Post by Captain_Quintus on Apr 4, 2016 6:54:28 GMT
Postby FSF Nefarious » Mon Aug 01, 2011 7:37 am
The Aquarius stretched her legs, striding from Risa onward to Deep Space 3. Hull scrubbed clean of damage and primary systems repaired, the Ambassador-class headed once more into the breach of a warzone. Designed at the height of a new era of intergalactic peace, the floating space station had never really been intended for the role of main-line battleship, much like it’s Captain, still both had fared well enough.
As she approached Deep Space 3, which had been strategically positioned near the Black Cluster and the Federation’s borders with the Breen, Tzenkethi, Cardassians, Romulans and Klingons, she was joined by the gathering masses of the Fifth Fleet, too which she’d been newly assigned as the lead ship of the 21st Tactical Squadron. Watching from his stateroom windows, Akena considered the situation with a cup of tea in hand. He’d yet to be fully briefed on what his newest orders were going to be, but got the rather sinking feeling that it was going to involve more shooting. And being shot at.
He sighed. He’d never wanted to be a battlefield commander. He’d never wanted to be at the front of a war, unless he were negotiating it’s cessation. He hadn’t chosen this battlefield, though, it had chose him. Starfleet was now embroiled deeply in a conflict with a hardened enemy. Years of relative peace had left the Fleet soft, now they were paying the price for the inattentiveness as body blows from the Tzenkethi took their toll. He’d read reports that protests were beginning to crop up across the Federation as something already unpopular, war, went from bad to worse. There was an old Klingon expression that came to mind: war is more fun when you’re winning.
No one won in war, he considered. Though it was relative, he supposed. Frowning again, Akena put his tea in the fresher and headed over to his console to read through the latest reports.
He’d barely gotten into the latest action reports when his door chimed. “Enter,” he said, without looking up, half expecting his ‘new’ XO to come charging in.
He was, instead, pleasantly surprised by the voice of his yeoman. “Captain,” Taric Oswal said. “New orders.”
Looking up, Akena motioned for him to bring them over. Regarding his yeoman carefully, he tried to gage what the orders contained, knowing all to well that the Yeomen often knew more about what was going on aboard ship than did the Captain. From the look of it, Akena wasn’t entirely sure this was going to be a good thing.
The Aquarius stretched her legs, striding from Risa onward to Deep Space 3. Hull scrubbed clean of damage and primary systems repaired, the Ambassador-class headed once more into the breach of a warzone. Designed at the height of a new era of intergalactic peace, the floating space station had never really been intended for the role of main-line battleship, much like it’s Captain, still both had fared well enough.
As she approached Deep Space 3, which had been strategically positioned near the Black Cluster and the Federation’s borders with the Breen, Tzenkethi, Cardassians, Romulans and Klingons, she was joined by the gathering masses of the Fifth Fleet, too which she’d been newly assigned as the lead ship of the 21st Tactical Squadron. Watching from his stateroom windows, Akena considered the situation with a cup of tea in hand. He’d yet to be fully briefed on what his newest orders were going to be, but got the rather sinking feeling that it was going to involve more shooting. And being shot at.
He sighed. He’d never wanted to be a battlefield commander. He’d never wanted to be at the front of a war, unless he were negotiating it’s cessation. He hadn’t chosen this battlefield, though, it had chose him. Starfleet was now embroiled deeply in a conflict with a hardened enemy. Years of relative peace had left the Fleet soft, now they were paying the price for the inattentiveness as body blows from the Tzenkethi took their toll. He’d read reports that protests were beginning to crop up across the Federation as something already unpopular, war, went from bad to worse. There was an old Klingon expression that came to mind: war is more fun when you’re winning.
No one won in war, he considered. Though it was relative, he supposed. Frowning again, Akena put his tea in the fresher and headed over to his console to read through the latest reports.
He’d barely gotten into the latest action reports when his door chimed. “Enter,” he said, without looking up, half expecting his ‘new’ XO to come charging in.
He was, instead, pleasantly surprised by the voice of his yeoman. “Captain,” Taric Oswal said. “New orders.”
Looking up, Akena motioned for him to bring them over. Regarding his yeoman carefully, he tried to gage what the orders contained, knowing all to well that the Yeomen often knew more about what was going on aboard ship than did the Captain. From the look of it, Akena wasn’t entirely sure this was going to be a good thing.