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There is a box, one that only the Captain knows about, that is kept in his [or her] quarters, or in the ready room. It’s an old box, made of wood grown dark with age and polished by time. It’s battered and scorched, it’s been nearly destroyed numerous times. But time and time again it’s been pulled from the wreck, or snatched up at the last moment, often at the risk of the Captain’s life.
It’s not an official secret, it’s older than any chain of command, kept safe by something stronger than rules, protected by tradition and by the duties of command and the love of a Captain for their ship.
If you saw it, you might have an inking of what it was, the letters carved into it’s side almost worn away by countless hands, but still spelling out the Name; Enterprise.
Inside the box there are plates of metal, some grown dull with age, a few warped and twisted, blacked by fires that are terrible to contemplate. The oldest of these bears the numbers 790, the next is stamped C-6, then CVN-65, OV-101, CVN-80, and so on... five bear the registration NCC-1701, followed by A through to D on the last four.
Each one represents a ship named Enterprise, no-one quite knows how long the tradition has lasted, but at least one predecessor provided the wood for the box, before wood gave way to steel, and then titanium followed by duraluminium and other newer materials.
But the box is not what has prompted prior Captains to risk their lives to see it safe, or to retrieve it from the wreckage at any cost. It’s not even the tradition, although that is certainly enough.
The box holds Her soul.
Not every Captain has seen her, but every single one has come to believe. Whether it’s sense of a steadying hand upon their shoulder at some critical moment, a glimpse of a slim young woman, with a long sweep of silver-white hair disappearing around a corner late at night… or a passionate, decades long love affair, to the exclusion of any mortal woman.
They all come to know that this ship has a soul, one who’s memories are contained in an ancient wooden box, and bound in old steel.
Occasionally, rarely, she will show herself to someone other than Her Captain. Sometimes a beloved first officer, navigator, chief engineer or helmsman… Not all understand, some appreciate despite not knowing how or why. But all of them quickly learn to trust her. One look into her sea grey eyes, and they can see the age and wisdom there. She will whisper to them, talking to them though her instruments, singing to them though deck-plating and bones. Quite often their names become legends.
None of them will speak of her, not even to their fellow initiates. Some things are too private, intimate, to ever be spoken of.
She has an eye for those that have the gift, that are, or will be, worthy to command her. She bestows her favours selectively. Some Captains she barely tolerates, knowing they’ll be gone soon, some she grows to like and grudgingly accepts. A few, a small number, she picks out from afar, noticing them among the fresh-faced cadets. Those she bides her time for, skilfully subtly manipulating events to bring them to her, whispering unseen in their ears as they make their way up the ranks. Helping them realise their potential. Grooming them so they might serve as her Captain.
Just occasionally, perhaps once a century, she finds one that she falls in love with. A Captain to whom she will give her all to, even her life for. From whom she asks for no less in return, and it is always willingly given.
She has lived many lives and died many times, sunk, scrapped, mothballed, died flaming as she fell… but as long as the box, and the remnants of her prior incarnations survives, she is always reborn into a body rebuilt, out of a soul of old iron and steel.
Because she is Enterprise, and whatever sea she sails, be it the oceans of Earth or the star lit deeps of space… she will never fail her Captain and her crew.