The Business of the Day

[Cptn Swain 0]

The turbo-lift carried Swain through the hard point docking mechanism and he felt the slight shift as he went horizontal and into the Camelot lift system as the lift spun for a second before the automated systems switched it over to Camelot’s control and then deposited him on the upper ring in the office suite of Vice-Admiral Abronvonvich.

 

He was early, to be sure, but he’d always found that he could never stand the waiting that usually accompanied being on-time if one wasn’t chronically late. Smiling as he passed a few lower-ranking officers, he made his way to the reception desk where Lt. Commander Deigo Sands sat contemplatively as he sifted through something on a PADD. Before Swain could say something, Sands had already noticed him approaching.

 

“Captain,” Sands said neutrally, “you’re early. The Admiral isn’t expecting you for another hour.”

 

“I know,” Swain said. “But I hate waiting around on the ship.”

 

Sands tipped his head to one side, considering the new master of the Excalibur. Though perhaps in a different manner, he saw similarities to her former commanding officer -- notably a directness that served both of them well. Also their long hair and ear piercings. He suspected, though, from their files alone, that the two had had little else in common.

 

Finally shrugging and motioning to a set of chairs to his left, Sands smiled. “Well I’ll let the Admiral know you’re here. He’s been in meetings all morning, but he should be able to see you a little early.”

 

“Thanks,” Swain said with a nod before heading over to the chairs and seating himself, cross-legged while Sands talked in hushed tones into a communicator. As he waited, Swain looked around the room, taking in the various accouterments that adorned the waiting room and wondered if the Admiral had done the decorating or if it were someone else’s’ handiwork. Judging from both the reputation of Abronvonvich and his own experiences, he leaned towards the latter.

 

After a few minutes, Sands led Swain into the spacious office of the Admiral. At first, Swain stood for a long moment, staring off into the distance at the windows filled with the glow of the planet below. It was breathtaking. For a moment he forgot where he was and felt himself drifting back to when he’d saw his own homeworld from space for the first time.

 

His nostalgia was quickly broken by a gentle nudge by Sands who’d seen this happen before with the more science-y Captain’s that came through the door. Giving a quick, unspoken gesture of thanks to Sands, Swain came to attention a few feet away from the Admiral’s expansive, PADD-filled desk.

 

The cragy, white-haired Admiral smirked slightly; the great creases on his face shifting ever so delicately. He’d seen that distant look before, too. He couldn’t blame them, he supposed, it was one hell of a view. “As you were, Captain.”

 

Swain nodded and went at ease, tipping his head respectfully to the senior officer. “Sorry if I am a little early.”

 

“Nothing to be worried about,” he said. “Have a seat.”

 

Nodding swain took a seat opposite Abronvonvich. The elder statesman of the two looked him over. He still couldn’t quite get a feel for the Captain, but his performance spoke for itself -- so far anyway.

 

“Well,” Abronvonvich said, breaking the silence. “Good work on Caldor.”

 

“My crew...”

 

Modesty, Abronvonvich thought. “Yes.”

 

“They’re as good as advertised.”

 

“Yes,” Abronvonvich said. “They are, but all modesty aside, you handled the situation well. I mean, I know this isn’t your first rodeo -- but you handled it well all things considered -- new crew, new ship, new situation.”

 

Swain knew enough to take a compliment for what it was and nodded. “Thanks.”

 

“I have a feeling this kind of thing is going to start becoming the norm...”

 

“Oh?”

 

“The Dominion is pulling back more and more, consolidating their power best they can -- as they do...”

 

“They’re going to be leaving behind a legacy of years of oppression and occupation,” Swain said with a frown. “Those people on Caldor -- they didn’t have any concept how to turn on the damned equipment let alone keep it working.”

 

“You’ll find more of the same elsewhere,” Abronvonvich said with a disapproving frown, “The Olympia is out on Thangan Seti dealing with something similar, though not as severe -- damned Vorta neglected to tell the locals how to deal with the waste left over from a munitions processing plant.”

 

Swain couldn’t help but sour. For all the talk the Dominon had been making of allowing local systems to have freedom he couldn’t ignore that they were also shirking responsiblity for the people whose lives and worlds they’d ruined.

 

“Meanwhile both our medical ships are out now too -- the Ascelpius has been dispatched now too to help deal with a severe out break of Thefellion Flu on Dagrel.”

 

“Thefellion Flu?”

 

Abronvonvich nearly growled. “Yes, I assume you’ve never heard of it -- we hadn’t either. Apparently its something the Dominion cooked up or something ... at any rate the locals, as you can guess, were ill equipped to deal with a full scale epidemic and the Dominion couldn’t be bothered.”

 

“Rather cruel isn’t it?”

 

“They’re sending a message,” Abronvonvich said. “Though not the one I think they intend.”

 

“Luckily for them, we’re around, eh?”

 

Abronvonvich nodded. “So long as we continue to have the resources.”

 

Swain nodded. “What about the Hundred, sir?”

 

“The Hundred,” the Admiral said gruffly. “Are doing their best, but unfortunately we cannot coordinate our efforts with them … officially.”

 

Lifting a brow, Swain shook his head. “Unofficially?”

 

“They’re helping where they can. Their resources are spread a lot thinner than Semil would like to let on.”

 

Swain didn’t know as much about the situation as he would like, but he’d been keeping busy by reading as many reports and briefings as he could get his hands on. Nodding he leaned back into the chair. “I understand.Quite the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Abronvonvich sighed and ran his hands through his silver hair. “You can say that again. Between the Dominion pull back and all of the mess that’s leaving and the Al-Ucard and Eratian Rebellions …”

 

“Out of curiosity,” Swain said. “How is the latter going?”

 

Frowning, the white hair admiral stood up and gestured to the window, as if the war were outside his window. “Luckily,” he said, “the outer reaches of Al-Ucard, Eratian and Scorpiad space aren’t on our door step, or we’d have a mess on our hands.”

Nodding, Swain exhaled himself. “I’ve tried to read up on the reports. Looks like the fighting is more limited towards Scorpiad homespace, not the newer conquered territories.”

 

“So far,” Abronvonvich acknowledged. “Of course thats another problem. They conquered a pretty large swath of space during their war with the Dominion, but I don’t think they have a real grasp on it.”

 

“That’s what the Eratians were made for though, correct?”

 

“Mmhm. The Scorpiads figured out a long time ago that they couldn’t hold onto huge tracts of space if they had to continually micro-manage it.”

 

“So they made the Eratians to ‘manage’ indigenous populations by systematically culling them ever so often.”

 

“Well the ones who’s worlds didn’t have resources they wanted.”

 

Swain shook his head. “Sounds familiar.”

 

It was a generalization that Abronvonvich had considered all to often. “For all their differences biologically -- the Founders and the Scorpiad have a lot in common.”

 

“A will to dominate, a fear of outsiders, a penchant for installing themselves as gods...”

 

“Except the Founders had the courtesy to check out.”

 

The off-cuff remark caught Swain off guard. Unlike his predecessor, Asher Swain hadn’t spent years in clandestine service refining how to hide true feelings. His eyebrows shot up.

 

“Checked out?”

 

Realizing his indiscretion, Abronvonvich blanched for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally admitted. “But you’re going to find out sooner or later, I suppose.”

 

“Find out what?”

 

“This is of course, classified material -- above your clearance -- so I guess its time to find out how much I can trust the new commanding officer of the Excalibur.”

 

Swain nodded. This was new ground for him. He’d spent the last ten years out on the edges exploring and as best he could remember it was during the Dominion War when he’d last heard the word classified. Still, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued and in some way honored that the Admiral felt comfortable enough talking to him to presume a level of intimacy.

“Of course, Sir.”

 

“Call me Misha.”

 

Asher smiled. “I’ll try too, si... Misha.”

 

Abronvonvich shook his head. “Anyway as I was saying, about two and half years ago, the Federation became aware that the Founders had gone into a deep isolation.”

 

Swain’s eyebrows perked again. “Not to be … well … a snert, but that’s pretty common knowledge, I thought.”

 

“That they’re in isolation is, yes,” Abronvonvich said waiving a hand. “But this is different. Two and half years ago, Weyoun disclosed that the Founders had gone into an even deeper isolation, essentially abandoning the Dominion. Last year, the Excalibur at the request of the Vorta Council mounted an expedition into deep space to locate a device that would enable to the Vorta to contact the Founders.”

 

Swain nodded, though he was deeply troubled by this new revelation. He was even more troubled that Excalibur had been part of such a unusual arrangement. Just what had Corizon gotten them into -- actually a better question, he’d decided, was what hadn’t Corizon gotten them into over the last several years.

 

“And?”

 

“They eventually recovered it.”

 

Swains brows arched higher, into, what he assumed, a posture that would have made a Vulcan envious -- if they would admit to it. “I see.”

 

“Basically Odo told them they’re on their own.”

 

“And just how long can the Vorta keep that hidden?”

 

“That’s the million brick question, isn’t it?”

 

Swain sighed. “As if things around here weren’t chaotic enough.”

 

“Exactly. And now we’ve got these blasted raiders.”

 

“I am assuming that’s why you’ve got two Sovereign-classes sitting outside.”

 

“That would be correct. I don’t think they’ll take a swipe at us directly. I mean they’re getting bolder. A few months ago these were isolated incidents restricted to the less traveled systems and shipping routes -- but last few weeks they’ve inched closer to major trade routes.”

 

“I see. What do you know about them?”

 

“They’re using whatever they can get their hands on, ship-wise. The place is fast becoming a booming market for weapons smugglers. We’re not sure how organized they are yet, we’re working on it.”

 

Swain nodded his understanding.

 

“I decided to bring the big guns in to show the flag,” Abronvonvich said. “They’ll think twice about attacking the more local convoys if there’s two Federation battleships hanging out.”

 

“I would hope.”

 

“Which brings me to you and the Excalibur.”

 

“You’ll be getting new orders soon,” Abronvonvich said sitting back down at his desk. “Excalibur is going to be sent along with the Cape Horn and the Valorous to meet up with a convoy of refugees en route from the Korale sector and escort their convoy to Camelot.”

 

Convoy duty. Swain couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He was, at his heart, a scientist and explorer and convoy duty wasn’t his idea of fun -- nor was it what he set out to do when he applied to the academy. Still, he knew what he’d signed on for when he took the job. Standing, straightening his uniform, he came to an easy attention.

 

“Understood, sir.”

 

“They’ll be more details for you when the orders come through; hopefully won’t be anything you can’t handle. ”

 

“You said it was a convoy of refugees?”

 

“Yes,” the Admiral said. “Hakarans. There will be more about them in the brief. The Federation has given them a planet in the Alpha Quadrant -- Omicron Beta V.”

 

“I can’t imagine they’d have anything of value for raiders to hit.”

 

“Normally, no, but they do have fourteen Federation transports that might interest them.”

 

“Federation transports? That’s not usual.”

 

“They needed ships,” Abronvonvich said. “We were able to provide them.”

 

“Anything I need to know, in particular?”

 

The crag-faced Admiral got the implied meaning. When he’d first met the Captain, he’d promised, to try and limit the cloak and dagger routines. Besides he had a right to know.

 

“On a need to know basis, Captain...”

 

It was always something. “Yes?”

 

“Starfleet Intelligence is very interested in debriefing a number of their leaders.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It will become clearer once you’ve had a chance to read the brief, but yes, please keep that in mind. This is a top priority.”

 

“Of course, sir. If there’s nothing else, I should be going, I am sure you’ve got a busy calender.”

 

The Admiral nodded. “As do you. There is one more thing.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m reassigning the the Vatican as the lead ship of the Clarent-fleet.”

 

Swain nodded. It meant very little to him honestly, and the decision was understand able. Excalibur had been considered a lead ship of the fleet because of Corizon’s experience with fleet operations. While a more veteran commanding officer, Swain had little in the way of practical experience with fleet operations and he was more than happy to hand that off.

 

“Captain Varen should be receiving his own orders in that regard fairly soon as well.”

 

“Irae?”

 

“You know him?”

 

Swain nodded, neutrally. “The Sentinel and Pei Xiu worked together on a number of missions during the war, but we graduated the Academy together.”

 

“Ah, yes. You’re both Stellar Cartographers, aren’t you?”

 

“In my spare time.”

 

Abronvonvich smirked widely. “Well happy accident for you to know the CO of the lead ship of your group.”

 

Swain nodded. “Aye. Is the Vatican due into port soon? I’d actually like to say hello to Irae.”

 

Nodding the Admiral continued to smirk. “She should be docking later this evening.”

 

“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, Admiral?”

 

“Of course, you’re dismissed Captain.”

 

“Oh... one more thing.”

 

Abronvonvich had already started working on something but looked up. “Yes?”

 

“About how long should my crew expect to have for leave?”

 

Leaning back, Abronvonvich considered. “The Cape Horn is due in two days.”

 

“Understood.”