Commanding Officer and Interior Designer Extraordinaire

Posted on Fri Jul 21st, 2017 @ 2:18pm by Commander Christopher Samuels MDiv, PhD & Fleet Admiral Donatella Figueroa

Mission: S01E01 - At the Brink of Night
Location: Bridge

The USS Musashi was still entirely 'tethered' to Tellar Prime undergoing some much needed cosmetic repairs and a few internal ones as well. Captain Figueroa's Bridge was getting a slight change. The Musashi was an Ares class starship and launched prior to the Constitution class starship, though their Bridge designs and other areas were nearly identical albeit in some cases slightly smaller or more compact for the Ares class which was not at as long and had fewer decks. Originally the two starships had Bridges with nearly obsidian black railing, doors, and the color accented the sleek silvery grey consoles. However, starships like the Enterprise were now opting to be more 'lively' because some whackadoo Counselors and 'Art Therapists' had recommended making things more appealing to the mind's eye...whatever that meant. To Fig, all it meant was garish colored tunics and the repainting of black doors and railing to a nearly putrid safety orange.

She came to the Bridge to ensure that the paint job she specifically requested for the Musashi was not fumbled along the way. She gave her consent to change the dull and dreary black of the doors and railing, but she was not going to permit the repainting of safety orange. Instead, she opted for a more tame color: blue. She selected a 'Carolina Blue' from the several options presented to her. The man recommending colors to her was pushing for a banana looking yellow, but she was not about to have her starship be criticized by Klingon forces for being 'yellow bellied' if they even knew what the hell that meant.

Her Captain's chair was changed out for a more comfortable one. She sat down in it and let her body adjust. "Ahhh yes. This is perfect" she said aloud as a Yeoman approached with a PaDD. The large black tablet like PaDD was a bit cumbersome, but made things easy to see. The Yeoman handed the Captain the PaDD with a stylus. Captain Figueroa looked at the information on the PaDD and signed off on it with a smirk upswept from the corners of her mouth. "Have him come to the Bridge. This will be interesting" she said to the Yeoman.

Before the young man left her side, the Captain cleared her throat. "Ah wait. Before you go Yeoman can you fetch me something to drink?" asked the Captain to which the Yeoman was of course happy to oblige. A few minutes later, the Captain had a drink the sip on and nurse as she waited for Doctor Samuels, her new Chief Science Officer to be escorted to the Bridge.

The trip out to Tellar Prime was uneventful, at least as far as space travel went. Christopher Samuels, however, was wrought with worry. He kept having doubts, and yet his booted feet carried him to the transport hub, and then from there he boarded a transport vessel, and from there he was about to step onto his newest assignment. He carried forward, despite the worry, despite the despair, despite the fact he didn't even get to say goodbye to Dylan.

He was greeted by a young man who looked twelve, but was handsome nevertheless. He was asked to verify who he was and then asked to follow the young man to the bridge. Supposedly the commanding officer wanted to do the meet and greet right away. Captain's... always thinking they can do whatever, and get whatever they want... he grumbled to himself as he stepped into the lift.

Moments later the lift doors swished open and the young man directed him to where the captain was. The smell of paint fumes filled the air, and he wondered why the air recyclers weren't doing the job to filter out the toxins. At that thought, he stepped down into the bridge well and announced, "Commander Christo... YOU!" He looked at the woman who occupied the command chair and his brow furrowed. He grunted a soft grunt and resisted the urge to reach out with his large hands and wrap them around the salty woman's throat.

The woman stood up from her Captain's chair and took a sip of the green appletini. Well, this is off to an expected start she thought. "Captain" she said with the hybrid of a smug smirk and a pleased smile formed on her face. "YOU is not how I prefer to be addressed, Commander Samuels" said the Commanding Officer. "Captain Figueroa, Sir, maybe even Fig if we get on that level, but we have a long pilgrimage before we get there...padre" added the woman a bit haughty with the man.

She sat the martini glass down on the holder built into her arm rest and approached him with her arm reaching outward, hand extended. "A pleasure to see me again, I'm sure. Welcome aboard the USS Musashi" she stated with a rather sardonic and sarcastic tone with a hint of melancholia underneath it all.

Oh I have far many more words I could call you, and captain is not one of them, Christopher thought to himself. He crossed his arms over his chest and he sneered at the woman who stood before him, refusing to take her hand. He noticed the martini glass and nearly rolled his eyes at the thought of this woman drinking so casually on the bridge.

"The pleasure is all yours, certainly not mine," he said in a low tone that was on the edge of a growl. All he could think was that this woman had denied him something he wanted, and the excuse that was given was so thin. The war was over, they needed peace, not more conflict. "Is there a reason you are messing with me? Why am I even here if you are in command?"

She scoffed at him. This went better in your head Donatella. You should have saw this kind of scene coming she thought to herself as she pursed her lips and held her tongue. belittle him in front of these few pimple faced barely non-teenagers? Oh how tempting that was of a prospect, but not her style. A 'bitch slap' of an attack if she ever seen one. No, belittling him was nothing. She battled at Axanar, she was a Four Years War veteran, and formerly a prisoner of war albeit for a brief yet still traumatic period of time. No no no, she was a jugular kind of woman. "What is the saying...God works in mysterious ways?" she countered him, posturing herself defensively. "Maybe your being here is between you and YOUR God, Commander" she jousted aiming for his holy spirit.

Christopher's brow furrowed at the jab, a jab that didn't rattle him. He had been through hell and back, and personally right now he was about to lose everything so this puny woman who thought she had balls certainly didn't rattle him. "Is that what Starfleet captain's do now? Mock people's faith?" He shook his head, tsking. "And here I thought you were better than that?" He snapped his fingers. "Ah, that's right you aren't!" He stepped toward her, he knew the sheer size of him wouldn't intimidate her but he wasn't intimidated by her either.

"When people were dying, when they were scared, I was holding their hand helping them feel more at ease as they transitioned from life to death. How DARE you bring God into this." He pointed a finger at the woman. "YOU brought me here, in some sadistic game that you felt the need to play with me."

Fig let out a pounding of her fist on the arm rest of her new Captain's chair which sent the martini glass shooting upward and toppling over, the green liquid contents spilling out onto the deck below. "GOD DAMNIT, Commander! That was a good Martini" she said letting out a huff and crossing her arms. "YOU know, that's right. You were holding hands singing Kumbaya while people like Garth and I were saving your sorry ass from being vaporized by the Klingons" she spouted back at him.

She then looked around the Bridge. It was quickly becoming very desolate. The technicians and skeletal personnel who had been on The Bridge had all made a quick exit into the lift. The last of them being the Yeoman who high tailed it out without so much as picking up the fallen martini glass. "I thought you people were supposed to bring in a congregation, not exorcise it" she teased with a smirk. "Well, the spectators are gone, Commander. I looked at the design of this starship and thought 'why don't they give the Captain an office for private conversations?' Well, I guess because the Bridge is my office...and yes, Commander. I just snapped my fingers and clicked my heels together and said 'I want to make someone's life as miserable as mine' and poof here you are."

There was some sadistic pleasure in knowing that the martini class took a tumble off the center seat and spilled. Christopher still took issue with this woman, this captain, and how she looked at the war. He was in the war, he fought in the war, Dylan was in the war, their friends were in the war, and some of them didn't come back. "You aren't the only one who fought you know, I went from being a scientist, to being a soldier," he whispered though there was an edge to it. He looked away for a moment, mostly because he didn't want to allow the captain to see the hurt and pain in his eyes.

She glared at him. "We all did, Commander" she said firmly. "Explorers and Scientist to warriors and soldiers. Do you think I wanted to become like this? I was a Yeoman when I served on my first starship and a Ship's Historian before the war" she explained. It's true...I was she thought to herself, missing the days when things were simpler and...peaceful?

He looked back at the woman, the fiery passion back in his eyes. He took a deep, calming breath. He had been shocked that this woman was ever anything but a bullheaded, empty headed moron, but he didn't show it. His arms finally fell to his sides, not in defeat, but just that things were getting out of hand and he frankly didn't have the energy to have another fight. "I think it will be best if I ask to be transferred," he said in a tone that was steady, and devoid of any emotion.

"Well you've asked" she said with a nod. "Denied" she then added sharply. She then looked at the man and shook her head. "You are not going anywhere if I have anything to say about it, Commander. You are right in suspecting I had some hand in bringing you here, but it was not to torment you. I requested you because I need you" she said flatly.

She then extended her hand out once again. "I know you are not my biggest fan, but I did not hold you back from a command because I thought you were unfit for one. You will make a fine starship Captain...at the right time. It's not now. It's not when we are still pushing out more assault cruisers and escorts than explorers" she stated. "I did not pass you because you do not fit the mold Starfleet is looking for. You'll make a fine Captain of a medical or science vessel, but you make a terrible soldier" she explained.

Christopher briefly looked at the extended hand; and he almost refused to take it. He honestly didn't want to have anything to do with this woman, this woman who thought she knew better. However, he decided to be the better man, and took a hold of the petite hand into his larger one and tightened his grip to give the hand a firm shake. A few moments passed, that were filled with silence, and then he let go of the hand.

However, hearing her words again, coming from her was like another punch to the gut. He had to stop being a science officer to be a soldier, what did she think, that he was off analyzing planets and sensor data during the war with the Klingons? No. He was handed a phaser, and told to shoot Klingons. He didn't just see space battle, but ground battle as well. The only saving grace was that he could be a chaplain and help where help was needed.

Who is she to presume that she knows what I'm capable off?

"First, I disagree... obviously. There is no one mold Starfleet is looking for in their captains. YOU have a mold that YOU want to fit. Second, don't presume you know what type of solider I'd make, you weren't there when I was in the war and assigned to the Ajax. You based it on one test, one, and not only that you penalized me for basically guiding my decisions on what was right and what was wrong." He threw up his arms in frustration. "Heaven forbid if Starfleet has a captain who uses a moral compass to guide his or her decision making." He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, more in defiance than anything else.

Christopher took a moment to collect his thoughts, and allowed the anger and frustration to leave him... at least for now. "Well, I guess since I'm not wanting to resign and you aren't going to give me your ship or a fourth stripe..." He paused as he thought about his last argument with Dylan, and how his husband of twenty years wanted him to give up his commission, and position in Starfleet. There wasn't even a compromise in that he would still stay in Starfleet and stay on earth. "I suppose we are stuck together." I'm losing a lot by being here, why am I going to stay? I don't even like this woman.

"I always believe Starfleet officers...and Captains came in different shapes, sizes, and psyches. I feel that there is not one true command philosophy, and so I agree with you. There's not one sort of cookie cutter shape or mold that makes a fine starship Captain" she said calmly. "However, during that test you were put into simulated situations and you did not make the decisions Starfleet expected of a starship Commanding Officer. You made your decisions with that moral compass of yours and the results yielded were not satisfactory nor conducent to what Starfleet wanted" she said trying to justify herself and move away from being painted as the villain.

She let out a bit of a sigh. "I requested you because I know that you have what it takes to be a good starship Captain" she said before looking at him somewhat apologetically. "Your moral compass still works perfectly, mine does not. I lost my First Officer and several members of my crew in Musashi's last skirmish with the Klingons, and my Chief Engineer resigned. I need someone who can pull back on my chain and I believe that to be you" she added. "Because, when it comes to the Klingons, I have a one track mind and act like a dog with its bone."

This Captain Figleaf could justify all she wanted, but Christopher wasn't buying any of it. She was hiding behind what she thought Starfleet wanted, not what was actually true. But honestly, he was tired debating this, and decided to let it go. "So what you are saying is you need me for the exact reason you failed me?" He eyed the woman with suspicion, the explanation all seemed rather convenient didn't it?

He then added, "And I'm sorry what happened during your last mission." His words were sincere, and the tone of his voice didn't betray that sincerity. He hated the idea of lives lost, but since this captain who was hell bent on getting Klingons, he had to wonder if the captain wasn't partially responsible for their deaths. He then nodded his understanding. "I'll do what I can."

"For what it is worth to you, I am sorry too" she said sincerely. "I know being denied the career advancement of a command probably threw a wrench in your life plans, but I do see that you would make a great Commanding Officer" Fig added. "I need you here for the same reasons you didn't get a command yet...yes, yes that's why I need you. So take that for whatever it is worth."

"I'll take it as an apology," Christopher said as a bit of a smirk formed on his lips. "I'm sure it will be a pleasure to serve with you..." he shrugged, "...or not, I suppose we shall see won't we." He stood there for another moment, letting the silence continue to pass between them, sizing each other up. The conversation had mostly come to a natural conclusion, at least for Christopher it did. "Well, I suppose I'll see you when duty calls." He gave a mock salute, and followed it up with, "Captain Fig." He turned on his heel and headed back to the lift and as the doors parted he stepped into the lift car and turned around to face the bridge, his gaze falling onto the captain. Just before the dooes closed, he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Tootles," he said just as the doors swished closed.

Christopher sighed, closed his eyes and blew out a breath. This had 'bad idea' written all over it, but he also couldn't deny that this woman, this captain did need him. It wasn't just words, he could see the pleading in her eyes. He wasn't entirely sure how this would work out, the two could end up killing each other for all he knew, but for now he would do what he could. He opened his eyes and his gaze drifted heavenward. "Lord, help me," he whispered. Now though, he needed a drink, the stiffer the better.

 

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