Progression Of Thought

Posted on Dec 08, 2016 @ 8:22pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Aftermath

"PROGRESSION OF THOUGHT"

(Continued from "Enthusiastic Research")
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Location: Hall of Voices, ShiKahr, Vulcan
Stardate: [2.16]1208.1620
Scene: Office of the President


Sardak's finger hovered over the 'SEND' button as he read through the letter one more time. On the other side of the desk, T'Pau had her eyes closed in meditation. Shards of sunlight streamed in through the open window, flowing down from Mount Seleya like a river of light.

It was his last day in the office. By dusk tonight the Federation would be without a president and the fractured Council would lead as best as it was able. If it could not, then the paroxysm of uncertainty in her internal politics would certainly continue, but there was simply no way he could remain in this office any longer. In the coming months, a new politician would step forward and be elected from the ranks of the Federation Council - Sardak could only hope that that person would be honourable and not in it for the sake of self-aggrandisement.

He read the letter again.

To: Martine, Marie-Claire, Secretary of Starfleet
From: Sardak, President of the United Federation of Planets

Secretary Martine,

Under Article II, Section 2, Clause 2 of the Articles of Federation, Cabinet members serve "at the pleasure of the President".

As President of the Federation, I am writing to inform you that I have decided to terminate your appointment as Secretary of Starfleet from the transmission of this letter. I believe that it is time for a new incumbent to be appointed to the role by the next Federation President, an incumbent without any political links to the past two years of hardship for our great organisation.

I have a deep and lasting appreciation for your counsel and wisdom, and would like to thank you most sincerely for your contribution in the restoration of the Federation.

Yours faithfully,

Sardak.

T'Pau opened her eyes and affixed them on him as he hesitated. "Send the letter, Sardak. You will do no good by reading it again and again."

"Yes." Sardak's finger didn't move. "I find myself hoping that Marie-Claire Martine will take this with good grace, but I know she will not. She is more cerebral than many of her species, but there is no way to accept one's dismissal lightly."

T'Pau raised her eyebrow. "You are confident you are making the correct decision?"

Sardak caught her eye and nodded slowly. "Yes. She has aligned herself with Karimi's electioneering, and has made it clear that she will work against last month's Council vote. She could do untold damage to our reformation efforts if she was to remain in her position."

"The Humans are in no mood for reform," agreed T'Pau with a sigh. "It is unfortunate that they are so blinkered by their own power-mongering."

Sardak looked out of the window, out into the orange sunset and the distant peak of Mount Seleya. In another few days, he would settle his personal affairs and disappear into the mountain for the remainder of his life, there to shed the remaining burden of his emotions and live out his days in the calm structure of logic. "This is my final attempt to break the Human lobby in Starfleet. If we cannot control the proliferation of Humans through the high offices of the Federation, a future generation will one day find itself bending the knee to them in an Empire more terrible than we can imagine. It will take several months, but a new president will eventually be elected to move the Federation into the next decade. Perhaps that will be you?"

T'Pau's eyes flickered, betraying her surprise. "Perhaps. In truth, I have not considered the possibility. The Council's numbers must be restored before an election can be set."

"They say that Karimi is facing a challenge for his Assembly seat," murmured Sardak. "From a populist Human Starfleet officer."

"That election will take place before the end of the month," nodded T'Pau.

"Neither Marie-Claire Martine nor I will be in office when its results are known," said Sardak. He ceased his daydreaming and focused his mind. "It is my sincere hope that this act will play a part in saving the Federation." He let his finger drop, touching the control panel of his desktop monitor. The message was automatically sealed into a secured diplomatic subspace channel and transmitted to Earth.

He and T'Pau regarded each other across the desk.

"What will you do now?" she asked him.

Sardak looked out at the distant peak. "I will start living again," he said, and silence fell between them as their relationship came to an end.

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Location: Starfleet Headquarters, Earth
Scene: Office of Chief of Starfleet Operations


For Marie-Claire Martine, the day had not slowed down since she reported for duty this morning. As well as keeping up to date with the moving and shaking going on in Starfleet right now, there were also numerous calls to field from the media, who had gotten wind of Hussein Karimi's challenge from Brooklyn Malys, or who were looking for a reaction to Sardak's decision to resign.

Her pocket communicator chimed, seconds before she was due to meet Admiral T'sen, the new Starfleet Chief of Operations. [[Madam Secretary, incoming message from the President on Vulcan.]]

Martine's heart sank. She could guess what it probably said. Nobody in her position could expect to keep their job for long after telling their boss what she had. Sardak had obviously decided to clean house in his last day in office, but, she determined, two could play at that game. If Hussein Karimi was to stand the best chance of election back to the Council, then the media needed to be fixated on something else while he consolidated his support among the other Assembly members, and she knew of just the thing to get that done. Pawns and foils by any other name.

The new Chief of Starfleet Operations was a Vulcan named T'sen. She was quite young by comparison to many Vulcan admirals, but T'sen had earned a reputation for utter professionalism during her forty-odd years of Starfleet service, including several stints at command level aboard starships. When Martine was breezed through her office by one of the admiral's assistants, she found T'sen standing over her desk waiting for her.

"Admiral T'sen," said Martine, bowing at the neck. Many Vulcans, she knew, disliked to be touched, so she didn't try for the handshake.

"Secretary Martine," returned T'sen, gesturing to the seat in front of her. "Please, sit down. Something to refresh you?"

"No, thank you," said Martine, sitting down as the admiral's aide closed the door behind them. "I believe there is an important message waiting for me back in my office, so I'd prefer to proceed with business."

T'sen was still standing, but she nodded approvingly. "As you wish."

Martine eyed the Vulcan carefully, trying to see if her body language was giving anything away. T'sen's lips and tongue were a noticeable shade of pale green, and her countenance was quite waxy for a Vulcan, but her satanic features were inscrutable. She was thin, and wore her admiral's uniform with no aplomb. Her office was spartan, except for a small bronze meditating lamp glinting on a plinth under the window, through which a warm San Francisco breeze wafted in. "Admiral T'sen, let's discuss the starship Phoenix. What is her current status?"

T'sen cocked her head like a bird, but answered quickly. "The repair of her battle damage is close to completion. She is still in orbit, in Spacedock. Admiral Halloway has relinquished responsibility for her to the new Head of Starfleet Engineering, Admiral Dvorak."

"What is to be her fate? Do you know?"

T'sen sat down. "Higher authorities than I were to make that decision, is that not so?"

"It is," said Martine evenly. "Admiral, I am going to reactivate the Phoenix and make her a ship of the line. Based on your current available information, what are the strategic ramifications of such an action?"

T'sen frowned. "But who would command her?"

"I have a shortlist of several officers for her command crew. Answer my question if you please, Admiral."

T'sen thought for a moment. "The Federation can expect an official protest from the Romulan government when they learn that the Phoenix has been launched again. We can expect similar protestations from all our neighbours, but from a strategic point of view, it is the Romulan reaction that we need concern ourselves with the most. The construction and launch of the Phoenix has tipped the balance of naval power back in favour of Starfleet. If she were to be sent directly to head up our Neutral Zone fleet - "

"No, not yet," said Martine, holding up a hand. "We don't want to provoke the Romulans. We just want them to know that the Phoenix is active again." She paused. "We'd be foolish to think that the Romulans, while protesting her launch, were not also constructing something to match the Phoenix, would we not?"

T'sen nodded slowly. "It is a certainty, Madam Secretary. It is only a matter of time before the Romulans launch their response to the Phoenix. This hypothetical starship of theirs may be based on Dominion technology, as the Phoenix is, or it may be something else entirely." She gestured with her right hand. "But I believe that we are still in a strategically advantageous position even if a Romulan dreadnought is launched to match the Phoenix."

"How so?"

"Because it is a response action, not an action of initiative. While I acknowledge that the Romulans are an unknown quantity at this time, they are likely to be worried about falling behind in their arms race with us. It likely grates on them that we have superseded their technology. They must be respond, but it will be a response that checks us, not aggressively confronts us. They are still wary following the Siege of Bolarus. They do not know what the Federation is capable of, whether or not we will seek to repay them for the damage we suffered during their incursion two years ago, and that attitude is likely to settle down into a wait-and-see attitude. In the meantime, we must use the pause that gives us to restore our defences along the Neutral Zone, to make them stronger. We must ensure that if the Romulans come again, the line will hold."

Martine nodded. "The launch of the Phoenix would be as much psychological as anything else."

"We think so, Madam Secretary. Is it your intention to order me to prepare the Phoenix for a launch?"

Martine nodded again. "It is. Let's get her back in the sky again by the new year." She produced a PADD from her coat and passed it over the table. "Here is the shortlist of officers to head up her various departments. Make any additions as you see fit, but I'd like all those named to be aboard her."

T'sen raised an eyebrow, but inclined her head. "It will be done, Madam Secretary. I will have my staff begin to correlate the locations and availability of these officers. Will there be anything else?"

Martine stood up again. "Carry on, Admiral."

As she left T'sen behind her and headed off towards her own uncertain fate, Marie-Claire Martine thought about the Phoenix, and who would be aboard her, and for how long she could keep it that way. Then she remembered Sardak's message waiting for her, and she knew that, at least one way or another, her work day was coming to an end.

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Location: The Earthrise Hotel, Tycho City, Luna
Scene: Kane's room


Michael Turlogh Kane was fast asleep when the insistent chirping of his bedside PADD woke him up. Through the window the night sky was full of stars and there was no noise from the outside street. He wasn't sure, but he felt like he had been dreaming about being back aboard the Discovery, sitting in the centre seat while the starfield flew by on the main viewer. He vaguely remembered the presences of old colleagues in the dream, murky figures through the dream-haze, voices that were distant echoes through time. Or, perhaps, he was back aboard the Century, manning the Tactical console, remembering how cockily indestructible he felt whenever he used to look at himself in the mirror back then.

He picked up the PADD and activated it, rushing back up to full wakefulness when he saw that the message was a communique from Starfleet Command. When the sky-blue Starfleet delta disappeared from the screen, he began to read the text.

To Captain Michael Turlogh Kane, stardate two-point-one-six-one-two, you are hereby requested and required to take command of the starship USS Phoenix, NX-5199... signed, Rear Admiral T'sen, Chief of Starfleet Operations -

Kane sat bolt upright in bed, wide awake now. They were reactivating the Phoenix! He scrolled down through the message, but there was nothing else of note. No word on an ExO, no assigned department heads, nothing except orders to report to Spacedock and get the ship ready for launch.

Well, that he could do. The last time he had been aboard was when everyone on the ship was leaving, and a swarm of Spacedock engineers were coming aboard to repair the damage suffered during the Battle of Earth. The main bridge had been destroyed and her superstructure had been pockmarked with blast holes and scorch marks, but she was not as badly off as some starships that survived the battle.

He wondered what the future held for the dreadnought, and for the crew that would soon be boarding her. In the meantime, his initial excitement fading, he lay back on the bed and looked up at the stars through the window. In just a few short weeks, he would be back among them again.

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NRPG: The Phoenix has been re-activated and a command crew is slowly being put together. In the meantime, Sardak's final act as President has been to dismiss Marie-Claire Martine from the cabinet - luckily for the Phoenix, she was able to get in a parting shot. This may not be the last you'll hear from either of these characters, but they'll be moving into the background a bit more now as we wind down the political shenanigans and start to assemble a crew.

Before that can happen, several of you have personal story arcs to conclude. Don't be the last person to finish, but if you are, be aware of the date - time has a way of sneaking up on you.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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