Taking inspiration from Jasan to give birth to one hell of a frigate.
Kiaran Davies. Commanding Officer of the 8th wing of the 3rd Fleet in the Federation Arsenal. Designer behind the Raptor, Anaconda, Alligator and Wolf. Admiral of the Federation forces, and a very disgruntled man.
He had nothing left to do. He had designed many ships, seen them go to war and win many battles, worked up the ranks from a simple redshirt. Now he was at the top, aged 43, and very, very bored. There was little left to do and no way he was going to stick around any longer. Admirals weren’t allowed to go out to battle. They were too valuable to loose. This wasn’t something Kiaran could change either.
A message appeared on his ocular implant, high importance. “Open”.
"Admiral Davies,
It is with great regret that I inform you that a decision has been made to remove the FD-93 “Alligator” series from service. The reasons behind this decision are unknown, central command’s orders.
I understand that you spent a good few years working on the ship, and a bloody good ship it is.
I would be honored to have you along to the ceremony in Bay 72, we have a little something for you, we all hope you will like it.
Regards,
Oliver Winkler."
Light-headed, he slumped into his chair and sighed. Reaching down he clasped at a bottle of Jerico’s Liu family wine, 4585, a Good year. He’d had to kill a pirate baron to get this one bottle, only to find out it was worth more than the entire pirate station.
One bottle later, the sorrowed admiral made his way to the transporter. “Beam, docking bay 72. Target Oliver Winkler.”
The beam engaged and he vanished.
As he re-formed, he found himself in the familiar, comfortably warm surroundings of an Alligator. He looked over to his left and caught Oliver’s Eye. “Ah Admiral!” He said, “I’m glad you came, i thought you’d use beam targeting, so I waited in here for you.”
“Yes, thankyou… What might this gift… be…?”
“Ah, alcohol, the sorrowed man’s friend. Well, sir, you are standing in it. Your own personal Alligator. We managed to edit the files to say that it was *lost* in battle, but actually, this has never been flown. It has been a simulator and it is in pristene condition. Just how you’d expect.”
“Well, Oliver, Thankyou. Please, drop the Admiral, You’re one rank down from me, Call me Kieran.”
“Of course, Kieran. Shall we go sit down? Captain’s chair?”
The admiral’s eyes lit up, bright and wild, suddenly flowing with so much energy that his retinal implants glowed a brighter shade of blue. “Are you kidding me? Yes!”
After 12 years, he was finally sitting back where he knew he belonged. The Chair. In control.
He rushed up the stairs, down the long corridor in the Alligator’s neck and straight into the capain’s chair. It sagged a little before the arms moved in and the chair rotated around, ending with the familliar clunk as the seat locked into place.
The console on the chair raised, the screen glowing a soft, pale blue. “Welcome, Admiral Davies”.
The admiral beamed. “Prime reactor”.
The ship hummed, the coolant pump engaging and external power shutting off. “Reactor Primed, quantum vacuum computer online, thrusters operational, engines at docking power”.
“Will you be coming Oliver?”
“No, I have things to do here, besides, I wouldn’t want to be late for the party eh?”
“I see, is there anything else I should know?”
“Yes, we’ve replaced your drones with a microwarp drive and modified the radar to make the ship appear as a Rank 10, you have top of the line, MK5 Beam cannons, a top-end pulsar, and more regeneration than you can find anywhere else. She’s one of a kind.”
“Fantastic. Well. I think I’ll pay muerto a visit, somewhere I’ve never been before. This could be my only chance.”
“I thought as much, you’re landsick aren’t you.”
“Yes”
“I’ve downed the radar systems, you have 30 minutes before they come back online and you’re reported missing. Good luck, old frie…”
The station alarm suddenly sounded and Oliver was transported mid-sentence. An alien attack. This was to be the most challenging launch of the Admiral’s life.
“Ship, release docking tractor beam, request hangar door and Iris clearance, engines at full power.”
“Aye sir, engines on full power, reactor responding. Fuel level 100%, three fuel cells remaining.”
“Ship, manual control.”
“Manual control engaged”
The throttle lever raised from the left armrest, a joystick from the right, rudder pedals from the floor. The seat engaged it’s tractor belts, holding the admiral in.
Gently pulling out of the hangar bay, Davies turned to the right and aligned with the hangar Iris. This was to be his last launch from New Eden. Soon he would be in Muerto.
“Undock control, this is Admiral Davies. Release Iris and open the hangar force-field.”
“Negative sir, the base is under attack”
“Goddammit you red-shirt fool. Open the door or I’ll have you shot out of an airlock!”
“Aye sir right away, I’m very sorry for any…”
“Shut up.”
The iris opened and the force-field in the hangar door dropped the secondary layer.
“Ship, disengage shields for undock, prepare for a full shield boost the moment we get outside”
“Ready sir”
“Engage internal and external inertial dampeners. Hold me steady.”
“Active sir”
He pushed the throttle up to full military power, then pulled the lever up and pushed forward again, going on to full afterburner. The ship shook violently.
“Engines at 50%, 60%, 70%…”
The engines started to wail, the ship creaking a little under the strain
“Reactor at full power output, Engines at 90%, 100%.”
“Disengage external dampeners on my command”
He looked over at the ship status display, everything was nominal, engines at 100% power, reactor at 100% power and running smoothly. Perfect.
“Computer, NOW.”
The ship lurched forwards, accelerating from nought to 400 m/s in a matter of milliseconds. Shooting past the Iris and the forcefield.
“SHIELDS”
The ship’s reactor made a slightly lower whine, straining under the load, then back to normal
“Shields Full”
“Ship, what’s the microwarp status?”
“Charged and ready sir, there are biomorph ships incoming at 250m/s relative aft, reccomend immediate warp”
Remembering the words of his ancestor, captain Picard, he smiled, leaned forwards in his chair and softly said
“Punch it.”
The microwarp spooled up, reactor straining and engines going onto overload. The whole sky stretched and the warp tunnel formed infront of him.
“Destination?”
“Fort muerto. Don’t argue. Get me out of here.”
The ship lurched violently into the tunnel, then disappeared.
Meanwhile, back in New Eden, the new admiral, Oliver Winkler, gazed out at the old Admiral’s ship as it entered the warp tunnel and disappeared.
“Computer, notify command that Admiral Davies has been killed by biomorphs and taken to their home sector through a portal.”
He smiled, nobody else would ever know.