Captain's Log: Regeneration

[Chirakis 1]

Captain’s Log: Regeneration

 

In its present condition, Sky Harbor Aegis had outlived its usefulness. Everything in Aegis space - from Aegean, Revenge, and Federation’s Border Patrol to the vessels used by miners and the high-resolutions scanners on the archaeological colony at TKR-117 - was equipped with the most advanced technology available, while the station tasked with defending it was a doddering old man way past retirement.

 

Designed for its original mission to support the Cardassian star system, to provide medical aid, assist with reconstruction projects, and provide stability to a war-torn planet, Aegis had been jerked from its orbit of Cardassia and moved to the edge of hostile space not far from the Breen Confederacy. Threats came from every conceivable direction: the Breen in subspace, the Athra of unknown power and origin, the Tjurakh warlords who had possibly allied themselves with several cartels, and others in seemingly endless run. One threat would dissolve only to be replaced by another more sinister one. And in the midst sat Aegis: a degenerating hodgepodge of antiquated parts, a Frankenstation whose aged Federation architecture, outmoded Klingon and Romulan weapon systems, and degenerating Ferengi power systems were now no more than a mismatched conglomeration barely worth the metal of its construction.

 

All this and more had been the subject of Captain Chirakis’ endless memos, propositions, and requisitions, and requests for assistance. And now - at the height of their inquiries into Mist Station 3 and their care for displaced Romulans - they were to receive aid. Could it be that the fates had smiled on them, or was it a simple throw of the dice. Regardless, the captain had to visibly restrain herself when Rov, the noted Catullan design and construction contractor, docked with Lit by Moonlight, roamed the station, and then stepped onto the control tower for a meeting.

 

“Your success here has really caused your own problem,” he began, “You've kept the station working so your command hasn't seen the need to updating things.”

 

They sat around the captain’s conference table, Kirel at the head, Mr. Roberts, to her right and Commander Coleridge to her left, both well armed with valuable data and insight as to the present condition of the station and its needs for the future.

 

Scott Coleridge shifted hesitantly in his chair, understandable as he’d been thrown into the mix without warning. “Yes, well, the influx of the refugees--and all the traffic that comes with them--has strained our capacity in more ways than one. I hope that's obvious now. Plus, I'm given to understand there are heightened ... security issues ... that might leave us inadequate in the face of an attack.”

“Even to Admirals, it is,” countered Rov, “So, you know a blind Pakled gets it too.”

“Bubble gum, bailing wire and duct tape aren't cutting it,” said Roberts.

“We ran out of baling wire last week,” Coleridge sighed.

“It's that bad is it?” Rov.

“How are we on duct tape then, Mr Coleridge?” Roberts, serious.

“Plenty of that, but we just can't apply it fast enough. We repair or reconfigure one system to handle the increased load, and another complains as a result. It's a vast, creaky chain of dominoes designed by a crazed domino grandmaster at the height of their powers....”

 

“Commander Coleridge,” the captain broke in, “what, in your estimation, would it take to bring this station to optimal performance for any contingency in this area of space?”

“I'm not in favour of a completely new build, although with that shipyard, we have the facilities for that, unlike many remote stations. But a new build would strain us even more than we are.”

 

“By a new build, you mean a new station?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Exactly what she was looking for. “Number One?”

 

“A new station could have all the necessary pre-existing updates that are out there and make for easier upgrading and maintenance.”

 

“That would not be as big of a problem,” said Rov. “I have an industrial replicator at my disposal, and the ship can have supplies here faster than any transport, period.”

 

“I'm not worried about supplies so much as logistics,” said Scott. “I'd prefer an approach of gradual replacement, starting with the oldest parts of the superstructure--a phased refit, if you will, that would essentially leave us with a ‘new’ station at the end.”

“And our ETA, considering the commander's approach, Mr. Rov?”

“Lit By Moonlight can reach warp 8 fully loaded and I've set up a supply port in the nearest Federation sector. Before we start a supply chain, the Commander's idea of using the existing structure is very valid.”

 

“We also need to standardize,” Scott continued. “I understand the historical motivations for this ... hodgepodge ... of species' technology, but it's the major obstacle in every single repair we effect. Do you know how hard it is to get a hold of a twenty-year-old Klingon D-91 flow regulator?”

 

“I think Command has agreed with you,” Rov replied. “Klingons don’t care about this place much. Romulans can't afford to be sending parts here. As long as the Ferengi get to be the middlemen they don't care if they're selling Federation parts.”

“Commander Coleridge,” Kirel broke in, “as of this moment your primary duty will be to coordinate with Rov. Determine the best way to proceed, generate an estimated time of completion, and prepare the station for the result.”

There was an awkward moment of silence followed by an audible swallow. “Understood,” he replied. “No pressure, then.”

 

“Consider it an unbounded challenge, Commander,” the captain replied standing to signal adjournment. “a chance to fulfill every engineer’s dream. Mr. Rov, our station is at your disposal. Mr. Roberts will get you full access to the station and our crew will give you every cooperation. Gentlemen,” she nodded to each, “we have much work to do.”