Reserve Merchant Fleet

Posted on Thu Jan 25th, 2018 @ 8:31am by Second Mate Quinton Beck & MERCHANT RANKS Fala Gaz (NPC)

3,824 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: A good start...
Location: Second Star Engine room
Timeline: May 25th 1005, 2393

-Start-

{Second Star- Engine Room}

Fala and Beck stood glaring at Captain Douglas and Commander Allen, the final stage of a long process nearly at its end. Douglas had claimed everything, left them with nothing but the deck-plates, made them replace every item that was vital to operations at full cost. Pure spite, and pure efficiency blending into a bill for indentured service. His tour had seen the most inconsequential pieces of tech removed for no justifiable reason beyond making it more difficult for them to replace and repair the parts for the ship. The four of them awaited the forklifts halting and erratic motion to Engineering deck 7. No words were exchanged, they had all been articulated at a high volume earlier that day. Every hurdle raised had been cleared, and it seemed apparent they would leave this star base intact despite the efforts of the Rampart and Crew.

In the four hours since docking over five hundred new souls had invaded the ship, answering the call of the Ferengi ShipMaster. The Rampart had tried to intervene at every stage, commandeering them without evidence, planting evidence even. It was sending over armed men posing as Engineers that had been the final blow for Beck. He stood side by side with Fala, their kinship renewed. Douglas had been thorough in dismantling everything on the ship so far, but it was their personal Warp core, ripped from the former Second Star Hull he laid his eyes on.

"All of it...Junk it... if it's out of code pull it..." Captain Douglas and four technicians carrying heavy tools and grav carts stood at the pool table master display. The display was being re-assembled in parts, repaired or scuttled in others, parts lay everywhere and the men began to pick them up.

Captain Douglas didn't realize how close to the brink of disaster he was. Chief Callahan couldn't proceed until this parlor play was over, half the work he did got undone in this overzealous crusade. His technicians all now stood at the entrance to the Engine room, the long corridor leading to the dim green core staffed by milling crew. His voice carried and caught the ear of all of them.

"Nothing to see here, I know you all got more to do, get to it!" Chris smirked as his people jumped to.

Chris had only been aboard for a few days, hell he'd only been employed by these people for two days! He was a very passionate man, and an engineer down to his soul. Hearing the words junk it grated on his nerves. It was a phrase used by those who had no understanding of the art, and beauty of the trade. Fala and Quinton seemed to be competent and under impossible odds. That was their job, he had his. They were standing at the door, holding Douglas at bay even now.

He'd already put in quite some effort getting things working the way he'd have liked, and he had a mountain of work ahead of him to get it all in shape. Their didn't have time to deal with this man's sheer stupidity, Launch was continually delayed, but the idea was ASAFP.

Wiping his dirty hands off on a rag he tossed it down and walked over to where the other people were standing.

"With all due respect," he said, his voice showing just how little respect he meant, "You aren't touching anything in my engine room without first his," he said, nodding to his new Captain, "And then my authorization." He added, finishing his thought, and giving the Starfleet officer a stony glare. "So stop what you're doing right now."

He gave it just enough time for his deadly seriousness to sink in, mostly for the technicians, nervous at the confrontation, to stop collecting items. Chris wasn't a large man but he was furious, dirty, covered in minor burns smudges, streaks and wasn't wearing a shirt under his work coveralls. He looked fairly fearsome without meaning to, so it only completed the image as he turned around and walked back to where he'd been, sinking his hands back into the console. He was the guardian to the room, it's caretaker, positioned to defend it.

Quinton glowered at him, agreeing with his Chief, "Enough already, that is our property, you can't justify touching it."

Fala nodded in approval, "That is most correct Captain Douglas. That Warp core was pulled from the ship we arrived in, and is our property. As are the EPS taps, Warp Coils, Stem Bolts, and even the innumerable cursed pressure regulating valves that your Corps so cruelly forced us to purchase at Market Value!"

Captain Douglas motioned for Commander Alan, among the people in his entourage to move past Beck and begin the process of shutting it all down. He had menace in his eyes, vendetta on the heart, she was his agent.

"Oh but I can remove it," Douglas proudly chestbeat, The shape of the coil housing embouchure is proprietary to this class of ship as others in service still exist. We have to remove the whole Field Coil Assembly in both Nacelles, your precious core... is in the way."

Captain Beck stepped to Commander Alan, physically blocking her way, she chose to look to Douglas before making any action, both of them ready for the brawl. Douglas was wearing his sidearm, the loose swagger he held leaving his fingers close, brushing the holster on his belt. Quinton had a fast hook and jab, and a was a quick draw...

Fala felt the tickle on her back, like a bead of sweat that trailed her whole spine in an instant, the one that always advised one thing.

Run.

Douglas nodded and Allen moved to grab Quinton Beck, who twisted away as she said, "Remove yourself from my path or you will be remanded-

Beck cut her off with his motion and resistance, "Is this how Starfleet handles it business these days? You play God with our lives, and when we dare to defy your conventions, rise to the impossible mark you set... this show of force is what you are left with. Cruel and small minds devising sad little plots."

Sara Alan looked unsure as she stared back at her captain, he seemed determined to take this ship out of their hands. It was her duty to back his play, and Douglas was opening his mouth to speak "Put him down."

From nowhere, salvation bloomed.

A stern voice, avuncular and deep, seemed to take his breath away. "Captain Douglas, I trust you have conducted a thorough enough examination of the ship. I see no need to dismantle an entire warp core." It was a rich voice, molasses on a clean slate poured over velvet. Captain Douglas lost the swagger immediately, snapping to attention.

Admiral Whitaker Ferrell the Leader of Task Force 17 and Lt. jg N'tach rounded the bend to main Engineering moments before, privy to the conversation preceding. Ferrell had the face of a Diplomat, it was clear he saw the gunfight in its earliest rounds about to start. He was large, light skinned, head full of salt and pepper strands of silver and black. He looked very familiar to Fala, but the connection was not quite there.

Quinton Beck still wasn't ready to breathe, Admiral Ferrell did little to calm him, seemingly making him more agitated. They were all Starfleet, they had demanded the ship be brought to specs in every possible way. They had demanded a minimum crew, with escape pods and backup provisions in store with service regulation standards. All they had, every scrap and resource, their homes liquidated and the lands they owned leased and sold, every dime they asked from the crew added to the prize and now they were here. They had earned this ship, bled and died for it. Fala felt the tickle, the familiar sensation, but knew she was invested with more than her money, and would stand and fight for it too. Fala saw them both, thinking the game was truly over.

Quinton had his hand positioned to pull as well, it was surreal but a shootout with Starfleet was looming. She pulled her pocket phaser, palming it without aiming it, disguising the motions in her shaky rage, "By the Nagus, I will have Captain Beck fly us straight through those cargo bay doors, you will not cheat me from what is rightfully mine!"

The Admiral held up his hand in a gesture to calmly stand down. In a gentle, soothing voice he continued, a Carolinas drawl backing the words.

"Hold that thought, N'tach has brought me up to speed on everything.

Alan flared her nostrils as she spat her accusation, "You went over the captains head. Where's the honor in that?"

The Admiral seemed to be having fun, but didnt suffer fools gladly.

"Control your officers Captain." Douglas censured Commander Alan, beckoning her to come to his side again. Ferrell continued, "If protocol had been followed I would have been well enough informed to intercede in this ugly business long ago. N'tach followed the spirit of his duty, a far more important factor in service than dogmatic adherence to its letter."

Commander Alan sneered, "I hope that satisfies your Klingon honor then N'tach."

"Douglas I see you can neither control yourself or your crew. Commander Alan I find you xenophobia distasteful," interjected Ferrell.

"Starfleet lacks for honor duels," replied N'Tach to Commander Alan. "It is your honor that is sullied."

Beck simply looked amused as Douglas swallowed hard when the Admirals voice washed over them. By all accounts a miracle was occurring before his eyes as N'Tach and Admiral Ferrell saved them from the fire. Fala shared his amused grin, and they simply watched.

"Admiral, I cannot believe you would take the report of a junior officer-

"Captain! I'll Remind You, Lt. N'Tach is here on Exchange from the Klingon Empire. His rank is a moot point compared to the insights and experiences this program brings for both our peoples."

Commander Alan picked up a direct link device, intent to toss it in the cart as trash, because it looked old but it was in fine working shape. The greasy and worn parts rattling in her grasp as she glanced around disdainfully at everything around her, derision was her mask. Her lack of regard and affection showed in the gesture as she held it awkwardly. She had never used a manual power tool, and felt working with her hands was base.

"Admiral, with all due res-" She was cut off suddenly by a stony gaze from Captain Douglas, the kind she had only ever seen employed in grave situations. He was serious, and it was only now apparent they were in danger of something.

With iron in his voice, the Admiral replied, "Wise restraint Commander. More moves like that will keep you further from words like court martial and discharge. You wouldn't want to venture into that territory. Captain, I advise you seek solace on your own vessel. I trust you have the good sense to comport yourself in a manner befitting an officer of your rank. Show me you can bare your stripes... on with you now."

Commander Alan remained silent in objection to the mishandling she was receiving. This would be in her report, no need to say it now. Captain Douglas was in career damage control mode, and merely said, "Admiral" by way of parting and the two left quickly. The scrabbling techs glad to be out of there as well, they vanished around the bend in an instant.

N'tach pointed at the device in Sara Alans hands as she left, loudly saying, "That doesn't belong to you."

Sara tried to be nonchalant but the look in her eyes wasnt masked, she felt hatred towards N'tach. She dropped it idly at her boots as they walked down the corridor and away. Ferrell shook his head slightly disdainfully.

"He's committed a great many misdeeds but you have to admire tenacity when you see it. Every tool has its purpose, I suppose," observed the admiral as they left the room. "And now I must address the matter at hand. It seems have stumbled upon quite a cache of," his smile dissolved for the briefest moment, " We'll say oddities and paraphernalia."

Fala and Beck exchange a nervous glance. Beck withdrew his hand from the holster however.

"Oh don't worry. You'll need all the help you can get on the commission I have in store for you, that is if you choose."

Quinton had not expected this, his curious attitude towards Ferell was obvious to Fala now as well. Starfleet would ask the impossible, and when they failed to meet the standards have the rug ripped from beneath them. This was worse, to have met the insane criteria and intentionally exclusive protocols only to still have the answer be, "No."

"I must not have heard you correctly, Admiral. I have not heard of any bids." Interrupted Fala as she smiled and pointed to her lobes.

"You have heard me correctly," replied the admiral grinning. "And might I add I admire your recent ascension in the chambers of Ferengi commerce. If you'd do me the honor of hearing my proposition, it's in writing as well." He handed Fala a Padd, which she took quickly, her eyes darting and reading a mile a minute.

Beck had been quiet, as was his usual tactic in these situations, however the precipice beneath them was a tiresome burden. A tension existed between the two men, but Beck was ready for the denouement.

"Broad Strokes, do we keep the ship?"

Ferrell was keeping a very level tone and even face, but there was definite joy as he said, "Yes."

Fala smiled widely, "We will of course need that in writing as well."

Without directly replying he did look at her and nod, to Beck he said "What will you do with it? Have you given thought to your future?"

Beck watched a scene unfold before his eyes. The umbilical dock allowed people to walk freely onto the ship. From this vantage he was close enough to witness Ina and the three Children of Kas, Avor and Dure embrace on the shipside dock. Kas had always been distant when her family came up, now they were here, a Family. Dure had been killed, he couldnt imagine the pain they all must be in. Together, they would endure because they had each other, together. He couldn't hear anything being four decks removed but the tableau was perfect for what he needed to say.

"A home."

Spoken in such a way as to provoke the deepest sympathies for those who have no place to call home. Ferrell was convinced now, he knew sincerity when he saw it. The records they had pulled on each of these people had told such tales. These were the people, they would set the mold.

"Then I can offer you your home. It won't be without its Amortizations, but I'll see to it there's no lingering doubt. You've long since paid the price and proven your mettle, and I'm sorry we... I must apologize that Captain Douglas took the liberty of committing such unjust actions."

Beck was quick to interject, "Amortizations?"

"The finer details have yet to be resolved, suffice it to say we are creating a place for ships and crews like you. One of my aides used the term "Reserve Merchant Fleet" which I find suits my purposes. You wont be Starfleet, even though you fly in one of our ships.

Fala and Beck tripped over one another in their attempt to step forward to physically emphasize them saying in tandem, "Our ship-" Beck, bemused, ceded the floor to her. "We've done as you asked, there is nothing to stop us from leaving here. Will you release us from your custody or are we prisoners?

Ferell tipped his head and smiled at the Wiley Ferengi, "My greatest concern is Star Fleet's integrity. If our little experiment is to succeed you are to remember that this ship bares the Star Fleet standard. It's image will effect how others interact with you, and your actions may cause undue trouble for the Federation. I trust you will at least do me the courtesy of abstaining from any inter species incidents." Ferell looks to N'Tach. His expression was one of respect. "For your first commission all I require is a simple trade run. No more no less. I'll see to it if you carry it out we repay you in reducing the debt off your repairs."

"Simple..." scoffed Beck, in an an incredulous tone. "I hear that word and I start to worry. What is this arrangement exactly, we are vassals, couriers under lock and key?"

Fala also added, following up with Beck, "You say Commission which implies payment, what are we carrying and whats the consignment?"

Ferrell was limited in what he could say, plausible deniability still being a factor. "Trade in this region between the Federation and the Talarian Republic has been mutually beneficial, however, in recent months ships along trade routes have been disappearing. We need to ensure this shipment of basic medical, replicator and various industrial-"

N'Tach was not one to hedge words, the admiral may not be able to say what needed to be said but he could. "Among our cargo is a tetrionic array. It will be used for scans from Starbase 214." N'tach supplied the details Ferrell couldn't admit to know. "We are aiding in the location of a raiding party operating in fringes of Talarian space where Starfleet cannot go."

Nodding pleasantly, the Admiral, "If you may uncover anything that compromises trade please report it to the Talarian authorities."

Beck wasn't happy, his gaze had narrowed to N'tach and he was looking for duplicity. He had trusted N'Tach to be honorable over the usual obligations to duty Starfleet officers held to, he trusted him now.

Fala was hammering him with questions as well as typing on the keypad, "Retention of the Cargo sale, we keep the tetrionic scanner, credits to compensate expenditures-" She was communicating with two other people at Starbase 214, both trying to keep up with her. In moments a legal framework was in place, many of these on the fly innovative business techniques would survive for the centuries to follow practically unchanged.

Beck was halfway listening when Fala gave the registry, "NXS Second Star- Reserve Merchant Fleet."

It was happening, and fast. Beck needed to make a stand on one thing before anything else happened, "So we are clear, I don't intend on putting this ship in harms way. We arent your pawns. Why do we have to serve Starfleet if we are masters of this vessel? Is Intelligence trying to build a garrison on my ship are we just a glorified cover for some shell game you are running? Why should we go through this, if it is legally ours?!"

Without any emotion, Ferrell simply said, "Amortizations."

Quinton looked at Fala, there was more to say, but he needed her out of earshot. "Could you start on this, I think I need to talk to the admiral alone for a moment."

Fala didnt even bat an eye at the weird tension between the two men, she had far larger endeavors in mind. As she walked away Admiral Ferrell turned and slowly walked in the other direction. Beck took a breath to steel himself and followed.

"Why are you here?" He asked Ferrell's back as they overlooked the loading port.

"Your Mother always wanted us to be a family. Sorry if things never worked out the way she liked."

Quinton barely knew the man, but to hear him speak of his mother... "You're sorry? The fleet took all of them from me. I lost all of them due to Starfleet wars fought far from here. Starfleet took my family and you don't get to suddenly be there for me! You werent even at her funeral so-"

Ferrell turned on Beck in anger, he was not about to be taken to task for this, "Battle of Amarantha took two months and three weeks to plan and carry out, it saved over ten billion lives so excuse me if I miss my Maquis sisters funeral. I am here now, you were going to leave here with nothing but I put my reputation on the line saying you were a man who could be trusted."

"If this is a favor then this ends now. I leave a man under my own power or I fight and lose, leave like you said with nothing."

"Hell, Quinton, did you see the Ferengi? She has six layers of legal security, and a intelligence outfit I'd never hire myself for fear of a coup. You have threats a plenty on this ship by this point. Keep your eye on her, Sheila... she's more of a threat then I am.

Quinton had relaxed a bit, replying more conversationally, "Sheila.. is she Intelligence? Can you call her off?"

Admiral Ferrell let the question sit. No of course he couldn't interfere. So he asked something else.
"Will we ever be allowed to own this ship?"

"You are on a rent to own lease yes, but it has terms that are reasonable. It's a good offer, and you may just start something new in the Federation."

Now Beck was really confused, torn between resenting the man or listening to him. He had trusted the intuitions which had gotten him to this point and they told him to listen further. Ferrell had more to say, and his face softened.

"She was my sister, and yes I wasn't there, but you never contacted me. Not once. I reached out to you, I reached out to Jack, but I didnt just lose my sister you see. You had a choice, you got to walk away and choose to shut me out son. I didnt choose that, I didnt want that. You've spent your life doing half measures of what you could have been doing all along as a legend. So here. Olive Branch and all, is my outreach. Stop hiding in the shadows, start embracing who you are."

Silent this whole time, Beck felt no words come to him to break the trend.

Ferrell grabbed his shoulder, "You don't have to wear the uniform, but I hope you understand what it means to wear this. That your family didnt leave you, that... when we serve, it is to something greater than we are. You just reach out to me when you drop off that cargo okay?"

Forced to reply, and with a sudden gratitude he never realized was possible, Quinton held his hand out for Ferrell.
They shook hands, and he finally spoke,
"We'll get it done. Thank you."

-END-

Conclusion to "A Good Start"

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