A Call to Captainship

Posted on 08/11/2020 @ 1:00pm by Lieutenant JG M'Raul Kothar III & Captain Cian D'Anvers

Mission: S2E1: The Skunil Incident
Location: USS Crazy Horse | Bridge - Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: Day 39 at 1350

It had been some time since Lieutenant Jodon Joral and his away team disembarked from the USS Crazy Horse en route to the moon of Skunil. Their latest report was that they had arrived on the moon and were gaining access to the base, once inside they would make an attempt to bring down the shield. Once the shield was down, it would allow for the USS Crazy Horse to get a better reading on the base and allow for ease of communication and transporters if necessary. Lieutenant Lae'Or was away from her bridge station, for the time being, leaving M'Raul to step in.

The Caitian was monitoring both the energy readings from the base, seeing if the shield was giving any indication of dropping whilst also monitoring communications in the event the away team was able to contact them. Until the shield came down, that was unlikely to happen unless they returned to the shuttle outside of the base's shield; however, M'Raul caught immediate detection of an alert. It was a communications alert, but not from the away team. This was a subspace message on a very secure Federation frequency. Deception thought Lieutenant Kothar who immediately sought to verify that it was indeed a Federation subspace transmission. It was. Everything checked out and it was specifically addressed to Commander D'Anvers.

"Captain," he called out to the Commanding Officer. It was tradition and protocol to address any Commanding Officer of a starship by said title despite rank. Likewise, the Executive Officer was addressed as Commander, but Lieutenant Joral did not seem to enforce as much. M'Raul was more by the book and orthodox. "Priority message from Starfleet, Sir. It is addressed to you. Should I put them through to your Ready Room?"

"Yes," Cian said as he surged to his feet; he resisted the urge to stretch mightily though it was a near thing. The downside of command for him wasn't the decisions or the complexity, it was the long hours spent without movement. As he made his way toward his Ready Room, he wondered idly how the crew would feel if he just did laps around the Bridge or jogged in place. Chuckling to himself, he completed the short walk to his desk and frowned down at his office chair before sitting down. While he waited for the connection to be complete, he wondered what was going on even as he marshaled his arguments against a) being called away before finding out what happened to the colonists and b) accepting yet another admiral's problem child.

The connection was established, the Federation logo was quickly replaced by an empty desk with several PaDDs spread about the surface and a small bar-shaped holographic projector that was activated displaying: Rear Admiral Saoirse McKean - 7th Fleet. This was of particular interest, not simply because the Admiral was clearly not at their desk, but because the USS Crazy Horse was not assigned to the 7th fleet, but rather the 11th. "Admiral," a male voice said clearing their throat afterward followed by a hushed "You're on."

No sooner were those words spoken did a striking woman with short silvery-gray hair and piercing hawkish eyes take a seat in the chair. She stared into the screen as though her stare could pierce Cian's soul. Before she could speak the sound of a door parting ways was audible, and the woman, apparently Admiral McKean looked into up and over momentarily. She then looked back directly into the screen. "Excuse me a moment Commander D'Anvers," she said.

Another woman's voice was heard in the background saying something in a hush that was directed at the Admiral. The expression on the Admiral's face did not give any indication she was bothered. "Tell those damn Andorians if they try to threaten us one more time, I'll personally ensure there are repercussions levied their way," Admiral McKean said sharply. "Period. Mark my words. If that is all Stacy, I have been keeping Commander D'Anvers waiting too long."

The sound of a door opening and closing. Cian had the Admiral's attention once again. "So, we finally have the room to ourselves," she said with a small chuckle. "Commander, whenever they tell you it's time to leave the Captain's chair behind...my advice would not to allow it" she noted. "Pardon the prior interruption, I have been dealing with some unruly Andorians who think just because their planet is glaciated that they can walk on water" she explained before formally introducing herself: "Rear Admiral McKean, Seventh Fleet."

Having been at the whims and mercy of Starfleet Human Resources for months, with crew removed from his ship or deposited without warning, and having been subjected to an Admiral's gamesmanship already, Cian was understandably cautious. His own desk was similar in configuration. PADDs strewn about, reports and research, for the most part, the tea cup emblazoned with the ship's logo near at hand, and a small stone bowl, more than halfway filled with nondescript rocks, pebbles worn smooth by running water roughened by the flow of lava, some veined and others that glittered, each one a memory of a time and place.

Cian's mouth quirked upward slightly at her comment; the idea of being removed from his ship, even with all the time sitting, was not something he would welcome. He loved his job and, having dealt with them in the past, he was more than a little in agreement with the assessment of Andorians. All this, however, were not things one shared with a busy superior office. And so, his answer was more succinct. "Admiral," he said with a slight nod of his head, "what can I do for the Seventh Fleet?"

"In this case, it is not a matter of what you can do for Seventh Fleet so much as what we can do for you" replied Admiral McKean. "Our 51st Task Force is taking a beating. Hell, we are all taking a beating these days. The loss of Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards has not helped matters. We're down starships and production has been greatly diminished. Seventh Fleet needs good, strong, and competent Captains. I was just in a meeting with Admirals Burke and Barclay and Rear Admiral Snu'Pi of Seventh Fleet. I am aware that you are currently engaged to a mission on Skunil with the Eleventh Fleet, but on behalf of Seventh Fleet, we would like to offer you reassignment to our fleet. Someone of your command caliber is, pardon my frankness, being underutilized there."

"Thank you, Admiral," Cian said. "I'm more than willing to accept, however ..." Years of command experience kept the surprise from his features; it would seem that the incompetency of the Eleventh Fleet's management style might be a thing of the past. The surge of hope that filled him surprised him even more. "I would appreciate having the chance to finish my mission here first. The situation is bad. Over 200 dead and the remainder of the colonists missing. We've only just begun our investigation."

There was a shift in her facial expression and a solemn note added to her tone. "My condolences to those who have perished on Skunil" the Admiral replied. "You have your orders and your mission, I cannot in good conscience pull you from your mission right now. Who knows who the eleventh fleet would send in to take over in your absence. It could be the Oracle given their limited choices these days" she added. "Please, continue your mission on Skunil. Quality Commanding Officers are well worth waiting for. Your position in the seventh fleet will be waiting for you" she added.

"Thank you, Admiral," Cian said, smiling at last, both in relief and at the idea of moving into a fleet with a reputation that preceded it, not in notoriety but in honest praise. "Once we're finished here, where do you want us to report?"

Admiral McKean nodded. "We can cross that bridge in due time. Once you complete your missing for the eleventh fleet, simply contact me and I will provide you with additional orders as to where to report" she responded. She picked up one of the PaDDs and shook her head with a soft audible 'tsk tsk tsk' before setting the PaDD back down. "What the hell," McKean groaned. "Commander D'Anvers, you've been a Commanding Officer for nine years according to your personnel file and several months of being assigned to the eleventh fleet, no formal reprimands on your record in those nine years, correct?"

"Yes, that's about right," Cian responded as he did the mental calculations followed up with the thought, 'has it been nine years'?

McKean muttered something under her breath, before picking up another PaDD and reading it. Her eyes showed extreme scrutiny. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary," she said with archaic cursing. "How damn bad things have gotten. My sincerest apologies for what you've had to deal with. Fleet politics can...pardon my language, be a real shitstorm. I see the Academy Commandant was recently named Chief of Fleet Operations for the eleventh fleet" quipped Admiral McKean. "Here's an old Earth proverb for you: 'Those who can, do. Those who cannot? teach" the grey-haired woman said placing the PaDD down. "An Academy Commandant has no place orchestrating Fleet Operations in my book."

"It hasn't been without its ... challenges," Cian said and with that, left a wealth of invective unsaid. One of the things Leonie had taught him, in his first years on Earth, was the notion of taking the 'high road'. He had adopted that practice, especially when dealing with Eleventh Fleet admiralty.

"Politics," she said making a wide wingspan gesture with her arms only to be followed by an 'oh shit' expression on her face which had preceded the sound of something shattering on the floor. The Admiral reached down and in her hand was light purple wing, jagged and apparently formerly part of something much larger. "Damn," grumbled the Admiral. "An amethyst sculpture of the mythical winged horse, pegasus. It was a gift" she explained. "Between the two of us, not the real thing. I keep breaking it and having to replicate a replacement."

She reached for a mug and took a sip. "Now, where was I?" she pondered momentarily. "Ah yes, incompetency and being overlooked yadda yadda yadda. I will save you the story of my life though I empathize with you. The seventh fleet believes in placing emphasis on strong leadership rather than cobbling together inexperienced starship commanders. We're built to last, and not in the habit of having brief flickers. Commander Cian D'Anvers, by order of Starfleet's Seventh Fleet, I, Rear Admiral Saoirse McKean do hereby promote you to the rank of Captain with all the duties, rights, and responsibilities effective immediately."

"Thank you, Admiral," Cian said quietly. "It's entirely unexpected." And for that, you could read that he'd given up on being promoted based on a proven record of performance. In his now former chain of command, that wasn't what got you noticed. His smile was genuine as surprise gave way to the realization that things were indeed changing ... and for the better. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Captain D'Anvers, but unlike other fleets, we do not hand out platitude promotions," Admiral McKean stated. "You have earned your fourth pip a while ago. Consider this making up for an oversight...nine years as a Commander is a long time in the Captain's chair, let alone your years as Executive Officer" she explained. "Speaking of which," added Admiral McKean scrambling for a PaDD and giving it a quick read. "Lieutenant Jodon Joral...young Trill, but I see he's joined. Entirely your preference and I assure you we will honor it. Do you wish to proceed with Lieutenant Joral as your First Officer, or would you like us to form a search committee and present you with candidates for a new right hand?"

"Lieutenant Joral is relatively new to the ship but is already proving himself to be a capable officer. Thank you for the offer, Admiral, but," Cian said, a mischievous glint sparkling in the depths of his eyes, "but I'm keeping him." The sparkle dropped away as he considered the first part of what she had said and something deeper replaced it. No broken promises. No petty antics masquerading as command decisions. A place that recognized hard work and promoted on merit. "I'm looking forward to being a member of Seventh Fleet."

She flashed a small smile. "I do not know how Lieutenant Jodon Joral is, but if he's anything like his previous host, you may have your hands full in a good way" Admiral McKean said politely. "Captain Joral had quite a reputation for delivering consistently," she stated. "Very well. No reason to break up a power pair. Good luck and godspeed on your Skunil mission, Captain."

"Thank you, Admiral," Cian said. It wasn't until the connection closed, her visage replaced by the Starfleet logo, that the Starfleet officer was replaced, momentarily at least, by the man. He opened a drawer in his credenza wherein sat a small black velvet box. Not all that long ago it seemed, when a different Admiral had dangled the possibility of promotion in front of him, Leonie had given him his Captain's pips; course, it hadn't worked out but he'd kept the box as a reminder not to believe in empty promises. To study actions rather than pretty, meaningless words. He was alone in the universe. No family. dead homeworld. There wouldn't be a smiling family to do this for him and so, he did it himself. Commander became Captain.

And then, he smiled.

A post by:

Captain Cian D'Anvers
Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse

and

Rear Admiral Saoirse McKean [NPC]
Seventh Fleet