Long Overdue

Posted on Sun Mar 15th, 2020 @ 11:50pm by Captain Dyllon McMahon

685 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: The Saga Begins
Location: Starfleet Command HQ, San Francisco, earth
Timeline: Prime

Dyllon sat in the reception area of Admiral Bennington's office, wearing his academy uniform: black with flat gold shoulders. He looked nervously up at the old-style analog clock on the wall, which read eleven minutes after the hour.

'Commander McMahon," a rough female voice cut through the silence. Bennington's yeoman was a Tellarite, who's porcine face barely peeked over her desk.

"Yes?"

'The admiral will see you now, sir.'

Dyllon stood up, giving his tunic a tug to straighten it out. He gave a quick glance to a shiny console on the wall, checking his teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in them.

"Thank you," he said, as he walked through the decorative double-doors heading into the Admiral's very spacious office.

As Dyllon walked through the doors, the first thing he noticed was the all-glass wall, looking out over San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. Across the very large office sat an older human male with light-brown skin, and grey streaks in his curly black hair. He peered over his archaic reading glasses at a console at his desk.

Dyllon quickly stepped across the office, coming abruptly to attention at the desk. "Commander Dyllon McMahon, reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, have a seat, Dyllon," the admiral said, casually.

"Aye, sir," Dyllon relaxed and took a seat directly across from him.

"I assume you know why I've called you here?" the admiral now peered over his reading glasses directly at Dyllon.

Dyllon gave a nervous smile, "Well, I'm hoping it's about my application to command one of the new Luna class ships, sir."

The admiral sighed. "Don't you think you'd be more suited to a patrol or escort vessel? Two new Prometheus class ships are due for completion in the new few months, and we really could use someone like you on the Neutral Zone."

"All due respect sir... I want to command an exploration vessel."

Bennington took off his glasses, and sat them on the desk," Look, Dyllon. You've got an exemplary record. No one's denying that. You were an integral part in your people's revolution against the Danteri. You and your crew on the Challenger are war heroes. You can't deny that you are a very skilled combat commander."

"Sir, if I wanted to be a warrior my entire life, I would've stayed on Xenex. I left because I wanted to explore the universe. I was a damned fine engineer, and a damned fine first officer. I can't help it that when push came to shove, and the Dominion attacked, that I was a pretty good commander. But... I don't want that legacy to define me, sir." Dyllon said, passionately.

Bennington leaned back in his seat, and crossed his hands. "We thought you'd have gotten the hint after three rejections. Starfleet Command wants to get back into the business of peacetime operations. In the news, you and your crew were called the 'heroes of Betazed.' Do you know what the Jem'Hadar call you? 'The Butcher of Betazed.' You understand how Starfleet might not want the captain of an exploration cruiser to have such a reputation, especially when operating in an area where they might encounter the Dominion?"

"I understand, sir. But, I'd also consider the possibility that as an exploration cruiser operating alone far from Federation space, a bit of healthy fear might help keep us safe."

Bennington sat forward in his chair, putting his glasses back on, and typing on his console. "Point taken. You know, my superiors are split. They've given me the tie-breaking vote."

The admiral reached under his desk, and pulled out a PADD and a small box, tossing them across the desk. "The Ganymede's at Utopia Planitia, behind schedule for launch. No time for a ceremony. I expect your ass on a transport before end of day. Now, get out of here before I change my mind, Captain."

Dyllon grabbed the PADD and box, and snapped up to attention. "I won't let you down sir."

"See to it that you don't."

With that Dyllon about-faced and walked briskly out of the office.

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