Act I – The Promotion
Day
-4
Drake and Tarsi
stood before the door to Adm. Syva’s office, in their formal
service uniforms and looking every part the successful young
Starfleet officers they were, but feeling more like nervous
schoolchildren summoned by their principal.
“It’ll be
fine,” said Drake, smiling at his second. She gave a slight smile
in response.
“I’d believe
you more if it didn’t sound like you were still trying to convince
yourself.” Drake barked a sardonic laugh, then took a steadying
breath before reaching out to tap the office’s intercom button.
There was a faint electronic buzz and a half-second pause before the
admiral’s voice came through.
“Enter.”
The door slid open and the two officers straightened their backs,
squared their shoulders, and walked purposefully into Syva’s
office, moving to within the two regulation paces of the admiral’s
steel-and-glass desk before standing to attention and saluting.
“Sir, Cdr Drake and Lt Cdr Tarsi reporting as requested.”
Admiral Syva returned their salutes and smiled politely at them both
before gesturing to the chairs across from him.
“At ease, and please take a seat. Adm. T’Las of the Romulan
Republic will be joining us shortly and sends her apologies for the
delay. I gather her meeting with Ambassador Gra has overrun.”
“Thank you,
sir,” said Drake as he and Tarsi sat down. “Sir, might I ask why
a Romulan Republic admiral is going to be joining us? Especially one
as prominent as Adm. T’Las.”
“Of course,”
replied the Vulcan, nodding slightly. “I – that is, myself and
my fellow flag officers on the board of the Starfleet Office of
Cultural Affairs – have been in discussions with the Romulan
Republic for some time, with a view to improving and strengthening
the ties between the Republic and the Federation. They have come a
long way in just a couple of years, from a disorganised flotilla of
ships crewed by farmers and militia to an established Beta Quadrant
power and a valued member of the Alliance.” He paused in thought,
and absent-mindedly rubbed an ugly scar on the back of his hand.
“Yet, still, there are many in the Alliance, and particularly in
Starfleet, who remember all too well the treachery of the Romulan
Star Empire and have not yet learned to trust the young Romulan
Republic and its people. Humans are hot-headed, Vulcans are cold,
Klingons are warmongers, and Romulans are duplicitous. These are the
stereotypes and prejudices we in the Office of Cultural Affairs seek
to help eradicate. Indeed, egalitarianism and strength through
diversity are the pillars upon which the Federation stands.” Syva
looked up at the pair of officers sitting on the other side of his
desk and gave them a genial smile. “The crew of the Trent
is an excellent example of those pillars – your ship has one of the
most diverse crews seen since the USS Titan under then-Capt.
William Riker – and you have performed admirably in all of your
missions thus far.”
“Thank you,
Admiral,” said Drake after clearing his throat.
“Observation
of the facts does not require gratitude, Commander. A diverse crew
is a strong crew – as Rear Admiral Riker is still so fond of saying
– and the Trent has shown this to be true. For this reason,
we-,” Syva looked up at the door as the intercom buzzer interrupted
him mid-sentence. “Ah, I suspect this will be our delayed
admiral.” He pressed the button to open the door, admitting a tall
and handsome Romulan woman in formal RRF uniform, the twin-capes that
marked her as an admiral fluttering behind her as she walked in.
Drake and Tarsi both stood quickly and smartly saluted the flag
officer. “Admiral, it is good to see you. I trust Ambassador Gra
is well?” Syva asked as he stood smoothly.
“Well he
muttered something about a peptic ulcer when I left his office,”
replied the Romulan breezily as she gave a casual salute in reply,
“but otherwise seemed as hale and curmudgeonly as usual. And you
must be Cdr Drake and Lt Cdr Tarsi,” she said, extending a hand to
each of them in turn and smiling warmly.
“Adm. T’Las,
it’s an honour to meet you,” said Drake as he shook her offered
hand.
“Admiral,”
was Tarsi’s briefer reply as she too shook T’Las’s hand. Drake
glanced sideways at her and bit back a knowing smirk as he noticed a
hint of violet start to colour her cheeks.
“A pleasure to
meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you – and your ship and
crew – from Syva here.” She pulled up a fourth chair from the
table in the corner of the office, casually hefting it one-handed
like it was made of lightweight foam instead of metal alloy. Drake
could tell without looking that his second-in-command would be
staring at the Romulan woman. “So sorry about the delay – you
know how Tellarites can be when they get going!” Across the desk,
Syva’s jaw clenched. “So, what did I miss?”
“We were just
discussing, Admiral, the benefits of diversity in a ship’s crew,
and also commenting on how the old racial stereotypes need to be left
in the past,” answered Syva, very pointedly.
“Right,”
said T’Las, smiling in mild embarrassment. “Tellarites,
fascinating people and brilliant negotiators.” Syva nodded
approvingly as the Romulan dug herself out of the hole.
“Argumentative little bastards, though.” Tarsi couldn’t help
but laugh, at both the comment and at Syva’s pained facial reaction
to it.
“Moving
on…,” insisted Syva, his patience straining. “Cdr Drake,
we would like for your ship to take part in a two-pronged initiative
that the Office of Cultural Affairs and our counterparts in the
Romulan Republic have been working on. The first prong is simply an
expansion of the existing exchange program – you would have a
number of Republic officers seconded to your crew, working under you
for a rotation as acting Starfleet officers, to increase public
exposure to and perception of Romulans and help show that the
treachery and backstabbing attitudes of the Star Empire were
cultural, rather than racial.”
“As part of
this initiative, I would also be seconded to your ship,” added
T’Las, “though I would be on-board as a cultural advisor and
diplomatic officer and thus outside of the ship’s chain of
command.” She paused, allowing the information to settle for a
moment. “This way, though I would still be an admiral, I would not
be able to in any way interfere with the running of your ship.
The RRF officers on board would of course report to yourselves, and
I would merely be there to help ease any tensions, and to be a
high-profile presence for both the general public and the brass of
our respective organisations.”
“That sound
wonderful,” comment Tarsi, grinning a little, “ah, I mean, that
sounds a wonderful idea, Admiral. Our crew would get to work
alongside Romulans, who would then still have one of their own flag
officers aboard to help them settle.”
“Exactly our
thinking, Lieutenant Commander,” said Syva with a nod, not noticing
– or perhaps just ignoring – the Andorian’s somewhat
misdirected enthusiasm.
“I agree with
my first officer, sir,” Drake chimed in. “This seems like an
excellent diplomatic venture, and one that we – and the crew of the
Trent – would be honoured to be involved in.”
“Someone put
his diplomat shoes on this morning,” commented the smirking T’Las,
causing Drake to clear his throat self-consciously. Syva nodded
again, with growing enthusiasm.
“Excellent. I
am very pleased to hear that you are both fully on-board with the
initiative. Which brings me round to the second part of it – the
mission itself to which the officer exchange program is merely a
component. Now, I do not wish to speak indelicately here but I feel
it would best serve all of us if I used plain language so that there
can be no room for misunderstanding.” Drake and Tarsi exchanged a
puzzled look as the Vulcan continued, “The Office of Cultural
Affairs has for some time been compiling a database on interspecies
matters and relations. That is to say, we have been cataloguing and
analysing which species are sexually compatible with each other.”
Across from him, Tarsi and Drake’s mouths opened almost
simultaneously as a dozen questions begged to be asked.
“Now, many are plainly known about,” Syva continued. “Starfleet
has no shortage of mixed-heritage officers, after all. But as the
Alliance strengthens and Federation members increasingly come into
contact with a greater variety of races, this work has grown in
importance. It is well-known, for instance, that Humans and Vulcans
are physically compatible and are even capable of having healthy
children together, albeit with a moderate amount of medical
assistance. It is less well-known, however, just how many species
are capable of producing healthy children together, or children at
all, or even which species absolutely should not indulge in sexual
couplings for the safety of either or both persons involved.” The
two non-flag officers sat in silence, both hugely intrigued as to
where this was leading but neither wanting to be so impolite as to
outright ask the admiral to get to the point. Besides, it was not
every day that one got to listen to a Vulcan talk about interspecies
sex.
“Did either of
you know, for instance, that were I to have sexual intercourse with a
Bolian woman it would make both of us very ill, and could potentially
result in fatal consequences if medical attention were not received
promptly?”
“I did not…,”
replied Drake, as fascinated as he was bemused.
“I did, sir,”
said Tarsi. Drake turned to look at her. “All to do with pH
levels, sir. Bolian blood and bodily fluids, like Andorian, are more
acidic than most other races. With my people the difference isn’t
great enough to cause any serious concerns – though I would imagine
having children with a Vulcan would be impossible -,” Syva nodded
in confirmation, “but Bolian blood is more acidic still. It would
likely cause some mild post-coital discomfort in a human – muscle
fatigue, nausea, that sort of thing – but Vulcans are slightly
alkaline compared to the galactic norm, and the pH difference
would lead to serious complications.” She paused, and there was
silence in the room as both Drake and T’Las took this information
in. Syva merely nodded again, quietly impressed by the Andorian’s
knowledge of the subject. “I mean, just kissing between a Bolian
and Vulcan would be unpleasant,” Tarsi added. “The Vulcan’s
saliva would taste very bitter to the Bolian, and the Bolian’s
would be as sour as stomach acid to the Vulcan. Sir.”
“You are quite
correct, Lieutenant Commander. I suspect – much as it is on Vulcan
– such concerns are taught as standard, on account of your people’s
blood chemistry being outside of the ‘normal’ range for the Alpha
and Beta quadrants?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When I woke
up this morning, I did not think that I would end up talking to an
Admiral about Vulcan-Bolian sex complications,” commented Drake,
slightly stunned by the direction taken.
“I can
sympathise, Commander,” said the Romulan admiral, her brow creased
in a mixture of puzzlement and mild disgust. “I did know
what the meeting was about, and I am still finding myself somewhat
taken aback.”
“My apologies,
sirs,” said Tarsi, meekly.
“No need for you to apologise, Lieutenant Commander,” Syva said,
raising his hands placatingly and with a patient smile on his face.
“It was I that instigated this conversation and I offer my
apologies for the unintentional mental discomfort caused by the
subject matter. However, I hope we can all see now why this is a
rather important subject of study.” There was a general nodding of
heads and murmured confirmations. “For that reason, the Office of
Cultural Affairs has commissioned the production of a comprehensive
work on the nature of interspecies relations, to catalogue them fully
and highlight where there are dangers, where offspring are viable,
and so on. The writer we have commissioned is a joined Trill by the
name of Odani Decanis, and we wish for him and his research assistant
to join you and your crew aboard your ship, Commander.”
“You want us to be involved in the production of this work, sir?”
“Do not feel you have to deliberately and directly contribute,
Commander, but yes, I would like for Mr Odani to have the chance to
see your crew in action-,” he paused, catching the unintentional
euphemism a little too late, “that is, to see how you go about your
work on a day-to-day basis, and to be able to catalogue where
relationships exist between differing species and – with the
permission of the individuals concerned, of course – interview them
about the experience and any difficulties, or perhaps any particular
highlights, that they would not find if they were with a member of
their own species.”
“He wants your crew to sleep around while someone makes notes,”
summarised T’Las, drily.
“Yes, thank you for that succinct synopsis, Admiral.”
“Quite welcome, Syva.” T’Las smiled sweetly at the Vulcan’s
sarcastic reply.
“You will, I hope, get used to Adm. T’Las’s lack of formality,”
said Syva with a sigh.
“The Trent is a fairly relaxed and informal ship, sir,”
Drake assured him.
“Then you should get on splendidly. This leads me onto our
penultimate piece of business today, Commander – your ship.”
“There’s a problem with the Trent, sir?”
“Not a problem as such, but it is felt that with this new mission
your vessel is in need of an upgrade.”
“Well, we did really enjoy the showering facilities here at
Earth Spacedock, sir,” said Tarsi hopefully. She blushed again as
she noticed T’Las smirking at her. “Separately, Admiral.”
“I’m not judging!” replied the Romulan. Syva pointedly cleared
his throat to bring the focus back to the topic at hand.
“It is not the ship’s facilities that we would be looking to
upgrade, rather the ship itself. The pair of you, and indeed your
entire crew, have shown themselves to be more than capable in a wide
variety of missions, and it is only fair that your ship should
reflect your versatility and capabilities. To that end, I am
proposing that you be given commission of the USS Wakefield, a
Comet-class RSV.”
“Comet-class?” Drake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“That would be quite a step up from the Trent, sir.”
“It would be a seventy-five percent increase in your crew
complement. The incoming rotation of crew has been selected with
this mission in mind, and changes to the permanent staff have been
made in the same vein. You will however be free to assign your own
senior staff. My office has also compiled a list of available
specialists who would be suitable for the mission; the information
has been transmitted to the Wakefield’s computer. You will
also find the facilities to be a lot more advanced than on your
Centaur-class light cruiser. The holodecks, in particular,
are state-of-the-art. I have no doubt that this will prove useful in
your mission.” Drake and Tarsi sat staring silently at the Vulcan
for some time, neither of them quite sure how to follow-on from the
implications of that last comment. Eventually it was Tarsi who spoke
up, choosing to shift the focus.
“That’s a very large, very advanced vessel for a commander, sir.”
Her words were carefully measured.
“Quite so, Lieutenant Commander.” There was a twinkle in Syva’s
eyes as he turned to focus on Drake. “The new commission will also
come with a promotion, Captain.” Drake sat up straighter,
practically snapping to attention in his chair.
“Thank you, Admiral, I’m honoured.”
“It is earned, Capt. Drake. Now, I would also advise you have an
officer of the commander rating as your first officer. Would it be
safe for me to presume that you will be putting Lt Cdr Tarsi forward
for recommendation?”
“Absolutely, Admiral,” Drake emphatically confirmed, causing
Tarsi to grin broadly.
“Good. I shall approve both these promotion recommendations and
have them finalised by the end of the day. Additionally, please
submit to me by eighteen hundred tomorrow a list of other personnel
you would recommend for promotion, and which officers you wish to
invite to join you aboard your new command. We will waive the usual
regulations and recommendations, and you should feel free to build
your command staff as you see fit.”
“I could provide you with a list here and now, sir, but I would
prefer to speak to my crew on a one-to-one basis before putting their
names forward. Given the nature of the mission, there are some
officers who might prefer to stay with the Trent.”
“Hmm, a fair point, Captain. Very well, would forty-eight hours be
sufficient?”
“Amply, Admiral. Thank you.”
“Excellent. There is just one last thing before you go – I need
to introduce you both to your new First Lieutenant aboard the
Wakefield.” Syva pressed a button on his desk’s intercom
unit to hail his secretary in the adjacent office. “Mr Gevan,
would you be kind enough to send Lt Zhivkov in.” He finished the
call and looked up at Drake and Tarsi, “Lt Zhivkov has served on
the Wakefield for the past four years and was previously the
ship’s deputy chief of operations. She was promoted to the role of
First Lieutenant at the end of the Wakefield’s most recent
rotation.” He paused for a moment, before adding as an
afterthought, “Lt Dillon is the new deputy chief. I will leave it
to Lt Zhivkov to explain him.”
“Explain him?” Drake had been about to say but had barely
opened his mouth when the door chimed and was immediately answered by
Syva. A young woman in Operations colours walked in and smartly
saluted the gathering of senior officers.
“Sir, Lt Zhivkov reporting as requested.” Syva nodded and
saluted in reply.
“At ease, Lieutenant. Capt. Drake, Cdr Tarsi, this is Lieutenant
Elena Zhivkov, the Wakefield’s First Lieutenant. Lt
Zhivkov, your new Commanding Officer and First Officer. Adm. T’Las
you already know.” Further salutes were exchanged, with Drake and
Tarsi standing to greet their newest crewmember, while T’Las merely
gave a small wave.
“Captain, Commander, it is an honour to be able to welcome you to
the Wakefield’s roster and I look forward to formally
welcoming you aboard our fine vessel.”
“As do we, Lieutenant. She sounds like quite the ship.”
“She really is, sir.” Zhivkov half-turned to face Adm. Syva,
“Sir, will that be all?”
“Yes, thank you Lieutenant. You may now show the Admiral, Captain,
and Commander to their new vessel.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Zhivkov, saluting Syva smartly then turning
back to the other three. “Sirs, if you will follow me.” Drake
nodded in reply before he and Tarsi stood to attention before Syva.
“Admiral,” they chorused as they saluted.
“Captain, Commander,” replied Syva as he saluted in return.
T’Las languidly stood from her chair and flipped off a casual
salute in the other admiral’s general direction.
“See you around, Syva,” she commented as she joined the others in
heading out of the office. Once the door had closed behind them,
Syva let out a long, exhausted sigh and pressed his intercom.
“Mr Gevan, please reschedule the rest of today’s appointments for
tomorrow. I feel the need for a long period of meditation. And
maybe some strong alcohol.”
***
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