Echoes of Possibility
Posted on Sat Jan 4th, 2025 @ 10:52pm by Lieutenant Commander Elena Mao & Crewman Mateo Gardel
2,010 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
Lost Out Here in the Stars
Location: Bridge, Deck 1, The William Dawes
Timeline: MD001 - 0800
The Conference Room, which was never used for conferences, had become Elena's makeshift office. At the moment, she was reviewing cargo manifests and plotting the route they'd be taking this trip. There were other things clamoring for her attention, notice from Personnel which she avoided on principle, and something from another captain. That could wait till later. For now, she had manifests to get through, cargo to get squared away, so that she could get the Dawes back into space.
Only moments aboard, and Mateo was already enjoying the ship’s unique brand of hospitality: a personal security escort straight to the Captain. His transfer orders from the Ahwatukee were barely out of his hands at the airlock before the officer on duty—a Benzite with the unyielding posture of someone who took protocol very seriously—told him to drop his gear and follow. Mateo complied, though not without a flicker of resistance, a reflex as natural to him as breathing. His feet moved, but his mind rebelled. He might have tossed in a wry comment, something sharp-edged but harmless, delivered with just enough charm to blur the line between defiance and wit.
The corridor was utilitarian and narrow, a stark contrast to the expansive decks of the Galaxy-class Ahwatukee. Mateo mentally cataloged the differences as they walked. The William Dawes was compact, no doubt about it—a scout ship dressed up with just enough features to avoid feeling entirely cramped. It had the air of a vessel built for precision, not comfort. A ship that got things done.
They reached a lift quickly, their progress uninterrupted by the kind of casual foot traffic that characterized larger ships. Mateo appreciated the efficiency but couldn’t shake the feeling of confinement. As the lift doors whispered open, he folded his arms, leaning back just enough to convey a relaxed indifference that didn’t quite match the tightness in his chest.
Before long, they stood in front of a single-paneled door marked "Conference Room." It wasn’t what Mateo expected. The Benzite officer tapped the control panel, first triggering the door chime and then opening the door itself. With a subtle gesture, the officer motioned for Mateo to step inside.
The room felt more like a private study than a typical conference space. The lighting was warmer, and the furnishings were practical yet inviting. A large table dominated the center, but it was clear this space could accommodate more than quiet contemplation. The Captain, a young woman seated behind the table, looked up as they entered.
“Commander, this is Crewman Mateo Gardel, reporting onboard as your designated scientist. His orders specified that I escort him here personally.”
The Benzite’s tone was clipped, professional, but Mateo caught the edge beneath the surface. A pointed glare followed one that he met with a restrained grin. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep it from spreading further—a small victory in the ongoing battle between decorum and instinct.
“Anything else I can assist with?” The security officer asked, shifting his focus back to the Captain.
"No," Elena said at once. "You can return to your duties on the station, petty officer." While the Benzite nodded and headed for the door, with one last glance in Mateo's direction, Elena gestured toward the empty chairs around the table. "How about you have a seat and maybe we can start with why Starfleet felt the need for you to have a security escort onto the Dawes?"
Mateo’s grin lingered just long enough to feel defiant but not insubordinate. He strolled to one of the proffered chairs, pulling it out and sitting down with deliberate ease. Leaning back, he rested one ankle on his opposite knee and clasped his hands behind his head, a picture of casual confidence that masked the calculation in his gaze. His eyes flicked around, taking in the details—cargo manifests spread across the table, a half-finished cup of something, a data PADD blinking with unread messages. Practical. Focused. He liked that. No pretense.
“I’m not exactly sure why the escort was necessary,” he began, his voice low and even, each word deliberate. “Could be a formality… or maybe someone just wanted to make an impression.” His eyes twinkled briefly with dry amusement, though the smile didn’t linger.
He glanced toward the door, where the Benzite had made his exit, then back to Elena. “I don’t usually travel with a fan club.” A soft chuckle escaped him, more to himself than for effect, and he settled back slightly, one hand now resting on the arm of the chair.
Mateo watched her reaction closely, gauging whether his humor would land or backfire. He wasn’t trying to push her buttons—well, not too hard—but testing the waters was second nature. Authority figures had always been hit or miss -- mostly miss. Some liked his wit; others labeled it insolence.
“But if you’re looking for the official explanation,” he continued, shrugging one shoulder, “I suppose it might have something to do with my record. The Ahwatukee’s COB might’ve mentioned something about me having… a ‘selective’ relationship with protocol. Not in a reckless way—just a little more interpretive than some prefer. Something about ‘spirited discourse’ and ‘creative interpretations of orders.’” He made air quotes, his grin widening just a little.
Then, leaning forward, he dropped the grin. His voice softened, losing its playful edge and shifting to something more earnest. “But I do my job, Captain. And I do it well. Maybe not always by the book, but results? I deliver.”
He sat still, his posture calm but engaged, waiting for her response. His gaze remained steady, open—not exactly challenging, but clear in its message: he meant what he said. And he was ready to back it up.
Elena swiveled in her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest and looping her hands around her ankles as she considered what he said. "This is not an exciting post, science-wise. I'm sorry about that. We are a courier ship so mostly, they assign a technician who does scans along the route and reports back anything interesting for some other vessel to go out and investigate." She offered up a wry smile. "I have been on the receiving end of a couple of those conversations myself. You know, the ones where they talk about being unprofessional? Undisciplined? But the way I see it? Sometimes," she shrugged lightly, "a girl has just got to check it out for herself, you know?"
Mateo grinned knowingly, his head slowly nodding in understanding as his chocolate-colored eyes held the Captain's gaze. “I do... maybe more than you think.” He watched the Captain settle into her seat, noting the casual, almost self-contained way she drew her knees to her chest. It was a gesture that spoke of comfort—or perhaps resignation. He didn’t interrupt, letting the quiet stretch as her words filled the space between them. When she finished, offering up that wry smile, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely clasped.
“Courier duty, huh?” His voice was soft, more observation than question. He glanced briefly at the ceiling as if pulling from some internal archive. “You’d be surprised how many ‘routine’ missions end up being something else entirely.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Sometimes, the things you’re not assigned to investigate turn out to be the most interesting.”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, studying her expression, then continued. “Funny thing, though. I’ve heard that Federation science teams use this ship class a lot. Field research, planetary surveys... that sort of thing.” Mateo tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharpening with curiosity. “I heard they’ve got some pretty impressive labs and sensor suites—nothing that’ll make a Luna-class blush, but still, damn good. Is that true?”
He let the question linger, leaning in further by just a fraction as though gauging her response. “If it is, I can’t help but think—given a little flexibility—I might be able to dive into something more than just routine sensor sweeps scans and cataloging reports.”
His tone carried no judgment, just a gentle nudge, like someone accustomed to pulling at the edges of things. His voice softened further, warmer now. “If not, though, I wouldn’t write this post off just yet. Excitement doesn’t always come with a mission brief.” He paused, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. “Sometimes, it shows up when you least expect it.”
Themes and currents. They flowed through his conversation and hummed in her veins, as though calling her to a hunt. She shifted position, returning one booted foot to the floor, as her predator's eyes turned brilliant blue for the barest of seconds. She smiled and her voice when she finally spoke sounded almost like a purr. "There are always possibilities," she said. "And I am fairly adept at navigating the politics well enough that they do not try to take away my ship because that," and here her eyes flashed a cold and merciless blue, "would be bad."
"As for the science lab," Elena continued, redirecting her thoughts as much for her own sake as his, "you are right about that. We are sometimes tasked with helping survey teams though its been a few months since the last one. That's a hit or miss thing. Sometimes interesting, sometimes, it's a matter of teaching whomever they send that we are not here to serve their every whim. I play 'fetch' for no one and I have the Academy demerits to prove it." She laughed lightly, the humor reflected in the depths of her onyx gaze, "we are due to head out in a day or so; you'll have that long to make sure that you have everything you need."
Mateo’s grin widened at the Captain's final remark, the kind of expression that could read as either playful or perceptive depending on the observer. “A day, huh? Generous timeline. I’ll try not to squander it,” he quipped lightly, though his tone suggested he was already turning over the logistics in his mind.
He straightened in his chair, his casual air shifting just enough to reveal a flicker of genuine focus. “I’ll take a look at the lab, see what’s on hand. Not that I’m expecting miracles,” he added with a slight shrug. “But I’ve worked with less. And if we’re being honest, I’ve always been better at improvisation than planning anyway.”
The gleam in his eyes returned as he glanced at Elena, his voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “You know, Captain, it’s starting to sound like this ship has a knack for keeping things… interesting. Between the politics, the science, and your apparent talent for stirring up just enough trouble to keep Starfleet guessing, I’m starting to think I might’ve landed in the right place after all.”
He stood, unfolding himself from the chair with an easy grace, his gaze lingering on the Captain as he added, “I’ll make sure I’m ready. And if you ever need someone to run interference with an overeager survey team—or navigate those political waters—you know where to find me.”
"Welcome to the Dawes," Elena said. "Let me know if the lab is missing anything you might need."
Pausing at the door, Mateo turned back, his expression softening into something quieter, more genuine. “Thanks for the welcome, Captain. I’ll try not to let you regret it.” With that, he inclined his head, a subtle but unmistakably respectful gesture, and stepped out into the corridor, already plotting his next move.
Lt. Commander Elena Mao
Commanding Officer
USS William Dawes
and
Crewman Matteo Gardel
Science Oiffcer
USS William Dawes
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