Chapter Text
Eight Years Ago
The Buran arrived one day prior to Enterprise’s anticipated docking. Una had insisted on no farewells; Captain Lorca ignored this hosting a bash at his favorite pub. Few noticed when the guest of honor slipped away.
After a brief search Lorca found Una sitting on a bench in an empty arboretum and took the seat beside her. “Here,” he urged handing over a black velvet bag.
She slipped the bottle out of its protective wrap. Her fingers lightly and reverently stroked the label. “Your thirty-year-old Lagavulin? The one you’ve been saving?” Una pressed it back into his hands. “No, I can’t take this.”
With a headshake Lorca refused to reclaim his gift. “Bob April’s a strict gin and tonic man, a misguided legacy of his British heritage. I’ll feel better entrusting you to his care knowing you have a proper whiskey for drinking.”
She continued clasping the bottle of single malt as if it were a talisman then eventually nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady.
“Good. When you’re first officer drink a toast to yourself and remember I’ll be echoing it.” He allowed silence free reign for two minutes. “OK. What do you need? A reminder you’re brilliant? Pep talk? A good spar in the gym with a partner who’s better than you? A kick in the pants?”
“Did you arrange this? My posting to Enterprise I mean,” Una asked.
Lorca crossed his arms and glanced up at the stars visible through the transparent ceiling. “Honestly, I considered reaching out to Bob, but eventually decided against it knowing you’d always view the transfer as a favor to me rather than a spot you earned.
“I didn’t apply for an assignment on Enterprise. I’ve never met Captain April. I’m an unknown. This is a new starship class, a model still to be proven. Him offering me this position is farfetched. It is not logical.” Her eyebrow raised. “Why the frown?”
Lorca chuckled. “Unsure Una is … never did I expect to meet her. Cadet Riley boarding the Buran for the first time, striding off the transporter pad, thrusting out her hand, and proceeding to note three regs violations is the image of you I shall always carry.” His voice turned quiet and serious. “You’ve had a rough year. Circumspection is good but promise me you will face forward and not back. Trust yourself again. If you can’t,” Lorca grinned, “fake it till you make it.”
Her eyes widened. Her expression was incredulous. Speech formed slowly. “What? … I mean … Seriously? … That’s the best advice you have? Fake it?”
Lorca nodded sagely, like a pleased guru posing a riddle to a favored student. “Now you know the secret to captaining.”
ooooo
Five days later Una sat in the observation bay of Starbase 5 awaiting her first glimpse of Enterprise, the lead vessel of Starfleet’s state of the art constitution class. It’s sister ship, the Defiant, was scheduled for completion in six months and would benefit from the lessons learned during Enterprise’s upcoming shakedown cruise.
The day following Enterprise NCC-1701’s official naming and launch, former President and retired Starfleet Admiral Jonathon Archer passed away. As the namesake of his first command Enterprise accompanied the fleet’s flagship, the Arizona, in the funeral cortege beginning at Earth and stopping at Vulcan, Andoria, and Tellar, the cosignatories of the Coalition of Planets which grew into the Federation, before finally consigning Admiral Archer’s remains to the cosmos. This duty delayed Enterprise’s rendezvous at Starbase 5.
In the unexpected downtime Una had researched the senior officers on board. She reviewed these notes again.
Robert Timothy April. Enterprise’s commander. Engineer by training. Recently promoted to Captain. A highly decorated officer, no one betted against him achieving flag rank in the next decade. His last shipboard posting was first officer on the Los Angeles; that was four years ago. Since then he had served in Starfleet Logistics where he, Lawrence Marks, and Richard Daystrom conceived a starship that could operate independently and without resupply for at least five years. The trio believed the next phase of exploration required such a vessel as did protecting the ever-expanding borders of the Federation. This ship would be a heavy cruiser built to withstand the rigors of deep space with armaments capable of destroying a planet. It’s antimatter reactor supported the fastest warp drive in the fleet, and it carried the resources and tools needed to fabricate parts for self-repair. They pitched their idea to Starfleet Operations. April was placed in charge of building the prototype.
Sarah Poole. Commander. Assigned as Chief Medical Officer. Medical Doctor. Left Starfleet several years ago then completed a doctorate in veterinary medicine and setup a practice near San Francisco. She returned to Starfleet for this mission at April’s request.
Lawrence Marks. Lieutenant Commander. Assigned as Chief Engineer. He along with April oversaw Enterprise’s construction at the San Francisco Navy Yards. April is a theoretical engineer, Marks is the practical, hands-on tinkerer.
George Samuel Kirk, Sr. Lieutenant Commander. Assigned as temporary Security Chief during the shakedown cruise.
Liam Flynn. Lieutenant. Assigned as senior helmsman. A former test pilot. His service record is a lengthy list of redactions. It is rumored he flew the phantom Wraiths for special operations missions, stealthy, fast, heavily armed ships as maneuverable as a tactical fighter. The Wraiths were shadows that emerged out of thin air, pounced on their target, and faded back into the dark. Flynn would be her immediate supervisor.
Christopher Pike. Commander. Assigned as first officer …
The news reports on the nearby monitors diverted Una’s attention. One was replaying the Archer’s funeral procession with added footage from Enterprise NX-01’s missions. On another a panel critiqued the Federation’s actions during the recent battle of Donatu V, a vicious bloody skirmish with the Klingons with no clear winner, the latest hot flash in the ongoing cold war.
A third aired live proceedings from the courtroom where well-known civil rights attorneys William Matthews and his son were arguing that the Federation should grant political and humanitarian asylum to a Klingon refugee. Matthews Sr. was in the middle of his opening statement, pacing the courtroom, voice booming in his well-known highly articulate style. Una carefully followed all of his cases.
“Hello?”
She looked away from the monitor when the voice called again. A tall dark-haired man with blue eyes smiled back. His left arm rested in a sling and was tightly bound against his waist preventing its shoulder from moving. Una noted healing burns on his neck, left wrist, and left palm. He held out an uninjured hand. “Christopher Pike. And you are Lieutenant Una Chin-Riley I presume?”
Una quickly stood and came to attention. “Ah … yes sir.” Then she remembered his outstretched hand and grasped it, squeezing too hard, shaking too vigorously. “Sorry. How did you know I am me?”
He held up a PADD. “I have a picture.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She held up a PADD. “I have yours too.”
His smile grew revealing dimples. “We’re all square then.”
“Yes.” A pause. “I mean yes, sir.”
“One honorific is plenty.” Pike looked around. “So where’s your gear? We’re saddled, in the gate, and ready for the starting flag.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” he explained patiently.
“You could have started with that,” Una muttered under her breath. She pointed to the small Starfleet issued duffle bag on the floor by her feet.
“That’s not much,” Pike observed.
“I don’t need much, and I like traveling light,” she replied in a tone of voice edged with defensiveness.
“It’s all good,” he reassured and reached for the bag, picking it up before she could protest. “Come. Let’s get you settled into your new home.”