Let me begin by saying that I am a dedicated fan of Star Trek. Unlike most Science Fiction, it is utopian, not dystopian, showing not only that science and technology can make our lives better, but that we can build a better, fairer, more tolerant world.
This is the first in what I hope will be a long, emotional story of life and love aboard a starship, written with that message in mind.
I plan for most of the sex in this series to be lesbian in nature, but I may make some exceptions. As always, I would love any (constructive) feedback you have.
Chapter 1
Shakedown
Shadows crept slowly across the wall of the observation deck, ghostly figures cast against the bulkhead of an empty ship. The room was lit by the first light of the morning sun, rising over the Atlantic Ocean. The room was empty, totally devoid of life, like the rest of the ship high above San Francisco. Her corridors no longer echoed with the footsteps of her crew. Main Engineering was silent, the constant hum of her engines gone. The beating heart of the ship was at last still. The weapons stores were empty, as no battles remained in her future. The shuttle bay was stripped, the few remaining fighters forever without pilots. The transporter room was dark, with no new worlds to explore. The Bridge was still. There was no one on watch, no tasks to be performed, and no missions to complete. On the entire ship, only one living thing still remained. In the captain's ready room, a lone figure sat in the dark, quiet and dignified. A single Vulcan woman, a veteran officer, sat saying goodbye to longest serving ship in Starfleet history. She was the last captain of the
Athena
.
*******
Earth, 2293
Sahar shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She vastly preferred transporters to taking a shuttle into orbit. Something about the switch from real to artificial gravity always turned her stomach, and this was no exception.
At least there's no turbulence
, she thought as she closed her eyes, trying to settle her gut. Eventually, the shuttle cleared the atmosphere and began the short trip to Mars. The pull of Earth's gravity faded, but Sahar's stomach refused to relax. She leaned forward and looked out the cockpit window. Among the brilliant stars, she could pick out a bright red spot directly ahead of the craft, slowly growing brighter. She leaned back and shut her eyes again. Her nerves took over the job of making her sick. Her thoughts were interrupted by a calm, even voice across the aisle from her.
"Are you ill, Ensign?" Sahar looked up into a dark emotionless face. Sahar had hardly noticed the other passenger when she boarded the shuttle at the Academy. The person had been sitting motionless in their seat, and Sahar had assumed they were asleep. The woman in front of her was slightly built, with short, black hair, darkly tanned skin, and dark brown eyes. The sharp, angular face, unusually high cheek bones, and near total lack of facial expression identified her as a Vulcan.
"I'm fine. Just nervous. This is my first posting," Sahar said.
"You have been adequately trained. There is no reason to expect below average performance."
"Uhh. Thanks," Sahar said. "How about you?"
"This is my first posting as well," the Vulcan responded. Sahar examined her uniform. It was in pristine condition.
Figures,
she thought. The gold trim on her uniform identified her as an Engineer. Her own uniform bore the dark olive green worn by Security Officers.
"Sahar Tehrani," she said, extending her hand.
"Suvak," the woman answered as she shook it. The two young officers sat talking for the next half hour. They shared Academy experiences, discussing their instructors, squads, and courses. Suvak's calm demeanor helped ease Sahar's nerves, and she found the rest of the flight enjoyable, or at least less unpleasant. The conversation was eventually interrupted by the pilot.
"Athena, Academy Shuttle delta 59 requesting permission to land."
"Delta 59, permission granted. You are clear to land in the Main Shuttlebay."
"Affirmative, Athena."
Sahar again leaned forward to look out the cockpit window. The stars had been replaced by the brilliant red of the Martian surface, but her eyes fixated on the structure directly in front of the shuttle. Hanging in space above the planet was a massive starship construction platform. The platform, itself less than 2 years old, was nearly a kilometer long, and more the 600 meters wide, dwarfing the shuttle. A long spine-like structure ran the length of the platform. A network of support structures extended down from either side of the spine. Attached to the bottom of the spine, between the support structures, lay the shuttles destination. She was one of first of the new
Excelsior
class ships. The design was sleek, at least compared to other starships. Sahar stared in awe.
It's glorious,
she thought. As the shuttle neared the ship, she could make out the designation written on the saucer section:
NCC-2017 USS Athena.
Within moments, the shuttle set down in the main shuttle bay. Sahar stood, reaching for her bag. "Guess we're here," she said.
******
USS Athena
, Deck 32, Main Shuttlebay
Sahar parted ways with Suvak and entered the nearest turbolift. "Deck 7," she said, and the computer acknowledged her with a beep. She had memorized the layout of the ship as soon as she was given the assignment. Most new Academy graduates are assigned to an old frigate or transport ship, not a state-of-the-art multirole battlecruiser. She had at first thought there had been a mistake, but decided not to question her orders. This was a mistake she thankful for. The turbolift stopped and the doors opened. Sahar lifted her bags and exited.
Walking down the corridor, she was overcome by a sense of disbelief.
I can't believe I am actually here,
she thought. Sahar came from a family filled with Starfleet officers. Her parents had met while serving together, and her older brother was a Lieutenant serving on the
Miranda
. She had entered Starfleet Academy at age 18, and graduated with honors three years later. Still, she felt intimidated by the task in front of her. Sahar knew that expectations on a frontline ship would be high, and there would be little room for error.
At last, she reached her destination: the Security Chief's quarters. Sahar reached out to the control panel and pressed the button to request entry. "Enter," said a deep, masculine voice with a think English accent. The door slid open and Sahar stepped inside. Sitting at a desk in front of her was a large, dark skinned man, staring down at the reports piled on his desk. She walked up to the desk and dropped her bag.