Reception After Christening of Legacy

Posted on Fri Aug 31st, 2018 @ 6:47pm by Captain Cynthia Jackson & Lieutenant JG Eric Thornton & Lieutenant Commander Charlotte Hudson & Lieutenant Cole Dering M.D. & Lieutenant JG Neza Glenn

7,820 words; about a 39 minute read

Mission: Mission 0 - Christening of Legacy and Crew Arrival
Location: Riverside, Iowa, USA
Timeline: 2261.185 1300

With two glasses of champagne, Cole weaved his way through the crowd, although he was attempting to track Cindy, he was also carefully keeping an eye out for one particular head of grey hair and admiral pips he wished to avoid. He wasn't there to mingle with his overbearing father.

He walked past Neza, having spotted Cindy once again, and walked on over. "That was quite a speech, Boss," he smiled, handing out one of the drinks to her.

"Boss?" Cindy asked with a giggle. "I suppose that I am but I do hate just thinking of myself that way. I'd rather be considered a partner, a friend, and a Captain, of course." She threw her hair glamorously out of her face and back behind her shoulders.

She took the drink offered to her and inquired, "So, what is this, Cole?" Teasing him, she continued, "You didn't spike it, did you?"

Friend? Partner? She was trying to kill him. Cole swallowed hard, rather preferring the title 'Boss' and the division it created in his mind. Smiling, he laughed with a wink, "Not this time."

"That's comforting, Cole," she replied winking back. "Well, let me know when you intend to do that. I would hate to be taken unawares." Potential innuendo dripped all over the last sentence.

His eyes locking onto hers, Cole raised an eyebrow, his mind going where it shouldn't. "Don't you trust me, Captain Cindy?"

"Of course I trust you, Silly!" She placed her hand lightly on Cole's shoulder. He could smell her perfume, a light strawberry scented number, as she got closer to him. "If I didn't trust you, I would have had you transferred when I met you. As I said, I'd rather have you as a friend, partner, and teammate."

His eyes went down to her hand before gazing on her, and he realized then he was in deeper trouble than he had originally thought. Her proximity had him warming. And nothing more, he inwardly sighed. "Well, I feel the same way," he smiled.

"That's great, Cole!" she replied happily. "I really would love to talk more. I love your company but if I don't scoot, I won't get to thanking all of the Old Fogeys and that would not really look good, if you know what I mean. I just have to find wherever Bec is hiding. You wouldn't know, would you?"

"No, I don't know where she's hiding," he replied, and matter of factly, before taking a drink. He understood why she needed to 'scoot', but on the other hand, rathered she didn't. He liked the idea of keeping her all to himself. And, as a bonus, her company would ensure he wouldn't get stuck talking to his father. Not on his own at least.

Cindy made a show of mockingly stomping her right foot. "I swear, that woman!" She laughed. "Knowing her, she's anywhere where the spotlight isn't." She giggled lightly but for several seconds. "I really need to help her lighten up a bit. You know? Wouldn't it be nice if she were as easy going as we are?" She shook her hair behind her head.

"Yeah, it would be." Hers so contagious, he had to smile again. "And if you need my help, I'll be around."

"That's really good to know, Cole. I'll keep it in mind, but I think I can handle this hide and seek mission. Just you don't go hiding on me too," she added with a giggle before walking off to stalk her XO.

"Bye," he said and watched her walk away. As she disappeared into the crowd, he swallowed down what remained of his drink, and then after eyeing his glass, set off to get another one.

**************************************************

Having finally squeezed her way through the throngs of dull dress uniform, Azelya jerked off her hat in relief, tucking it beneath her arm as she stepped up to the long white tablecloth covered table, snatching up a glass of the first drink to hide behind, eyes surveying the crowd for members of the crew.

A Legacy member of the crew walked directly up to Azelya, a junior grade lieutenant. His hair was a very light blonde, almost white. However, down the center, his hair was dyed green to match his eyes and it was spiked. He had a circular gold earring in each ear. In a musical high, nearly falsetto, nasally pitched voice, he exclaimed, "Oh, how wonderful! You're, Lieutenant Korr, aren't you? Chief of Security on Legacy, right?" His voice took some unusual lilts of higher and then lower pitches on the word, "right."

He then continued, "What I wouldn't do for those blue eyes of yours! And that red hair?! Oh, it is just delicious!" His voice lingered on the first word that he spoke next: "Anywho, my name is Eric Thornton. I'm the PR Officer for Legacy and one of the communication officers. Tell me what are your first impressions of Captain Jackson and the Legacy?" He placed a microphone before the Lieutenant anxiously awaiting an answer.

What in the saints?! Her brain lagged behind, confused as she processed the sheer onslaught of information that Eric had just lambasted her with, not to mention the compliments, steel blue eyes blinking rapidly as her facial muscles froze into a plastic-like smile as her brain chugged to catch up with the pace of the man.

Eventually, reality snapped back into place for the sidelined woman, gently setting her now empty glass down on the nearest white cloth covered table, her smile flickering into a more natural setting. "W-why thank you. Uh-I am the Chief of Security, and it's an utter pleasure to meet you! The ship is top of the line, she's stunning really. It's a marvel of Starfleet engineering, and it'll carry us into the next age of peace, and exploration. The crew will be one of the safest yet, in my opinion."

Continuing in her even, practiced 'I'm being bloody interviewed' tone she pressed on. "The captain is a wonderful and simply beau--" Her words became strangled, eyes bulging slightly, then feigning a cough. "She's a wonderful woman who has an incredibly impressive service record. The fact she was chosen for such a prestigious command should tell all of us what kind of an exemplary leader she will be."

Exhaling deeply, as if winded, she peered down at the microphone. "...Anything else I can help with as well? I'd be happy to regale you about the upgraded security features the Legacy has been outfitted with, well, the ones I can publicly." She fired off, almost smirking.

Eric answered, "Thank you for your time," and moved on.

**************************************************

Alec couldn't wait to get his hat off. He tugged at the color of his dress uniform, in obvious discomfort. He never really liked them, preferring his standard blue shirt any day of the week. Walking around he noticed a long table with a white tablecloth, he made a beeline.

He picked up a toothpick skewered hunk of cheese and a drink and started looking for a person to chat up. He put in his best smile and began to circulate.

**************************************************

Neza went back to her people watching, taking her drink over towards the food. She had only met a few people that were in the crowd, and she really didn't want to talk to them. She stood back a little from the array of food, scanning it while attempting to decide on what looked the best.

Alastair watched the huddled masses while sitting in a relatively isolated spot, reading a book in digital form instead of actually mingling. In his opinion, they were going to be together enough to know more of each other than they may like. His dislike of speeches also flowed over into a severe dislike of large and loud crowds of people. Or, as he viewed it, a lot of unnecessary noise whose sole purpose was to make other people look good. He looked up from his book enough to see a trio of people giggling and saying hello to others before he sighed and went back to his book. He shoot his head and muttered.

"I hope this party ends soon, I've got a job to do."

Instead, a person found him....

A junior grade lieutenant walked up to Alistair. His hair was a very light blonde, almost white. However, down the center, his hair was dyed green to match his eyes and it was spiked. He had a circular gold earring in each ear. In a musical high, nearly falsetto, nasally pitched voice, he exclaimed, "Oh, how wonderful! You're, Lieutenant Hallewell, aren't you? Chief of Science on Legacy, right?" His voice took some unusual lilts of higher and then lower pitches on the word, "right."

He then continued, "My name is Eric Thornton. I'm the PR Officer for Legacy and one of the communication officers. Tell me and the good people out there on Earth, Lieutenant Hallewell. What are your first impressions of Captain Jackson and the Legacy?" He placed a microphone before the Lieutenant anxiously awaiting an answer.

The young scientist calmly put a bookmark in his book before setting it in his lap. Looking up, visibly annoyed at the interruption, he gave a once-over of the colorful character thrusting a microphone in front of him.

"First, please refrain from shoving that thing in my face. To answer your questions: Yes, yes, she seems like a competent officer and I'm sure the ship is spaceworthy."

Satisfied with his response, he opened his book once more.

"As an aside, your parents are far more liberal than mine concerning appearance. My father would have tore that earring out of my ear the first moment he saw it, no matter how much it hurt."

He looked down at the text and gave the people before him a dismissive wave of his hand.

Eric did not relent. "I had thought that people like your parents died out in the 21st century. Prejudice does not apparently end."

Placing the microphone back towards Alistair, Eric continued, "Can you please give us a bit more insight into the bases for your opinions regarding Captain Jackson and Legacy?"

"For the Legacy, it's a Constitution-class vessel and the Enterprise, also a Constitution-class vessel, survived Nero's incursion as well as a bumpy ride through the atmosphere. The Enterprise is built of sturdy stuff, as I'm sure the Legacy is as well. As for Jackson, we've spoken and that's my initial impression of her. We have yet to speak at length about any particular topic, so anything else is mere speculation I'm afraid."

"I see," said Eric, already annoyed with this pompous and prejudiced officer. "Well, thank you for your time. See you on Legacy." With that, Eric left Alistair and sought a new interviewee.

*************************************************

Naryi gave a polite nod here and there as she made her way through the crowd, hat tucked neatly under her arm, her hair in a neat, tight bun. She had hoped some of her crewmates from the McCalla would have made it to the ceremony, or one of her Academy suitemates. She had been given a few tentative promises, but circumstances had been such that everyone was out of the solar system when the Legacy was being christened.

Not a problem for Naryi. Her internal clock told her that she only needed to wander around the reception for another twenty-eight minutes and forty-three seconds before she could return to her quarters. Then she could catch up on her technical journals!

A junior grade lieutenant walked up to Naryi. His hair was a very light blonde, almost white. However, down the center, his hair was dyed green to match his eyes and it was spiked. He had a circular gold earring in each ear. In a musical high, nearly falsetto, nasally pitched voice, he exclaimed, "Just the person I was looking for! My name is Eric Thornton. I'm the PR Officer for Legacy and one of the communication officers."

He shoved a microphone into the Naryi's face, "Tell me, Lieutenant Avonavi. What are your first impressions of Captain Jackson and the Legacy?"

Naryi nimbly plucked the microphone from the other lieutenant's hand. "You're in possession of an inferior model," she advised the lieutenant. "The transtator in this model isn't properly calibrated. I'd recommend replacing it, but..." Naryi produced a microscopic tool from somewhere on her person and popped open a panel on the microphone. After a few minutes, she replaced the panel and returned to the microphone to the PR officer. "Give it about five minutes before you use it again, but it will work better now. I'd still recommend getting the Type II, though." With that, Naryi nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

Eric took the microphone gingerly, opened it up, and looked at it, while whining, "What did she do THAT for...?" Naryi having disappeared before he could catch her, he started looking into the crowd trying to find another Legacy crewmember.

The previously napping and intermittently flatulating retired admiral made his way to the dismayed Eric, wiping something off the mass of ribbons he wore on his jacket. "Fourth estate, eh?" he began. "Don't deny it. That's what you are. Good for you. Good for you. What we need in the federation. One of the columns and all that. Damn good job you do. Damn good job. Baron Offen Bakergood of Old Scone. Vice Admiral. Retired, of course. Retired. But still damn proud of the Fourth Estate. Good job. Bloody good job."

The purple haired female attending Admiral Bakergood (ret.) took the opportunity to take the Admiral's elbow and lead him away. "Keep up the good work, Fourth Estate," the retired flag officer yelled over his shoulder.

Eric recorded the whole thing and wondered what in the world the Admiral was talking about. Ignoring the purple haired female, he rushed after the Admiral and said, "Admiral, may I just have a few moments of your time?"

Ignoring the purple haired female was a mistake. A solid hand to the chest from the alien kept Eric at what the alien thought was a proper distance.

"Now, now, Tigore, we must play nice," Bakergood said with a chuckle. "Anyway, young man, I would be an undoubted disappointment to you, an undoubted disappointment. Just an old relic who they trot out at such events like this. Important work you're doing, important...what the devil is that thing?" Bakergood said, gesturing at a hovering drone. "Get it away from here, there's a good girl, Tigore."

Tigore produced a device from her person and pointed it at the drone. The drone reversed course and moved away from her.

"Yes, yes, important work you're doing there, me old mucker," Bakergood told Eric. "Dreadfully important. Cornerstone and all that," Bakergood continued, as he and Tigore continued through the crowd.

Being rebuffed again, only interested Eric further. He continued to chase the Baron. "Why do you assume that you would not be interesting to me? Your companions and you are a rather fabulous and eclectic bunch."

The Baron had struck up a lively and animated conversation with the Deputy Representative of the Tellarian Delegation to the Federation Council (much to the dismay of those surrounding them), and had apparently forgotten all about Eric chasing after him. Tigore hadn't though, and firmly placed herself between Eric and the Baron.

"The Baron says he would be uninteresting," Tigore said with a steely gaze. "You should go find someone interesting."

"How about you?" he asked Tigore. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Tigore stiffened at the question, then paused. She finally nodded and, assuming a formal tone, answered, "I am Tigore, an Arai of the Canate of Kalapa, a member of the United Federation of Planets. I am a granddaughter of the Great Caan, and stand fifty-ninth for that throne. On Stardate 2231.121, when Baron Bakergood retired from Starfleet, the Great Caan, in his magnanimous nature and in gratitude for all that Baron Bakergood had done for him and the people of Kalapa, decreed that an Arai should tend to the Baron, as befits a man of his stature and wisdom. Initially, Baron Bakergood deferred this generous offer, but who is to deny the wisdom of the Great Caan?"

"Even before the Canate of Kalapa joined the Federation, it was the custom of Arai such as I to travel and learn, and who would deny us? Who can gainsay the wisdom of the Great Caan, who rules with enlightment, or the Tekilay, who emerges from the people and governs them? And many came to trade with us, for the Canate of Kalapa is rich with dilithium and other precious metals, and is known for her arts and other industries. Her merchants are subtle and shrewd, her artists insightful and sublime, her learned prudent and sagacious."

"So Baron Bakergood yielded to the wishes of my grandfather, and an Arai of the Kalapa has been in his service since," Tigore announced. "I am the fourth such Arai, and I am honored to have been in his service for four years. Now if you will excuse me," Tigore said, her tone returning to normal, as she saw Baron Bakergood preparing to move into a different direction in the crowd, "I must tend to my duties. You may go elsewhere now," she instructed Eric.

Eric tried to process all of the information. Some of it was useful and interesting but he wondered exactly what the Baron did to endear himself so to get this sort of treatment. Perhaps he would look it up in the near future. However, right now, his mission was to give the public what they needed of the reception. His personal curiosities pushed aside and Tigore having dismissed him, he moved back into the crowd.

**************************************************

Neza watched her new commanding officer start to look around for someone. Probably looking for someone to bother, she thought to herself before piling a plate full of finger foods. Once again, she scanned the crowd, seeing her new department head reading. She saw a few others that she didn't know the names of around as well. She wasn't social, especially when she didn't know who was who or who was even on the ship.

Cole had walked up to the table when he spotted Cindy too, and now distracted, spun back around, bumping into Neza, his drink spilling all over her food.

"Oy," Neza stated as she was bumped into. It wasn't that she was angry, it had just caught her off guard. There was drink on her food, and some on her a bit as well. Unfortunately, her own drink that had been in her other hand spilled right at whoever had bumped into her.

She finally looked over to see who it was, not recognizing the person. "What a mess."

Having closed his eyes as her drink flew towards him, Cole grimaced when he seen what he had done to her. "Oh..." he started looking her over, "I'm really sorry. Here..." he took her glass and placed it and his onto the table. Quickly grabbing some napkins he handed some to her.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Neza took the napkins. "Thanks. It's okay, this place is crowded, people are bound to run into each other." She did her best to give him a small smile before looking down at her outfit. "Glad we don't wear these too often."

She looked back at him. "By the way, I'm Neza Glenn." Why not introduce herself to someone? She'd be doing it a lot on the ship.

Cole looked up from wiping the front of his uniform. His face, he knew, was going to need to be washed. It was sticky, among turning a shade of red. He gave a small laugh, "Hi Neza," finally noticing how pretty she was, "I'm Cole Dering, the Legacy's mortified CMO."

Alec was circulating when he saw two people. Huzzah! he thought as he quietly made his way over. "Allow me to get you a new plate." he said, ever the helpful sort.

Cole's eyes narrowed and he sighed, annoyed. Really? he thought. He had wanted to make amends for dumping his drink all over.. Neza, and now some 'hero' comes in to save the day. He managed a weak smile, trying to ignore the small voice reminding him that he had played that hero himself.

Her eyes turning to Alec, Neza shook her head before looking back to the other there. "Did he really just...?"

"Ah.." Cole looked between the two, having been expecting another reaction from her. "I got this." he said to Alec, and returning to Neza, he smiled.

Smiling, Neza was surprised someone she just met was willing to 'rescue' her. She watched what was happening then turned back to Cole. "Thank you, Cole, for whatever it is you did. I'm not sure what it was that you did but, thank you."

"Oh," he gave her a grin, and then had to laugh, "That makes two of us. How about I get you a new plate?"

“I think that sounds like a great plan.”

Having taken her plate of drowned food and setting it aside, Cole lead Neza over to where there were clean ones. He grabbed another and raising an eyebrow, started looking over the many choices. He looked down to her and half smiled, "Sorry I'm making you start over."

Neza shook her head. "It's okay, really. Besides, I wasn't to sure about what I'd grabbed anyways. Looks like the same spread I had at my graduation."

“Yeah,” Cole’s smile grew, “it sort of does. Well…” he looked at the choices, “how about a little of everything?” and started filling her plate, happy to do so, thinking they could share. At the familiar feeling he was being watched, he looked over to see an older man with a strong resemblance to him standing about thirty feet away, and watching.

“Oh great…” Cole mumbled, wondering how much his dad had seen of his bumping into Neza. He finished filling Neza’s plate and with a fake yet charming smile, excused himself. “There’s someone I need to speak to,” he explained.

An imposing man with groups of people walking around him, Admiral Jonathan Dering wasn’t about to budge. His eyes remained on Cole for the most part, he occasionally gave that same charming smile the two shared with a nod to those walking by.

“Hi, Dad,” Cole said, approaching him with a wide and sincere smile. Grabbing a drink on the way, his imagination had pictured him arriving only to trip and spill his drink all over his dad, sending him away. That thought cheered him up for the moment.

“Hello, Junior.” While it was an affectionate nickname given by Cole’s grandfather, who he was named after, Jonathan had adopted it during Cole’s teen years. It was said with the air of someone exasperated. He knew perfectly well that it bothered his son, payback for the late call, but some things between them were never likely to change.

Cole inwardly winced, not showing how much he hated it, not wanting to give the old man the satisfaction. “So, how much did you see?” he asked, referring to Neza, playing it carefully in case his dad hadn’t seen his accident with her. Most likely he had. Or maybe he would think he was referring to the ceremony.

Jonathan stared at him for a moment, a look that gave nothing away, before responding. “Which part? The flirting was entertaining.” He had only caught bits and pieces, however Cole didn't need to know that.

“Ohh..” Cole sarcastically laughed while turning away. He downed his drink and returned with, “I learned from the best.” when he was around.. “How about the ceremony?” he asked, turning his dad away from Neza. Or was that Cindy his dad was referring to...? Cole forced a smile.

The sarcastic response caused the corner of the Admiral’s mouth to tick, he opted for the conversation change. “It was… optimistic.”

Cole gave him a look as if to say Ahh, I see. “Well, I thought it was great, rather inspiring… She put a lot of hard work into that speech. I think it came through.”

There it was, the legendary Cole Dering defensive tone. Jonathan sighed, his son had a talent for misunderstanding him. “Cole, Captain Jackson is one of -”

He knew it. His father couldn't appreciate what Cindy or anyone with vision could add to Starfleet, rather she was just another captain and Cole wasn't living up to expectations. “Don’t talk about her, Dad. How about next time you try walking up to me and telling me how proud you are of my choices, of my career, of what I’ve accomplished instead of looking for what is wrong.”

“Now Junior, “ Jonathan started out of habit, “that is not what I meant. I appreciate her optimistic vi -”

“Hey dad,” Cole leaned in, cutting his dad off again for his selective hearing, and said low into his ear, “I don’t believe you.” With that, he patted his father on the back and walked away.

**************************************************

Martha Wachahunka could be excused for being nervous. The newly minted (well, less than a year minted) Ensign had been the personal nurse for Vice Admiral (ret) Offen Bakergood from the moment she had gotten her rank. The duty wasn't hard. Despite his odd mannerisms, Baron Bakergood was (mostly) dutiful in following his doctor's instructions. When the Baron became obstinate, Tigore, a purple haired humanoid alien from a planet called Kalapa, who served as servant and bodyguard for the Baron, would say one or two words, and that would be that.

Most times, though, the Baron was as good as patient as anyone could hope for. He had a tendency to doze off, and she suspected he affected his persona, but he had a good soul, she could tell that.

Her grandfather worshipped the man. And, by the number and nature of the visitors Baron Bakergood received at his manor at Old Scone, her grandfather wasn't alone.

George Wachahunka was a retired Starfleet engineer and currently a civilian consultant with Starfleet's Bureau of Design and Development. He had also been a young engineering officer on the USS Bosphorus, which had served as the flagship for a flotilla commanded by (then) Rear Admiral Bakergood during what her history course at the Academy called the Kalapa incident. According to the one hour they reviewed the event, a faction of the Orion syndicate had incited civil unrest on the planet Kalapa, to prevent Kalapa from entering the Federation. Bakergood had entered the Kalapa system and drove out the Orions with his flotilla, somehow becoming injured in the process. The book was vague about the details, and there was very little information in the Academy's library about the incident. Not that Martha was interested in learning more about the event. She had an exam in xenobotany at the same time, and looking up details on minor events in military history was very low on her list.

Except her grandfather told her the few details she had learned were far from accurate.

"No flotilla, just the Bosphorus," her grandfather had told her. "And if Admiral Bakergood hadn't handled it the way he had, people would be talking about Kalapa the same way that they talk about Sumter or Sarajevo. People forget that the Federation was only fifty years old back then." When she pressed her grandfather for details, he clammed up.

Not that it mattered to her. She was here with Tigore to watch over the Baron during the christening. Except that the Baron had insisted that she spend time with her grandfather, who proudly introduced his granddaughter to all his high-ranking and high placed friends, while all the while Martha's head would swivel around to keep track of her primary charge in the crowd,

After about an hour, Martha finally made her apologies to her grandfather, and made a beeline back to her patient.

**************************************************

Cindy knew that staying with Cole would be a mistake she had to personally thank all of the Admirals for the faith they placed in her. Immediately, she set upon finding her Executive Officer so that they could do it together. Now, if I were my XO, where would I be hiding? Where's the furthest corner from people in this room? Cindy started weaving her way through the crowd towards it.

Bec had found a quiet space near the food table, and of course a glass of champagne to pretend to drink so no one else attempted to force one into her hand. Unfortunately, she wasn't left alone as she'd hoped. An old acquaintance from her Academy days happened to be there and she was stuck in perpetual polite conversation as they called others over and introduced them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jackson headed for the opposite corner. 'Probably looking for me,' she thought, wondering what fresh hell Jackson had in store for her this time. Probably more talk, but maybe it would be better than her current repeat track. Excusing herself, she edged away from the gathering and weaved her way to Jackson. "Looking for me?"

"I love that you anticipate me," she told Bec sincerely. "We need to meet with the Admirals. Thank them and show our appreciation. I'm sure our PR officer would probably want to take a holo or two of it, as well. Not to mention that we could get our orders. I still have no idea where we're supposed to fly."

Bec audibly groaned. "I escaped one group of small-talkers, now you're forcing me into another," she sighed and shook her head. "At least knowing our mission will be worth this torture. Please tell me once we're done this I can go get out of this stuffy uniform... I hate the miniskirt dress, but I'll take that over this," she pulled at the hem of her jacket. "The fabric is too stiff. And this hat is horrid," at the mention of the hat, she pulled it off and messed up her hair a bit, trying to get rid of the hat lines.

"Which small talkers would those be?" Cindy asked, genuinely interested. Before Bec could answer, she continued, "What's wrong with the miniskirts?" Cindy asked offended. "You have the body to rock it!" She then smirked. "But you're right about the hat and the dress uniform. Way too drab and rough on the skin. Once we're done here, I'm out of it, too!"

Perhaps we should start with the last Admiral first? "Where's Admiral Wheeler?"

Bec shook her head. "The miniskirt isn't pants," she said with a shrug. "I just don't feel comfortable in dresses and skirts, never been my thing. Remember, I grew up with four older brothers. As for who to start with, I would agree that Admiral Wheeler would be the best place to start."

"Great! Last Admiral first! Let's find him." Cindy started weaving through the crowd with Bec to find him.

Once she did, she gave him a salute and said, "The Commander and I just wanted to thank you for your speech and the faith you have placed in us with Legacy."

The Admiral smiled at both Commanders as photos where being taken. “Not at all, Legacy is in fine hands.” He said loudly so people could hear. Then he got closer and whispered “When I find someone else to replace you I will. I don’t like you and feel you are the wrong person for this command.” Wheeler said before changing his tone and smiling once again. “Any more photos? I like a good picture, especially if it’s going on the Federation News Service. Just get my good side.” He joked.

"You don't like me?" Cindy's eyes widened in shock. Her voice lowered. "I do not believe that we have had any dealings before, Admiral. Why do you believe I'm wrong?" His good side? He looks like a walking and talking nutcracker.

“No, I don’t. I don’t think you are mature enough for command. If we didn’t need this ship out in space we would hold it here until we found a more suitable Commanding Officer. First chance I get you’ll be out of that Captain's chair.” Wheeler said, no emotion evident on his face.

"Not mature enough?" Cindy intoned, her eyes darkening as she considered her statement. Be careful, Cindy. He's an admiral and this is a trap. Should you say too much, you justify his position and you lose Legacy. It is not your fault you're young. Hell, most of Starfleet is young. Just because he's some Old Fogey that managed to survive Khan doesn't mean that he knows anything.

She took a deep breath and calmly said, "I am sorry that is your opinion. I hope to give you reasons to reevaluate that opinion." Which apparently is a minority position as I have this command. God, I so want to rub that into his face.

“Don’t worry Commander, I’ll be evaluating your position more often than you think. I will have that command off you quicker than you can say ’engage’.” Wheeler said with a sly grin.

"Ah, Commander Jackson," the stout/bordering on portly Baron Offen Bakergood of Old Scone announced in a slurred British accent as he came walking up. "Congratulations all around all that. Jolly good show of things. And it's Admiral Woofer, right? You were a young pup still on the papers when they finally put me out to pasture," Bakergood added, slapping Wheeler on the back as he did so, and using the Rear Admiral's uniform to wipe something off of his hand in the process.

"And you're a young thing, aren't you, Commander, for such a grand ship?" the Baron continued. "Well, so was I, at your age. The Shieldhall. Not as big as your Legacy, but she was a fine ship. A fine ship. The Great Man himself was there when she was commissioned and I took command. Last year of his presidency. They don't make men as fine as Archer anymore. No they don't," Bakergood said, a hint of moisture in his eyes.

"We should mingle some more, Admiral," the purple hair female alien tending him said, leading the Baron away.

"Nonsense, I've got advice to impart," Bakergood insisted. "Battle is all and good, Commander Jackson, all and good, but it's the exploration that's the key. Seeing what's around the next corner. And never let them make you an Admiral. Because after that, the only time you get to go into space is during war and preparing for war. And that's no good at all. No good at all. Let's get some punch," Bakergood told his purple hair attendee, who turned him around to head towards the refreshment. And just as Bakergood was facing directly away from Rear Admiral Wheeler, he released a bit of flatulence that propelled him further away.

Cindy stifled a great deal of laughter. She agreed wholeheartedly with the Baron and she was sure that Wheeler did not. The look on Wheeler's face told the entire story. Turning to Bec she said, "I think I would like to hear more of Bakergood's advice. Would you care to come with me or spend more time with the Admiral?"

Bec had been standing beside Jackson trying to keep her confusion at bay while Jackson and Wheeler prattled on about something to do with Wheeler not liking Jackson for command. But once the Baron shuffled over, she spent her time trying not to laugh or add in sarcastic comments. When the man flatulated in Wheeler's direction, Bec lost it and began trying to fake cough to cover up her giggles. "I think I'd like to hear more of Bakergood's advice as well, and some punch. Good day, Admiral Wheeler, it was lovely to meet you," the fake compliment hurt her throat as she tried to keep sarcasm from slipping through.

At the punch stand, the Baron was having an argument with his purple haired attendee and a young, dark skinned, long haired ensign in formal attire. It seemed the Tellarite deputy representative to the Federation Council was offering to spike the Baron's cup of punch, but the Baron's attendee and the ensign were having none of it.

Cindy noticed that Bec was following and barely containing her laughter. She only hoped that the drones did not pick that up, even if she agreed with Bec's reaction. Trying to get the Baron's attention, Cindy called, "Baron Bakergood. Would you mind if we had another moment, please?"

"Hmmm, what?" the Baron said, looking around. "Ah, yes, Commander Jackson, though I've not had the pleasure of meeting your first officer. She is your first officer, isn't she? Trust her with your life, and your life will be secure. T'Lar taught me that. Lost her to that bloody Nero." A sadness momentary crossed the Baron's countenance, but he quickly shook it off.

"Another time, Kaaral," the Baron told the Tellarite, who shrugged nonchalantly before adding more of the 'spike' to his own punch. "Anyway, Commander Jackson, I am at your disposal, and that of your companion's. And speaking of companions, this is Tigore..." the purple haired woman bowed her head "...who has a title of her own, but Kalapan is worse than Hebrew. End up spraying the bloody room if you pronounce it correctly. And this young lady is Ensign Martha Wachahunka. Last name's North American First Nation. Starfleet Medical assigned her to me, which seems a perfectly good waste of a trained nurse, at least one so young and personable. They should have sent me an old battleaxe, so we could take turns making each other miserable."

"So, Commander Jackson, what service can an old warhorse like me do for a young captain about to head out to the stars?" the Baron asked.

Cindy did not bother correcting the retired Admiral that she preferred to be called Cindy. She believed that would be rude and overstepping herself, so she let formal title stand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Admiral and Tigore and Ensign Wachahunka. I appreciated what you did back there with Admiral Wheeler. I just wanted you to know that." She looked over at Bec and said, "Bec and I are just getting to know each other. She was assigned to me. Highly unusual but I think I got a good first officer."

"Me? Do something?" Bakergood laughed. "Poppycock and balderdash. Just moving around. Have to, you know. The medicine that the doctor prescribes for my condition and this one administers..." Bakergood gestured toward Wachahunka "...plays the devil on the gastrointestinal, don't you know. Better than what I got after...well, that's another story. But I am glad I've run into you again, Commander. Something I have for you. They have a small room for me here, in case I have to take a nap. Happens at my age. Might have something for you. You did bring it, didn't you, Tigore?" The purple haired alien nodded. "If you and your good first officer will follow me, Commander Jackson?"

Bec watched the exchange silently and kept a pleasant smile on her face. She took note of all the news drones swirling around them, trying to get good shots of Jackson, herself, and the Admirals. 'This needs to end soon,' she thought, 'though it's nice to know Jackson thinks I'm a good choice.' When Bakergood asked them to follow him, she fell into step beside Jackson, wondering what the aging Baron could have for Jackson.

If there was anything that would hook Cindy to do something, it was curiosity. Without a thought, she followed the Baron and gave Bec a warming smile. Discovery! That's what everything was about, even if it was just a small gesture from an aging Baron.

A few drones and Ensign Wachahunka attempted to follow the Baron, but a wave of a handheld device by Tigore ran off the former, and a few kinds words from the Baron to seek out her grandfather took care of the latter.

Once the group was in a small but cozy sitting room, the Baron rummaged around and found what he was looking for: a glass encased butterfly. Except the butterfly had a wingspan easily half a meter wide, and had a wilder and brighter combination of colors than anything ever found on Earth.

"Had the species renamed T'lar's butterfly," Bakergood announced, handing over the encased specimen to Cindy. "Discovered it myself, on my first command, the Shieldhall. Rata IV. Ghastly weather, ah, but the most beautiful flowers and butterflies. Named the butterfly something else, but after Vulcan..." Bakergood looked out at the distant. "Anyway, the Director of the Federation Science Bureau is a good lad, was happy to make the change. A bit of trouble, I suspect, but a small enough favor to ask I suppose. It's what you need to be doing, Commander Jackson. Battles will be there whether you go looking for them or not. But the strange, the beautiful, the unknown...those won't show up on your front door."

Bakergood let out a hug yawn, and added, "Well, you've let an old man take up enough of your time, Commander Jackson. Time for my nap, now. But could you do me one more favor?"

Cindy's eyes widely focused on the large butterfly. It was gorgeous and she was enthralled by it so much that she barely heard the rest of what Bakergood was saying. After all, this is what her chosen field of science was about. And here something wonderful was in her hand. She could discover something equally wonderful. Her eyes glistened and lightened substantially. "Thank you so much for this generous and beautiful gift. I have no words to express enough gratitude. So, what favor can I do for you, Baron? If it is within my power and legal, I would be happy to do it for you."

"You can take Ensign Wachahunka off my hands," the Baron said, stretching out on the divan in the room. "Not that I have any problems with her. Far from it. But a young officer doesn't need to be wasting the prime of her career watching out over a relic like me. Corgy's still running Personnel, I think, or if not, one of his trained pups. No matter. She's a top notch nurse, serve your chief sawbones well, I suspect. Her grandfather was a top notch engineer, even when he was your age. Was with me on the Bosphorus, you know. Watch out for the diplomats. Good enough, sometimes, but quick enough to get you lost in the moor. Take care of your Captain," Bakergood instructed Bec. And with the last sentence, the Baron had stretched on the divan and fallen fast asleep.

Tigore found an afghan to cover the retired flag officer before turning to the Legacy command staff. "It's the medicine. He'll be asleep for a few hours now."

Cindy looked at Bec and then at Tigore. "He is quite the unique individual. I rather enjoyed time with him. Perhaps we shall more another day."

Irisu talakil seewee newibee. Bee ageligilotee akeebiraleuh," Tigore replied. "He is a great man. I honor him with my service."

"I would be interested in hearing more about him but I believe that I have to honor his request." Excusing herself, Cindy went outside and said, "The Baron had requested that I bring you onto Legacy. Would that be your request, as well?"

Martha, was in a word, floored. Almost from the beginning, the Baron had told her it was the waste of "a fine young officer" to spend her career taking care of him. He was quite capable of arranging for a private nurse of his own. But the retired admiral had plenty of friends and admirers in Starfleet and the Federation who wanted to see him taken care of and, truthfully, Martha had become quite fond of the old man. She didn't consider it a waste of her career at all.

Apparently, though, Baron Bakergood had decided to force the issue, and to do something for Martha's own good.

"I---I would like that very much, Commander," Martha finally answered.

Bec had little time or space to say anything. She had been awed by the butterfly, and knew Will would love to see it as much as she had. When Bakergood instructed her to take care of her Captain, she gave him a nod, despite his falling asleep. As they were leaving, she whispered, "I will, Admiral. Defend her with my life if I have to," she added, making sure neither Jackson nor Tigore heard her comment to the sleeping man.

She walked out the door in time to hear the surprised nurse stammer that she would like to come with them to the Legacy. Bec gave a rare smile to the nurse before turning to Jackson again. "Not to interrupt, Captain, but I believe we have a few more photo opportunities to make, Admirals to thank, before Thornton gets antsy. Unless you want to make the executive decision to leave now," she said as she came up beside Jackson.

Cindy nodded. "You're right, Bec. We have to get to the Admirals but let's do it at a more brisk pace." She gave her First Officer a grin that told Bec she knew that Bec would enjoy that. "Then, I'll get our new Ensign transferred over. I promised the Baron.... And after that, we have to meet with Admiral Wheeler and get our orders." Cindy's eyes darkened as she mentioned Wheeler's name. "Sound like a plan?"

"Sure, quick torture and then drawn out torture," Bec said, her tone jovial and light and a smile on her face. "Sounds like an excellent plan! Let's hop to it."

Cindy noticed Bec's smile and the fact that it appeared to be genuine. She decided to not mention the matter but to save the information for later as they approached the nearest Admiral that they could find.

**************************************************

Three...two...one...BRRRINNNG!!!

Naryi's internal alarm went off, and a smile appeared on her face. Wandering around and talking to VIPs hadn't been all that bad. Not really. But Naryi wasn't the type who thrived in settings like this. She'd much rather be somewhere else.

Such as reading that monograph on the Constitution class' primary phaser system. With a new goal firmly in her mind, Naryi exited the gathering, stage right.

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