Irons in the Fire

[Sorehl 0]

Captain Sorehl sat alone, dimly illuminated by the subdued lighting of his Deck 2 office on Camelot Station. His chair was turned to face the curved wall beside his desk, which displayed a regional star chart highlighted with some thirty red points. He stroked his dark beard, sifting through the engineering challenge before him - the design and deployment of subspace platforms to extend the scope of the Galactic Positioning System into the Gamma Quadrant. The established series of subspace timebase beacons had revolutionized warp travel both in and around the Federation, reducing navigational errors and loss of life. Sorehl had been fortunate to participate in its Alpha Quadrant modernization and extending its service to the Klingon Empire, Ferengi Alliance, and Cardassian Union; this was an equally auspicious opportunity. With Avalon poised to become the first permanent Federation colony in this area of space, it was a logical choice to serve as the anchor for the next expansion.

 

His ruminations were interrupted by a signal from the Command Center. The Vulcan swiveled his chair. “Go ahead, Commander.”

 

“Incoming communication from Starfleet Headquarters,” Lieutenant Commander Corris Sprint advised. “Standard real-time, tightbeam encrypted link.”

 

“On schedule, as always,” Sorehl noted. “I’ll take it here.”

 

He cleared the GPS deployment screen and noted the expected SFHQ symbol that replaced it. The face that appeared onscreen, however, was not expected. Fleet Admiral Alynna Necheyev, the formidable flag officer and veteran of the Cardassian front, looked at him impassively from onscreen. Interestingly, in his years of command along that border, he had never had an audience with her.

 

“Admiral Necheyev,” he offered by way of greeting. “You have me at a disadvantage. I was anticipating a communication from Admiral a’Trok.”

 

The admiral gave a thin smile. “It’s been bumped up,” she answered tersely. “Your requests have caused no small stir, captain. I’m afraid the response goes beyond the boundaries of Tactical Command.”

 

“I see,” he answered, although he did not.

 

Necheyev glanced at the lower edge of her own screen. “I’ve got a fleet operations briefing at 0915, so I’ll keep this short. You should already know the Klingon ship Kij’Pah is bringing your new station executive officer; he should be there in two days. After that, the starship Yorktown should arrive twelve days later. The reasons for this deployment are three: first, with Morningstar on assignment and Excalibur about to be decommissioned, you need a sizeable capital ship in the area.”

 

“Decommissioned? Admiral, I was led to believe…”

 

“Let me finish,” Necheyev asserted. “I’ve advised Captain Halloway to operate in your quadrant, based at Camelot until recalled. He’ll respond to your orders as needed.” Sorehl blinked. Although much younger, Halloway had made captain at least ten years earlier than the Vulcan – but such inequities were not uncommon in Starfleet.

 

“Second,” the admiral continued, “the Assembly has agreed to ease Admiral Day’s diplomatic entanglements by assigning a full-time envoy. Once she disembarks from the Yorktown, she will become the civilian authority for the United Federation of Planets.

 

“Of course,” he answered, unsurprised by this news.

 

“Third, your request to prepare Avalon for colonization has been granted,” she went on. “Yorktown is bearing construction supplies that should allow your teams to establish planetside settlements. Colonial Administration is already considering candidates.” She folded her hands. “Now, captain, you have questions?”

 

Sorehl nodded, sorting through his mental list. “I was under the impression that a final disposition for Excalibur was pending a review…”

 

Necheyev didn’t wait for him to finish. “Your impression was mistaken. That review is complete; in fact, it matched your own assessment. Repairing the superstructure would take nearly as many resources as laying a new frame. She may have life in her as a training ship, but I want to be clear on this – Excalibur is not on its way back to the Gamma Quadrant. You are to cease inquiries related to her.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Sorehl responded, sitting up straighter. That answer eliminated an entire series of questions. He paused before continuing. “Has the subject of trade routes been broached?”

 

The admiral glanced at another location on her desk, sliding a PADD toward her. “Yes, there has been some direction from the Secretariat. Permission has been granted to open a dialogue with the Ferengi to lease commercial space aboard your station, up to and including a full trade mission.”

 

“Understood. I shall see to it. No further questions.”

 

“Anything else to report?” the admiral prompted.

 

“The Romulan situation at T-Rogora remains… stable at present,” the Vulcan related. “We have picked up increased comm traffic between the Dominion and our onboard Vorta, but nothing to suggest a threat.”

 

Sorehl thought he detected a look of distaste and a slight curl in Necheyev’s lip. “How is Weyoun’s investigation going?” she ventured.

 

“Proceeding in an orderly fashion, so I am told. He has remained largely out of sight, conducting interviews with those present at the crime scene. I have met with him twice.”

 

“The impudence of them cloning that…” she trailed off, then lifted her PADD as if to review her notes. “Well, let’s see – station XO, Yorktown, new ambassador, colonial preparations, trade mission talks, Romulan intrigue, and a Klingon diplomat being investigated for murder by one of the most despised villains in Federation history. I think we’ve covered it. Captain, if you hadn’t survived hotter spots, I’d think you might have too many irons in this fire.”

 

Sorehl raised an eyebrow, uncertain of the reference. “Admiral?”

 

“Just because I never called doesn’t mean I didn’t pay attention to your work at Aegis,” Necheyev explained, actually letting a smile play across her expression. “I know you'll keep it together till Morningstar gets back.” She glanced down at her screen as a chime sounded. “0915. I’m late. Starfleet out.”

 

The screen went dark, leaving him backlit by the sandshifter artwork that stood opposite his desk. Like a kal-toh test on a cosmic scale, elements of chaos were being subtly placed one-by-one. With so many t’an in play, it would take a consummate intellect to help symmetry emerge from the disorder. He hoped he was up to the challenge.

[George_Pickett 0]

Nice log but, Excalibur Deccommissioned, I had hopes of getting to actually serve on her someday. Such is Life :(