All Aboard

Posted on 13 Aug 2023 @ 10:16am by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Maurice Rubens & Lieutenant Louke Haille & Chief Deputy Marshal: Ridge Steiner - FMS & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Location: USS Cassiopiea, In orbit of Earth
Timeline: M4 D1, afternoon
2930 words - 5.9 OF Standard Post Measure

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Getting clearance to orbit Sol directly was a fairly rare situation. Overseeing such high traffic of small craft, Earth’s aerospace command preferred to keep the skies as clear as possible of larger vessels, hence there had to be very good reason to just pull up on impulse and make orbit.

The Merian Class USS Cassiopeia, however, was here so regularly that they had a standing orbital clearance code. The Lieutenant serving as Captain knew it had little to do with his own credentials. In fact, Seth Fairfax knew he was just an errand boy on a speed track to earn his way through the ranks by playing VIP taxi driver. Starfleet had even supplied him with plenty of minders, most of them a generation older than himself.

There were three Lieutenants aboard, in fact, making up the senior most staff. Himself, Doctor Leandra-Deboer who was fresh out of residency on a hospital ship, and his own classmate, Duncan Nestor, manning the helm. There were only two other officers aboard, both of them ensigns. One of them the verbally effervescent diplomatic officer, and the other assisting in engineering, on training with the QSD system. Although he was the ranking officer in engineering, absolutely no one reported anything to him. He was too busy being schooled by Master Chief Aja Howell, the Antican who had helped build the Cassio in the first place, now tasked with training the up and coming new pups on the system.

“Captain, we’re in a stable orbit. Helm is being monitored.” It was always a little unnerving when around a central member world, the local authority monitor linked to your sensors. Sometimes the station would perform a task as if a ghost was operating it. If the ship had a malfunction or the helmsman was an imbecile, they could trim the orbit remotely.

Fairfax relaxed and folded his hands for a moment, just looking at the gentle arc of the outline of his homeworld, filling the viewer. They made a run including an Earth stop over every week. Sometimes more. “You know, it never gets old.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, sir, it doesn’t.”

“Engineering to bridge,” the young Ensign called up, a nervous squeak in his voice.

“Fairfax here. Go ahead Engineering.”

“The Slipstream is almost cooled down. We’re at ten more percent. It should be ready once we're outside of the impulse speed limit zone.”

“Should be?” Seth smirked. He could see Alex down there squirming under Chief Howell’s gaze as he tried to match up the time tables.

“Will be, Captain.”

“Thank you Haskell.”

It had taken as long to motor through the Sol System at the system’s impulse speed limits as it had to traverse the distance across the main territory of the UFP on slipstream. But it was just as well to time the in-system approach with the QSD engine’s cool down. By the time they gathered the passengers and made their way at impulse back out of the restricted speed zone, the Slipstream drive would be reset for the final coordinates on this circuit and fully recharged. The Cassiopeia’s drive had been one of the early test builds which had since been upgraded and refit to the along with the reworked shield harmonics and spatial planning not to mention the addition of the navigational sensor lens had been redesigned. The woman who had done all of that installation and seen the Cassiopeia through all her phases and put her through all her paces was in the Cassio’s Engine room right now. The ship had come with Chief Howell and her little team of three other Non-com specialists as if they were a part of the custom build themselves.

A Warrant Officer with a pile of long, blonde hair gone platinum, quarter-turned in her chair and gave the young Captain a warm, welcoming smile, adjusting her earpiece as she did. “Our passengers are ready to transport.”

Seth knew Dawn would never actually call him “honey” but he still heard it, unspoken though it was. She had to be in her seventies and Seth knew if she ever slipped and said it, he’d take it as a compliment rather than a challenge to his authority.

“Understood.” Seth stood and straightened his tunic, preparing himself internally. “Ensign Azario,” The diplomatic officer assigned to him had been just out of Academy when they set out. The Bolian was talkative and broadly culturally knowledgeable, but tended to put his foot in his mouth about as often as he made guests feel at home, so far. Luckily the rides were as short as they were and they never had to entertain for very long. “Let’s go and greet our guests.”

“Certainly Sir.” the Bolian gave his usual wide grin, the one he practiced to be welcoming and friendly and held out a PaDD “Would you care to approve the cabin assignments? I put Vice Admiral Harshman and Ambassador Stillwell in the two largest suites.” By largest he meant they had about an extra two square meters of floor space.

“That’s great. Some space to stretch.”

“And also tonight’s dinner menu” Azario pointed over to the PaDD. “A beef cosomé, or caesar salad, then filet of Andorian Pollock, with a white wine sauce; Grilled pork chop, with glazed apple chutney; or a roasted Tellerite Turnip, stuffed with fragrant rice; all accompanied by a seasonal vegetable medley. Then for dessert a Chocolate Cheesecake, Klingon mixed berry pudding or a selection of cheeses. Followed by a selection of coffee and after dinner beverages.
I trust that meets with your approval sir?”

“You’re making me hungry, just talking about it.” Seth wasn’t enthused about the turnips option, and he was afraid to ask how Klingons prepared berries, although he now had a mental image of a Klingon chef mincing with a bat’leth until his tiny targets were a pudding with blood red berry stains all over the preparation area. “I approve.” He granted. “Put me down for the porkchop.”

“Very good sir”

As they came to the transporter room, there was an operations crewman already waiting at the controls. Seth took up his place. “Chief please go ahead and—”

“Do you wish me to pipe the Admiral aboard sir?” Azario asked, pulling a Bosun's Pipe from his pocket.

“We talked about this, Az.”

“I have been practicing since last time” A few weeks ago he had meant to Pipe the Side in recognition of a senior officer coming aboard and instead had somehow played Sweepers directing junior crew to clean the deck.

Seth scratched over his eyebrow. “I guess. I mean, it is protocol.”

“Indeed sir.” Azario beamed even wider, polished the pipe on his trouser leg and lifted it to his lips, giving a trial puff, then taking a deep lungful of air and coming to attention.

Bracing himself for the pitch flute, Seth motioned to the transporter operator. “Energize.”

The Cassio being outfitted for ferrying passengers dictated the installation of a very broad transportation platform in the primary transporter room, which was sized essentially as a grand foyer. The transporter officer, having the coordinates for multiple locations, simultaneously transported all of their passengers and carry-on luggage at once.

The transporter beams all shimmered alike, but as the shadows of forms filled them, there was a very diverse collection of silhouettes, some tall and slim, this one full and towering, another clearly feminine, two were ferengi height and ferengi lobed… Fairfax tried to figure out where to be looking to greet the Ambassador and Admiral in particular.

Azario blew heartily into the pipe. Starting with the three seconds low pitch, rising up to hold the high pitch for the full four seconds, then dropping to low again for the last four. It was the longest of the traditional calls and should last the full twelve seconds. Though he had taken a lung full of air before beginning he began to struggle around nine seconds in. His cheeks puffed, eyes bulged and a bead of sweat broke out on his domed blue forehead, he barely managed to drag out the last couple of seconds and perhaps the final one trailed off a little short but it was an improvement over the previous attempt. He lowered the pipe and sucked in air, relieved not to have botched it up again.

Seth cleared his throat and folded his hands behind him. It was very common to be transporting passengers that far outranked him and it was a learned balancing act between projecting competence while holding a deferrant posture towards his seniors. “Welcome, everyone, to the USS Cassiopeia. I’m Captain Seth Fairfax. This is Ensign Azario, our Diplomatic Officer and guest liaison.”

“Good afternoon” Azario announced in Standard, having lowered the pipe, he clasped his hands together before him at waist level, leaning forward and beaming at the new arrivals.

He repeated it in Vulcan for T’Sheng, holding his hand up in the traditional V shape. Then in passable but grammatically muddled Ferengi ”Welcome, may journey what you is taking profitable be, yes?” giving the elderly Ferengi and her younger companion a toothy grin.

“This was more than impressive," Ara said, not best pleased by the racket they had just heard. "I don't see much profit in this sort of music, though." She remained on the pad, too dazzled by the recent music to move. For this special voyage she was wearing her best clothes, purple and yellow, with little silver patterns here and there.

Artist Kreca stood by Ara’s side, sporting a long green dress which, she had been told, made her look like some kind of watermelon. This was her first venture in non-Ferengi territory, and everything amazed her. How tall the fleeters were, what small ears they had, how kind they seemed to be. All this novelty had rendered her speechless and she smiled meekly at everything and everyone.

“Was that piping for me, Captain?” Brigid spat Fairfax’s courtesy title with disdain as she pushed her way past the Ferengi and descended the transporter pad to address the master of a ship. “Regulations dictate my contingent and I should have been beamed first, followed by the Ambassador and his party, then the civilians. Was this your idea to pack us all onto one pad?”

T’Sheng bowed her head slightly at Ensign Azario, and she went to place herself behind Admiral Harshman. No one would ever say that the Vulcan woman was impolite, just as no one would ever say that she enjoyed the sort of disturbances that they had just endured. Being beamed aboard with great nobodies and being received with such great sensationalism. Whatever next?

Seth was momentarily speechless, as he’d beamed plenty of admirals with mixed parties before and none had brought up the protocol. He looked at the NCO managing the transporter and remembered he’d said something about it once. It had just seemed kind of inefficient. Seth found his voice. “I ordered it, Admiral. My apologies.”

“Don’t just apologize to me! Ambassador Stillwell, too. A man of his stature shouldn’t have to deal with…” she side-eyed the Ferengis, “...a raft of others.”

“Of course. Ambassador Stillwell, my apologies.”

“Oh that’s… quite alright, young man.” Stillwell had only just gotten his bearings. The place he had arrived was indeed thrice as cramped as the one he had departed from, and there was a good deal of movement and bustle of shoulders and elbows. The activity seemed to make him brighten, however, and come to life with a flurry of how-do-you-do’s. As for making his way through, he didn’t, but instead motioned for a couple who appeared to be his own age, or at least octogenarians, to step down ahead of him.

“You look like a relation of that young man from the holo exclusives!” The Betazoid lady chortled, slapping him in the shoulder. Stillwell stood a little surprised at the outburst and Ernesh lumbered around them muttering something about time as a thief or a friend in thief’s clothing, or the faded clothes of a friend-stealing thief….

“My dear.” Irwin said softly, “That’s him.”

“Who?”

“Gordon Stillwell, the field reporter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” J’Lanie Xeri huffed, motioning for one of the porters to take her luggage. As she followed her bags off the platform she said back over her shoulder, “It can’t be him. He hasn’t got enough hair.”

Gordon subconsciously combed an age spotted hand over his thinning scalp. And here he had thought he had done well maintaining most of his hair over the years…

“I’m Irwin Xeri. It’s an honor to meet you. Please excuse us. We’ve been altogether beside ourselves since the news.”

“I can imagine you have been.” Gordon said kindly, realizing this would mean the couple were the parents of one of the survivors of the Sunrise included in the briefing. He watched as Irwin followed after his missus.

A crewman handed Azario a PaDD. “Ah yes thank you. I have your cabin assignments when you are ready. Ambassador Stillwell, Cabin Number One; Admiral Harshman, Cabin Number Two..” he continued on down the list, giving out numbers.

“Odd numbers are Port side” he gestured to his right as he faced stern towards the guests “Even numbers Starboard” pointing to the left “Our crew will be happy to direct you and assist with luggage”

Having heard their names and cabin numbers, Ara finally moved. "Come on Kreca, let's put some distance between us and this crowd. We are obviously not meant to breathe the same air." She then turned to the 'musician'. "Ensign Azario, if you could arrange for my suitcases, I have seven of them, to be delivered to my cabin. I would be grateful, and much relieved. They contain extremely delicate and expensive items, and must be handled with absolute care." She noticed that Kreca was about to say something, and she added, impatiently, “Yes, we also have a large painting that needs to be delivered to our cabins. Ferengi art, you understand. Precious beyond imagination.”

“Ahh, yes Madam.. seven bags?” Azario hesitated a moment “and a large painting? Ummm our cabins are somewhat more compact and bijou than you may be accustomed to. Perhaps three or four bags, and the painting, could be safely stored in our cargo hold for the journey?”

Ara observed the ensign, and tried to define if he had used the word ‘bijou’ in a sarcastic way. She couldn’t tell; and so she added: “I daresay, this journey is going to be memorable... Still, it is for a good cause, as I’m going to be reunited with my grandson. Very well, then, I will trust you with those suitcases of mine, and the painting.” She walked, ever so slowly, towards the exit. “The white cases. There are three of them, which must absolutely be delivered to me.” She wasn’t entirely happy, but she wouldn’t make a fuss whilst she was being treated in a decent manner. On Ferenginar, no ignominy would have been spared to her.

“Thank you madam” Azario nodded to one of the crewman to sort out the bags, they trooped after with the three white ones, leaving the others behind..

“Oh, for all that is holy,” Pak Bong-Cha mumbled under her breath at the Ferengi. She neither missed having to socialize with the pushy species nor the cramped quarters of ferry ships. Being married to Chung Dae-Jung had never been easy. She clutched only a single over-night bag. Her trip to bring Moon-Young home would be short: she planned to catch the Cassiopeia on its return leg the next day.

As she moved through the tightly packed group she had to brush past the Admiral, who at least had the balls to voice her displeasure. Most would’ve just let it slide out of concern for looking ungrateful.

Maintaining his position in regards to Harshman’s party, Oly nevertheless, found his attention drifting to the other parties. For the most-part nothing set off any internal alarms, though he was curious to see the two Ferengi females - still not that common a sight for all there had been considerable advancements over the years. The Ambassador - Stillwell - seemed an affable sort. Then again, just about anyone was a breath of fresh air compared to Harshman. Speaking of whom, he glanced up just in time to see the ladies pressing forward and just managed to make his way along in T’Sheng’s wake.

“Captain, with respect to your other duties,” Brigid called over her shoulder as she started to move toward her cabin, “I want a report on the ship’s status. While everyone else is here for a joy ride, the Ambassador and I must make Obsidian Command.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Seth felt the sting of all the titles and so-called respects from this woman and wasn’t relishing briefing her. “Ensign Azario, uh—”Seth waved a hand around at the near chaos, as if to say this was his problem now. “Let Ops know if you need anything here.”

Azario stood knee deep in bags and paintings but with a cheerful smile. “Certainly, sir. I will have this sorted out directly.”

"Good man..."

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