all major departments every fifteen minutes, as per protocol," Monika answered, working the thankless job of interpersonal diplomacy as quickly as possible, "The Helicanus is prepared to depart as soon as the Endeavour is, Advisor."
The Advisor showed no sign of emotion, but her chin did lift in what Monika could only assume was ill-disguised contempt.
"I highly doubt that, Captain," Stepping around her, Advisor Faust turned her attention to Corporal Autumn, "Helmsman, where is your uniform?"
The diminutive human was at least two feet shorter than Faust, but did not appear to be intimidated, even as Faust made a deliberate show of dragging her finger along the arm of the captain's chair, rubbing it and her thumb together to check for dust as she came within inches of Autumn.
"As certified in section T dash twelve of the United Federation Patrol Fleet commission charter, Patrol Fleet officers are allowed to exercise personal freedom by adorning themselves in the traditional garments or uniform of their home world, so long as they also equip identifiers that easily distinguish them as members of the United Federation Patrol Fleet. As such, I have chosen to exercise that privilege by adorning myself in the traditional robes of my people from the colony ship Calógero, last in orbit around Mizar C, currently aligned with the United Earth Cargo Service. Beneath, I wear the regulation uniform of the Starfleet, and I have embroidered the standard of the Patrol Fleet onto both shoulders of my robe in order to keep in compliance with regulations, sir."
Advisor Faust pursed her lips, rubbed her thumb and index together once more, and then resumed her tightly locked stature, both arms linked behind her back.
"It is out of regulation, and will be removed before we leave spacedock."
Corporal Autumn had barely begun to retort when the captain's chair chirped a soft staccato, indicating an incoming transmission.
Taking control of the situation, Monika pushed past the Advisor and stepped back onto her chair.
"Stations," She minded, activating the viewscreen as she sat back down. Lesmila and Autumn quickly moved to tactical and helm, respectively, and the Advisor promptly turned her full attention forward.
The grandiose view of the Earth-Andor shipyards, and the brilliantly white and blue Andor itself, vanished, replaced instead by a frontal view of the Endeavour's bridge, which slowly warbled into view as the subspace transmission connected. Surrounded by astute crewmembers, each one clad in Starfleet blue jumpsuits, and an impressive array of terminals and workstations, each one capable of producing technological marvels, sat the Vulcan Captain T'Pol, and, standing by her side, Admiral Johnathan Archer.
While T'Pol only offered them a polite nod, Admiral Archer gave a thin smile that held more warmth than it showed.
"Helicanus, this is Endeavour," Captain T'Pol spoke, "Do you read?"
"Endeavour, this is Helicanus," Monika responded, "We read you."
"Excellent. I must inform you that your initial mission has been changed, Captain Paige," T'Pol said, "Starfleet Command has recently received a transmission from a class-M planet near the Romulan Neutral Zone. The Romulan Star Empire only recently withdrew from the area, as per the Treaty of Twenty-One Sixty, and as such has voided all claims to the territory. The transmission is asking for Federation assistance in surveying the damage done during the Romulans' withdrawal and ensuring the surrounding spacelanes are secured so that a full humanitarian effort to the planet may be undertaken, and Starfleet Command has agreed to honour the request."
"I assume," Monika began, "That with Starfleet covering the expansion and recovery efforts elsewhere, the duty falls to the Patrol Fleet?"
"Precisely," T'Pol answered, "Council President Vanderbilt and Admiral Archer felt that this would be an adequate first test for the United Federation Patrol Fleet, and as such you and your crew will be charged with making our first true contact with the Dathaurians."
Before the anxiety that the daunting task of first contact could properly dig a deep enough pit within Monika's stomach, the Admiral spoke up.
"Don't worry about the formalities of first contact, Captain Paige," Archer said, smoothing over her worries, "The Federation Council took care of those when Dathau contacted them. Your primary objectives are to cooperate with the ruling government in order to better assess the damage done by the Romulans and to ensure that the system is clear of any threats so that Starfleet can authorize a proper humanitarian mission to the planet."
With the lamentable job of first contact no longer an issue, Monika's confidence reasserted itself and she began to feel that same palpable excitement she had felt when Lesmila and herself had debated the Patrol Fleet a month ago. The possibility of aiding an entire planet to recovery from the Romulan war machine, to say nothing of the chance to show the galaxy what the Patrol Fleet was all about, was almost too good to be true. Sparing a glance to Lesmila, who gave a short nod of affirmation, Monika relaxed into her chair.
"Understood, Admiral. The Patrol Fleet is up to the challenge."
"I would hope so, Captain Paige," Archer replied with a fatherly smile, "We're putting quite a bit of faith in you for this mission. Needless to say," He continued, the warmth noticeably departing his voice, "This little project of Admiral Taylor's lives or dies depending on the outcome of your actions. The Federation can sorely rationalize expending the resources to supporting yet another fleet, let alone one as intensive as the Patrol Fleet, so make this first impression a good one."
"Aye, sir," Monika answered curtly, ignoring Archer's jab against what he clearly seemed to think was a wasted effort.
Captain T'Pol cleared her throat, returning both of them to the present.
"The Endeavour will escort the Helicanus as far as Azati Prime, but from there on out you will be on your own. The Potemkin will rendezvous with you in three standard weeks after your arrival at Dathau, but will be unreachable until then. The Cordelia will be nearby at Miridian if you require extensive medical assistance, and the Varrius will be at your disposal as well, although they will be, at the earliest, three days away from Dathau. I trust that the Helicanus will be able to handle itself, in any event."
Despite the Vulcan's inscrutable emotional state, Monika detected some level of goodwill in T'Pol's words. Monika had seen the legendary Vulcan before, had even briefly met her during Monika's initial year at the Earth-Andor shipyards, but there was still something to be said for the reality of talking with, on equal standing no less, one of the enduring figureheads of the Federation. There was a surreal sense of purpose and incredulity that came with it, especially knowing that she was, in her own way, wishing the Helicanus the best of luck.
"As do I, Captain T'Pol. I hold the same faith for the Endeavour, despite wherever Command may be sending you next."
The smallest inclination of a smile tugged at the stoic Vulcan's lips as she inclined her head towards Monika.
"Please, Captain Paige, have your ship prepared for departure in ten standard minutes. My helmsman shall coordinate with yours in order to ensure a smooth beginning to your maiden voyage. Endeavour, out."
The viewscreen warbled again, leaving the cool hues of Andor and the shipyards to fill the bridge with soft light once again.
"Well," Lesmila said, "Good to see the Earth Spacefleet has faith in us."
"Indeed, all the better for us then," Monika replied, giving her friend a small smile, "The universe loves an underdog. However," She continued, turning her attention forward again, "We have a mission, and we must see it through to the best of our ability- without worrying about what Starfleet Command thinks of our actions. Corporal Autumn, alert the crew to prepare for warp five point six, and put us on an outbound trajectory parallel to that of the Endeavour."
"Warp five point six readying, parallel course plotted. Aye, sir."
Deciding to extend an olive branch, one that would hopefully smooth over the turbulent reception, Monika turned to Advisor Faust.
"Advisor, as surrogate first officer, I would be much obliged if you could take over the communications station. Given the nature of our mission, I don't think I could entrust the job to anyone else."
"Then perhaps you should have found someone suitable enough to perform the task prior to departure, Captain Paige."
The callous response stunned Monika for a second, and she felt the metaphorical slap just as hard as it was intended. However, unwilling to lose face on her first real command, she responded quickly.
"Are you telling me that you cannot fulfill the duties of both first officer and communications officer, Advisor?"
"I am simply stating that a real Starfleet captain would have prepared a full crew dossier in advance, instead of handing out assignments at the last moment."
Without sparing even so much as a sideways glance to the Captain, the Advisor moved to her station on the opposite end of the bridge.
Exchanging a look with Lesmila told Monika all she needed to know about just how well her first shipboard cruise seemed to be going.
And, immediately, she regretted not packing more of Captain Matsura's pot stickers.
