Inspections and Media

Posted on Thursday June 19, 2025 @ 9:29pm by Captain Yoralig Gearev & Lieutenant JG Melnoka 'Mel' Han'potla & Chief Warrant Officer 3 Makan
Edited on on Friday June 20, 2025 @ 5:14am

854 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Episode 1: A New Frontier
Location: Desk 33 - Fighter Flight Deck & Deck 34 - Fighter Storage
Timeline: 2424.06.16 1030 Hours

The doors to the flight deck swung open. Yoralig stepped over the threshold and was greeted by a flash mod of media. Their backs were to him. A beautiful woman standing in the front, a purple diplomatic uniform signified her as the media relations officer, was keeping their attention. Quickly he made his way to the control room where he saw Makan doing a systems check. The Zaranite looked up from the console.

"Captain. Glad to see you are here to see the flight deck." The chief warrant officer motioned towards the window that overlooked the deck, "Isn't she beautiful? I always said that if I could do it again, I would become a fighter pilot."

"I wasn't aware there was media on the ship." The no nonsense captain changed the subject. He wasn't happy about that. He believed Starfleet should keep this kind of stuff secretive. Especially the fighter bay.

"Well..." The Zaranite paused, "... It was scheduled before you assumed command. From what Lieutenant Han'potla told me." He motioned to the woman leading the group of the deck. They were walking towards a single Valkyrie fighter sitting on the deck. "She is the Media Relations Officer, and she is good at it too. She uses her Risian charm to keep the attention on her and away from where it should not be. Like when you walked out onto the deck."

"Hm." The Coridanite said crossing his arms across his broad chest. He watched as she touched the fighter's wing. He assumed they were talking about the fighter, "Give them what they want and they will leave you alone." He leaned forward, leaning his hand on the console getting a better view of the deck. Just then he saw her motion towards the control center and they started moving. "I should go..."

"Don't you think they would want to interview the Captain of this magnificent starship?" Makan asked. Yoralig could only image the Zaranite was smiling under his breathing apparatus.

"I don't think that is a good idea. You know I am a private person. The media doesn't need to see me." Yoralig knew that if he was recognized by Coridanite syndicates, they could come after him. Though, they may not risk attacking a Starfleet ship and having the repercussions of such an act. Tapping his combadge, "Transporter room. Transport me to Deck 34, fighter storage."

"Aye captain. Standby... transporting." The captain was engulfed in blue light and when it faded he was in the fighter storage bay. One deck below. This was a restricted area, so the media wouldn't find him here. Several crewmember were working on fighters when he materialized. They snapped to attention. Holding up his hand to signal them to be at ease, he went looking at the fighters and bombers.

The first slot to his left was empty, probably the fighter on the deck. All the fighters were docked down here, once the flight deck above was cleared he figured a squadron would be move to be ready, just in case. Smiling on the inside, he knew this was what he has meant to do. Starfleet kept the narrative of an exploration organization, but he knew they were more than that. The Federation knew they were more than that. Just look at the Dominion War, the conflict with the Typhon Pact, the Borg incidents. Starfleet was a military. No question about it and the Coridanite captain was going to use it to bring the Tholians to their knees.... did they have knees? He thought to himself.

The door to the fighter storage bay slid closed behind him with a sigh of sealed air. Captain Yoralig Gearev stood still for a moment, listening to the hum of the Vanguard’s core vibrations through the reinforced deck plating. Behind him, rows of parked interceptors slept in the dim glow of maintenance lights, silent predators waiting for the call.

He’d needed this visit.

There was something steadying in walking the deck beside machines built for speed and violence—clean lines, precise calibrations, no ambiguity. A machine either worked or it didn’t. There was no pretense in duranium and phased antimatter.

Unlike the press.

The moment he stepped back into the corridor, his combadge chirped.

“Lieutenant Han’potla to Captain Gearev.”

He exhaled quietly before tapping the badge. “Gearev here.”

“Sir, I was wondering if you had a moment to swing by the mess hall? The press contingent is wrapping up their orientation, and they’ve asked for a short Q&A. Nothing heavy. Just a few smiles and statements for the record!”

Her voice was musical and smooth—pleasant in the way most Risian voices were. And like most Risians, Mel was relentlessly upbeat. She didn’t just enjoy being around people—she thrived on it.

“I believe I made it clear I wasn’t giving interviews today,” he said, walking as he spoke.

“Oh, I know, sir,” she said with a hint of laughter, “but they’re practically glowing with curiosity. Federation NewsNet, GNN, and even Nova Archive. One of them said just seeing you walk in would be headline-worthy.”

 

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