A Change in the Wind
Posted on 27 Sep 2022 @ 5:24pm by Captain Markus Hawthorne & Commander Curtiss Drake & Master Chief Petty Officer Saoirse Barmeadow
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Obsidian Command / Uss Alexander
Timeline: MD08 - 0757HRS
5257 words - 10.5 OF Standard Post Measure
He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he had gotten comfortable on Obsidian Command, something he was sure would never happen to him on a Starbase. He was a born and raised on a starship and had never spent more time on the surface of any world than he had at Starfleet academy. So he wasn’t used to a stationary life and he’d have been lying if he had said he wasn’t feeling a bit stir crazy. Yet, somehow, impossibly, he’d gotten comfortable with his temporary life on Obsidian Command. His accommodations were plush, the variety of food and drink extensive, even the holodeck selections were far beyond what he was used to. He’d already found several new programs that he’d already arranged to take with him when he returned to his ship. But, even though he was comfortable, that was still the rub. It wasn’t his ship. He was a guest. A VIP maybe, but still just a guest for a short period of time. It made his realization that he was comfortable here all the more profound.
Of course, while he might have resisted that realization, his wife certainly hadn’t. Given the chance to have such a large starbase at her disposal, she’d taken every opportunity to explore every last aspect of the station and drug her husband along for the ride. She knew he’d have preferred to spend his days at the desk in the corner of their quarters working on on of his ship models; the one’s he never had time to finish when he was on duty. He’d already built two to completion, both scale replica’s of 18th century ships of the line HMS Victory and the USS Constitution. Even she had to marvel at the intricacy of the wood work, the sails, even the sailors knots tying the ropes down. But she still drug him out of the house any chance she could. He needed to experience the world around him and she did too. Ship’s only went for refit very rarely and while this was a bit early for their ship by most standards, she knew better than to think it would happen again. She had to taken every opportunity she had.
Markus knew that and had accepted that his hobbies would have to wait for his wife to get her adventure bug out. She gave up a lot for them to be together, including her own quite successful career as a Starfleet Captain, something he didn’t want her to do, but that she was happy to for the chance to share a life together. She was hardly out of the game though. Alicia was a scientist at heart and where better to be part of the ‘civilian’ crew than aboard a ship of exploration. This was where science happened. They were at the forefront of scientific discovery and while she might not have worn the uniform before, she was a welcomed addition to the science department. But it wasn’t the same as what she’d left behind for him so he didn’t argue with her. No matter how many times she interrupted his projects, or how frequently she wanted to go back out into the station, he complied. She deserved to enjoy this too, and he felt a sense of obligation to provide it to her as much as he could.
That was what made the Admiral’s orders that much harder to bear, knowing that he would have to explain it to Alicia and that it would effectively end their ‘vacation’ as they knew it. Thankfully, the station had been put into complete lockdown for the civilian crew so there was nothing that they could really go out and do that didn’t violate the stay-at-home command from the Admiral. But, it did mean that his wife would have to ride out the lockdown on her own as his orders took him somewhere else and taking her wasn’t an option. Nor would he have wanted to. The safest place for anyone was going to be on a station of this size with its firepower and defensive systems. Anyone on a ship was definitely in the greater danger. That was why all the civilians aboard all Starfleet vessels operating in the area were being sent to the station. There was plenty of space.
Markus had volunteered himself and the crew of the USS Ardeshir still aboard the station for whatever duty the Admiral needed on OC and for the most part his crew had been tasked out. He’d even released Commander Kensforth from his grounding to help as needed. Hawthorne had assumed that he would end up in the CIC with the Admiral and other ranking staff helping to develop defensive strategy or just helping take charge of sections of the station to supplement the station crew. Though the rumor was a few of the station chiefs had left with the Captain on whatever errand the Admiral had sent her on. He wasn’t sure the full details, just that Sepandiyar had ordered her to go. He’d sent her with the Theseus which Markus took to mean that the Admiral needed a counterpoint to Callum’s bullheaded aggression but might still need it if the time came. What the Admiral had for Markus was not at all what he’d expected.
The Admiral commanded the largest and most advanced starship in the area, the USS Alexander. As an Admiral’s flagship, it was staffed with the best and brightest in Starfleet. Officer’s who themselves could have commanded starships of their own if they had chosen to take that path but had instead decided to serve. Markus could understand that ambition. There were plenty of times that he wished he’d simply passed on the command track and remained in flight control, that he’d put aside his ambition and just sought a peaceful career in the fleet. It would have avoided so much fear and strife over the years, from losing the chance to raise his only son to his captivity with some darker elements of the galaxy. So with the Admiral now aboard Obsidian Command and taking command of the station as was his right as part of the Joint Fleet Command on their flagship station, Markus only naturally assumed that the run of the Alexander would fall to his trusted Executive Officer, Commander Drake.
Markus knew Curtiss well enough from their years of parallel service. He was a competent leader, and a proven fighter. He’d come up through the Federation Naval Patrol serving in their combat teams before transferring into Starfleet security and eventually in the command track. There was no one more suited to manage the firepower of a ship of this size on that ship than Commander Drake - aside from the Admiral. So it made no sense to Markus why the Admiral had brought him to the OC CIC to tell them that he was to take command of the Alexander as acting Captain, with Commader Drake remaining as his First Officer.
It didn’t make sense to him. Drake was perfectly competent, and he knew the crew better than anyone. Why would the Admiral make this decision to depose his first officer from the job that he should rightfully have taken in the Admiral’s stead. In reality, how often was an Admiral on the bridge at all actually leading the ship. Captain’s were rarely on their own bridge but for formalities and to give final commander, serving flag Admiral’s would have been even less frequently on the bridge. So Drake would by rights have extensive experience running the bridge of his ship whereas Markus was a newcomer. Sure, he had decades more experience than Drake, and had fought in many engagements including a few against their current foe, the Pyrryx, but it still didn’t make sense. It filled him with a sense of fear and dread. Was there something that he wasn’t aware of regarding Drake? Was he a loose cannon? Unqualified and simply hidden by the Admiral’s good graces? What would the crew think when he assumed command? Could he count on the senior staff to take his orders well, or would they defer to Commander Drake leaving him but a figurehead? So many questions were swirling in his head and he had no idea what the answer to any of them was.
It was the reason why he was standing in the corridor just beyond the door to the transporter rooms of Obsidian Command. Whereas most ships had a small area near the main bridge and engineering where most transports happened, a place as big as OC had nearly half a deck dedicated to it. With this size came the need for a great deal of inbound and outbound transports of both personnel and supplies. He wanted to get his head right. He’d been on ‘vacation’ more or less for some time, he knew he’d find his groove easily enough in terms of how to command he was more concerned with setting his mind right for the interpersonal conflict that he had little doubt was about to erupt on the ship the minute he came aboard and announced why he was there.
Markus finally cleared his throat, adjusted the collar of his uniform (the gray shouldered Alexander variant) and stepped forward towards the doors into the transport deck and made his way to the first station. An olive skinned human woman looked up from her terminal as Captain Hawthorne approached and smiled warmly.
“Good morning, Captain,” she greeted him quickly.
“Good morning,” he replied. He offered her the data PaDD in his hands with his orders. You didn’t just come into the transporter room and demand to be transported to an Admiral’s flagship unannounced. She nodded as she read and then brought up her personnel file on her terminal which brought up a holographic representation of Markus, for identify verification.
“What’s your name, Petty Officer?” He asked as she worked.
“Wachiwi,” she answered absently.
“Just… Wachiwi?” He asked, expecting that she’d been distracted and just didn’t give him the rest.
She nodded and glanced up, “Just Wachiwi,” she said. “I’ve authorized the connection with the Alexander, you’re good to go when you’re ready, Captain,” she added, gesturing to the platform.
Markus nodded, but hadn’t moved. “I hope I’m not being rude, but are you human?”
“I am,” she chuckled lightly in reply. “It’s ok, Captain. It confuses everyone,” she added, “Officially, in the Starfleet records, I have a first and last name.. But my people don’t believe in family names. My tribe follows the old ways. So it’s just Wachiwi,” she smiled.
He smiled back, “How interesting,” he replied. “We’re constantly looking out into space and beyond to explore diverse new cultures and understandings. But clearly we have plenty more to explore right at home,” he nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Wachiwi,” he said, now turning to the platform.
“It was nice to meet you too,” she grinned at his retreating back.
Markus stood on the platform and adjusted the cuffs of his uniform, determined to make a good impression on first sight. He might have only had the transporter chief to impress, but he was adamant that the Captain always presents his best. Always.
“If you’re ready, Captain,” she nodded from her station as he turned to face her.
He nodded curtly, “Energize.”
No matter how many times he transported, he always had a momentary feeling of butterflies in his stomach right as the energy ribbon took hold of him. He knew it wasn’t a ‘real’ feeling so much as he brain making it up, but it happened every time without fail. But as always, the transport was instantaneous to his perception and Wachiwi was replaced by a tall, slightly surly looking Benzite Ensign who perked up slightly at the sight of a Captain on his transporter pad.
“Good morning, Captain,” he declared, stepping out to the side of his station to greet him. “May I direct you somewhere?”
“I know my way, Ensign. Thank you,” Markus smiled. “As you were.”
“Aye, sir,” he nodded, returning to his station without another word. To his mind there was nothing in his job description that warranted questioning a Captain. He authorization had cleared security so that was the end of his responsibility. Good thing too, he thought, he hated confrontation.
The main transporter room accessed the bridge of the Alexander at the lower level and as much as Markus wanted to have a look around and really get his arms around what went on down on this level, he knew he couldn’t appear indecisive or that he was wasting time. So he went smartly up the stairs to the second, main level, of the bridge. He’d been here a few times before, but it was his first time ascending the bridge with any kind of authority - he’d perpetually been a guest of the Admiral’s for one thing or another. Never had he even dreamed that he would find himself in a position to hold court here as this vessels skipper.
“Captain,” Commander Curtiss Drake’s deep voice intoned from the operations station on the far side of the bridge.
“Good morning, Commander,” Markus replied, walking towards him so that they could meet a bit in the middle, clutching the orders against his leg like a schoolboy clutching his books. “Can I have a word,” he said, gesturing with it towards the Admirals’ ready room. “In private.”
“Of course,” Drake drawled slowly, his brassy baritone echoing easily about the bridge. “Lieutenant Pepperhall, you have the bridge,” he called over his shoulder to the conn station.
“Aye, sir,” the man replied quickly, slipping out of his station and heading towards the center console. As he stepped away, the door down the stair well to the port side of the bow opened and the relief officer hurried to the conn station.
Drake gestured to the ready room and led the way through the door into the space beyond.
The Admiral obviously had every intention of returning to his duty station when this was all over, so his ready room was as it always was. Markus had no intention of touching anything. Had this been a bridge a little smaller, he might have set up shop in the conference room, but it would be faster and more convenient to simply squat in the Admiral’s space than try to carve out another one elsewhere.
Markus gestured to the holo table rather than the Admiral’s desk and took up a spot on one side while Drake took up the other, hands behind his back as he waited to hear what it was that Markus wanted to speak of in private.
“I wanted the chance to speak to you in private, Commander. It’s regarding the Admiral’s orders,” he said, tapping the data PaDD in front of him. “I’ve spoken with Admiral Sepandiyar directly and he has ordered that I take command of the Alexander and begin combat patrols of this area, acting as a mobile staging point for the smaller, less heavily armed starships,” Markus began. Drake started to respond but Markus held up his hand and cut off his response. “I understand that this is not what you expected. You’re the XO of this boat, and should reasonably expect to take command of it in the Admiral’s stead. All I can say is that I assure you that I did request to take this command from you, nor do I have anything but respect for you and your skillset. I’m going to need your expertise in order to effectively follow the Admiral’s orders,” he said.
Markus wanted his intentions and placement in this clear. Drake was going to be a primary part of his command here, however short it was. He needed him on his side and to understand that neither of them might like these orders, but they were the orders. They might have been only one grade apart in rank, and even though that responsibility gulf was wide, the divide between them and the Admiral was far, far wider. He had hoped that his words would settle any doubts in Drake’s mind, but of all the reactions he’d considered, the smirk on the man’s face was definitely not one of them.
“I appreciate that, Captain,” Drake answered. “You’re a good man. That fits your reputation,” he continued, “But the Admiral didn’t pass me over in giving you this command. I declined it,” he explained plainly. “I asked that he assign a senior Captain instead. If we were just out on an errand, exploration mission or even first contact, I would have happily taken the center chair. But the Admiral wants us to act as a staging ground and center of combat. I felt like that would be better suited for a skipper with more experience. Even better, one who’s faced the Pyrryx before,” he said, gesturing to Markus.
Markus harrumphed in disbelief, shaking his head, but smiling regardless. “You asked for this…”
“I… did try to stop you…” he smirked back.
He couldn’t help but laugh and Drake did as well. “Well I guess that settles the elephant in the room,” Markus finally grinned, stepping around to offer his hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Me as well, sir,” Drake nodded. “How wou-,” he started, only to be interrupted by the door chime to the ready room.
“Enter,” Markus called out reflexively, realizing it at the last second that that probably sounded strange for whomever was outside.
The doors hissed open and a woman in operations yellow came in, looking first to the desk and then to the pair of them, clearly only recognizing two of them.
“Good morning, Chief Barmeadow,” Markus greeted her. Frustrated as he might have been with the orders and what it would mean, that hadn’t stopped him from studying the manifest to know who it was he was going to be working with here. Master Chief Barmeadow was new to the ship since the last time he’d been aboard while the Ardeshir had been operating in the Alexander’s neighborhood before, but he had read what he could on her.
The woman seemed surprised he knew who she was. “Good morning, Captain,” she answered, tapping a data PaDD in hand, looking to Drake but clearly not wanting to offend Hawthorne. “Sorry to interrupt… I have the Engineering reports you asked for,” she said, offering them to Drake.
Curtiss inclined his head towards Hawthorne and, holding them out awkwardly towards Curtiss, she instead shifted them to Markus who nodded gratefully and took the PaDD. Instead of reading it though, he cast it to the holotable so that they could all see. As he perused it, he offered the data PaDD he’d brought to Barmeadow who took it, slightly confused and then read it slowly, the expression on her face changing from confusion to something like offense. She finally looked up and over at Drake.
“I asked for him to be assigned here,” Curtiss cut her off as she was drawing the breath to protest.
“It’s an ins- you did what?” The Master Chief responded.
Drake chuckled, “Captain Hawthorne is assuming command at my request,” Drake clarified.
It wasn’t specifically the truth, he’d simply declined to take command, but if it meant that in the eyes of the senior staff and crew that their trusted XO had deferred to experience over ambition than Markus was fine letting the white lie pretend to be the truth.
“Oh,” Saoirse stopped. “I see,” she nodded, now turning to Markus. “Welcome aboard, sir.”
“Thank you,” Markus said, consulting the report carefully, at the same time bringing up relevant statistical data on the ships specs. He knew his way around the class well enough, but her data was highly specific. “You’re reporting that our supply stores exceed Starfleet regulation levels,” he said, “However, our mission is to engage a combat patrol and act as a support base for the smaller, less heavily armed vessels in the area. Should we gather more equipment before we go, or do you think we’re good as we are?” He asked.
Saoirse growled with frustration in response, “We’re going tiny floating starbase mode, are we?” She asked. Both Drake and Hawthorne nodded. “Then no, we’re nowhere near close to that. We don’t even have all the industrial replicators online. I took the others down for rebuild,” she sighed, shaking her head and putting her hands on her hips. “We’re going to have to pull extra shifts to get them all online. We’ll need them if we’re supporting a task force.”
“What do you need from me to get it done?” Markus asked.
“Anything OC can spare,” she replied immediately. “Supply wise that is. My teams can handle the work, we just need the gear. When I was the chief on OC, I had two spare IR’s in the secondary storage for each unit. If I can get… four of those… eight if Commander Quinn’s feeling gracious…” she said, muttering, “…though I wouldn’t count on it…”
“Make me a wish list and I’ll get it to the Admiral for approval. You’ll get what you need,” Markus declared.
She smirked crookedly, “Aye, sir.”
“Commander, can you assembled the senior staff in the conference room. I’d like to address everyone. Explain the change and make sure that anyone else that has need for supplies gets them taken care of,” Markus explained, looking expectantly to Commander Drake.
“I’ll put the word out now. Senior staff. Fifteen minutes,” Drake replied, tapping his commbadge and immediately announcing ‘senior staff report to the conference room in fifteen minutes’.
“We’re going to need your expertise on this mission, Master Chief,” Markus continued, slashing his hand through the holo report to deactivate it. “This enemy we’re dealing with, the Pyrryx, they use weapons that don’t follow any accords or, quite honestly, any terms of decency. They’re going to challenge our limits and the limits of space around it. When they attacked us they tore a hole in subspace in the first few minutes. Meaning we had to fight both them and space to get away, which we barely did,” he explained as solemnly as he could. “I’ll send you all the spec’s we have on them and what they can do. But I’m going to need all of you on this one.”
Master Chief Barmeadow grinned defiantly, “There’s no one more qualified for it, Captain,” she declared with confidence. “Point me at the data and I’ll work out the rest.”
Markus smirked, “Aye, Master Chief.”
“Is it alright if I go, sir?” Saoirse asked when neither of them seemed to have anything more to offer, to her at least.
“See you in fifteen,” Markus nodded.
Barmeadow snapped to and then departed as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving him with Drake.
“Anything I need to know about the rest of the crew? Personalities? Issues? Land mines I don’t want to step on right out of the gate?” Markus asked him with a friendly smile. That was the beauty of being the skipper and bringing in your own crew, you wet the standard and you knew the lay of it all so the new officers had to fit into that groove. He was doing the opposite and doing it for the first time in a very long time.
Markus had commanded the Ardeshir for the better part of a decade after the destruction of the Exeter with only a small gap in between that he’d spent imprisoned by the darker elements at play in the universe. But he had returned to the chair full force and hadn’t left it since. But on his ship he knew his crew, their personalities, their weaknesses and the like. He knew when it was bluster and when it was legitimate. He knew when to call their bluffs, who to give orders and walk away and who to give orders and follow up on their progress quickly. But he was coming into this new ‘posting’ completely blind to it all.
“I’m not sure I can get it all in the next few minutes, but I’ll give it a shot,” Drake drawled, pausing to measure his words. “At the conn we have Lieutenant Pepperhall,” he began.
“I know Penguin,” Markus smirked back. “Long story. Skip him,” he waved.
“Right. Ok,” he laughed, “Chief of Security is Lieutenant Commander Fienneman. Very hard-nosed, very strict. You know those stories about the Djinn’s asking for a wish, and when they grant it, they follow the literal interpretation of your words?” He asked, “You wish for a million bucks, and poof, you have a million white tailed deer ‘bucks’?”
Markus nodded, wondering where hew as going with that.
“Andrew is like that. Whatever you ask for, you will get exactly that way. So you can’t give him general instructions. You have to be specific.”
“Commander Literal. Got it,” Markus nodded.
“Science is Lieutenant Commander De La Fuente, but he went with the Pathfinder and Captain DeHavilland. His acting chief is Doctor Rabinow, a civilian on loan to Starfleet. It’s a bit of a long story with him. Brilliant man but, not always operating in our reality.”
“Ok,” Markus nodded, taking that in.
“Lieutenant th’Qualo is our Operations Chief. He’s as straight laced as it gets. Any straighter and he’d be immobile. Expect he’s going try to kiss your ass immediately,” he smirked, shaking his head. “He’s damned good at his job, otherwise he wouldn’t be worth the effort,” he chuckled.
“Doctor Pembroke runs Medical. He’s a brilliant physician, but there’s not too many in the ship’s company that he counts as friends. He’s a hard person to work with and even harder to get to know, but there isn’t a better Physician in the fleet. I get regular inquiries fleet-wide for his transfer to much bigger and better postings than this one, but he’s loyal to the Admiral.”
“Counselor?” Markus asked.
“Lieutenant Toven,” he answered. “Nothing really out of the ordinary with him. Very typical Vulcan counselor. He’s our rock. Unflappable, unemotional, logical,” he shrugged. “Nothing to report.”
“I’ve met Engineering, I know your conn officer. Marines?”
“Colonel Hendrickson,” he nodded.
Markus nodded knowingly, “I know him as well, but only partially,” he replied. “Former XO was married to him for a time.”
“Mackenzie?” Curtiss answered, raising an eyebrow in surprise, “She’s good people.”
“The best,” Markus agreed, realizing as he said that that he hadn’t followed up with her in quite some time. He was due to reach out and get the latest news from her neck of the woods.
“Oh, and Command Master Chief Smith. Chief of the Boat,” he added, having forgotten him momentarily. “Exactly what you want your Chief of the Boat to be. Came up with Master Chief Barmeadow. He’s hard as nails too and isn’t afraid to speak his mind in here, but out there, he’s basically hated. Not because he’s an asshole… well… not only because he’s an asshole, but because he’s usually right about what he’s being an asshole about.”
“I think it’s a requirement to make Chief,” Markus laughed in answer. “If the crew likes you, you’re not getting promoted.”
“You’re not wrong, but that rounds us out,” Drake shrugged, leaning slightly onto the table and folding his arms. “I’ve been running readiness drills for the last seventy-two hours. Alpha shifts currently running double shifts so I can drill Beta and Gamma shifts heavier. Their performance has been eye-openingly bad,” he explained, now digging into the weeds. “At the rate we’re going, there’s a hefty chunk of both shifts that will be switching. I need to spread the performers out and move the underperforms as well.”
“I’d like to see that data.”
“I’d appreciate a second set of eyes,” Drake nodded, unfolding his arms to grab a data PaDD and access that so he could send it to the Captain. “You want the last few days readiness reports as well?”
“Give me seven days worth. I’ll let you know if I need more.”
“Done,” Drake nodded, checking the time on the data PaDD he was working. “Got two minutes before the meeting. Anything else, quick, sir?”
“No,” Markus shook his head. “No. Let’s go meet the staff and get this show on the road. Admiral wants us gone in four hours.”
“What about Barmeadow’s supplies? You think four hours is enough?”
“We’ll make it enough,” Markus smiled, gesturing to the door and grabbed the data PaDD with his orders.
“This way,” Drake said, pointing the opposite direction. “That’s to the second level, this way come out on the rear hall, follow me.”
“Right,” Markus nodded, turning to follow. “This ready room’s the size of my bridge,” he complained and laughed to himself.
“It definitely takes getting used to,” Curtiss agreed as they headed towards the far door and stepped through.
“That’s a statement that’s going to cover all of us,” Markus replied, gesturing to the door to the conference room just beyond. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Aye, sir,” Drake nodded.
Markus followed him through into a room he’d been in before, but never as the center of attention. All of the staff was seated at the conference room table waiting for the Commander, but as soon as they walked in, Drake stepped to the side and boomed.
“Captain on Deck!” The room moved quickly out of their chairs and stood at attention.
Markus offered Drake a steely nod and walked across the length of the room to the head of the table on the opposite side that was left open for him. He drew the chair back and stood at the table. “Good morning,” he began, raising the orders in his hand so everyone could see. “I am Captain Markus Hawthorne and as of this morning, I have been assigned as Acting Captain of this ship and given orders from Admiral Sepandiyar on our next mission,” he explained, seeing the looks of surprise, mingled distaste and concern on their faces despite their stoic bearing. “You’re the senior staff of an Admiral’s flagship. So I expect nothing short of the best from all of you,” he said, looking slowly between their faces. “Alright. Have a seat and let’s get started.”