A New World

Posted on Wed Sep 4th, 2013 @ 7:18pm by Captain Liarra Von

Mission: Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Promenade, Memorial
Timeline: One month after the Attack

Liarra shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She already hated wearing dress uniforms, and today was certainly no exception. Compared her standard duty uniform, the collar always felt too tight and the material was too stiff. Granted, they weren’t really designed with comfort in mind, and instead meant for to present Starfleet officers at their best, whether they felt it or not. Generally they were worn for happy occasions, like weddings. Other times they were for more official capacities, like first contact and diplomatic functions. Others were for somber events. It was one of those somber moments that put Liarra Von in her dress uniform today.

She let her mind wander while the speaker told his stories of professionalism and patriotism, but Von was disenchanted. While the last month had seen sweeping changes throughout the station, and the entire sector at large, it felt like things had been changing too fast, leaving her caught unawares. Task Force 11, part of the larger Eleventh Fleet, had stepped up patrols of the sector. This meant increased traffic in and out of 332, putting a drain on resources. The pilot academy lost most of its students, though not because they were shipped out, but because they were put into active service and increased patrols. Several of the younger pilots had already been killed, their fighters destroyed in border skirmishes against Sojourner ships. Naomi Griffiths, promoted to Major, had moved her base of operations back to the station, her marines supplementing the Starfleet security forces, much to the annoyance of Lt. Commander O’Connell. It was to the annoyance of many merchants as well, a number of those that did survive the attack choosing to find a safer place to peddle their wares. While some were still there, the Promenade could sometimes feel hollow and empty, devoid of the life it once possessed. To keep the economy of the Promenade and the station a float, some of the empty cargo holds and docks were rented to whoever was willing to pay, few questions asked. To Liarra, it felt like her station was dying.

Her station. That was perhaps the toughest pill for the trill woman to swallow, and possibly the real reason she was so uncomfortable in her uniform. She wore the stark white uniform of the commanding officer, and the four rank pips of a Captain. Neither was a position that she felt she deserved. Maybe it was due to lack of experience. Maybe it was due to the way that she’s been second guessing her decisions lately. But most likely it was due to the way she was given command. No captain wants take over a command because of the death of their predecessor.

The death of Alexander Gunning had hit her hard. He had been a mentor and a friend for most of her career. After her mother had passed away, he was the only reason she had even come back to Starfleet, when he had asked her personally to be his chief of security and tactical on the Jackal and Starbase 332. It was his influence that put her in strategic operations and the command track, teaching her the minutia of details that command officers had to deal with on a daily basis. He had convinced her to become his executive officer when Commander Reinhart moved on to a command of his own. He even trusted her to lead the Jackal into battle at Thane, and finally to command the Carthage in the short lived war games from a month ago. But now he was gone, and she had nothing but a memory to help guide her.

Gunning’s heroic death left the station without a captain, and Starfleet felt that Liarra was ready for command. She wasn’t convinced that they were right, but didn’t have much room to argue. She had become the de facto expert on the Sojourners, and now that the Archanis sector was a warzone, they needed such an expert to spearhead the response. If it was entirely up to her, the entire Eleventh fleet would already have descended upon Thane, but that wasn’t to be the response. Oh, it was clear that the Sojourners had been behind the attack. Intelligence and forensic evidence pointed a flashing arrow at the Sojourners. Besides that, the Sojourner government, if one could even call it that, had claimed credit for the attack, and promising more like it if Starfleet does not recognize their sovereignty. Liarra was all for recognizing their sovereignty, followed by a declaration of war and orbital bombardment of their capitol. But that was not the way a captain should think. Instead they should uphold the spirit that Starfleet was founded on.

The current presenter finished his speech to applause, saying something rousing to the crowd assembled in front of him. Von looked out over the crowd. There were a lot of faces she recognized, but a lot that she didn’t. There were a few faces she might not have missed, and many that she did. Some of those missing faces had been called on to other assignments, or civilians who had left in search of a safer life. Some, like her dear friend and colleague Nilani Prax, had to be sent away for medical treatment. Nilani had watched Alex die, killed by an exploding plasma conduit just having saved her life as well as several others. But in the explosion, she was still badly burned and left in critical condition. She had to be sent to Trill for treatment, or else Nilani and the Prax symbiont could have died. Although she was improving, Nilani was in no condition to return to duty.

Among the new faces was Commander Brian Ratchford. In the immediate aftermath of the attack, and the breakdown of the war games, his command experience helped Liarra keep things from getting worse. While he was relatively new to the station, he was still highly qualified as a command officer, and Liarra’s first choice as executive officer. He proved his abilities to her during the ill-fated war games, managing to track her down at the first objective. He had a mind for command and a natural born leader, something she needed more now than ever.

The other new face on her senior staff had only just arrived a couple of days prior. It was a bit of a haunting reminder though. Commander Jordan Gunning, the new Chief of Strategic Operations for the Archanis Sector, was Alexander’s brother. He had just returned from a deep space assignment on the USS Iapetus when he received the news of his brother’s death. Surprisingly, he requested the transfer. Liarra was concerned that he wanted revenge even more than she did, but his resume was impressive. She needed someone to manage the sector that was not afraid to give someone a bloody nose.

Times were certainly changing in their neck of the galaxy. The Federation may not have been at war, but it certainly felt that way. All Liarra could think about as she was introduced to the podium was the impending storm. But she couldn’t think of that now. That wouldn’t do the ceremony justice. She owed it to the names behind her to be strong. She owed it to Alex, her friend, her mentor.

Captain Von rose to feet as her name was called, a smattering of applause accompanying her across the stage. She glanced at her PADD and the speech she had prepared. It was more rousing than she really felt like giving, but she figured everyone needed something to uplift their spirits. She paused a moment before speaking and looked over the crowd, the start of a tear in her eye. “One month ago, this station was the target of a selfish and cowardly terrorist attack. There has been a lot of talk about honor, and patriotism, even heroism. But the fact remains, that on that fateful day, 13,159 men, women, and children were killed in an explosion that destroyed 37% of the station. That doesn’t even include everyone injured, or the lives of friends, family, and colleagues that were turned upside down.”

“Many of these lives were lost in the initial attack. Others, like Captain Gunning, gave his life so that others may live. Some of them were Starfleet officers and crew, tending to their duties as they always do. Others were merchants or restaurateurs, closing up shop after the end of a long day. Others were families, just settling down for the evening. All of them were here seeking a better life. Their only ‘crime’ was enjoying the freedom offered to us by the Federation and our allies.”

“On this wall behind me are the names of the 13,159 victims. Let this memorial be a testament to our resolve. We will never forget the sacrifice they made in this cowardly attack, and we will not forget the lives they once lived. They were our neighbors. They were our friends. They were our families. This station is more than a place of work. It is our home. And I’m not going to let someone come to my front doorstep and bully my family.”

“Now we stand here together, mourning their loss and sacrifices so that others may live and be free. They were stolen from us, killed for no better of a reason than to make a political statement, to tell us that we are not invincible. But I say that they are wrong. Alone, we are weak. Alone, we are vulnerable. But together, we are strong. Together, we are invincible. We stopped the Borg! We defeated the Dominion! I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m certainly not afraid of the Sojourners.”

Liarra stepped down from the podium and away from the roar of the applause. She knew it wasn’t much of a speech. She was no diplomat, she was a tactician. But she didn’t need to be anything else. Times were indeed changing, and there was no going back. The Sojourners were going to pay for what they did, even if it meant that her name was added to that wall.

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Captain Liarra Von
Commanding Officer
Starbase 332