( Following Galactic Darkness: Coalition's Light... )
Captain D'Foose stood on the bridge of the star destroyer; Restigouche.
Correction.
Captain D'Foose on the bridge of her new command, the Gestalt battlecruiser; Restigouche.
She caught herself and smiled reminding herself that 'Old Rusty Guts' was her own command now. The thought inspired memories and she recalled the events which had transpired to lead her here, to her newly minted position within the Galactic Coalition Navy. Certainly her role on Cerea had played a part, her having been sent to such a significant summons as an envoy and representative of the Colonial Defense Fleet (Gestalt) and, having made a notable impression on her peers in the military establishment there. While many had been expecting Vice Commodore Shipwright to attend they had, for the most part, been impressed with her presence none the less.
The Colonies, insular and isolationist, had ceased their intra-system expansion and, having solidified their hold on the star system of Gestalt, were more safe and secure then they had ever been. Without the need to maintain massive armada of warships the CDF had started rolling back its active fleet to include only those few ships required to secure Gestalt and the Colonies while those ships left over were either moved into reserve or outright sold into Coalition service among the various mixed navies there-in. There were, quite literally, only a handful of commands left within the Colonial Fleet. In a move to restructure its available assets, the CDF had instituted a new policy dubbed the Star Fighter Mandate which called for whole new wings of fighter-based squadrons be formed up to replace the large line-vessels. Of those commanders being reassigned many would find themselves in command of new and more diverse units then they were formally used to. Her position aboard the Colonial had been assured, sure enough, but this move to reorganize the Colonial Fleet according to its needs and not its desires meant that her chances for advancement within the CDF would be significantly limited by available positions. Directly ahead of her was Lance Shipwright who ostensibly in his capacity of Colonial Commodore could command any number of Colonial vessels according to his desires. Technically and according to the delicate balance established between the government and the military, Admiral Mar-Veil could supersede the authority of the Vice Commodore and, as the saying went, the buck stopped there. Sensing her options were going to be impeded by this change, she had approached Lance and requested that he use his contacts within the Galactic Coalition of Planets to arrange a transfer into Coalition service and he had in turn had the Admiral vouch for her in the form of a formal recommendation to boot. Between them, however, Lance and Ruben had requested that she stay on for the duration of the changes being undertaken by the military establishment of Gestalt. She had agreed. Part of her continued service had required that she attend the summit on Cerea. Following her return to Gestalt she was informed, in a ceremony put together by her peers, that her transfer had been accepted with gratitude.
Perhaps at first she had been unprepared for the realization of her ambition and felt the pangs of regret that she would actually be leaving behind the Colonies, a vision of a dream that had become reality because of people just like her, men and women who had poured their hearts and souls into creating something lasting and real. Like so many others she had put everything of herself into developing the Gestalt Colonies in to something that they could all be proud of, but unlike so many of those people, she had known first hand the man responsible for that vision and felt a guilt that was entirely unique at leaving him behind. In many ways, she had reminded herself, she was only continuing the dream and they would always know one another no matter how vast the distance between stars. Her trepidation passed quickly enough.
Her indoctrination in to the Coalition Navy was complete; she was being given a command comparable to her position in the CDF.
The Restigouche transferred service alongside its commander. Built from the ground up, the Restigouche was only the third Commonwealth-class Battlecruiser constructed and put in to service by the Gestalt Colonies. Her sister ships had remained in the CDF as the backbone of the Gestalt fleet but the Restigouche had been destined for Coalition service from the start. It came as something of a conviencance then that Captain d'Foose would be welcomed into Coalition service (proper) bearing gifts in the form of material bound for the Coalition navies.
But the exchange of Colonial talent had not stopped there. Of the roughly sixteen thousand serving men and women in the CDF who would have been made redundant with the change in their military structure, the majority volunteered to follow D'Foose in to Coalition service. Others still served in detached commands as was common for the mixed task forces of the GC, such as those units detached to Kashan and the Hyperlane and those detailed to Cren Space, but D'Foose and her band would make the transition fully and without reservation.
To ease their transition Captain D'Foose and the Restigouche had been ordered to join up with a Confederation/Colonial task force as their first duty in what would doubtless prove to be a highly unorthodox career (in keeping with the trend). Elements of the Coalition Navy would then be breaking formation and making for a tour that would take them through the core of the Coalition before testing their mettle on the fringes of civilized space.
Captain D'Foose smiled a hidden smile and inhaled the scent of her ship. The fresh smells of plastic, polymer and binding compounds assailed her nasal cavities. Unlike the stogy old commanders she had come up under, D'Foose had always enjoyed the feel of a new star ship while many of her mentors had written great long dissertations of the values of having a well worn and broken in star ship under ones command. Her career in the CDF had bred that in her though, as she had already been placed in command of numerous 'fresh out of the docks' commands.
The sounds the conn, subdued and pensive at this late hour, reassured her. She wrapped her fingers around the brass rail that ringed the captains podium and felt the cold steel press against her palms.
The bridge of the Restigouche arced out around here in a panoramic crescent that afforded her a singular perspective over the duty stations below and gave her an unobstructed view of the space ahead of and around her massive ship. Her Executive Officer had fussed over her chair insisting that the Captains chair was a symbol of achievement that the crew identified with but all the same she had demanded it be removed saying, “The last person you will find sitting on this bridge is me. The chairs in my quarters are perfectly comfortable.” D'Foose much preferred to spend her time upright and productive, so much so that in the few short weeks she had been in command of the Restigouche she had managed to carve a tread-marked path from the conn to her podium.
“Morning Captain,” spoke her Executive Officer. He had just arrived on the bridge and was brandishing two dangerously steaming cups of coffee one of which he offered to her saying, “if you keep beating me to the bridge before reveille people are going to talk.”
He chuckled and she shared it with him. The night-shift was just going off duty and she insisted on being present for the change. Any other XO would have felt slighted but he had followed her from Gestalt, from her command aboard the Colonial, in fact.
“Another day,” he observed quietly while going over the nights reports and handing the Captain her missives.
D'Foose nodded and fingered through her own data files and quirked a brow at one. Her XO seemed to sense it coming and was already looking at her expectantly. She fixed him with her most pensive stare. “This is valid?”
“Confirmed this morning.” He winked. “Does it mean what I think?”
She winked in reply and said, “We're moving out.”
/END
Captain D'Foose stood on the bridge of the star destroyer; Restigouche.
Correction.
Captain D'Foose on the bridge of her new command, the Gestalt battlecruiser; Restigouche.
She caught herself and smiled reminding herself that 'Old Rusty Guts' was her own command now. The thought inspired memories and she recalled the events which had transpired to lead her here, to her newly minted position within the Galactic Coalition Navy. Certainly her role on Cerea had played a part, her having been sent to such a significant summons as an envoy and representative of the Colonial Defense Fleet (Gestalt) and, having made a notable impression on her peers in the military establishment there. While many had been expecting Vice Commodore Shipwright to attend they had, for the most part, been impressed with her presence none the less.
The Colonies, insular and isolationist, had ceased their intra-system expansion and, having solidified their hold on the star system of Gestalt, were more safe and secure then they had ever been. Without the need to maintain massive armada of warships the CDF had started rolling back its active fleet to include only those few ships required to secure Gestalt and the Colonies while those ships left over were either moved into reserve or outright sold into Coalition service among the various mixed navies there-in. There were, quite literally, only a handful of commands left within the Colonial Fleet. In a move to restructure its available assets, the CDF had instituted a new policy dubbed the Star Fighter Mandate which called for whole new wings of fighter-based squadrons be formed up to replace the large line-vessels. Of those commanders being reassigned many would find themselves in command of new and more diverse units then they were formally used to. Her position aboard the Colonial had been assured, sure enough, but this move to reorganize the Colonial Fleet according to its needs and not its desires meant that her chances for advancement within the CDF would be significantly limited by available positions. Directly ahead of her was Lance Shipwright who ostensibly in his capacity of Colonial Commodore could command any number of Colonial vessels according to his desires. Technically and according to the delicate balance established between the government and the military, Admiral Mar-Veil could supersede the authority of the Vice Commodore and, as the saying went, the buck stopped there. Sensing her options were going to be impeded by this change, she had approached Lance and requested that he use his contacts within the Galactic Coalition of Planets to arrange a transfer into Coalition service and he had in turn had the Admiral vouch for her in the form of a formal recommendation to boot. Between them, however, Lance and Ruben had requested that she stay on for the duration of the changes being undertaken by the military establishment of Gestalt. She had agreed. Part of her continued service had required that she attend the summit on Cerea. Following her return to Gestalt she was informed, in a ceremony put together by her peers, that her transfer had been accepted with gratitude.
Perhaps at first she had been unprepared for the realization of her ambition and felt the pangs of regret that she would actually be leaving behind the Colonies, a vision of a dream that had become reality because of people just like her, men and women who had poured their hearts and souls into creating something lasting and real. Like so many others she had put everything of herself into developing the Gestalt Colonies in to something that they could all be proud of, but unlike so many of those people, she had known first hand the man responsible for that vision and felt a guilt that was entirely unique at leaving him behind. In many ways, she had reminded herself, she was only continuing the dream and they would always know one another no matter how vast the distance between stars. Her trepidation passed quickly enough.
Her indoctrination in to the Coalition Navy was complete; she was being given a command comparable to her position in the CDF.
The Restigouche transferred service alongside its commander. Built from the ground up, the Restigouche was only the third Commonwealth-class Battlecruiser constructed and put in to service by the Gestalt Colonies. Her sister ships had remained in the CDF as the backbone of the Gestalt fleet but the Restigouche had been destined for Coalition service from the start. It came as something of a conviencance then that Captain d'Foose would be welcomed into Coalition service (proper) bearing gifts in the form of material bound for the Coalition navies.
But the exchange of Colonial talent had not stopped there. Of the roughly sixteen thousand serving men and women in the CDF who would have been made redundant with the change in their military structure, the majority volunteered to follow D'Foose in to Coalition service. Others still served in detached commands as was common for the mixed task forces of the GC, such as those units detached to Kashan and the Hyperlane and those detailed to Cren Space, but D'Foose and her band would make the transition fully and without reservation.
To ease their transition Captain D'Foose and the Restigouche had been ordered to join up with a Confederation/Colonial task force as their first duty in what would doubtless prove to be a highly unorthodox career (in keeping with the trend). Elements of the Coalition Navy would then be breaking formation and making for a tour that would take them through the core of the Coalition before testing their mettle on the fringes of civilized space.
Captain D'Foose smiled a hidden smile and inhaled the scent of her ship. The fresh smells of plastic, polymer and binding compounds assailed her nasal cavities. Unlike the stogy old commanders she had come up under, D'Foose had always enjoyed the feel of a new star ship while many of her mentors had written great long dissertations of the values of having a well worn and broken in star ship under ones command. Her career in the CDF had bred that in her though, as she had already been placed in command of numerous 'fresh out of the docks' commands.
The sounds the conn, subdued and pensive at this late hour, reassured her. She wrapped her fingers around the brass rail that ringed the captains podium and felt the cold steel press against her palms.
The bridge of the Restigouche arced out around here in a panoramic crescent that afforded her a singular perspective over the duty stations below and gave her an unobstructed view of the space ahead of and around her massive ship. Her Executive Officer had fussed over her chair insisting that the Captains chair was a symbol of achievement that the crew identified with but all the same she had demanded it be removed saying, “The last person you will find sitting on this bridge is me. The chairs in my quarters are perfectly comfortable.” D'Foose much preferred to spend her time upright and productive, so much so that in the few short weeks she had been in command of the Restigouche she had managed to carve a tread-marked path from the conn to her podium.
“Morning Captain,” spoke her Executive Officer. He had just arrived on the bridge and was brandishing two dangerously steaming cups of coffee one of which he offered to her saying, “if you keep beating me to the bridge before reveille people are going to talk.”
He chuckled and she shared it with him. The night-shift was just going off duty and she insisted on being present for the change. Any other XO would have felt slighted but he had followed her from Gestalt, from her command aboard the Colonial, in fact.
“Another day,” he observed quietly while going over the nights reports and handing the Captain her missives.
D'Foose nodded and fingered through her own data files and quirked a brow at one. Her XO seemed to sense it coming and was already looking at her expectantly. She fixed him with her most pensive stare. “This is valid?”
“Confirmed this morning.” He winked. “Does it mean what I think?”
She winked in reply and said, “We're moving out.”
/END