Compensation

Posted on Mon Mar 24th, 2025 @ 7:25pm by Civilian Resident Judah Capek & Fleet Captain Quinton Beck & Master Steward Othor Jaxz

2,426 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Sola Arcturus
Location: Conference Lounge- Second Star
Timeline: Previously: https://secondstar.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/viewpost/150

-Start-

{Fala’s Office/Conference Lounge}

“Holy cow… talk about overkill.” Othor stared at the view screen as he was wasn’t on instruments during the battle, so this recitation was his first encounter with the details and timeline. They all sat at the conference table for their after action report, it was supposed to be the conference lounge but Fala had made it her private office suite.

The five of them all considered the screen and holo-display of the events. The Calliopa was huge, and despite numerous strikes from the plasma cannon stitched onto a century old Klingon cutter, it held together defiantly.

Emerging from warp to save the day, the Second Star was beautiful as it opened fire to dissuade the raiders, pulsing ribbons fired akimbo to make a valorous showing. The wild radius of attack his several of the cloaked vessels in their unshielded state, the whole affair looked like a fireworks show, however to one at the table, it was an expensive show.

“Quinton!” Fala gave her customary screech, but before she said anything else he held her with a look and answered both of them.

“There were nine vessels all together, two of them cloaked, we needed to make an entrance.”

"Why did we engage nine vessels in the first place?" She had a point, but so did he, Quinton answered, "Six of them were centuries old Raptors, souped up weapons yes, but our medium settings pasted them."

Fala recited a list by memory despite only having just assembled it, “A medial response to include Fourteen Merculite Torpedoes, six decaliters warp plasma, full system reset of all weapons panels, four coils burned out entirely-"

"We were shot at, and I had to fire back, we didnt take hull damage but-“

Othor prompted in, "We did actually, the shields in aft port quarter buckled, but armor plating held.

Kas harrumphed, “We took the brunt of the hits to the shields, and are doing fine.”

Fala nearly threw the pad, but restrained herself thankfully. “We won’t make our cargo pickup, and just lost it to a competitor. We are towing a vessel twice our size and consuming massive resources in the process.”

Quinton sighed, “Fala, we can’t charge them, so what are you saying?”

She spoke plainly, “I want a replicator. One of their Industrial Matter Forges.”

Othor laughed but realized then she wasn’t kidding.

Kas balked as well, “So then how are we different from the pirates?

The old Ferengi didn’t hesitate, “We will ask ask nicely.”

Quinton shook his head, “No, those are the beating hearts of new colonies. Enough…. We answered a call for help, we told Starfleet we would, let’s see if they can give us compensation like we talked about when this shindig was incepted?”

Fala stared in a way that was both pitying and insulting. “They are a moneyless economy dear. What is hard to understand?”

Othor agreed, “To that end, this is a rescue they sent us on, we qualify for credit towards repairs, refueling, it's a sanctioned response to distress. Even without our mandate Starfleet would patch us up”

“So we are restored to what we were before going deep into the red by changing course in the first place. And not the torpedoes, at .7L a pop we might as well use champagne to put out fires.”

Quinton tried to lighten the mood, "We only have sparkling wine on board."

The joke fell utterly flat, and Othor rubbed salt by adding, "Oh, because its not from France."

The Captain knew his Shipmaster was doing her job so he didnt push the argument or try to have he back down. He met her where she lived,"Repair, Restock...Refit some of our most weird issues on board even... they won't patch us up worse for wear, they'll get into the crannies." He began his negotiation with an offer, and kept adding things as Fala growled in simmering anger. "... and a personal replicator for your office, Starfleet grade, programmed with a deep menu..."

She understood well enough what's done was done, and endeavored to make it worth her while. She snarled, "Free service and resupply, refit the Deuterium intake system, I'm getting that replicator, Shore Leave during this repair period with a stipend for the crew, gratis accommodations..."

A Ferengi in a right anger would ask for a beating heart to settle such deals, Kas knew much of this wasn't going to happen, "Is that all Fala, we can have them repaint the war striping?"

She didn't catch the sarcasm, "Yes, good idea... and a Baryon Sweep!"

Quinton tried not to laugh but she was being over dramatic, "Ok thats enough, you know they'll do whatever was agreed to and nothing else unless we ask nicely. We did a good thing, saved lives, and didn't get hurt ourselves beyond a mangled armor plate."

Fala was still angry, "The loss to reputation is severe. We are becoming known as the Starfleet Pet that does their bidding. We've dropped cargo or canceled missions to answer distress calls too many times!"

Othor concurred, "I have had this impression as well dealing with the insurance and reimbursements of these raids. Four cargo drops, three canceled jobs, three jobs lost because we were unable to get to them in time that went to competitors-"

Kas felt her lip curl in contempt, "Are we supposed to keep going then, when we get the call?"

Quinton answered, "We have to answer the call, that doesn't change. If we can help we will."

Fala spat in a frothy fervor as she yelled, "We aren't a rescue vessel, we aren't equipped or trained, If you want to be a hero fighting pirates Starfleet is the place for you. We are a business with employees who expect to be kept out of danger, with our own mission to fulfill."

Her tone and rebuke laid bare the basic argument, and was unassailable.

With his deep voice breaking an uncomfortable silence Othor spoke, "We can be noble but if our clients think we will dump their cargo to run off and save the day... we are not going to make this venture work."

Ever so thankful for the backup, Fala added, "The Reserve Merchant Fleet runs on its own devices. It doesn't work any other way. Starfleet chose to retire the vessels not worth their time to keep in service ready condition. But what you showed them, was the desire to make it worth all of our time, outside of Starfleet. We aren't supposed to be a military service, we do not have a duty to act. We can make exceptions and have them repair us, but it must be rare or the burden on Starfleet becomes untenable."

Truth had a piercing effect, especially when both parties arguing realize it. Fala was right, and Quinton was right. The impasse wasn't one of competence or morals, but pragmatic realization. Finding this derelict vessel had changed all of their lives. Quinton had found his Captain's spirit, Kas had space for her family to come live with her, Othor fulfilled a promise he made to the young man Quinton once was after his daddy disappeared. Fala had sunk her entire fortune into refitting this vessel and making it her business.

"Ok, I hear you, and I respect that noble intentions aren't going to sell our services, just our characters. You're right, the whole merchant fleet operates on non Starfleet support, self sustaining and repairing."

Othor wanted to drive the point home gently but resoundingly, "Starfleet is also equipped and has the most modern technology available, trained crews dedicated to saving life and willing to take those chances. Our crew agreed for a job with the possibility of adventure, not a mercenary cruise. If we become a beacon of strength we only invite stronger challengers."

His old friend and mentor had done a good job, Quinton leaned back in his chair to think. Kas sat next to him silent, but they had worked so long in the same space he had a link to her inner monolog.

He heard her thoughts as loudly as his own...She's thinking: "We will respond to every distress call. I'd go crazy if we skipped over anyone and they died unnecessary deaths.

Speaking aloud Fala added, "Not to mention we have responsibilities to our crew to not put them in danger unless its absolutely necessary. Starfleet will simply have to patrol this area more completely and we need our reputation as the tanker which tanks through the opposition no matter how dense."

Judah piped over comms, "Sorry! But ahhhhh there's a distress call. Two actually? That group we scared off went and found other targets, or somehow doubled in number? There's lots of them!"

Fala looked at him, "Call Starfleet Quinton, we can't rush head long-"

The captain and his XO had already gotten up to leave the table, returning to the bridge.

"Report Judah?!"

On screen, the positioning of local ship traffic showed their locations respective to each other. This sector had a major corridor through it thanks to all the trading opportunities it afforded. Lately though, piracy had returned in force. Transponder tags from their engagement not twelve hours before were at both battle sites.

The distress calls were both playing, saying the same thing. Klingons, Gorn, Pakled, Yridians even... the same crew who had just stolen half the cargo from the Calliopa preying on others. The sudden ambush also suggested this was a planned event, with cloaked raiders waiting along the unsecure path.

Kas called out from her station at Tactical, "Captain just like the Calliopa... these are all resupplies for Federation colony worlds, I have Starfleet ID's. These were supposed to be secret, secured routes."

Quinton heard everything, and was still in consideration of their conversation. But what it came down to was honestly saving lives. Letting people die when there was a chance to save them was not something he planned to be okay with or codify. There was one thing he needed to do, and that was to get the crews consent.

"Judah open intership... Attention, Attention. All Hands to stations, we have another one folks. Before we rush headlong as some would say I want to take a moment and ask something of all of you... We run this ship as an independent company of the Federation, using a Starfleet vessel they had thought long destroyed, which we have returned to life. Hundreds like us now fly across the quadrants, and a question has been raised. Do we respond to every call, or just the ones we feel safe to handle? There is no shame or judgement, the question has been asked in good faith, for good reasons. The commitment to danger as a possibility is not something your employment contracts ask you to do. So I am implementing a vote. Over the next five minutes, as we travel to our first call, I will ask for you to vote. Open polling for your profile at any station, reply to the poll I just sent. I will announce results when they are complete, vote now."

Everyone onboard had their own crew profile with inbox and other sundry digital needs. The poll which was just created sprang into view for each user at their next station.

Voting Open. Please Select-

A: Answer distress call- [Details]
B: Keep safe- [Details]

VOTE:

The devil was in the details, literally. When people clicked the link to the details a replay of the distress signals was on speakers. Throughout the ship echoes and overlapping audio spelled the soon to be disaster for two other vessels. The details on "Keep safe" revealed ten vessels, many of them glorified gunboats the size of runabouts, or Raptors, and D7's which individually weren't a threat, but those numbers weren't irrelevant. The other site showed Kr'torg had his prize command ship, a Zakdorn Cruiser he stole long ago, but no other ships of the nine there capable of giving them pause. They could win them individually one at a time, but could they do both?

Everyone on the bridge entered theirs quickly, and Quinton decided to wait for the results before looking. He did ask Kas, "Is this going to help things?"

She didn't reply verbally, but leveled a gaze at him which suggested she didn't have an answer.

Fala was already tabulating, "Hazard pay for the day anyway, if we had to do it, might as well do it now, before the next rollover..."

The Captain focused ahead, "Judah set course for the 'Rigby', send word to 'Cha Fromm' we are assisting another linked attack and will be on hand if we are able as soon as possible, to bunker down and outlast. Are there any Starfleet vessels responding?"

"There is a Miranda class tugantine "USS Elixir" fourteen minutes away at maximum warp... and they are responding at maximum! There are two other merchant vessels "'F'edryr', and 'Andamaj'... Surak Class, and Ch'aana Class who have pledged assistance with us."

A Vulcan Surveyor, and a Rigelian Long haul cruiser. Both had amazing shielding, The Vulcans had decent firepower to boot.

"Route Starfleet and Fedyr, and Andamaj to Site B." He also asked, "What about that other vessel, the one which patrols here usually, out of 109?

"Thunderchild was rendered inoperable, it is in dockyard at Starbase 109."

The console beeped less than two minutes after he sent the poll. Unanimous decision, it was a write in.

Vote Results:

C- "Both"


The cheekiness of the reply made him smile. He love these people, this life. Two other vessels responding and a bona fide cavalry coming in thirteen minutes, they wanted both, he could do that.

Quinton pointed, "What's fun is rarely easy. Focus on one at a time, same tactics, scanning for cloaked vessels shifting screens. Be ready to high tail it."

Fala had gone back to the lounge for contemplation, Othor was beaming as well, "Well done, this may become a fleet standard for us."

The Captain shook his head to disagree, "I hope it stays a rare event. I'm here to experience new worlds, new civilizations. So are they. I am actually worried about just becoming another wing of the Starfleet machine if this keeps up. You were right, we must be seen for what we are, and not what we appear to be."

Kas ended the whinging, "But today, we are answering the call."

-END-

 

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