The Other Shoe

Posted on Fri Aug 29th, 2025 @ 11:49pm by Captain Samantha Curry & Storyteller & Rear-Admiral Alexander Brand
Edited on on Fri Aug 29th, 2025 @ 11:50pm

2,819 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Long Night
Location: Starfleet Command, Earth
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Earth Starfleet Command]
[San Francisco, American Sector, Earth]
[1300 Hours]

"... We return to our headlines at the top of the hour. With forty-three percent of the votes counted, incumbent candidate Yvonne Abrams has regained her initial lead for returning to the Blue Room as Earth United Nations President. Earlier today, the South American and Australian Sectors saw a surge from Abrams' challenger, Luis Montalban Yao, who is widely regarded as a critic of current United Earth policy regarding negotiations with the reclusive state calling itself the Romulan Empire."

"From his campaign headquarters in Santiago, Andean Sector, Mr. Yao spoke to UENB reporters and addressed directly Abrams' policy of confronting the Romulan State militarily when we know so little about them...."

“Drink, Ma'am?" Captain Samantha Curry looked away from the broadcast to the slender yeoman cadet who had just bitten his lip as if he were nervous. It wasn't nervousness that Curry had brought on him— but a displaced anxiety knowing that the to-be Captain had waited three times as long as he'd originally reported. Her eyes settled on him— dark, brown, patient, kind, but demanding. "Tea, coffee? Water?" He looked to the door they knew Samantha wanted to go through. "Soft drink?"

Samantha smiled a pressed, diplomatic smile. "Dr. Pepper, please." She finally murmured in a sort of velvet amusement. The Yeoman nodded with a modicum of relief that he could at least do something. Sam's eyes turned back to the midpoint of Yao's speech.

"... While I have great respect for Marshal th'Shariv and Chairman Grolt and their collective statement of action, I prefer the measured approach of Chairman T'lim of the Vulcan High Command. Her Denobulan counterpart, First Tyhmox, agrees. These are the voices of peace, understanding, and diplomacy. While blood has been shed in the continuing fog of war, is it not preferable to end this? We should be using this pause to send out peace feelers. Should we not learn from our longtime allies on Vulcan?"

"Captain?"

Again Samantha looked up— this person was different. She was immensely pale and platinum blonde with clear blue eyes. A Lunar... Sam's instincts suggested. Or maybe someone from the Outer World Commonwealth. "Yes?" She smiled.

"Admiral Brand will see you now. I'm sorry for the wait. He was in a meeting with the Vice-Director of Earth Colonization Command." She gestures a sweeping and graceful limb to the oak door. Samantha rose and straightened the black tie under her dress shirt lapels. She secured her Starfleet service cap and tugged on the navy blue of her suit tunic. She followed this willowy person into the office occupied by Starfleet's Chief of Rimward Operations.

Sam found it empty, and her footfalls echoed with that sense of solitude. The room was a complex mash of modern design and the tendencies of the previous August— wainscoting, hardwood floors, and retrofitted light fixtures that felt more Neo-Deco than the pragmatic Neo-Brutalism of the Post-War. The occupier of the room apparently loved plants— Spathiphyllum and bonsai. Spruce bonsai, she guessed. She didn't have an eye for what made one tree a spruce and another a pine.

Family, she noted. A gray-haired man in an Admiral's uniform sat with a wife probably in her late fifties. Two grown girls with the clear look of their mother. And a touch of quirk— a cat in the arms of one of the younger women, not a dog. Samantha raised an eyebrow at that.

The click of a lock, the squeak of a door. The sense of no longer being alone. "Captain, apologies for keeping you waiting. It's been a busy morning." The man had an intellectual quality with a dashing countenance that wasn't in the photo. His hair was neat and gray, sections turning white. His eyes framed in the wrinkles of a thoughtful man more than a kindly old grandpa. A silver fox, and for a moment, Samantha had to allow herself a brief muse. Apparently, that tendency of her youth wasn't quite yet. She smiled with a touch of character around her mouth.

"Admiral Brand, Sir." Her shoulder stiffened back, chest out at attention. He slowed toward his desk and rapped on it with his knuckles. The sound was that of warm wood.

"At ease. This is... an informal meeting... for the time being. But congratulations are in order." Alexander Brand approached her and extended a hand. She took it, shook it, and let it go by the count of three.

"Thank you, Sir." She said as the Admiral gestured for a seat. Rather than taking the one behind the desk, he sat in its partner chair.

"Captain of the penultimate NX-class. I wish it were under better circumstances." He crossed his legs and folded his hands. Samantha mirrored his movements. She had a feeling. Samantha had never considered herself a great judge of men. But logically, one did not meet with people on this level for a nice chat. Something was up. "I understand you are requesting to decline MACO units on your ship?" One eye narrowed, and he receded his chin back with skepticism. "Are you sure that's wise, Captain?" When Samantha didn't speak after a few moments, he added, "That's a... big shift... away from current policy. Help me understand-" he shrugged with his hands in an open gesture. "-Please."

Samantha steepled her fingers on her knee. "I have more than enough faith in my new Chief Armory Officer to provide security for the ship and all of our personnel."

"He's new." Admiral Brand said.

"He's good," Curry countered. Brand blinked with a sigh. "And I want him to have clear authority. We don't need Marines blurring the lines when things get tense."

"Things are going to get more tense than you may realize, Captain." Brand said with another held sigh. "Starfleet is keeping it out of the general broadcasts until the election is over, but... we've heard about two more attacks. They seem to be spinward of our colonies and allies... same locations as the rest."

Samantha let her eyes go distant, not focusing on anything. "We're holding back information now?"

"Until the end of the election, yes. The reality is this, Sam. We're not only on the back foot here..." He blinked and found her gaze in his denim blues. "We're losing. The last two encounters? Had Andorian assets engaged. They reported the same ship designs as before: something that appears, fires, and disappears. They use sensor interference from nebula or ion disturbances. This time, they hung in the magnetic field of a Class II Gas Giant." He blinked, “Officially, the Andorians drove off the attacker. But we're dealing with Andorian pride here. We think they got some shots off at the ship, and the ship simply stopped attacking. But in the engagement, both Andorian ships were badly damaged."

"And the Andorians aren't reporting that?"

Brand shook his head. "And show weakness? No. They focus publicly on the results. They fume in private. It’s the classic Andorian Ice and Fire." A knock at the door. The Admiral moistened his lips with a dash and paused as the front door to his office opened: the young Yeoman produced Samantha's Dr. Pepper. Silently, he set it on the table next to her, and as he traveled from the room, all she heard was the sizzling fizz from the glass.

The click of the door allowed them to continue.

"Right now," with fingers wide, Brand gestured at the floor as if stabilizing it, "We have three and a half allies in the Coalition. Not five. The Vulcans have pulled back most of their expeditionary forces. They say they are consolidating and formulating plans. But Earth Intelligence thinks the Vulcan High Command may be stalling. We don't know why. They're pushing for more information and more time. Whatever these Romulans are, the Vulcans aren't being quick to engage."

"The other being the...?" Samantha asked evenly.

"Denobula. They're willing to share intelligence, medical staff, supplies, food, that kind of thing. But actually engaging in sustained and escalated conflict..." Brand shrugged again with his hands, shaking his head, "Their First Minister is in the same boat as we are. It’s an election cycle. They can't make any big moves that might sway reactionaries. But more than that, the current First of Denobula prefers a pacifist response."

"Ah," Sam intoned without much sound, her head nodding.

"Right now, our two strongest allies are the Rigellians and the Andorians. We're trying to talk to a few others, but so far, we're getting a cool wait-and-see response. Rigel's looking out for Rigel. Wherever the central Romulan... state... Empire... sees its control seems to be nearer Rigel than Earth or Denobula. And the Andorians are eager to look assertive and helpful if it makes the Vulcans look bad."

Samantha nodded again.

"Which... leads me to some of the details of your mission. We've been given an opportunity to test-bed an Andorian deflector system on board Challenger." Samantha's eyebrows rose in surprise at that, her mouth forming a line. "The caveat to that is, it comes with an Andorian who'll serve as your Chief Engineer. He knows how to run it and repair it. And our people will learn from him. We need his expertise."

Samantha felt herself wanting to glance away and chew her lip. "I see.." Her brow rose. "I have a Chief Engineer... but not a First Officer." Her words were pressed at the end. This had been a more than short-term aspect that still hadn't been locked down to her satisfaction. And she was just about to receive the same boilerplate answer.

Brand blinked slowly and nodded, knowing that. He towed the line, "We're working on that. Be patient. I'm hoping we can nail one down before you launch. If not, we'll have to designate someone temporarily." He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed with a wince. "Permission to launch without a MACO contingent is denied. I'm sorry, Sam. We are at war."

Samantha bristled— she leaned forward, "Cole can handle it."

"Cole shouldn't have to handle it," Brand returned. "His job is to keep the ship safe, not eliminate potential threats to the ship.” "I'm sorry, but this one is out of my hands, and yours. I know your past, with-"

"- With due respect but absolute candor, Sir, we're not going there." Curry inclined her head once for emphasis, her dark eyes widening and stern. Her jaw tightened. For the moment, the warmth was replaced by steel. "I'm not him, I don't think like him."

"Fine. Nevertheless. You will have MACOs aboard. And Starfleet expects that they are given enough latitude to operate as they are meant to. They're under your command. But their mandate is clear." Again, Samantha felt the hot bristle along her shoulders and spine.

"So we're headed for the front lines?" Samantha paused after that sentence. Immediately something didn't feel right, sit right... there was a lack of logic to that. Why was she speaking to the Chief of Rimward Operations?"

It was as if Brand sensed that dissonance and he waited. "Negative." Samantha squinted an eye at her confusion. "Challenger as we both know isn't a warship. We already have two NX-class assets in play on the war front. Or what we think the war front will be. Assuming Yao doesn't get his upset." Brand’s brows rose and fell at that with a sense of skepticism throwing a veneer of cool judgment over the meeting.

The next few moments were pregnant. "I'll issue your formal orders when they come down from the official channels of Starfleet Operations. But to pull from a historically bad source, we need some room to breathe. We're hemmed in so far in the Beta Quadrant. The Klingons want nothing to do with us. Something seems to be happening in their space. The Delphic Expanse is still a problem toward the deep rim frontier. It's dissipating but... not as quickly as we initially thought it would." He waved that off, "Right now, we need allies closer to home, Sam. And it just so happens that one of our allies is trying to... re-negotiate... a trade policy with one of their rivals. Coridan."

Sam tilted her head. "And... who? Tellar?"

"The Orions." Brand corrected. Again Sam made a silent "Ah" with her mouth, her eyes searching in the moment. "Earth's relationship with the Orions could use a reset as well. They've seen us as vulnerable in the past but now that we are a Coalition, we are hoping maybe they'll come to the table." He tapped his leg as he spoke, "Right now, Orion traders can be... if not hostile, ambivalent, to the safety of our civilian fleets. Earth Cargo Service says they habitually have to pay protection fees and tariffs for using Orion trade routes. Their control of those routes has stifled the Coridan economy for decades."

Samantha leaned forward again. "Go on."

"Officially, there is no one Orion government. Their colonies govern themselves, and they seem to operate on some kind of family corporate model. But one of the more powerful factions among the Orions, calling themselves the Kolar-" Samantha narrowed her eyes in confusion there but held for the moment. "- seem to have a lot of sway over what is fashionable and... profitable? Among the Orions."

"Kolar?" Samantha voiced. "I thought they were in Rigel? A paleolithic species? Somewhat Vulcanoid, not related to the other species?"

Brand agreed. "We think the names are connected. And I think you know why."

Samantha raised her own eyebrow with a skeptical air. "Rigel's found ancient Orion artifacts on several worlds in the system..."

"We think the Rigellian Kolar adopted the name from this group of Orion traders that controlled it before the rest of the system broke the warp barrier. And the Orions do seem to have some kind of connection to the Rigel systems even today. Enough that they are taking an interest in what we're about to do."

"What are we about to do?" Samantha asked plainly.

"For your shakedown, you will proceed to the Orion system. I'll include the details in the official orders. You're picking up an Orion delegate who will be safely transported by you to the Coridan system. Our delegate and the Coridanite delegate will meet her there."

"We're a space taxi." Samantha quipped with a touch of sardonic voice.

Brand raised a brow, "Space limo. Actually." He corrected with a tested note. Samantha had found the boundary. "At least this time out. If we can get the Orions to back off our shipping, we can redeploy more resources to the spinward front. Against the Romulans. If it comes to that." Brand demurred with a sigh and a blink, "Which, with candor, it will."

"What are our primary obstacles?" Samantha asked after a regrouping moment.

Brand's brows popped, and he rose with the groaning sigh of an older man and creaking joints. "I've seen some data suggesting that the Tellarites are annoyed that they aren't invited to these talks. Probably because the Orions don't harass their shipping like they do ours. And there are elements in the Coalition that don't think capitulating to the Orions is a wise course of action. The Chief of Earth Starfleet Security would rather we make a show of force along the shipping lanes. They are technically in non-aligned territory."

Samantha slowly rose herself. "I see." Brand rising meant this meeting was no doubt near its end.

"Be on the lookout. Stay in touch. We've got a few more pieces in the puzzle to iron out. Pokers in the fire." Brand said. He extended his hand. "We'll get your orders posted as soon as possible, Captain. In the meantime, Challenger needs to be as ready as possible to launch in two days. We're recalled the personnel we know will be assigned. So things are about to move fast. I understand you're staying Earthside for the night? I'd like to see you aboard Challenger by 0900 hours tomorrow."

Samantha smiled and shook his head, but her smile was a test of her diplomatic skills. "Sleeping in a cave tonight, Sir." Brand quirked a brow at that. "I'll be there, though."

"By choice?"

"By choice." Samantha confirmed.

Brand hesitated. "I see. Well, you have the scaffold, at least, of your orders. As soon as I know more, you'll get the rest. Good luck, Captain." And again they shook hands. Samantha left with someone feeling the disequilibrium of not knowing, and the hand of authority keeping her in line around the arm. What else weren't they telling us?

"This is EUNB News. I'm Ina Benteen, and with me as always is my co-anchor..." Samantha glanced at the broadcast and then away. The numbers on the election had yet to refresh. She wasn't sure Yao was going to pull this one off.

 

RSS Feed