Captain's Mast

Another tarmac, another shuttle, another honest talk, just like it had happened on Talkha.

“Two out of three,” Caleb Fuster mumbled and tore his eyes from the spot in the sky where the shuttle had vanished from his view.

Slowly he turned and trudged back towards the main building. In the past he would have enjoyed being at the Hunters Point shuttleport; looking at the civilian pilots and their strictly atmospheric craft would have made him feel proud and cocky. Today Cal Foster had other things on his mind and with every step he took towards the terminal he replayed in his mind the conversation he had with Karena Basiri fifteen minutes ago.

“I think you will like Paris.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Karena replied, “but it’s only for a few days, maybe a week, and I doubt I will have a chance to see much of the city.”

Caleb leaned against one of the pillars that supported the second level of the terminal building and looked to the small group of Talkhans standing ten meters away. “I guess Tretyak is keeping you pretty busy, isn’t he?”

“That should be Ambassador Tretyak, but yes, I am so busy that I didn’t see much of San Francisco and I doubt Paris will be any different.” Karena ran her eyes around the tarmac and the people moving between the waiting shuttles. “And perhaps that’s for the best. I think I would get completely lost if it wasn’t for my work.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Caleb grinned and slightly shook his head. “I bet you will adjust soon. I know this must be overwhelming for you, but just take it one step at a time and you will be just fine.”

Karena glanced at Foster and found some comfort in his reassuring smile. “Perhaps you are right. I am just glad Minister... Ambassador Tretyak decided to travel to Paris by shuttle. That should give me some time to gather my wits again. Speaking of which, I think it’s time to go.” She pointed her chin at the man who had just stepped up to the group of waiting Talkhans.

Caleb recognized the neat almost-uniform favored by so many civilian shuttle pilots on Earth who wanted to present a respectable look. ‘A cab driver,’ he thought as fell in step at Karena’s side

Caleb Foster cleared his throat audibly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Umm, sure, go ahead.” Cal was taken aback by the sudden question, but hoped that it didn’t show. ‘Damn, beaten to the punch.’

Karena Basiri stopped and glanced over her shoulder at the waiting shuttle. The Talkhans’ luggage was just being stored in the aft cargo compartment, so she had a little time. “I have seen the interviews you and some of the other Valkyrie officers gave to Mr. Fisk a few days ago. I am curious if this is how you all really feel?”

“I am not sure I understand the question.”

“Well,... I was under the impression that everyone on the Valkyrie works pretty well together, but what you and the others said during the interviews sounded almost like an advertisement to me.”

As Foster thought about the question Karena started to walk towards the shuttle again. The Talkhan diplomats were boarding their flight now and there was little time left. ‘But she deserves an answer.’

“I can only speak for myself, but however it may have sounded to you, it’s just how I feel. There is something about the Captain that allows her to bring out the best in her crew. I don’t know how she does it, or if she is aware of it herself, but it’s a fact.”

They had almost reached the shuttle and Caleb stopped. He needed a little more time to say what was on his mind. “I think what makes working on the Valkyrie so great is that the Captain always tries to look at someone’s best qualities and bring them to the fore. So yes, it may have sounded like an ad, but it’s still true, at least for me.”

“I see.” Karena nodded and turned towards the shuttle again.

She had just reached the hatch when Foster found his voice again. “There is one thing I wanted to ask you myself.”

She looked over her shoulder and all Caleb saw in her face was mild curiosity, but not the interest he had hoped for. “Would you mind if I wrote to you occasionally? We may not see each other before I leave Earth again and perhaps having someone to talk to would help you adjust to your life here on Earth.”

Karena Basiri’s brows furrowed for a second, before she started to smile. “Of course you can write to me. And I think it may really help me to adjust to life on Earth. Thank you.” She nodded and stepped into the shuttle.

Cal’s fist slammed into the pillar he had leaned on twenty minutes ago. “Damn you, Cal. Can I write to you? Yeah, that was a real classy line. They’ll put that on my gravestone and laugh their asses off. Damn!”

What he needed right now was a drink. It wouldn’t help, but at least it would give him something else to regret in the morning.

*****

“You are aware why you are here today, Lieutenant Foster?”

Caleb Foster stood to attention. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He was all too well aware why he was in the presence of the Captain today. The procedure known as Captain’s Mast was one of the most informal of disciplinary actions, but the proceedings were still strictly regulated by Starfleet protocol. Cal had been informed in advance of the charges that would be discussed and had been give ample time to seek legal counsel and prepare a statement. He had done neither. He knew what he had done and he would face all the consequences his conduct would bring down on him.

What he had done had been wrong, but it had hardly been his fault. ‘At least most of it hasn’t.’

Captain Veal’s voice yanked Foster from his thoughts. “Lieutenant, you stand accused of assaulting a civilian in a bar in San Francisco on stardate 50052.1. I have reviewed all the pertinent files, including your own statement made to the San Francisco police department, the statement by the aggrieved party, and several witness statements. You have had access to the same files and I take it you have reviewed them carefully. Is there anything you want to add or do you want to challenge the validity of any of the statements mentioned?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Very well.” Tarin Veal planted her elbows on the desk and looked left and right before she rested her chin on her stapled fingers.

At the Captain’s left sat Lieutenant Hagen, a hint of a smile barely visible around her lips, but perhaps that was just Cal’s unfounded hopes playing tricks on his mind.

But when he looked to Captain Veal’s right every hope left him, like a snowball vanishing in the fires of hell. Lieutenant Alvarez was grinning widely, but all that grin said was ‘at last you’ll get what you deserve’.

It took Foster a moment to remind himself that Lieutenant Alvarez was just there as a witness to the proceedings, not to pass judgment. While Alvarez’s expression wasn’t pleasant, Cal Foster had faced worse than a Captain’s Mast in his checkered career. ‘All she can do is restrict me to quarters for a little while, or a few weeks on half-pay. Could be worse.’

Before Foster could relax, Tarin Veal took the word again. “Before we proceed there is just one thing I would like to ask you, Lieutenant.” Noticing the icy calm in the Captain’s voice Cal was suddenly no longer certain that things could have been worse.

“Lieutenant Foster, can you imagine how much I like to interrupt my vacation because one of my officers just has to get himself into trouble at the earliest possible moment? And if you think of answering that with a yes you’d better think again. You can’t begin to imagine how much I dislike it.”

*****

Caleb lowered himself on a stool at the bar and stared down at the polished metal surface for a few seconds. He knew the Talkhans had all been invited to Captain Veal’s wedding, but if they could make it remained to be seen. To Cal it felt like he had seen the last of Karena for a long time and he didn’t like the thought. He should be the one showing her around Earth, not a guide appointed by some government committee or another. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Another thing he could do nothing about now was the way he had messed up his one chance to tell Karena how he felt about her. ‘And maybe that’s for the best. Given some time and distance, who knows how I will feel about her. Maybe it’s just a crush that will pass as soon as it started.’

As someone behind the counter cleared his throat Cal looked up into a bland professional smile. “Anything I can get you?”

“Do you have some real Andorian ale?” Cal waved his hand over the counter and knew the sensors would pick up his biometric data. He was certain that some well-hidden display would show the barkeep his credit limit and the fact that he was more than old enough to order any drink he liked.

“Sure. One Andorian ale coming up.”

As Foster waited for his drink he briefly looked around the room and wondered why every spaceport bar looked more or less the same in every corner of the Federation. The quality of the drinks and the stylishness of the furniture would vary, but somehow there always seemed to be a bar with lots of glasses and bottles behind it.

And in many ways the people always stayed the same. Hurried travelers just grabbing a drink between ships or shuttles, old space-hands, dock workers. Fashions, races, details always changed, but the basic setting seemed always the same.

‘And for how many years have I felt at home in places like this?’ He nodded at the barkeep who  had just placed a glass and a bottle in front of him, before he took a longer look around. ‘To think I really enjoyed these dives. Ah hell, at least it never gets dull in a place like this.'

Caleb filled his glass with dark foaming Andorian ale and took a sip. He rolled the bitter liquid around his tongue a moment before he swallowed it. Before he could get lost in his thoughts about Karena again the monitor behind the bar finally registered on Lieutenant Foster’s mind and he motioned for the barkeep again.

“Would you mind switching to another channel? I am really not in the mood for another one of those pseudo-documentaries about the Valkyrie.”

The barkeep looked around the room and at the faces glued to the monitor behind him. Noticing the man’s doubtful expression Cal reached for the padd laying on the counter and added a hefty tip to his bill. Turning the padd around so the barkeeper could get a good look at it he asked, “that enough to convince you?”

*****

Caleb Foster was working on his second ale when someone close by asked: “Hey, aren’t you that Foster guy from the Valkyrie?”

“Yup.” There was something in that voice Cal didn’t like, but he wasn’t in the mood to care about it. “Sorry, I am not giving any autographs today.”

The half-retching sound that answered his remark made Caleb Foster look up... and up... and up.

The man standing next to him was well over two meters tall and build like a heavyweight champion. Upper arms thick as warp nacelles, a chin that made the rock of Gibraltar look like a pebble by comparison. What was even worse were the three sneering faces almost hidden behind the broad shoulders of the group’s spokesman. ‘Not good!’

“I don’t want no damn autograph! But I’ll give you something, some piece of my mind.” The man fell on the stool by Cal’s side and grinned at the young Lieutenant. “I saw that interview you gave to PIB and you know, before that I couldn’t imagine anyone would just roll over and hand the Federation to the Cardies or Romies, but there you were, telling everyone that we don’t need some real fighting ships.”

His grinning face turned from Foster to the men behind him and back again. “Now me and my friends here were wondering if you are just some brain-dead idiot or if you really believe what you said. Not that there is much difference that I can see.”

Foster filled his glass again from the half-empty bottle, before he fixed his eyes on the counter and started to force some calmness to his voice. “Sounds like you don’t agree with me. If you have any gripes with something I said, why don’t you just tell me what’s bugging you?”

“What’s bugging me? Well, let’s see. How about you telling everyone that we don’t need stronger ships? Are you really so stupid that you don’t see we need bigger guns to win against the Cardies or Romies?”

“I bet you think it’s not weapons that kill people, but other people?”

“Huh? Well, yeah. We are still the Federation, aren’t we? We only defend ourselves, but we should do it the best way we can. Right?” The man shot a glance over his shoulder and the nods he saw from his friends prompted him to turn to Foster again. “Right!”

Caleb emptied his glass and poured the rest of ale from the bottle into his glass before he muttered: “No, it’s not weapons that kill people, it’s people who think that weapons kill people who really kill people.”

“What was that? If you have something to say you’d better speak up or shut up.”

“I don’t know about you pal, but to me warships mean war. They are not called warships for nothing. I bet you haven’t been in any real war yourself.”

“Does that matter? If you Starfleet guys can’t do your job right I’ll soon be fighting a war on Earth against the Romies or Cardies. And you bet I will put up a fight that will make them regret they every crossed our border! And you know what? If they ever set foot on Earth we’ll send those guys packing, so yeah, maybe it’s not so stupid for you Starfleeters to just step aside and let some real men do the fighting.”

“Don’t say that.” Caleb Foster looked up and every trace of emotion vanished from his expression. “I flew med-evac shuttles along the Romulan front during the start of the invasion and trust me, you wouldn’t want to have been there or in any other war.”

For a moment the cold fire burning in Lieutenant Foster’s eyes made his opposite lose track of what he wanted to say and Caleb took the chance and made ready to get up and leave.

Of course he was not meant to get off that easily.

“Oh yeah? At least those guys put up a fight while you were playing paramedic. You are just like your so-called captain. A PR-bitch not willing to get into a real fight.”

*****

Cal’s hand grabbed the empty bottle and smashed it into the man’s head. His stool toppled over as Foster jumped up.

The last time he had been in a serious fight had been during his Academy days, but Cal knew he had no advantage but surprise. His opponent was a bully, but he was still big and strong and he had some friends with him.

All Caleb could do was give them no time to recover from their surprise. He waded into the fight, arms swinging widely, his rage finally taking hold of him.

The last thing he recalled was swinging a bar stool around and yelling at the top of his lungs. After that everything turned into a blur that ended with him being patched up in the Valkyrie’s sickbay.

*****

“And that’s about it, Ma’am,” Lieutenant Foster finished his recount of yesterday’s events.

Captain Veal drummed her fingers on the desk for several seconds before she picked up a padd and stared at it intently. “It seems neither of the other parties directly involved, nor the San Francisco police department will press any charges against you, as several witnesses have indicate that you may have been provoked into the action you took, but that aside...”

She left the sentence unfinished for a long moment and leaned back in her chair.

“Your conduct was clearly not becoming an officer of Starfleet and I am more than a little disappointed with you, Lieutenant Foster.” Captain Veal sighed heavily and shook her head slowly. “Now it is up to me to find a way to deal with you that fits your misbehavior.”

“Very well.” Tarin Veal rose, as did the two officers by her side. “Lieutenant Foster, once the Valkyrie has left Earth orbit you will be restricted to quarters for two weeks, unless your duties require your presence elsewhere. You will not be allowed to receive visitors in your quarters during that time without my express permission. Half your regular pay will be docked, starting today, until you have paid for the property damage you caused.”

Caleb was not happy, but at least he would be able to enjoy the next few day on Earth before his punishment started. But Captain Veal was not finished with him yet.

“Furthermore it is my opinion that you, Lieutenant, obviously have too much energy to spend on less than productive endeavors. During the time your are restricted to quarters you will be allowed to go out during off-duty hours, but only to attend a program of physical training Lieutenant Alvarez will prepare for you. Perhaps that will teach you to channel your energy in a more productive way. Dismissed.”

Nightmares of endless push-ups and laps around the gym started to fill Cal’s mind, but he knew better than to argue with the sentence he had been handed. “Yes, Ma’am!”

After Lieutenant Foster had left, Tarin turned to Felix Alvarez and finally allowed her smile to spread across her face.

“Next time Lieutenant Foster gets himself into a fight I want him to know what he is doing, but that will require some serious training. Please see to it, Lieutenant Alvarez.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am.” Felix Alvarez had known from the start what Foster’s punishment would be, but putting the young man on edge and seeing his reaction had been priceless. “I will see to it. The next time Mr. Foster gets into a fight he will damage nothing more than himself or his opponent if I have any say in it.”

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