Pilgrimage: The Armstrong

Posted on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 8:44am by Az'Prel & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Lieutenant Commander Sonak
Edited on on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 8:49am

Mission: Family Detention
Location: USS Armostrong, en route to Vulcan
Timeline: 2396
Tags: Vulcan Pilgrimage III

Hours later, after an exhaustive tour of the enormous starship whose size dwarfed even the mighty Hera, a very exciting few hours had been spent in the main Quantum Science labs of the USS Armstrong. The quantum resonance of the three escapees of the Kelvin timeline were a source of fascination in and of themselves, as well as the data on Commander Paris peculiar precarious peril when it came to transporters. The Bracers of the Sun and Moon, which accessed stable extradimensional space, were of considerable interest as well, along with the classified materials gathered by the Science and Engineering departments of the Hera, as advertised, and Commander Paris had demonstrated their versatile uses, and left them with the department for study while they were onboard.

After all, the free sharing of information had been their coin of fare for this adventure, and she willingly paid it to the eager and inquisitive scientists who were fascinated by the challenges she and her party presented. Because it wasn’t every day that one got the opportunity to study extradimensional explorers who came bearing stable extradimensional pocket space access.

Eventually the trio had been shown to the visitor’s quarters, which Rita recognized as the VIP quarters, thus continuing to endear the crew of the Armstrong to her. Showering and changing into fresh uniform, or simple Vulcan clothing in Az’Prel’s case, they were now escorted to the Captain’s Table, where Captain Glendon Butterfield awaited them. Beyond him was his executive officer, as well as an anxious-appearing Science ensign.

“Welcome, welcome! Thank you all for joining me this evening!” A great bear of a man, fully 2 meters tall, broad-shouldered, garrulous and outgoing with an easy gap-toothed grin, Butterfield was handsome in the Kirk mold, although a bit thicker about the middle.

Approaching Sonak first, the blonde human moved to smoothly offer the Vulcan salute- after all, the disdain for skin to skin contact with strangers by Vulcans was well-known, and the captain of the USS Armstrong was nothing if not diplomatic. “Lieutenant Sonak, I’ve heard quite a bit about you from our Ensign Tilly here. Seems you made quite the stir at the Academy while you were taking a refresher course last year.”

Sonak returned the salute.

''That was not my intention, Captain. I merely wanted to bring myself up to speed with this spacetime reality, while giving Starfleet the best time and opportunity to ascertain that I was no security risk. And to earn a position on the Hera, where my wife was assigned, required the utmost in dedication, performance and confidence from senior officers. It is unfortunate that my presence caused any commotion.''

He stood a bit straighter before changing tack.

''May I compliment you, Sir, on your command. The Armstrong is a well-managed, well-crewed vessel, a fine example of what a ship of the line in Starfleet should be. She is a credit to your command abilities.''

As always, there was no attempt at flattery from a kolinahr master totally devoid of emotion. It was a mere appraisal of fact. But Sonak had been around humans for many decades, and was married to a human woman; he had at least an intellectual grasp of the social niceties of emotional beings, enough to express genuine appreciation when it was due, even if it stirred no feelings in him. But his appreciation, if cold, was nonetheless sincere and intended as a gesture of thanks for the captain's help.

"Well, we certainly make every effort to present the best face possible for Starfleet's efforts out here. That those efforts are well received is appreciated to hear, Lieutenant. Thank you." Captain Butterfield replied, giving a gracious half bow to the stoic science officer. As he spoke, he turned towards the golden-clad Commander at her husband’s side.

"And you must, of course, be none other than Commander Rita Paris. Our Ensign Tilly has spoken quite highly of you. It's a pleasure, Commander." This time the mountain of a man extended his right hand out towards Rita for a more traditionally human greeting with a professional but warm smile.

"And you must be, of course, none other than Commander Rita Paris. Our Ensign Tilly has spoken quite highly of you. It's a pleasure, Commander." This time the mountain of a man extended his right hand out towards Rita for a more traditionally human greeting with a professional but warm smile.

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain,” the buxom bombshell returned the smile with a dazzling one of her own as she took the handshake with aplomb and shook it in true fleeter style- eye contact, firm grip, two pumps, and release. “Hopefully Ensign Tilly hasn’t told you too many wild stories about me, but suffice to say he and I had a bit of an adventure together, and when I saw that you were involved in supply runs for Project Krani, I saw an encompassing opportunity."

"Indeed." Captain Butterfield replied with a pleasant smile. "And this is your civilian guest for this journey. Miss Az'Prel, I believe?" And as with Sonak, the gregarious Captain held up the familiar Vulcan Salute.

While the refugee Vulcan woman was doing better with people she knew, it took her a moment of hesitation to slowly return the Vulcan salute. After all, before she came to this universe it was a death sentence to use it in front of a Human. "That is correct, Sir. You must forgive my hesitation. I am from a now collapsed universe where the Terran Empire ruled and I am still growing accustomed to the fact that as a Logician I am no longer an outlier among my people. I... Look forward... To meeting both Vulcan Masters and common citizens during this trip."

The pleasant man smiled as she replied. "Well, any Captain worth their salt has read the reports on our version of the Terran Empire. And, of course, I've read your basic file. But I dare say that that universes loss is our gain. And I have no doubt those masters of logic will find meeting you fascinating. If only as proof that the value of their philosophies have power even in a reality where they are outlawed."

"So, with that said… Captain, you’ve high-level clearance as does Commander Mel'lia. While Ensign Tilly here does not, he’s proven himself to be quite the upright, moral and trustworthy officer. With that said, I’d like to regale you with the tale of how he and I met, if you’ll indulge an old lady’s stories at the Captain’s table…?” Paris raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for permission to launch into a tale, one of the unbelievable stories of a career filled with such adventures.

Gesturing to the table and inviting his guests to have a seat, the captain of the USS Armstrong replied, "Please, by all means..."

A few hours later, Paris, the master storyteller, was winding up the retelling of yet another of their shared adventures. "So after he nearly shoves me out the door to be alone with this odd woman I come bursting back in only to find they are not making out, it's turned into a hairy creature and it's got it's suction cup fingers attached to Stuart's face, so I draw my phaser and fire on it. No surprise, stun has no effect, except that the Captain cries out. So I crank up the phaser to level 8 and fire again, and the attacker falls, and the captain staggers, but he seems all right. Doctor Lang and Sonak arrive, check on Michael and determine that he'll live, check on the parasite and determine it's dead. And that was when Sonak turns to me, and says, I kid you not, 'Twas beauty killed the beast'. I just about died right there," Paris shook her head as laughter made the rounds, save for between the Vulcans, who of course did not share the humor inherent in the story.

Listening intently to the story, Captain Butterfield let out a deep belly laugh as Rita concluded. "Well, not everyone can appreciate the finer points of mid-20th Century culture, Commander. Mel'lia here regularly rolls her own eyes at some of my anecdotes."

Sitting to his side, the tall Caitian woman rolled her large, golden eyes around for effect and smirked as he gestured to her. "Oh, well far be it for me to not have an encyclopedic knowledge of 400-year-old pop culture reference from another planet. I must surely be flogged for such an egregious offense, Captain."

While it was clear she was being sarcastic in a fashion the pair was quite comfortable with, Butterfield took the joke and ran with it, smiling back. "I'll have to have security get around to that. Be sure to put it on my schedule, Commander."

"That said..." The smiling Captain returned his attention to his guests. "Your histories are certainly unique, even in Starfleet. Which begs the question of your need to travel to Vulcan. The official request says it's personal leave?"

Sonak nodded.

''Since I have the advantage of knowing much about her homeworld and people, Commander Paris wished to experience that of her husband. The vastness of space and the requirements of duty do not allow for many opportunities. Thus, we mutually agreed that it would be beneficial to take advantage of your ship crossing our path to make the experience a reality.''

The cagey Caitian commander lightly purred as she leaned in to the conversation. "Sounds lovely. I've been to Vulcan many times. That dry air does wonders for my sinuses." As always, it was hard to pin point if she was being sarcastic or sincere, but Captain Butterfield chimed in to corroborate his First Officer's comment.

"It's true. Last shore leave, the woman spent six hours stretched out on a rock like my grandmother's house cat. I've never seen her happier. I like the hiking, myself. The thin air makes it a wonderful challenge. Really clears the mind." The bear of a man slapped his wide chest as he spoke. "You have an open, inquisitive mind, Commander Paris. Vulcan can do wonders for those willing to appreciate it's unique charms."

“Truth be told, I’ve never been to Vulcan, for… a few reasons,” Rita edited out the fact that it was because the planet had been destroyed in their timeline. There was clearance, then there was clearance. No sense in confusing people more than they needed to be, after all. “But I convinced the Captain to let us take a few weeks- I do have a surprising amount of leave saved up over the years, it seems. We’re a couple from two cultures, and I want to experience his, as much as I have had the chance to expose him to mine. Vulcans are the austere elder statesmen of the federation, with an ancient history and traditions, and… I want to see it, feel it, experience it, explore it.”

“Before now it just wasn’t possible for us, but…” Reaching over to take her husband’s hand, the human woman smiled wistfully. “Now we can, so we will. And Miss Az’Prel has never seen an independent Vulcan that is thriving and vital, at the pinnacle of their intellectual and cultural development so… it was only right to bring her to see Vulcan, the real, living, thriving world… while we had the chance. Which is only possible thanks to you, your largesse, and your remarkably swift starship, Captain Butterfield… so we are in your debt,” Paris offered graciously.

"Well, that certainly is both logical and, if you don't mind my saying so, romantic. And all things considered, I can say that we are happy to be accommodating. Sometimes the fleet can feel very small, stuck on one ship out here." Captain Butterfield mused with a rakish grin. "So it's a pleasant opportunity to talk with some of the other officers of the line and hear that we truly aren't alone on these frontiers. It's been a pleasure."

“I think it’s romantic, Captain,” Paris agreed. “As for me, I grew up in the fleet, so I used to know all of the old guard, as well as the generation that came up before me, my own generation, and the one following me,” Paris reminisced. “But… that was all a very long time ago, and now their grandchildren are retired from the fleet. So I am looking forward to meeting the modern fleet, getting to know the captains of the line, my peers,” she gestured to the Caitian commander, who nodded in recognition, “and the next generation, who will be the captains of tomorrow, hmm?”

At that, Ensign Tilly, who had spent most of the evening being seen and not heard, recognized his cue and nodded with a smile. “Perhaps, ma’am. I don’t know that there are many scientist captains…”

Sonak answered the young Ensign with all the seriousness of someone speaking from experience.

''It is true that most science officers prefer their studies to command duties. However, I can assure you that, for a scientific explorer, the command of a starship certainly offers much opportunities; certainly more than just following the lead of someone else who might be less devoted to the quest of exploring strange new worlds and seeking out new civilizations. And I would remind you that one of the most celebrated Starfleet captains of this century is indeed a scientist; Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, now an Admiral.''

“While he’s modest, Mister Sonak also served as a Starfleet captain for a number of years himself… again, we have… complicated histories, Ensign,” Paris summarized. While she might be hedging the truth for the senior staff of the Armstrong, Vril Tilly had heard a goodly chunk of Rita Paris’ convoluted personal timeline, and understood it was far from linear. Which in turn made it easy to accept that Sonak’s was similarly tangled as well. “But rest assured- serving under a scientist captain doesn’t make the missions any less interesting nor fascinating, just perhaps a bit less dangerous, as they tend to take more thorough scans before committing to a dangerous course of action,” Paris grinned at her own joke.

The Armstrong's XO leaned towards her Captain with a sly grin. "What a novel concept, Captain. Taking more through scans BEFORE committing to a dangerous course of action. Now, who might you know that regularly makes such recommendations?"

"This again, Mel'lia? See what you started Commander Paris. Now I'll never hear the end of it from her." Captain Butterfield replied with a hearty laugh. "She's still complaining about the last away mission."

"You didn't contract the virus that made you shed all of your fur off when you sneezed, thank you very much." Then the feline First Officer turned to her human counterpart, puffing herself up to mimic the mountainous Butterfield. "Preliminary scans are clear, Commander. What are you waiting for, scaredy cat?"

Not that much at ease with emotional interplay, despite decades serving with humans, Sonak aimed at defusing a potentially heated discussion. Since he had difficulty differentiating strong-worded banter from rhetorical barbs, logic told him to err on the side of caution; so he spoke in his soft, deep, calm voice.

''It is Starfleet's rules of engagement's first protocol; gather as much information as possible as quickly as possible to help the commanding officer make the soundest judgment call possible. More often than not, it is the duty of the science officer to do so. Still, it is the commanding officer's prerogative to make his call whenever he sees fit; because they alone will be called up for an error in judgment. The only situation where one's lapse in getting proper data before making a decision will be accounted for. Sometimes, there is no opportunity to wait for the data, and a quick decision must be made. Then, only logic for some, instinct for others, and experience for all, will mark the successful captain from the unsuccessful one. That... and the incalculable random variables that might be at play.''

"Wise words, Lieutenant Sonak. And well worth remembering for anyone in command. Thank you." Captain Butterfield replied, in a more neutral tone with a gentle smile. "I can see why you were no doubt an exceptional Captain yourself. Is command something you would seek again?

At that, the human explorer turned to regard the Vulcan scientist with some interest as well. The question had not come up any time recently, but it certainly was a valid one. Sonak was more than qualified to command- he had graciously accepted a significant demotion upon coming to this reality because rank was immaterial to him. But in the moment, asked by a peer in such a casual setting, Rita had to admit, she herself was curious to know the mind of the former master and commander of the starship Exeter. If perhaps his interests might once again move in that direction. She herself had served as his second, after all, and quite the team they were, then and now.

Sonak's answer came after a few seconds of obvious reflection upon the idea.

''Regardless of past experience, I am still a long way off from Lieutenant to Captain; it is premature for me to dwell on the prospect at this time. Such opportunities are extremely rare to begin with. And it is not just a personal consideration anymore. I am in a relationship, and such a consideration influence, and is influenced by, this status.''

He now looked at Rita as he continued.

''In any case, she will get the opportunity much earlier than I will. I of course will approve and support her if she decides to pursue this path. But then, it will be up to Starfleet to decide if we are to serve together. It is not unheard of, but uncommon, most of all if one is given command; most captains would understandably be reluctant to assign one's spouse to potentially hazardous missions, thus risking adverse effects on morale and efficiency. Also, the competence or duties of the spouse might not fit this new command; and it would inevitably disturb the one to which he or she is already assigned to.''

The somber scientist turned again towards Butterfield.

''Where we came from, our Captain convinced Starfleet Command that my rank, record and experience with the Exeter made me the most qualified to assume command after him. I made the same logical argument to promote then Lieutenant Commander Paris to Exec. I estimate that Starfleet agreed because of my Vulcan heritage and Kolinahr training. They knew emotions would never influence my command decisions. But even then, if we had been bonded as we are now, they might have reconsidered. So, Captain, it is not just a question of what I seek. It is as much a question of what we will be willing to do as what we will be allowed to do.''

"If I may make an observation," Began the Vulcan refugee, Az'Prel, glancing around for approval before continuing. "Since finding myself in this universe and time, I have observed the Federation and Starfleet in particular to place a high emphasis on family and friendship. Indeed, I find it curious that our own ship allows civilians and families to flourish, though the tactical capabilities of the Hera are like nothing I had previously encountered and our overarching mission seems to often place us in the path of danger. I assume the same is true of your vessel, Captain. Thus it may be that there are ships in this fleet of scientific discovery placed in lower risk mission profiles where allowances are made more freely."

The gregarious Captain took a sip of his drink as his expression shifted to a much more thoughtful one. He nodded slightly as she replied to the Vulcan refugee. "To a degree, that is true, Miss Az'Prel. A Sovereign class like the Armstrong was built with combat in mind. She's a fine ship, capable of many tasks, but war was what she was designed for. As such, she is ill equipped for families."

"Most Captains like to spout the line that their crew is a family, and with any good crew, that's the hope. Bonds formed on duty that link us like family. But before commanding the Armstrong, I was the XO on a Galaxy Class ship, the Clairmont. And we had families in board. It was... and remains... a controversial topic with Starfleet command, and the population in general. One they go back and forth on," Captain Butterfield mused.

"I can see both sides of the argument. But having been in command roles on ships that had both, I can say that there is... something different about serving on a ship with families. With children. On the Armstrong, if a crewmember becomes pregnant, regulations require that they must be transferred. I've lost a handful of exceptional officers and have said goodbye to some good, good friends because of that. But on the Clairmont... It may not be logical... But those bonds. Those children. They inspire you and the crew."

His expression shifted to a broader smile. A hint of melancholy on the edges of pride. "You fight harder. You negotiate deeper. You explore further. Seeing the literal next generation in the corridors is a reminder of what this means, I suppose. It's powerful." As he spoke, he gestured to his Starfleet delta badge.

Sonak nodded.

''A very Human perspective, Captain; one that has indubitably contributed to what Starfleet is, and what the Federation stands for. Hence Starfleet General Order 27: No member of Starfleet shall be required by the assignment of standard duties and responsibilities to undergo extended separation from his family, if family members can be reasonably provided for aboard ship, or as a part of an existing Starfleet installation.''

His hand made a motion around them.

''A Galaxy class starship, built for extended exploration in the farthest reaches of known space, was thus also built to provide this kind of facility because of it's mandated duty. A Sovereign class starship, on the other hand, built as a rapid response ship of the line for Federation territorial defense, must always must stay close to supply lines and key strategic points; bringing family onboard would be as useless as it would be an unwarranted risk, opposite to Starfleet's first mandate of protecting Federation citizens. Hence my argument; were Commander Paris or I be offered command of a ship like the Armstrong, our assignment to the same command would not be a given, and out of the question if we had children. It would weigh much in accepting or not such an opportunity; an opportunity that might then never come again.''

"True enough." Captain Butterfield replied. "However, one would surmise, based on the fact that the two of you crossed time and dimensions and were able to manage a posting on the same ship, that you could very likely continue to serve in such capacity. Even without friends in high places, which I suspect you have here, you have both clearly demonstrated time and again the value of Starfleet keeping you two together. And Starfleet, in my experience, is not in the practice of discarding proven resources that benefit everyone."

"That said... I do hope that this little pilgrimage is mutually beneficial to your goals," the wry Captain said with a slightly knowing smile. The topic of family and children had come up a few too many times to be coincidental for the seasoned Captain as he turned back to Rita. "The Hera is a modified Nebula class, correct? Same structural saucer design as a Galaxy. Do you have families aboard, Commander?"

“We’ve recently made the modifications and expanded in that direction, yes,” the comely commander replied with a wry smile. “While we do lead dangerous lives… as you said, seeing the faces of the future that you are striving to defend is just that much more motivating. And frankly, the future is unwritten, and every day is a gift. We cannot put off until ‘someday’ forever… the future must take root in the present, and I wanted for our crew to be able to begin their families, instead of having to transfer in order to do so. Captain Telvan was agreeable, so we’ve begun the great experiment.”

“As for command… once upon a time that was my most fervent goal, what drove my entire career focus,” the lass of long ago looked off into the distance, clearly lost in reverie for a second until her gaze snapped back into focus in the moment. “But these days I find I’m more inclined to serve as a mentor… to shepherd the next generations, to guide, to tutor, to lead by example. Our five year plan has us settling back down on Earth and likely teaching at the Academy, so… well, who knows.”

“But I somehow doubt command is in my future anytime soon, if at all. And to be perfectly frank, these days I’m okay with that. I find I’ve nothing to prove to anyone… I know my worth as a Starfleet officer, and a citizen of the galaxy,” the buxom bombardier chuckled. “By the same reasoning, I don’t know how I would feel about Sonak being out there on the final frontier without me… we’ve always been far better as a team than apart, although I’ve never lacked confidence in him, no matter the circumstances. Who knows, maybe we’ll settle down for a few decades, then get back out there and do it all over again. While the service jacket reads 163 years old, the doctor says I should have a good century left in me, universe willing. So like the man says, there are always… possibilities.”

With that said, Rita Paris reached over to take the hand of the master of logic and squeeze it fondly, beaming a wistful happy smile that encompassed her feelings for him far more effectively than words ever could. Realizing she was being rude, she turned the conversation, plotting a new course.

“How about you, Captain? Any family back home?”

Smiling at the turn the conversation had taken, Captain Butterfield was thoroughly enjoying learning about Rita and Sonak's story as the topic came back around to him. "Not quite at home. My husband and our two girls live on the Starbase 773. It's on a nearby mid-point of our standard run so we get to spend as much time together as possible. Here..."

As the bear of a man reached into his back pocket, his XO rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion with a Cheshire grin. "Ahh, the pictures. I was wondering how long you could hold out, Sir."

"Oh hush, Mel'lia. Just because you're a confirmed bachelorette to the death, don't begrudge me showing off my girls." The Captain grinned right back, it was clear that the two shared a friendly sarcastic tone with each other at most all times. Pulling out a small, vinage style billfold, he showed Rita an old-school 2-d picture of the entire family, and a second 2-d picture of the two girls in question. Both with sandy blond hair in ponytails wearing Starfleet softball uniforms on a playing field in the sun. "That's Marcus. He's an exobiologist. And that's Carly and that's Alina."

Gazing over the images appreciatively, Rita smiled and nodded. “Making a fleet family work… good for you, Captain Butterfield, good for you. I will say there is something to be said for being a free agent and perpetually unattached, Commander… but there’s also a lot to be said for family life and having someone to come home to. I daresay knowing that there was someone waiting for me definitely gave me the strength to go on more than once, when otherwise I might have given up. Not condemning the single lifestyle… just food for thought is all.”

Purring faintly with a pleasant smile, Commander Mel'lia replied, "The Captain exaggerates my commitment to remaining single. When I find the individual who can... keep up with me. Perhaps I'll take that advice."

“Color me prejudiced Commander, but once you go Vulcan…” Paris smirked, and let the statement go at that.