| abstract
| - The Starfleet travel pod glided though the orbital shipyards of Starfleet’s Copernicus fleet yard in orbit of Earth’s moon. The shuttle passed by the mighty and majestic U.S.S. Icarus, a Sovereign class starship that was in the final stages of its systems testing. The Sovereign class starship, with its auto-modulating shields and type twelve phasers, was one of the most advanced classes of Starfleet’s starships. Next to the Icarus was the U.S.S. Bradbury, the prototype for the Bradbury class transport and courier starship. After passing the Icarus and the Bradbury, the travel pod continued on its course to its destination, the Federation starship Prometheus. “The bureaucratic mentality is the only constant in the universe,” Garav said, “there’ll have been a mix up. We won’t be getting the Prometheus we’ll be getting a freighter.” “Dinnae be judgmental, Garav,” Logan said even as he hoped that Garav was wrong, “A ship is a ship.” “Whatever you say, sir.” Garav said in a resigned tone. Soon the sleek form of the Prometheus hanging in its dry-dock frame came into view as it hung in the dry-dock slot ten slots from the Bradbury. The Prometheus was a sleek design with sixteen decks and an arrow shaped primary hull that bore the registry number NX-59650 and flowed back into a streamlined engineering hull that was equipped with four tetryon plasma warp nacelles. The Prometheus also was equipped with ablative armour, and two secondary warp nacelles on articulated pylons that deployed above and below the saucer to allow the saucer section to fly at warp when the ship was in multi-vector assault mode. At four hundred fifteen meters long, one hundred seventy meters wide, and one hundred thirteen meters tall the Prometheus was only slightly larger than an Intrepid class starship, a mere seventy point five meters longer, thirty seven point nine meters wider, and fifty point six meters taller. The dry-dock frame looked as if it was a gigantic metal rib cage, of some massive technological creature, floating in space with its “back ribs” facing what would be up on a planet’s surface. The dry-dock frame didn’t have lower ribs, although the sides of the frame slightly curved towards each other at their bottoms. The entrances to the frame were at the rear, where a starship entered it, and at the front where the starship left the frame. Mounted on the inside of each section of each “rib” was a lighting panel nearly as long and wide as the section. The lighting panels were on every section of the ‘ribs’ to allow the entirety of the Prometheus’ hull to be illuminated. The lighting panels were controlled by the near invisible control compartment on top of the forward most horizontal rib. As the travel pod came ever closer to the Prometheus as a half dozen of Starfleet’s extra vehicular activity work units known as Work Bees were finishing re-fastening the last few hull plates they had removed, hours before, in order to access the areas and systems of the Prometheus’ superstructure that they needed to work on. The travel pod did a ninety degree towards the Prometheus, once it was in front of the ship it and headed for the Prometheus on a forward vector that would take it on a course parallel to the x-axis of the Prometheus’ ventral warp nacelle on the starboard side of the ship. at a distance of twenty meters out from the dry-dock frame. The travel pod glided along silently as Logan looked out the travel pod’s port windows at the sleek vessel that hung in space like a slumbering beast. Suddenly the travel pod’s comm screen lit up. “Travel pod thirteen,” Durgan said after tapping a control on the console. “Travel pod this is the Prometheus.” A female voice with a slight Portuguese accent said, “We have assumed control for final approach. Prepare for docking, estimated time to docking completion one point five minutes.” “Boy she’s a gorgeous looking ship.” MacLeod thought to himself as the pod flew ever closer to the Prometheus under the gentle guidance of her main computer. As the travel pod cleared the dry-dock frame it began to swing down and around as the shuttlebay’s large aft facing, curved, doors glided open once the atmospheric containment force field clicked on a split second before the shuttlebay doors began opening so that the shuttle could enter the ship. The travel pod passed over the fan-tail landing deck, with its landing light strips, designed for shuttles to land on when the ship was in a class-M atmosphere so that there would be more room in the shuttlebay and passed through the atmospheric containment force field as easily as it had glided through the airless void. The force field wasn’t designed to act as a protective shield, it was simply a low level containment field that was designed to keep the shuttlebay pressurized as a shuttle or other type of support craft entered the bay. The travel pod set down as gently as a feather and the aft facing gangplank lower until it was in the ramp position as the force field clicked off after the shuttlebay doors closed. Logan walked down the gangplank as a the note tone of a boatswains whistle sounded, followed by Durgan and the others, when he reached the end of the gangplank MacLeod saw lieutenant Gleicy Ruiz, the Prometheus’ Brazilian chief operations officer and quartermaster standing at attention near the pod. “As you were. Lieutenant Ruiz, ‘tis good to see ye,” Logan said to Gleicy in his Scottish brogue, “but where is admiral Paris? I was under the impression that he’d be waiting here so we could have the change of command ceremony.” “He’s waiting in the mess hall,” Gleicy explained in her Portuguese inflection, clearly the voice that had been heard over the comm, “He said that he wanted a more ‘presentable venue’ for the ceremony. He seems anxious to proceed with the change of command, I guess so he can planet-side again.” “Very well,” Logan said, “Lead the way lieutenant.” “Any word from commander Solen?” Logan asked as he, Gleicy, and the others walked out of the shuttlebay, turned left, towards the bow of the ship and headed for the nearest turbolift. “He contacted us three hours ago,” Gleicy explained, “Apparently his business in San Francisco will take slightly longer than he expected. Once he’s finished he’ll beam up to Spacedock and hop a transport over.” “What about lieutenant commander T’Wan?” Logan said asking about his new chief science officer. “She came aboard last night,” Gleicy said, “and is currently in command of the bridge.” “If you’ll excuse me,” Durgan said as the group reached the turbolift, “I’ll be heading for engineering. These kids are so young that they have trouble telling a replicator from a warp core.” “Go ahead Durgan. I don’t want water when I ask for warp… but try to remember that these ‘kids’ dinnae have two and a half centuries of engineering experience, try not to be to hard on them.” “Good point. I’ll try my best.” Durgan said with a chuckled. With that, Durgan turned and headed down the corridor to go to take the next turbolift to Prometheus’ main engineering, on deck twelve. Logan, Garav, Jon, Atana, and Gleicy got into the turbolift when the doors opened to reveal the empty turbolift car. “Deck five. Forward.” Logan said so the turbolift’s audio sensors would direct the turbolift would hear his command and relay it to the main computer, which would guide the turbolift car so it would come as near to the mess hall as it could. “Captain,” Garav said turning to Logan, “If it’s alright with you I’ll head to the bridge and review the ship’s existing security protocols instead of heading to the mess hall.” “Go ahead, Garav.” Logan said. Turning to look at Jon, Atana, and Gleicy Logan said, “Doctor, lieutenant Sulu, lieutenant Ruiz there’s no need for ye to come to the mess hall please go to your stations instead.” “Aye, sir.” Jon said before being echoed by Gleicy and Atana. “Bridge.” Jon said so the audio sensors would pick up his destination request. The turbolift came to a gentle stop and the doors opened to reveal a corridor on deck five, port side, near the mess hall, sickbay, and medical/science labs. Once the doors opened Atana and Logan stepped out of the turbolift as the turbolift continued on. Logan walked through the wood inlayed double door with a circular window with the Federation crest on each door section and into the rectangular mess hall, the domain of the Prometheus' Antaran chef Tedak, and saw the ship’s galley and serving counter ahead of him. To Logan’s right was an open space with a couch along the two bulkheads. Next to the open space, going from starboard to port were eight four person tables divided into two equal rows. On the bulkhead on the far side of the rows of tables was a standard issue replicator. Sitting at the tables was ten people, just over seven percent of the Prometheus' crew, as well as a white haired admiral and his young, brunette, attaché . “Captain MacLeod,” admiral Owen Paris said when he looked towards the doors and saw Logan walk into the mess hall, “I hope you’re ready to take command.” “Aye sir, that i am.” Logan said as he joined Paris in the open area between the tables and the couches. “Good.” Paris said. Turning to his aide, he said, “If you’d please, Ms. Warren.” “ATTENTION ON DECK!” lieutenant Thelma Warren shouted causing the crew in the mess hall to face Logan and Paris and stand at attention. “Computer,” Paris said, “Recognize: Paris, Owen. Admiral. Service Number: SC17932. Authorization: Omega one-oh-one. Transfer the command codes for the U.S.S Prometheus to captain Logan MacLeod.” “Codes transferred,” the computer said after a few seconds, “USS Prometheus is now under the command of captain Logan MacLeod.” “The ship is yours, captain,” Owen said, “Your are to remain in dry-dock until you are cleared to leave. You should have already received your assigned patrol route and I expect that you’ll receive your launch clearance in a few hours. Now, if you’ll excuse me I really must be getting planet-side.” “I’ll have my chief conn officer take you there.” Logan said. “No thank-you. lieutenant Warren is a more than a sufficient pilot, should the travel pod’s autopilot fail. As unlikely as that is.” “As you wish, sir.” Logan said before Paris and Warren left the mess hall. “As you were.” Logan said to the crew in the mess hall before he left for the bridge. --- “Captain on deck!” Logan heard Garav announce as he stepped onto the bridge from the turbolift which was on the starboard side of the bridge. As Garav made his announcement the crew on the bridge ceased what they were doing and stood at attention. “As you were.” Logan ordered. The crew went back to their duties, as they had been ordered, while Logan strolled around the circular bridge looking at various displays before he went to sit in his command chair. To the left of Logan’s command chair was the door that said ‘Deck One Access/Port Egress’. To the right of the door, towards the bow of the ship, was the XO/Communication’s station. Next to the XO’s station was the Tactical/Security station. Behind the XO’s station, and ahead of Logan’s command chair in a semi-circular section of the bridge three steps lower than the rest of the bridge - and flanked on either side by a curved off-white safety railing - that was affectionately known as ‘the pit’, was the operations and flight control stations. Ahead of ops and the conn, on the same level as the rest of the bridge, was the bridge’s viewscreen. To the right of the viewscreen, on the starboard was the engineering station and the turbolift. Immediately after the turbolift was the science and environmental control stations followed by a master system’s display, directly behind the command chair. Next to the MSD was the mission operations station followed by the auxiliary control station, ship’s dedication plaque . The muted gold dedication plaque with lustrous raised golden lettering that spelt out: U.S.S. Prometheus Starfleet Registry NX-59650 • First Starship Of Her Class Launched Stardate 50749.5 • Beta Antares Shipyards Antares Sector • United Federation Of Planets Below this was a list of Starfleet personnel and: “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players, they have their exits and entrances and one man in his life plays many parts; his act being seven stages…” - William Shakespeare “All stations report.” Logan ordered once he had locked the command chair’s firmness controls at their softest. “Flight controls are online and operational. All navigational sensors and deflector systems are functional.” Jon reported from the conn/helm station. “Sickbay reports ready and that the EMH can be activated at anytime. Environmental systems are set to produce a standard M class atmosphere.” Gliecy reported from the ops station as lieutenant Westgate worked at the Engineering station coordinating with Durgan in engineering and engineering teams throughout the ship, “Gravity plating is set to one gee. Engineering reports that all systems are functional. Admiral Paris’ travel pod is at bearing zero-four-six mark zero traveling at full thrusters towards Spacedock.” “Very good, lieutenant.” Logan said, “Tactical status, commander Rimosi?” “Targeting sensors are functional,” Garav reported as he surveyed the tactical console, “Phasers, torpedoes, tricobalt devices, anti-matter mines, probes, shields, and the warp shadow projector, be available for immediate use once we leave dry-dock and leave the fleet yards.” “Thank-you, commander. Science status, commander T’Wan?” Logan said. “The computer database, sensor systems, and science departments are at the ready, sir. We can perform one hundred percent of the standard and non-standard astrophysical, biological, and planetological sensor scans and analyses.” T’Wan reported in her dispassionate female Vulcan voice. “Very good, people.” Logan said as he stood up, “You have the bridge Mister Rimosi. I’ll be in my ready room.” “Aye, sir.” Garav said before Logan headed for the port exit. When he walked into his ready room, which looked identical to the ones onboard Intrepid class starships except for the fact that they had no windows and were on the opposite side of the bridge, he heard the steady tick-tock of the four hundred year old Swiss-made grandfather clock in the corner of the raised lounge section at the aft of the ready-room and walked to the desk and the long metal box that sat on top of it. Logan opened the box and gently lifted out the six foot, eight hundred year old, Clan MacLeod claymore before he walked around the desk and reverently placed the ancient sword on its wall mounts. Turning back to the desk Logan reached into the box and pulled out a sash coloured in the grey, black, purple, and yellow plaid of the clan MacLeod tartan and draped it over the hand guards, and behind the handle. Going back to the desk Logan opened another case and drew out a set of bag pipes and put them on the shelf in the corner behind where the desk attached to the forward bulkhead.
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