“As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.”

Moby Dick. Herman Melville (1851)

Like an errant gull, he swept along the slumbering flank of the ship at repose, banking lazily to take in the graceful sweep of her lines as if some fantastical exotic bird had been injuriously caged by the clutching embrace from the clawed gantries of the spacedock cradle.

Captain Trevenan Williams smiled the smile of anticipatory self – satisfaction that only comes when a returning sailor has been too long away from the sea that is their first love.

His home for the next 5 years, the USS Vega.

Ostensibly to the untrained eye, the majestic vessel might at first could be misconstrued as being that of the Sovereign-class. Certainly, the same basic design cues and overall hull conformation were similar enough to fool the casual observer into misthinking so, but it was in the difference in mission where these two ‘cousins’ diverged so and that this queer footnote to the Sovereign’s -cousin’s evolution had been riotously birthed.

The Sovereign, once the primarion-exemplar of its day, had been conceived as a vessel of exploration but the events of both the Borg incursion and Dominion war had subverted that noble ideal and reshaped the eponymous class into a hybrid somewhere between warship and explorer.

As Trevenan progressed his shuttle slowly along the beam of the spacedock cradle, the desire to return to an age of exploration (a compunction he shared) were plainly writ large in the differences that typified the Lamarr – class below.

Whilst the nacelles of both classes possessed the same rakish cant and hawk – like glare of the proud Bussard collectors, the main navigational deflector was of an aspect more reminiscent of that of the Intrepid – class and spoke volumes not only of the technical innovations that had evolved into the design from the tribulations of the long – lost USS Voyager into the USS Voyager – A, but of the long, protracted and serially – interrupted development life-cycle of the Lamarr.

Like the sequence of conflicts that had influenced the final form of her sister – class, the destruction of Mars had put a  (then) indefinite pause on the Federation’s territorial ambitions beyond its borders and the capable Long – range Explorer was left a ship without a mission.

Trevenan reflected on these changes and reversals of fortune as he gently banked the vessel to return the yaw to its central axis, sweeping on out past the encased saucer section, which was the paramount point of departure from the Sovereign – the superstructure much elongated and better able to accommodate the advanced labs and powerful sensors that enabled the Vega to re-dedicate itself to its original mission of deep – space exploration.

And you didn’t get much deeper than the relatively ‘undiscovered country’ of the Gamma Quadrant.

“USS Vega, this is shuttlecraft “Torenado” – actual on approach, requesting vector and docking clearance.” The veteran Starfleet Captain signaled the duty Flight Control Officer, adopting a lazy racetrack holding pattern, whilst he sought permission to land. Being at the controls of a fleet – footed spacecraft a veritable joy after being deskbound.

“Acknowledged Torenado – actual, this is Vega Landing Control.” Came the calm, unhurried reply over the comm-channel. “Provisioning is underway at Shuttlebay Two. Please avoid the pattern. Come to bearing Six, Three, Five – Alpha and line – up for final approach to Shuttlebay One. Set transponder for descent-path Sigma.”

Williams smiled. He could seen the activity around the main Shuttlebay at the stern of the ship and knew full well that the provisioning of any ship departing Spacedock for any mission of a duration naturally necessitated a high degree of small – craft activity as well as transporter traffic (as well he should, he had signed the majority of those transit & logistics permissions himself just that morning), but this was a new ship and a relatively unfamiliar crew, so he could be forgiven the minor indulgence of testing to see if his people were on the ball.

“Torenado to Vega LSC, acknowledging course Six, Three, Five Alpha.” Trevenan confirmed as he acquired the signal sent from the shuttle – coordinator that would provide him an automated glidepath, an option he studiously chose to reject on this occasion. “Transponder locked to Sigma. Vectoring to outer marker for manual approach. I have the ball.”

“Copy that Torenado, cleared for final approach to Shuttlebay One. Call the Ball.”

Trevenan smiled at the businesslike efficiency on display (he would expect no less) and deftly lined up the shuttle on the smaller Shuttlebay that nestled in the forward upper part of the ships prow and smoothly coaxed the tiny craft down it’s descent pathway, calling out the gradient waypoints as he did so that other pilots were aware of this progress and the Torenado soon came to a gentle stop on the assigned landing pad and his hands flowed through the practiced ritual of shutting down the shuttle’s main systems.

He was home.

Enjoying what was, in all probability, to be one of the few moments of genuine quiet and repose for the next 5 years, Trevenan nodded to himself in quiet satisfaction and then rose from the pilot’s seat and self-consciously smoothed out his uniform and drew himself up, before cycling the shuttle’s hatch and emerging into the hustle and clamor of Shuttlebay One.

There before him stood confidently the slim and assertive form of his new Executive Officer and stood beside her (and positively dwarfing the woman) was probably the most substantial alien Trevenan had ever seen, clad in a gold – shouldered uniform.

“Welcome aboard the USS Vega, Captain Williams.” Janet Mason greeted her new CO with a curt nod and smiled.

Captain Williams nodded with the seriousness that this ancient maritime tradition (which had been enacted since ever ships had unfurled sail) demanded. Typically, the crew would be mustered at general quarters for inspection, but in practical terms with the ship making ready to get underway, this was generally implausible and Trevenan was more about ensuring efficiency than pandering to ego, so was glad that the XO had prioritized the former.

“Thank you Commander.” Trevenan smiled warmly and nodded his acceptance of such a lofty – responsibility. “You are relieved.”

In turn, for her part Commander Mason nodded with equal aplomb and responded as tradition required.

“Thank you Captain, I stand relieved. The ship is yours.”

Mason, a lithe woman in her early 40’s with the trim build and poise of a competitive fencer and the unmistakable confidence that typifies the Starfighter Squadron Leader that she had formerly been, indicated to the hulking grey/blue- skinned alien officer that loomed beside her and spoke.

“May I introduce Lieutenant Va’Nar, Chief of Security?”

Trevenan was intimate with every crewmember service jacket of those aboard his new command (one of the more interesting tasks in the desiderata of command admin) but did not need to resort to dossier information to recognize one of the few Vodrian’s to have been accepted into Starfleet.

Standing some seven feet tall and filling his uniform with nearly 300lbs of solidly hewn muscle and ultra dense bone structure, indeed it would be hard to miss Va’Nar in any crowd for all the imposing bulk that he squarely represented.

Native to the Gamma Quadrant, the Vodrian’s had evolved on a High – Gravity world that necessitated extraordinary physical morphology and endurance. This evolutionary fact had made these towering mesomorphs ideal & excellent laborer’s favoured by their Dominion conquerors, who subjected the Vodrian homeworld of Vondra – Primoris#7 to many years of forced labour and subjugation.

Looking up at the towering pale bluish-grey alien and seeing little emotion in his noseless, shovel-like face and small, black eyes, Trevenan fancied that he wouldn’t like to be the Jem ’Hadar unfortunate enough to meet  Lieutenant Va’Nar to discuss his feelings on life during the occupation. The Vodrian’s had been compelled to bondage through the means of enforced genetic manipulation of their young – forced to obey their overlords on pain of their hostage children’s lives.

Trevenan knew of only a handful of Vodrian’s that had left their native Gamma Quadrant to join Starfleet after the end of the war and that Va’Nar was one of the rarified few still that had made it through the Academy to succeed as a commissioned officer.

“Captain.” Lieutenant Va’Nar rumbled as he looked down at his new CO from above and inclined his considerably well-armored cranium respectfully.

It was frighteningly like watching a battleship turret slowly come to bear.

“A pleasure to meet you Lieutenant.” Williams smiled up at the cliff – like alien, entirely sure that the net effect of any being sentient and sane enough to priorities self – preservation, would be a tendency to think twice before contesting anything with such an imposing security officer. “I’m sure you must be looking forward to the opportunity to visit home once more?”

An unreadable look passed across the sparse facial features of the herculean creature and he allowed politely with a small  raise and dip on his expansive shoulders. The net effect was akin to watching a localized earth – tremor in miniature.

“It has been many cycles since I have seen my clutch – mates, but thoughts of my homeworld brings back many unhappy memories for me.”

And that leaden sentiment was left hanging between them.

Trevenan blinked momentarily at this stark response and was saved by his XO, as Morgan interjected.

“Well yes, quite so Va’Nar.” Janet smiled awkwardly and then continued in her best cut – glass, polished English accent with masterful re-direction.

“Captain, would you like to get settled in your quarters? Your possessions have already been beamed aboard.” Janet asked brightly and perfunctorily , as if asking the Captain if he preferred one lump of two in his tea?

Trevenan shook his salt and pepper haired head in bemusement and smiled at Janet and the looming Lieutenant.

“Thank you, no, Commander. Maybe later?” He indicated the bank of turbolifts situated across from the trio to starboard and suggested. “I believe a tour of the ship is traditional at such times and I think it would be constructive to meet the Division heads and their crews in more informal settings and see them at work?”

Commander Mason smiled evenly and nodded.

“Of course, Sir. Let’s start in engineering shall we? I’m sure Lieutenant Commander Werann will be thrilled to receive visitors” she added, not a little sardonically, which gave Trevenan pause for thought.

She led Trevenan across the deck, taking the pathway leading away from the flightline as an elevator took the Torenado, descending in its embrace to the hangar level below, to clear the operating space for traffic. The Type – 12 shuttle would now become part of the Vega’s hangar – inventory as it began its long journey through the Bajoran wormhole and on to the unfamiliar stars beyond.

Deciding to start the relationship between Commanding and Executive officers with a level of candor and forthrightness that he meant to maintain, as the crossed to the Turbolifts Trevenan turned to Janet and said meaningfully.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to express how sorry I was for the passing of Captain Ransom.” Williams reassured Morgan. “Catherine and I came up through the Academy together and she was a fine officer. I’m sure that her loss was felt keenly by yourself and the crew?”

Trevenan noted the tic of emotion that passed quickly through the cheek of Commander Mason and how quickly the woman suppressed it. This told him volumes about they type of woman who was about to serve alongside him as his right hand, far more than any service jacket entry or citation ever could.

“Thank you, Sir.” Mason nodded with evident regret. “Captain Ransom was a good CO, she led courageously and she died bravely. The crew are forever in her debt.”

Trevenan nodded thoughtfully at this sentiment. Replacing a Commanding Officer and assuming command of a new vessel with an established crew was always a daunting challenge. This prospect went from daunting to fraught with pitfalls when that Captain in question had been well – loved and had fallen in defence of her people, like Cath Ransom had during the recent conflict with the Vaadwaur.

“Quite so Commander.” Williams assured her. “I’m not here to replace Captain Ransom. That can and should never be the case. This ship, this crew and all it goes on to achieve will serve to be a lasting legacy for both her memory and her sacrifice.”

Mason nodded stiffly, glad for the acknowledgement.

“Thank you Sir.”

But Trevenan was not yet done. When they reached the entrance to the turbolifts, he paused to look Janet Mason quite clearly in the eye and spoke gently but with sure deliberation.

“But make no mistake Commander. We voyage now into the unknown and very possibly into harms way. Ours is a mission of both the utmost importance but is also one that must be executed with the utmost delicacy. I appreciate that we have yet to determine what manner of the working relationship we will forge to achieve that end, but I assure you that I will do all and anything required to ensure the safety of this ship and crew and trust that my orders will be carried out to the letter, even if my reasoning seems oblique to you at the time?”

To her credit, Mason did not flinch once as she replied steadily.

“Aye Captain.”

No more, no less and Trevenan was left wondering how persistent the ghost of Captain Catherine Ransom might prove in the days and months to come? Lord only knows she had been an obstinate (yet brilliant) contemporary during their time together at the Academy, yet he meant it in all seriousness when he framed how tenuous their 5 – year mission to re-establish diplomatic links with the people of the Gamma Quadrant really was.

Although the Dominion had intrinsically withdrawn back beyond the borders of their territory in an apparent period of isolationism, to risk further offending the Founders and re-igniting the war with the Great Link was an ever clear and present danger closely associated with the Federation’s return to the Gamma Quadrant, however benign their stated intentions.

Couple that with the fractious state of affairs that this withdrawal from daily – affairs of state by a force as compelling and influential as the Dominion had been for so long and the attendant power – vacuum that various splinter factions, warlords and pirates had rushed to fill, then this truly presented a canvass of monstrous potential on which to write their exploits.

It was essential, then,  that he establish his authority effectively and unquestionably with these people aboard ship, if he was to safeguard their lives (and in some cases, the lives of their families – 5 years was far too long a voyage to ask some officers and crew to spend apart from their family members & young ones) and he had no intention of achieving that within the long shadow of the USS Vega’s former, fallen leader.

“Don’t worry Commander.” Trevenan smiled reassuringly as he stepped into the turbolift car and the XO joined him. “Something tells me that we are going to have plenty of time to work out each other’s idiosyncrasies and find some way to work together that gets the ship pointing in the right way.”

He was pleased to see that Mason had enough of a sense of humor to actually manage a small smile at his disarming riposte and he turned to see Va’Nar lingering at the threshold of the lift.

“Not joining us Lieutenant?” Trevenan smiled amiably.

The massive Vodrian frowned massively, lingering at the door, the greyish ridges of his powerful brow crenelating impressively around his small dark eyes and his thin mouth was set in an even thinner line.

“I will catch the next one.” The huge alien rumbled awkwardly.

At this, Trevenan’s greying eyebrows arched in momentarial surprise and he pursed his lips in amusement as he allowed.

“Okay, suit yourself then, we’ll see you in Main Engineering.”

He was met by a dolorous, pained expression as the turbolift doors hissed efficiently shut on Va’Nar and turned to Commander Mason, who just smiled wryly and confirmed with an easy shrug as she whispered conspiratorially.

“He exceeds the load – limit.”