Of Commodores and Helmsmen

Posted on Sun Aug 6, 2017 @ 6:36pm by Lieutenant Corsa Yeros & Commodore Michael Aravan

Mission: Strange Matter
Location: Ready Room, Deck 18
Timeline: MD 26, 0915

Finding the captain of the Triumphant was easy but the prospect of actually speaking to him was one that was filling Corsa with slight trepidation. After all he was the master and commander of all souls on board. A position that officers and enlisted crewmen in the Navy both respected and feared. He could order ad hoc corporal punishments, executions for supposed cowardice or dereliction of duty. Starfleet didn't seem to hold a captain to the same dread inspiring standards. Yet Corsa didn't relax even if he was about to meet a human; a species with supposed 'noble' sensibilities that others might take for naivety.

As he stood at the front of the ready room Corsa did a last minute check on his uniform to make sure it was to the utmost standard he would expect of any officers under him. A tug on the jacket here to get rid of any slack, a brush of the pants to smooth out any creases. When he felt he was ready, he pressed the chime on the door and waited.

"Enter!" A male voice filled with confidence in his authority called out and the doors slide aside to reveal a huge black-surfaced table which dominated the center of the room which had a dozen chairs around it. Plants were at the corners of the room and most of one wall was filled with shelves which contained over a dozen species of bonsai trees, some elaborately sculpted around tree houses, some made to look like homes built into the ground and others that looked like they were just starting. Another table off to one side held a decanter of strong black coffee with several cups around it, a bowl containing sweetener and another for some type of cream.

The Commodore was facing one of of trees with a pair of small pruning shears carefully taking a few small limbs off of it.

At the invitation Corsa stepped inside of the office and closed the door behind him. He then made a small series of steps up to the desk and stood to attention. While he had kept his eyes front at the beginning he couldn't help but watch the Commodore with his trees and eyed the sheers with a curious expression before his eyes moved to the front again.

"Lieutenant Yeros, sir. If this a bad time sir I could come back? I didn't mean to interrupt your...green thumb, sir."

"Just a moment, Lieutenant," Michael said, not turning as he made another careful snip and collected the discarded limbs and carried them to the recycler where they were converted back to energy. "Computer, display Lieutenant Yeros," he said before he turned.

The conference room table surface lit up with the Lieutenant face, Starfleet ID number, assignments and his history as Michael headed over to it and looked down at it before he looked up. Then he stopped and looked up again. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

Having ones service record displayed was enough to make anyone a little tense. It was his life in Starfleet opened up for the Commodore to see; from departmental reviews to Academy marks and grades. He rolled his shoulders slightly as he lifted his chin a little higher.

"I have two...things to talk about. One about an altercation and another about an idea myself and Lieutenant Cheshire sort of cooked up. I suppose sir it is up to yourself which is a higher priority."

"These things are normally brought to the Executive Officer," Michael said as he browsed the man's record and stopped when he came to the species. "Traxians....I've heard very little about your people, so in the interest of a first contact of a different order, I'll grant your request."

He moved to the coffee pot and poured a cup and added a scoop of sweetener to it. "Coffee?" he asked over his shoulder.

Corsa opened his mouth to explain before he promptly closed it and shook his head at the offer. "Ah, no sir. Thank you." he said before went on about his offered topics.

"I'd be happy to give you the rundown of us whenever you wish, Commodore. However Lieutenant Cheshire and I had an idea about how to improve fighter landing operations especially during combat. You see normally it seems I would listen to the ATC channel. That's air traffic control, sir. From them I'd inform the fighters before I make erratic turns. If I don't then we risk killing our pilots and damaging the Triumphant with our own fighter complement. So I had an idea of setting up a real time link that produces a trajectory onto the fighters' HUD that allows them to adjust or avoid landing depending on the new vector of the carrier."

"That's funny," Michael said as he turned with his coffee and gave the tall Traxian a level look. "I don't recall saying which of the two items that you mentioned that I'd like to hear first," he said. "Is it your habit to make assumptions on what senior officers wish to hear, Lieutenant Corsa or is that your version of taking initiative?"

Corsa just kept his expression neutral as he straightened himself up. "No answer, sir." he said stoically as he reverted back to his drawn in officer mode. He decided not to take the perceived bait.

"I don't recall asking a rhetorical question," Michael said as he watched the man like a hawk. "As such, I require an answer, Lieutenant."

"I cannot provide an answer, sir. Because I have no answer to provide. I simply do not know." replied the Traxian.

"You don't know, yet you've been assigned to a top of the line starship as the Chief of Flight," Michael mused before he took a sip of his coffee. "You realize that starship commanding officers don't like that answer, don't you? Especially from their department heads."

He paced the length of the conference table and returned to his original spot across from the Flight Chief. "If it weren't for the glowing report from Commander Weisz, I might be inclined to question Starfleet's decision to send you here. Then again, I also got a glowing report about Lieutenant Mirok."

Michael took another drink of his coffee. "Do you want to know why I have all these bonsai trees in my office, Lieutenant Yeros?"

To his credit Corsa didn't once wince or show any emotion at the dressing down. He did look around the room at the trees and couldn't figure out the Commodore's reason behind them. He furrowed his brow in deep thought before he took a wild stab in the dark.

"Well, sir. I can only assume because they give some form of increased oxygen levels? Keep one stimulated in the place of work, as it were."

"Very close, Lieutenant," Michael said. "In fact, that was so good of an answer that I won't hold this incident over your head. By the way, there is actually two answers. One, it helps calm my headaches. Number two, it's because I have to deal with oxygen thieves."

"Now then, your idea of communicating with the fighters," Michael said as if the past few minutes didn't happen."It's a good idea, but did you both take into account the speeds involved of both the fighters and the ship, the delay in communications, and the necessity of taking action before you can transmit the changes in the course of the ship?"

Corsa's shoulders sagged a little before he rolled them up and then back down again. "The theory is still in its infancy and no system is perfect. But it will shave off delay times between me getting updates from the ATC channel and sensors to then transmitting the new headings to the fighters. Naturally doing those tasks when a battle is raging can cause more problems than solutions. The delay time will most likely be present but less so than having to manually update the pilots."

"That's also the reason that the fighters stay far enough away from the ship they're protecting," Michael said. "So those types of accidents don't happen. Now take shields into consideration, which would keep a collision of such a nature from happening. How to propose to work out a system where your proposal actually saves time that beats sensors is the goal you and Lieutenant Cheshire need to work out."

"There are also a number of reasons why fighters would have to land mid-combat. To refuel, rearm or even emergency land if their craft has been damaged by enemy fire." explained Corsa with a rigid expression. "Shields will protect the ship from any collision however...what if rather than expecting the fighters to bring themselves to their supplies...why don't we bring the supplies to them? A refitted runabout that uses ammunition mounts and fuel lines. Of course there is still the risk but any damage to the Triumphant would be severely minimised."

"There are one hundred and fifty fighters on this ship," Michael said. "Of which, two thirds are kept in reserve unless there's an emergency, and of the third that's out, they work in rotations which means there's even less. Sending a runabout out for something like that would be highly dangerous and would require additional protection to keep it safe, which means more fighters would have to be taken out of combat. It isn't feasible."

"Very well, sir." Corsa said with a mild tone of defeat in his voice. "I will defer to your judgement on the matter. There was also the other matter I wanted to speak about. Unless....you had something else in mind?"

"Work with Lieutenant Cheshire on it," Michael said. "Run simulations and drills where these situations happen. See what works and what doesn't. You have the entire Flight department at your command and she's the CAG of our fighters. You both have plenty of holodeck time for these things. Make use of it. Now what's the second matter?"

"It's about Lieutenant Mirok sir. I'm not sure what's been said or if anything has reached your ears about it but we had an....altercation. In which he threw his plate at me." reported Corsa with a cold, business-like manner. "However I would like to state that while the physical altercation was completely one sided I might have aggravated him into the action through accidental cultural insensitivity, sir. By means of comparing the name of a Vulcan philosopher to a...pudding...sir."

Mirok, Michael inwardly groaned the name. "You provoked him by comparing Surak of Vulcan....to a pudding. What inspired you to do this?" he asked, his tone confused and puzzled.

"He mentioned the name of the philosopher and that this Surak supposedly taught Vulcans to suppress their emotions and that he was a pupil of his teachings. He then punched a table when I mentioned his name sounding like a pudding. What prompted the plate throwing was when Lieutenant Mirok mentioned his barring from the Promenade I asked him it was because he had been....fighting with the light posts there.."

"Again, what inspired you do to do this, Lieutenant?" Michael asked as he looked at the bonsai trees and mentally apologized for the oxygen being stolen before he looked back at Yeros.

"I was attempting to hopefully cheer up Lieutenant Mirok through the use of witty banter, sir. He seemed...um...tense." Corsa said with a blink. "I was hoping some verbal sparring might coax him out of his defensive personal shell."

"He's part Romulan and part Vulcan," Michael said. "Although he was raised Romulan and never set foot on Vulcan to my knowledge. Which means he thinks, acts and breathes Romulan. It's a wonder that he joined Starfleet, let alone managed to last almost twenty years in it. Then the moment he joins a new ship, a new crew member decides to engage in witty banner by insulting his Vulcan half by insulting him and then his Romulan half by asking if he was fighting light posts? Did I miss anything?"

"I would say that would be an...accurate summary of the situation, sir." said the Traxian. "Hence why I brought it up. It wasn't his fault that the incident occurred. It was mine."

"Do you know why he isn't allowed access to the Promenade?" Michael asked. "He came to me like you are and proceeded to tell me in Romulan he would do what he wanted and I couldn't stop him if I couldn't understand him. I speak Romulan and the universal translator also knows it. So not only was he upset about that, you decided to egg him on and caused another outburst which ended up in you wearing dinner."

"I can't punish him this time, but I can order you to apologize to him and I want you to study the teachings of Surak so you understand the Vulcan way of life," Michael said. "I also want you to study the pre-Hobus culture of the Romulans."

"Yes sir." Corsa could already see the PADD-work building up with him having to learn about two species; one that was apparently as bland as grey paint and another which had a pre-disposition to fighting with inanimate objects. Still orders were orders.

"Is there anything else, sir? That you wish to know or ask of me?"

"Why did you join Starfleet?" Michael asked him.

The question caught him off-guard. No one had actually asked him why he joined Starfleet. Maybe what he wanted to do or go or see. Never why he had joined in the first place. Confusion had addled his features as he frowned. "To serve, sir." he replied as if the answer was obvious.

"That's not Starfleet's mission," Michael said. "Our mission is to explore and meet new life and new civilizations. Not meet them and antagonize them. Study that philosophy and live it, Lieutenant. You'll do better."

"As you stated before sir this is your first contact with a Traxian. Our reasons for joining are difficult for most to understand." explained Corsa. "Before we were simply citizens of the Kingdom and thus it was expected of us to serve in the military. Before asking anything of society, you give yourself to it. Now were are citizens of the Federation. Our people now have access to advanced technologies for food, medicine, transport. These things were given to us and so in return we give ourselves to the Federation's military. Or at least, the equivalent."

"Starfleet isn't a military organization and your role isn't related to Tactical or Security," Michael pointed out after he listened to the Lieutenant. "We actively seek peace and try to understand other civilizations. Your race is dedicated to military, but we only ask for your service in helping us bring those advanced technologies to other races such as yours and nothing more."

"Not every civilisation has been...keen...on the Federation, though sir. I've read the history of conflicts that the Federation has partaken in. For every Betazed or Risa, there's a Cardassia around the corner. And it's those worlds and peoples that I'm ready for." Corsa replied sternly. "To fly this ship into battle, should it come to that. I believe there is a human saying; si vis pacem, para bellum.. And I am prepared. Not hungry for it. Not looking for one as war is a horrible, terrible waste of lives. But prepared for it. That is the Traxian mentality, sir."

"If you want peace, offer the hand of peace," Michael countered. "While you are correct that there is and always will be species that will never be friendly towards the Federation, I must also point out one example that you used. The Cardassians were once hostile until the end of the Dominion War. Now they are our allies."

"Being bombed by their other allies will do that, sir." the Traxian stated. "But those unwilling to use force of action will always be subject to those that are willing. The Breen thought as such as they wandered into our space thinking that they could expand their territories. I can give you the summary historical notes if you want, sir?"

"I would appreciate that, Lieutenant," Michael said as he finished his coffee. "But for those unwilling to use force, that is where they find unity among the United Federation of Planets. With over one hundred and fifty planets and they are willing to come together to help each other in times of need."

"And that is what my people offer to the Federation. We don't have any new, advanced technologies. Any star charts of wonderful scientific discoveries to offer the Federation. All we have is our tactics and our willingness to put ourselves on the line for the Federation. For our crews, our captains. It's who we are sir. We are a people who value selflessness. It is the core pillar of our society. To throw ourselves into the fire without doubt or fear so others do not have to. Traxian officers are trained to follow orders to the letter. Whatever it might be. We are...hardened through a rather strenuous training regime."

With that Corsa inclined his head before he let out a breath as his once perfect composure darkened. "The Breen however...they had been building their forces to assist the Dominion but the Treaty of Bajor had come before they could be deployed. So they came for other neighbouring star systems. Including us. Neutral worlds, you see? And they cut deep into our space with overwhelming speed and aggression. However as their supply lines stretched and ours shortened their momentum stopped. We held the line until slowly we began to push them back. It was then we began to do things to hurt them so much that holding the ground they had taken would be...costly."

"What made you choose Flight instead of Tactical or Security?" Michael asked, curious. "It seems that with the history of your people, you would be best suited there, if not for the Marines."

"Ever warship needs a pilot. It seemed prudent that given my military experience behind helm controls to pick Flight. I'd have a head start at whatever Starfleet Academy would provide and it means I wouldn't have to go through a vast amount of re-training." explained the Traxian. "Starfleet Academy was...different from the Naval Academy. Very different."

"While the Triumphant may have the capabilities of a warship, we're still a ship of exploration," Michael said. "Your job will be to take us out of harm's way when it's encountered if possible, not lead the charge into the fray unless we're coming to the rescue of someone in need."

"My job is to follow orders, sir." Corsa said with his steeled resolve having returned. "Fight or flee. It matters not what commands I'm given. As long as they are followed."

"I require my crew and especially my department heads to offer advice, also," Michael said. "Even if I disagree with that advice, it's what I ask for."

Corsa furrowed his brow a little at that. There was an uncomfortable silence before he tilted his head. "What exactly can I advise you on, sir? You're the commanding officer. I'm just the pilot."

"Courses to take, maneuvers to execute, or even advice on an area that we'll be going through," Michael said. "There's a lot that Flight offers a ship."

"I see, sir. It will take some time for me to get used to advising a superior officer. The idea is rather...unorthodox."

"It's one of the joys of being senior staff, Lieutenant," Michael said. "Even ship commanders need advice and the senior staff are they ones they turn to for that advice."

"That will...take some time to get used to, sir." admitted Corsa with a shrug. "I'll see that I'm up to the challenge."

"Good," Michael said. "You'll fight right in. Is there anything else?"

"Exploration is a very...broad mission. Have we any specific mission objectives?" asked Corsa.

"I expect orders will be coming in tomorrow," Michael said. "Until then, take your time getting to know your department."

"Yes sir. Will that be all, sir? Any questions for me?"

"I think you've answered everything sufficiently for now, Mister Yeros," the Commodore said as he deactivated the table. "Dismissed."

With that Corsa came to sharp attention before he made an about turn and marched out of the Ready Room.