From: Kenneth Field (envision_at_fidalgo.net)
Date: Wed Jan 02 2008 - 16:54:51 PST
============ "Footnote" ============ Location: MEDUSA station Star Date: 2423 [2.8] 0102.1557 Scene: Ready Room Like everything on MEDUSA station, the table was state of the art. It's horizontal surface had no visible means of support. Bursting with pride, the CEO had explained the clever use of technology. It was, in fact, entirely liquid in its construction. Without the constant influx of zero-point energy, the whole table would be nothing more than a strange puddle on the floor. Thanks to the wonders of Starfleet Engineering, it was solid. It resisted the pull of gravity and the weight of elbows, coffee cups and PADs. Although the Ready Room was far from any exterior wall, a realtime image of the MEDUSA Nebula appeared on the glass-smooth surface of the table. The phenomenon was a constant explosion of color. Although the table was at the cutting edge of technology, Captain Sharpa's chair was ancient. It was made of leather, and it creaked softly as the Captain sat down. "Sisyphus," the Child of Tama sighed. Refering to the figure of Greek legend, Sharpa repeated, "Sisyphus, his shoulder to the stone." The sublime table held a stack of extremely mundane reports. Sharpa turned his attention to the first. With the eyes of a veteran officer, he scanned the display screen. Satisfied, he signed the report and entered it into the ship's archive. About a third of the way through the stack, the Captain read something that made his heart sink. <<From the Office of Starfleet Personnel. Deceased: Gene McInnis.>> In less than ten words, an entire life was brought to an end. "Arlington," Sharpa murmured. "White markers in tidy rows." There were no details in the report. Sharpa wondered if his old friend had suffered. The Captain ran his dark hand over the smooth surface of the table. "Viewer off," he instructed. The table went dark. In his lifetime, the veteran officer had seen great strides in technology. Starfleet engineering had produced miracles. But it wasn't technology that made Starfleet into a great power, Sharpa mused silently to himself, it was people like McInnis. Even if technology failed, people like McInnis would find a way to succeed -- to do the right and necessary thing. "Arthur," Sharpa intoned like a blessing. "King Arthur, carried across the mists to Avalon." Rising from the table, Sharpa opened a storage compartment and withdrew a dusty bottle of Scotch. Returning to the table, he pushed the reports aside. The Captain poured the amber liquid into two glasses. Slowly, he drank from one glass and thought about the man who should be drinking from the other. ------------------------- NRPG: In memory of Gene McInnis. -------------------- NRPG: Mike Huber played the inimitable Captain Sharpa, Gene's first commanding officer aboard the USS SUTTNER. I am gratified beyond words that he took the time to come back to me with this post. Thank you, Mike. You always were one of the good ones. -- Kenneth s to have specialized training in the protection of a society’s resources. That doesn’t imply that civilians do not have a less specialized duty to protect their own spheres within that domain. If a civilian isn’t able, that’s one thing. But we can give them the rudimentary knowledge they should have anyways.” “This isn’t Andoria, Lieutenant. Not everyone learns to fight with a multi-edged razor from the age of two,” Bret said, frustration bleeding into his words. “It’s not at the age of two and not everyone learns how to do it, but most do,” Eishnala defensively remarked. “You’re using hyperbole.” “That may be, but my point stands. The Starfleet Command agreed many on a set of combat norms and that involves us bending over backwards to protect civilians. It’s a good thing I’m flexible,” Mav noted. Eishnala’s brow furrowed, her antennae had snapped backwards. The woman vaguely felt the desire to know the man down, but thought better of it. Mav continued, “Plus, even if the civies do fight well in this conflict, we’re setting an awful precedent within the laws of war.” “The Dominion has *never* respected any laws of war,” Eishnala said harshly. “New Bajor proved that. The silence of our colonies just confirms it.” “The Dominion may not, but some of our other opponents have. If we use civilians to fight our battles that just increases the likeliness that our enemies will deliberately target them in warfare. We need to maintain the sanctity of that civilian status as a protected class within civilized notions of warfare.” One of the marines that often stood guard in Ops due to the heightened risk of attack from infiltrators leaned over to his peer. “Who knew the colonel was philosophical?” The other man, a Vulcan, whispered back, “He’s not usually. I guess fighting with and for your kid gives you a few insights. Or he’s just full of surprises. Maybe someone gave him a copy of T’Pen’s ‘Right Warfare’?” “I think Vulcan war manuals might be a little dry for the Colonel’s tastes.” “T’Pen is actually a brilliant lyricist. Writings from her era are characterized by an attempt to capture the nature of the lute within words,” the Vulcan said, stiffening a little. “ ‘To capture the nature of the lute within words,’” the human man mirrored back. “I didn’t know you were so into literature.” “I studied the great works for many years, but my kind often have more than one carrier. Conference papers were intriguing, but as I reached my 125th birthday, I realized I need a change of pace that Academia just did not provide me.” “What ever you say, ‘Professor’,” the human said. “Professor?” “It’s a nickname.” “Right,” the Vulcan said a little rigidly. “My children had also reached the age where they no longer needed constant care. It was a convenient and logical time to move on.” “Children?” the nineteen year old private asked, a little shocked. Maverick’s voice cut in. “Fine, I’ll give the older youths a choice, but their parent has to agree before they are allowed to stay. I won’t allow some teenager with a rebellious streak and a hero complex to kill himself without his parent’s say so. But absolutely no one under the age of 16 will be allowed to remain here.” Lieutenant Kor nodded. At least it was a partial victory. She was about to leave when the Colonel spoke up again, “I want your support in this. The taskforce and the station’s leadership need to present a unified position to the public or bedlam will result on the station. Don’t circumvent this.” Eishnala listened for a moment before shrugging, “I may not agree with all of the orders given to the civilians, but I would never contravene them. Consider the matter at rest.” -=(^)=- Scene: XO’s Office Eishnala’s scanned the names of those who had left the station today. Most she did not recognize, some surprised her, and others seemed perfectly logical. Xana was in the latter category, but Kat Gorman… **She was a fighter, even when as round as a hunting hut.** Their presence would be sorely missed when the firefights started, that much, the Andorian woman could be certain of. Lieutenant Kor closed her eyes for a moment. With the wormhole open, she could leave too. She could return to Andoria and to her family. It would be an easy thing to do. All she’d have to do would be hand in her commission and not look back. She’d likely be welcomed with open arms by her clan if she agreed to remain with her Qavni. Her grandfather had made it painfully clear on many an occasion that if she returned to her family and finished her marriage, then all would be forgiven and forgotten. Well, maybe not mentioned, forgotten was likely to large a leap to make. Her case had even been brought to the Andorian court system as they tried to rein her back into the marriage the members of her Qavni felt she was obligated to complete. Kolorn might even continue the suit in hopes of ensuring that Eishnala could never leave her Qavni duties again. Not to mention there was an issue of precedent in Andorian law at issue in the case. In the recorded histories, a Qavni had never been forcefully dissolved by the actions of one of its members. Andorians were known for their loyalty and sense of duty. That combination ensured that they would likely remain together regardless of each of the individual member’s desires and separate aspirations. Qavnis had fallen apart, but that was always a mutual decision of all bonded members or the result of a death. The technicalities of the case were also important. Bonding mates required two separate rituals. After they had been completed, separation was legally permissible if agreed upon by either the courts or the four members of the marriage. But neither divorce nor moving on from the Qavni group could occur if the two rituals had not been fully realized. Eishnala had skipped out after the first, but before the second. That decision had placed her entire martial group in a legal limbo unseen in Andorian law. Her bondmates could not find a fourth member because Eishnala could not officially be cast from the marriage. Eishnala sighed. **The GATEWAY is my home,** she thought to herself, putting aside the issue for the moment. The actions of turning in a resignation might be simple, but it was, perhaps paradoxically, not a simple thing to do. Traffic coming into the gamma quadrant through the wormhole seemed to consist of a fair number of new and correspondence that would need to be delivered. Lieutenant Kor could easily have set the computer to automatically distribute the mail that had arrived, but thought better of it. While the skeptical blue woman still had a misgiving or two about the new CO, giving out some of these letters might help the woman integrate into the life of the new community she was charged with leading. Daisy could hand off a letter and talk a little with the recipient. It was the sort of job one hired a morale officer to handle. However, with an imminent conflict looming over the Starfleet officers of the GATE, Daisy could both boost morale and try to instill a little confidence about their struggle. It was true; the odds had changed somewhat with the arrival of the taskforce and then again with the opening of the portal in the space. But considering the GATEWAY was all but stationary, even with the support of the fleets held at the disposal of the Federation, the odds were not good for the Station. They would be at the forefront of a conflict that would constantly be at their door step. If the Dominion managed to make almost any territorial headway (and they had made a considerable amount the last time they had waged war against the Federation) than the GATE would have fallen. It was a little bleak to look at one’s home as likely being in the absolute middle of a tug of war that could easily go the wrong way (even for the shortest of periods) and spell disaster for the fledgling civilization that Bonviva, Kane, and a host of others had tried to shape and protect. **I could use a little pep talk,** Eishnala thought, the contradictory sentiment laced with dourness and amusement. **But I’m probably expected to give more than a few.** That thought was probably more amusing than anything she had come across that day. She had received her fair share of them. Though Captain Kane had not been known for being a particular open CO, he had given more than a speech or two behind closed doors to the senior staff concerning the conflict that lay bare before the GATE. Those speeches had always been delivered with a sense of ease, an ease that now surprised Eishnala. **I wonder what Captain Kane felt when he tried to persuade the senior staff of the necessity of secession. At the time, it seemed so logical. Did he think that as well? Or did he have these feelings of insecurities?** Eishnala stood up and stretched, looking at an interdicted world and walked over to her personal terminal. Rhythmic tapping filled the space of the small office. **Daisy’s got killers looking for her and I’m in no mood to play the morale officer,** she thought as a series of messages went out to the members of the GATE’s crew. -=(^)=- NRPG: Sorry for the character centric nature of this post (and the overdose of emo child). Taylor: I hope borrowing Mav for a vent isn’t too much of an imposition. All: If you fell like writing an epic space battle isn’t really for you right now, feel free to write about correspondence from friends or family. That GATE has been out of touch for a while and I’m certain there are a lot of missed relations that have things they’re just dying to get off their chest. Also, seeing as this is a war zone, “war letters” (incidentally, the likely title of my next post) are probably also circulating around both the GATE and PATRIOT crews. Sarah: Didn’t mention it before, but I loved your post. From HyperNews_at_youth.net
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