Milk Run Musings
Posted on 02 Feb 2023 @ 12:56pm by Lieutenant Commander Limmi Ovim
Edited on on 05 Feb 2023 @ 2:04pm
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: USS Maathai - en route to Obsidian Command
Timeline: MD06 - 1300hrs
1609 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure
The Curiosity-class Maathai crawled across the vast, star-lined expanse of deep space, her capacity for greater speeds hindered by the vessel under tow in her wake. The S.S. Dandelion’s thick, elliptical hull and quad rectangular nacelles identified her as a Constellation-class, a casualty of Starfleet’s post-war fleet replenishment program back in the late 2370s. Like most obsolete, stricken classes, the remaining hulks were offered to civilians, and Limmi Ovim was coming to terms with how this specific survivor—now a freighter—came to loom in the panoramic array of windows before her.
“They retrofitted a quantum singularity reactor?” The technology was of interest to the Federation, and she gathered that some of its characteristics relative to a matter-antimatter unit were especially beneficial to a private ship operator. The issue was that the environmental damage a containment breach could inflict inspired severe restrictions upon the technology's use within Federation space.
“And nearly blew themselves into base elements calibrating it for high warp operation,” added Captain Avery Benton after taking a draught of his coffee. "We'd have had another Tomed Incident if it’d gone critical in that nebula, about the last thing Romulan-adjacent space needs.” His dark-complexioned, burly physique hadn’t diminished in the twenty years since she’d last seen him; his silver-flecked hair and some age lines were the only allusions to that passage of time. “We re-contained their singularity, but their warp systems are fried, and they violated QSR routing restrictions. So they’re joining our run to Starbase 201.” No doubt Benton conditioned sponsoring the repairs necessary to restore their FTL capability to their cooperation in reporting the incident.
“How delayed will we be in getting there?” Limmi asked, curious as to whether it'd threaten her movement window. Benton had called this get-together to give an update on why the ride had gotten slower, yet rockier for the past several hours.
“No more than a day. I plan to get back up to cruising speed once that relic is secured for it. Engineering is working with the crew to make it happen.”
Nodding, Limmi’s perceptions caught onto Benton's derogatory thoughts about Dandelion. “The Constellation couldn’t have been that bad.” As a child, one of her family’s ferries in the Federation fringes had been the venerable USS Victory. Its sturdy feel and the crew’s approachability offset the dourness of its period minimalism inside and out.
“It was worse,” Benton guffawed, unperturbed by her empathic outreach. “The only reason Starfleet kept building them even after discovering they couldn’t get out of their own way was that they’d gone all-in on them succeeding the Constitution. They expected the kinks to be ironed out and they were by Block 6. . .thirty years into the run. By then, the period brass had written the Constellation out of the strategic plan.”
“I get the sense that the class personally spurned you,” Limmi said with a pointed gaze.
“According to my grandfather, it sure in the hell tried. He commanded the Maya, a sister ship to Admiral Picard’s Stargazer. He said he’d have been grateful to the ISC for blowing her up if it hadn’t cost him anyone.”
Limmi winced at the imprint she felt resonate from Benton’s psyche. He must’ve perceived tremendous conviction from the original admission for it to endure so.
“Speaking of command, are you finally making your bid for it?”
Intent on clarifying her vague familiarity with the origin of Maya's name, the subject shift caught Limmi out. “Why do you think that?”
“I've yet to meet the person who promoted, much less lateraled to a half-besieged sector command for any reason other than getting their name out there, to show that they can get things done. Any other is insanity or suicide." Starbase 201—better known as Obsidian Command—was long known throughout the spinward fleet and beyond. It was somewhat notorious for personnel burnout in recent times, the workload associated with reestablishing its strategic importance having inclined much of its provisional staff to stamp end dates onto their tours there.
"I could just be bored," rumbled Limmi, shrugging. "Deep Space 4 is also half-besieged, but by familiar parties in predictable patterns. Captain Gotch thinks it a perfect steppingstone for those looking to advance to a strategically critical facility."
"So you left to give other peoples' careers a break," Benton said askance.
"Hardly, as much as I support giving others those kinds of opportunities," Limmi explained. "I left because Captain Gotch asked me to. Had been for months." She clasped her hands around her own mug and took her own draught, having noticed the content's heat having dissipated to a comfortable level. Benton rightly asserted that this coffee blend was most potent at just under piping hot temperature, but her lungs protested, an unsettling sensation she relented to. The drink remained piquant, if less crisp.
"Because he thinks you have more to give," he said with the familiar instantaneousness of a keen telepath. Except Limmi knew that wasn't the case. His accurate discernment arose from decades of navigating career politics. "As do I."
"Is that so?" She was content with earning then-Lieutenant Benton's approval all those years ago on the Shirase. It hadn't occurred to her that he had a greater vision for her. . .
Benton chuckled. "Do you know when Shirase's crew got behind you?"
"Not exactly," Limmi confessed. "I spent a lot of time in my own head, trying not to undermine that."
"That's what Benton made of you being quiet, but I wanted to see you as just another conceited brat," interjected Hahik Ako's distinctively raspy voice. The former Shiraze boatswain slotted into a chair beside Limmi and Benton with a mug that smelled of mint. Rarely was Limmi one to stare, but she couldn't help it. Aside from having advanced to Master Chief Petty Officer and wearing command red, Hahik looked no different from when she'd last seen her. Then again, enlistees entered the service several years before a like-aged officer. Thus, it was probable that Hahik was younger despite being more tenured.
"So why didn't you?" Limmi finally asked, breaking the Bajoran's contemplation of whether the stare was friendly or hostile. She could feel the other woman's esteem for her, which she didn't recall of them last serving together. If anything, she was frequently annoyed over what she perceived as a lack of diligence among her shipmates.
"Because you refused to act the part!" Hahik laughed. "You asked my opinions in what you were doing. Do you know how rare that is for green bridge officers?"
"You probably thought the answer to my question was when you narrowed down the disposition of those raiders," Benton added, "but it was when you got this jaded headcase invested in the mission," he elaborated with a glance at Hahik, who waved off the rib. "Many don't pick up the importance of engaging their enlistees until they're accountable for more than a console. Sometimes not even then."
"As much as I don't like to name drop, my father-in-law gave me that tip."
Hahik furrowed her brow at the Betazoid. "Who's he?"
"Vice Admiral Joab Prisk," interjected Benton, "Commander TRAILFLEET Remote via Deep Space 3. He's one of the few mid-century vets who wasn't pulled to put out a spinward fire or caught up in some scandal. Put him on your good people list; he's who encouraged me to grow past pulling triggers."
Limmi smiled in affirmation.
"Did he have anything to say about this move?"
"I didn't give him a chance to," she replied. "He's been insisting on me taking a command in his detachment. But I'm trying to keep him scandal-free."
"You'll never make command with that kind of attitude," Hahik interjected. Beneath her level recital, Limmi felt a current of facetious cynicism she couldn't help chuckling at. That was more in line with Hahik as she'd first come to know her.
Benton joined, having also intuited his Chief of the Boat's flippancy. "She's not wrong. . .though I suspect her context is off." He took a moment to let the antic circulate and to refine his own thoughts. "Your concern about maintaining integrity in advancement is admirable, but partisanship is a necessary evil. Because contrary to popular perception, building an effective team can't be done on objective measurements alone."
Limmi understood all too well. Her inherent empathy was undoubtedly part of the potential Joab saw in her, though she was gradual in leveraging it. "Command isn't an explicit goal of mine. Even if it were, I don't want to be seen as a nepotist. Samson has worked hard to prove his merit but still has to fight perceptions of preferential treatment." Within a fleet shipyard no less, ironic in that few service communities were as coddled.
"You could be the reason the Klingons and the Romulans join us in forming a Super-Federation that kicks off a three-century peace," Hahik countered, too committed to Limmi's point to recognize her mention of someone else unfamiliar to her. "You'll still have at least one malcontent who thinks they could've done better if they were dealt your hand." She shook her head. "Fuck naysayers. You could waste a perfectly good career on convincing them."
"Agreed," said Benton. "The size of your fan club shouldn't be the sole determinant of whether you can or should. Trust me, it's going to shrink before it grows if you choose to," he quipped through a tight smile.
