Convoy Crowds

Posted on Thu Aug 28th, 2025 @ 2:40pm by Captain Rovak
Edited on on Thu Aug 28th, 2025 @ 3:42pm

617 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Shoreleave [3-4]
Location: D-Dock, DS13
Timeline: Morning - MD17

The Hercules didn’t return to port alone. With her came the familiar Swiftsure, the massive Odyssey-class Mesakh, and the sleek Sagan, first of her line.

Rovak realised mid-journey they commanded a not-insignificant portion of Starfleet’s slipstream fleet, the Hercules’ prototype refit making her number thirty-three of their ultrafast number. Between them, almost four thousand new crew awaited reassignment.

“Outta the way, you bastard,” barked Quartermaster Chase Olson, shouldering past a towering Klingon on Delta Dock’s crowded concourse, HUD-glasses glowing with live manifests. The more-shocked-than-offended Klingon thought better of reacting to a uniform.

Olson snapped a salute as Rovak came aboard, a padd in hand and some kind of cigarette shaped device between his lips, held in place by his teeth, further affecting his speech.

“Thank you, Quartermaster. How are things?” Rovak asked.

“Fan-fuckin'-tastic, sir. Three new delegations docked and settled, four trade ships in port in the last week, and a few universes passing by through the anom. Nothing worth your time.”

“And the XO?”

“Staying under a pack a day. Cool as ever. Model citizen. Future captain.”

“Good. See our new compatriots settled quickly please.”

“Oh ho-ho, they’ll wish they were back at the Academy by the time I’m through. But they’ll be housed.”

“Many are cadets, Olson. A light touch.”

Flawed though he was (and the word appeared many times on his Starfleet personnel file, several underlined), Olson remained indispensable. Rovak reminded himself of that while scrolling assignment records—temporary quarters now, transfers planned as the lower sphere came online.

It was good to be home. He stepped aside for the disembarking crowd, paging through reports. All department heads accounted for except Atna; Dr T’Zor had filed in her stead. Rovak had been warned ahead of time she would not be returning with the first batch, but he could not remember the last time she'd neglected to file. It was especially unorthodox now that she had personal access to an instant communications device to DS13.

A familiar voice drew his attention back towards the thick crowd of alighting crew; T’Shan and Rhianha laughing about Delta IV’s beaches. Then Ayol appeared silently at his shoulder, evading his honed Vulcan senses. “Captain, you’re needed at the Stargate.”

Less than three minutes later Rovak stood aboard the Excalibur, the great ring looming in its bay. A matte-chrome metallic sphere that looked to be suspended magnetically in the centre of the gate projected Admiral Sir Ben Lawrence’s patrician face and voice.

“Mr Rovak, good day to you. This won’t be the most polite call I’ve ever had to make. Your Science Chief, Atna, has accepted a new role; Starfleet Command's liaison to the Stargate project. She’ll be coming and going from DS13 as she deems necessary, but based primarily on Mars for now.”

“I see,” Rovak said evenly. She hadn’t consulted him. Curious. That did explain the lack of explanation she'd provided. It was a good role. Worth dropping one's current plans for, if career progress was one's goal.

“One more thing. The C-in-C approved your request concerning Dr T’Zor. Dimensional quarantine revoked. She’s free to leave Dreizhen.”

“She’ll be pleased to hear it. Thank you, Admiral.” He had read about this technology, but it was strange to be using it. Instant telecommunication to a destination even their absurdly fast slipstream ships still took 3 days to cross.

The sphere dimmed, and Rovak returned to his office, conflicted by the update. He scheduled a meeting with T’Zor, her partner’s work here apparently over, her own in Atna’s stead was just beginning.

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