Chapter 1.
September 21st, 2418, 07.45 am, Starfleet HQ, SF.
Admiral A.G. Moore was on the gym pulling 220 lbs with his 62 year-old arms and feeling tired.
There were times the final 3 sets of 15 reps would have been as easy as cutting trough a fresh melon but not anymore, and certainly not today, he couldn’t concentrate.
Today was a great day; it was day 1 on the Nautilus project.
After 39 years since the memorable events with the first USS Nautilus, and unfortunately, many more wars after than he cared for, a new beacon of hope would light up.
He could not help but thinking how would past events unravel if this program had not known several delays.
How many lives across the quadrants would have been saved?
Anyway, better late than ever, and Starfleet and the Federation could no doubt still use some leverage.
The turmoil in the galaxy seems endless, will there ever be a true union between the species? Not only diplomatic treaties, safeguards, and dissimulated political compromises, but true understanding and common development for the greater good?
Those are the founding pillars of the United Federation of Planets and although clearly a top military solution designed to assure hard victories, the Nautilus must follow those pillars.
He trusts the men and women he thoroughly trained to fulfill the missions with competence but also with humanity in mind. Humanity not as a species but as a concept he holds dear.
And he trusts the USS Nautilus as the perfect tool.
The big man thoughts were interrupted by the swishing doors and the sudden:
-“Well, hello Antoine George, thought I would find you here!”
If the weight stacks felt heavy already, hearing his full given name, made him drop them with a loud clang.
If it had been any other man than Jason Hector saying it, under the stressful circumstances he found himself today, he would probably crush that man’s skull with a dumbbell.
-“Damn it Jason, look what you made me do!”, “you know I hate that name!”
-“Sorry sir! General A.G. Moore sir!” Hector stood in salute teasing his superior officer and old friend, a relationship forged by the blood shared in battle.
-“I didn’t realize you were losing your strength along with your hair with age sir!”
The General growled:
-“Put a sock on it 23! I’d go up against you any time if it weren’t for those little buggers inside you!”
The younger man continued: “You are loosing your charm General. Lucky for you there aren’t any lovely young cadets in here, poor girls would have been scared stiff out of their shorts.” The Admiral had quite the reputation as a lady man.
-“You know I’m retired on that matter, besides I don’t mix business with pleasure”
-“I’m sure Counselor Jameson of the Sagittarius would confirm that. “
-“She didn’t wear a Starfleet uniform Hector!”
Hector knew exactly what Moore
-“Please A.G.! Too much detail on my account!”
-“C’mon let’s get out of here. Final assembly of the crew is later today and we have much to prepare yet.” He said.
-“Yes sir. Rohan will join us for breakfast in the mess. The rest of the crew will start reporting to the ship from 1100 hours.”
-“Very good captain, although I suspect someone is already up there…”
Chapter 2.
September 21st, 2418, 07.58 am, USS Nautilus.
The ship holographic room is only used for military scenarios and physical training, no recreation programs are allowed.
The simulated freezing water stung Vixxa’s muscles like daggers as she throw herself in the swimming pool at the Nautilus Holo-gym as it is called by the crew.
She could have made it warmer but the cold helps her focus on the chores ahead.
Few hours from now the crew will start arriving and as chief security officer, she needed to constantly go over the procedures and sort out every little detail so nothing is left to chance and go wrong. Not on her watch.
12 kms later the massive Klingon pulled out of the pool, got out of her full body swimming suit and wrapped herself around a towel.
Immersed in her thoughts and confident in the back of her mind she was alone in the ship, she walked out to the corridor on the way to her quarters.
As the turbolift doors opened Vixxa was startled by the presence of Dr. Hartley:
-“Good morning Vixxa.”
-“Dr. Hartley! Please excuse my presentation. I wasn’t expecting anyone so soon!”
Mina Hartley held up her hand dismissing the klingon startled expression.
-“Just doing an early sweep check of the sick bay Vixxa, don’t worry.
Besides, there is nothing under there I haven’t seen before.”
“I helped you rebuilt it remember? No need to feel uncomfortable!”
The Klingon features darkened making the doctor step back a little against the turbolift cabin wall.
-“I am honor bound to protect you doctor, but that doesn’t give you the right to mock me as you please!” She got closer. “I was trying to apologize for being out of uniform and against regulations. I will never feel uncomfortable or threatened by a little girl like you!”
The turbolift was getting smaller by the second but Mina held her own:
-“Got it. No mocking and no need for you to apologize either. Carry on Lt. Commander.” She said with an evil twinkle in her eye.
The two women were referring to the time Dr. Mina Hartley had spent at Vixxa’s bedside after her most serious injuries following the moon training accident.
Despite a latent animosity between them at first, she literally reconstructed the Klingon wounded body, who then out of gratitude made a oath of honor to protect her.
-“Do not let the fact I was raised by humans fool you doctor. My adoptive parents trained me in the way of the Klingon warrior and the spirit o kahless lives in me!”
The turbolift stopped and Vixxa turned towards the door.
-“Humm…Vixxa wait up!” said Hartley as she picked something from the floor.
-“What?” Vixxa asked.
-“Don’t forget your swimming suit”
-“Thank you.”
-“Oh purple! I like it. It suits your personality” said the doctor.
-“Arrghh!” Vixxa darted out the door.
As the turbolift doors shut and started to move Mina said to herself.
-“Blessed that Klingon warrior spirit inside you big girl! Or you wouldn’t be here to tell the story.”
Chapter 3.
September 21st, 0830 hrs, SFHQ
Rohan roamed the corridors of the art gallery at Starfleet Head quarters.
This earlier in the morning he was the only one there, alone in those immense halls.
Hands behind his back, he tried to absorb every sign, every state of mind, every emotion the artists had put in their work.
From the time spent with Ambassador Spock he had learned the key to emotional balance.
Neither to suppress them as his Vulcan cousins did, nor to completely surrender to them like so many times Romulans did ultimately leading to their virtual extinction as their planet was destroyed.
Neither enslave nor being enslaved by them, but to know and accept them as part of a whole that is creation.
That’s why he liked art. It is the expression of the soul in search for that emotional balance.
By studying it he learned to understand the different cultures that formed the Federation, what drives them to keep searching out there.
A quest he embraced a long time ago and made is own.
His com badge echoed on the large room.
-“Rohan here.” He tapped it.
-“Commander Rohan, this is Ensign Taylor, the Admiral and the Captain request your presence on the mess hall.”
-“I am on my way”
One thing he still didn’t understand in humans was their constant need for nourishment, always eating, or drinking coffee.
He understood the biological side to it, but to extend it throughout the day, it’s not efficient at all.
He accepted it as some kind of ritual he had to indulge in order to fit in.
Chapter 4.
21st September, 1030 hrs, Over Nevada Desert
The Raptor did a 9G inverted turn and climbed to an acrobatic “8”
-“Yeaaahh!” Adam Cartwright yelled inside the cockpit.
He built this aircraft himself from the original specs of an F-22 Raptor fighter plane of early 21st century.
Only the engines are current technology, replacing the long last forgotten jet fuel powered ones.
No inertial dampeners, no course correction devices, just a pilot, a stick and its talent.
Whenever on Earth, Cartwright never dismissed the opportunity to take it to the limit and feel the rush like men and women ages ago did.
-“Edwards base to Cowboy.” The intercom announced
-“Cowboy, check. Base go ahead”
-“You have violated minimum authorized altitude twice. Please be advised and return to base.”
-“C’mon Edwards base, there is nothing out here but sand and snakes!”
-“You are to proceed to runway 2 and land safely.” The control tower said.
-“All right, coming in. Cowboy out.”
-“ Roger that Cowboy. You have got an incoming call”
-“Patch it trough please”
A tender feminine voice came trough the head gear:
-“Adam Cartwright! Where are you? You are supposed to report at San Francisco
-“Grandma Maggie?”
-“Yes dear. Who else to keep tags on you?”
As the Raptor approached the runway, a strong crosswind caught him and sent it hard to port.
-“Jesus! Just a minute Maggie.” Cartwright said as he tried to fight the whirlwind and stabilize the craft.” OK, done”
-“That hellish machine of yours is going to kill you someday!”
-“If you think that of my raptor you should see the new Manta fighter on Nautilus…”
-“What? You on a starship with fighters? God have mercy on the Federation…” The old woman joked.
-“Any way Grandma, could you and Grandpa go to my place and help me pack? I’m on my way and very late.”
“Oh and please feed the dog for me”
-“Sure honey, as long as there are no surprises this time.
Last time Grandpa John went to feed Sam, he found a blonde Samantha showering on your bathroom!”
-“Yeah, humm, sorry about that Maggie”
-“Oh, he didn’t seem much troubled by it you know?” Some sting in her voice.
-“That’s my old man.” Cartwright couldn’t help but thinking.
Chapter 5.
September 21st, 0945hrs, Utopia Planitia Fleet yards
“Lieutenant Alexander Romankov personal log”
“Hello baby, I will be shipping out today and just wanted to kiss you goodbye but your ship is still out of range so I will send this by subspace.”
“The Nautilus is a wonderful ship and its engines… well, praise your SCE colleagues who did an amazing job on them!”
“Top form performance and durability, low radiation emissions, everything’s good!”
“You would sure love to try her out with me, but hey! Who knows? Maybe we’ll get around the same part of space and I’ll let you have a go with them!”
“Of course, you know me: nothing less than perfect! So I’ll leave final considerations after our shake down cruise, because I think I detected some phase fluctuations on the power couplings.”
“We will have to try her under cloak to see how much it does affect her.”
“As for the crew, they’re all fine men and women, I think we got a great team on board, although a little on the serious side for my taste!”
“Specially that Klingon amazon! Geee! She’s been up there since yesterday obsessing with security!”
“But not to worry, I’ll get her around with my charm extraordinaire!”
“I miss you Eulanka, fortunately from the nature of our missions seems I’ll be pulling to port every now and then. So be sure to bring that “bucket of bolts” of yours around at the same time and we’ll go away for some time”
“Got to go now, Love you!”
“End message and send to Eulanka Parker, Starfleet Corps of Engineers, USS Ark Royal.”
Chapter 6.
21st September, 1058 hrs en route from SFHQ to USS Nautilus by Shuttle
-“Watch your six, watch your six!” John Centurio yelled.
-“Boogies on your ass! Damn it! Evade, evade, evade!”
“Game over” appeared on the screen of the digital pad he held in his hands. He uttered something less polite between his teeth.
-“John! Watch your language mister! The shuttle is full of people!” said Nora Ramos.
-“Sorry Nora I was just on the brink of finishing this level!”
-“Oh and don’t tell me, you broke your little ship! Again! Poor puppy boy!”
-“Can’t you girls understand this is serious matter? Everybody is playing this game by now! We already talked about a championship on board, and Hector is leading the odds, the man aces it!”
-“Are you telling me you big boys are actually getting competitive over a video game about repressing invasion fleets of..” She stopped and tried to remember” What do you call them?”
-“Cylons and Goaulds” John completed.
-“Right…” Nora said with a playful look on her face
-“Yeah, well forget it! What’s that you are reading?” He said reaching for a book she had just placed on her lap. Opening it randomly he said:
-“God Nora! Did you sneeze on the thing? I can’t understand a word, its all blured!”
-“That’s because it’s in krekithecklie you fool.”
-“Say what?”
-“It’s a forgotten dialect of the lost wampacatcha civilization of the Cresta moons”
-“No wonder they’re lost, they probably couldn’t understand each other, that’s gibberish! I’ll stick with my goualds anytime.” John mused.
By this instant Nora Ramos was looking out the shuttlecraft window and becoming impatient.
-“When do we get up there anyway? I mean, I understand Starfleet tradition, the all “proudly get on board for maiden voyage by shuttle” thing, but by transporter I would already be in my room cleaning up and unpacking.”
-“That’s just you Nora! We are on the verge of unknown adventures and you my dear, are thinking of cleaning up!”
-“I’m an organized girl that’s all. I like my quarters clean, my soft candles in place, and as I recall you like them too buster!”
-“Your candles? Oh sure light them up baby!” he wiggles like a belly dancer.
-“Jonh! You can be such an ass sometimes…”
A few moments later the shuttle rises from bellow the hull of The USS Nautilus, makes a U-turn and gently lands on the hangar.
The crew is assembled.
Chapter 7
The lights are dimmed.
Frank Sinatra softly sang “Come fly with me” through the quarters speakers.
Jason Hector lies in his bed, eyes closed, exhaling deeply, relaxing.
In a few moments he will put on the tunic of Captain Jason Hector of the USS Nautilus.
He will become responsible for 40 souls, 40 highly trained professionals he will lead trough the dawn of a new age in Starfleet.
Careful planning and resources were committed with the hope of protecting the spirit of the United Federation of Planets, never again to be threatened by foul aggressors.
During his days in the Special Forces he has seen things through a grey palette rather than the black and white most Federation people see, so he understands the need for the show of force.
As a veteran of many battles and witness of how much had been in stake in recent years he could understand the need for the assurance the project means.
He only hopes he can keep his moral compass straight, without losing the reason for being out there: To boldly go where no one has gone before.
The chime on the door beeped.
-“Come in”
John Centurio walked in cautiously.
-“Sorry John. Audio off, lights on.” Hector commanded.
-“Thanks. I just came to check on your quarters, are they bigger than mine?”
- “Well, see for yourself by all means.” The Captain waved his friend in.
-“Wow!” Centurio over reacted with a smile. ”This is great! Look at that view! I want a window in my quarters that’s what I want!”
-“Get over it John. Captain’s privilege! What do you really want?”
-“I also came to tell my Captain it’s time!”
-“I figured that much, let’s get down to business.”
Jason Hector rose from his bed and donned the upper piece of his uniform. As he approached the door, Centurio said:
-“Hey!” And Hector turned back. “What?”
-“You OK with this?”
-“Sure. I was just weighting the all thing, getting a perspective on what lies ahead”
- “You know you are the best man for the job don’t you?” He padded the Captain on the shoulder.
-“I certainly know I have the best commanding officers I could wish for. Walk with me will you?”
Next: Falling down the gates of Heaven, Part 1
Based on Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry
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