Vulnerable to Intention: Part One
Title: Vulnerable to Intention
Author: foxie_trot
Artist: evian_fork
Crossover: Supernatural/Star Trek: The Next Generation
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 30,000~
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Bobby/Crowley, implied Ed/Harry, Cas, Jodie, Ruby, Gabriel, Picard, Riker, Data, Geordi, Dr. Crusher
Warnings: Incest, old men having sex, strong language, some mild violence
Spoilers: No spoilers for either show, set before the TNG universe
Summary: The crew, including Dean, Sam, Cas, Bobby, Picard, Data and Crowley, have just finished two months of intense data collection and experiments and are due for shore leave. However, Rear Admiral Zachariah puts their vacation put on hold, in order to investigate a nearby barren planet, which ends up being a little more adventure than the crew had anticipated.
Part One
As far as first missions go, Dean thought this one could not have been better. It was a relief; the pressure of success had weighed on him from all sides, from Star Fleet, his crew, his brother and himself. But once they had completed with very few complications, the pressure seemed to lift, for which Dean was extremely grateful. They had been responsible for issuing medical checkups and restocking the medical supplies on Annex SB G-6, an outlying colony in the northern Beta subdivision. Star Fleet had been informed of their civilizations’ progress and on-site observations and reports had been forwarded to the overseers at Administrative Operations. True, it had not been a particularly difficult mission, nor would there have been any cause for Dean to suspect that anything could go wrong. It was, however, reassuring to have completed a successful mission without incident. It gave him the renewed confidence that was needed to return to the captain’s chair and relay their next set of orders from Star Fleet. He could not help the pride that swelled in his chest as he stood on the bridge, beside his brother, and knew that the next five years were going to be the most memorable, challenging and invigorating of his life. The challenges that lay ahead filled Dean with an enthusiasm he had not felt since he had first entered into the space program.
His little brother leaned against his station, grinning over at Dean with a happiness that he had not seen in several years. It warmed his heart to see his baby brother’s smile. At this moment, he knew he had made the right decision to take command of the USS Impala. Whatever misgivings he felt prior to now, evaporated when he saw the smile that lit up Sam’s face. Dean returned Sam’s smile and swore to himself that these years would be for them - it would not be overshadowed by the legend of John Winchester. They would make the USS Impala renowned in their own right, and could finally stop living in their father’s wake. It was with this promise and the determination in his heart that Captain Dean Winchester strode forward to the captain’s chair, ready to tackle anything the universe could throw at him. He lowered himself into his confident sprawl and winked as he turned to his First Officer, Jean-Luc Picard.
“Ensign Riker, plot a course to Ivor. Crowley, ahead Warp Factor 4. We’ve got space to explore, baby!” Dean grinned. His surrounding crew gave short exclamations of excited agreement, but none were as enthusiastic as Sam, who pumped his arm into the air and let out a loud ‘whoop’. It caused everyone to break out in stifled giggles, clearly Sam’s goal from the way he was grinning around the bridge. The after-effect was immediate, however, the bridge felt warmer, more companionable. While they were still wading through the murky waters of unfamiliarity, together they would grow to a team that complimented each other, forming a conglomerate that would navigate the uncertainty of space to the best of their ability.
This knowledge comforted Dean, and he sat back in his chair. He was looking forward to the adventures which lay ahead.
In the years that followed, the crew aboard the USS Impala proved to be a formidable force to hostile encounters; eliminating threats with cold-hearted efficiency that led to little loss of life, while remaining a bureaucratic wonder when needed to negotiate trade treaties, and investigate new worlds with new species and alternative thriving living conditions.
On paper, they were the perfect Starship, fulfilling its duties with enthusiasm and intellectual application, resulting in few complications and incidents. In practice of course, this was hardly the case. Captain Dean Winchester felt however, that there were some things the brass did not need to know; those incidents remained lost amongst the vastness of space. The crew was grateful for it, knowing it would be one less thing to justify when they returned to Starfleet for evaluation at the end of their mission.
There were times, though, where Dean had no choice but to report every finicky detail, as was the case with their current mission. It was time consuming and irksome, but Starfleet Intelligence was monitoring their progress constantly and were meticulously reviewing the Assessment Reports that were being sent twice-daily. They were required to comply with Starfleet’s stipulations, due to this particular mission. It was their most important and most challenging yet. They had been assigned to search for a suitable location for a potential Starbase outpost on the border of Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, so that it could provide the neighboring system with supplies and act as an anchor for any future space exploration in that part of the galaxy. It involved the entire crew to gather as much information about the celestial bodies in the area as possible.
They were running as many experiments and analysis as the labs could take, all hands were constantly out exploring the M Class planets. The various scientists were constantly running between the labs and the transporter room, beaming down to the planet in order to gather more samples and evaluate their previous results. Each planet had to be assessed in terms of breathable air, their atmospheric constitution, and availability of useful minerals that could be mined. Anyone who had any, however limited, scientific training had been reassigned to assist in the research. Dean himself visited inhabited planets, conducting trade negotiations for any suitable commodities the Starbase may need. Lieutenant Ellen always came with him on these occasions, to provide translation where possible and to ensure that no offence was made against the native culture when subtleties were lost with the use of the translators.
Once all this had been completed for the day, Dean had to compile the reports necessary to forward to Starfleet. This often took him several hours, as he liked to review the discoveries made from all of the departments and numerous landing parties. As Dean intended on maintaining his current position exploring the border of the two Quadrants, he was determined to know everything he possibly could about the area. He had been adamant to his crew that they forward him as accurate information as possible, placing pressure on the senior staff to adhere strictly to Starfleet’s requirements when forwarding these reports. So far, his crew had done just that, and he was extremely proud and grateful, as the efficiency made the entire process a little more bearable. They used their inter-stellar travel time to work through the administrative reports, compiling them as quickly as possible for Dean to include with his periodical report to Starfleet. It was exhausting, and none of the crew had any kind of rest this entire time.
Thankfully, though, they were almost finished. Only two more days’ worth of surveying, investigating, and archeological and forensic gathering was left to conduct on this final planet. Then the crew would be free for two weeks of shore leave on Starbase 514. Everyone longed for the vacation and their restlessness had begun to adversely affect their work. There had already been two reported mishaps in the science lab this morning, when two separate assistants had accidentally mixed up their samples. It led to a shutdown of one of the ExobioAnalysis machines, so now the entire department was running behind schedule. Tensions were running high and not just with the science officers. Even on the bridge, Crowley and Gabriel were bickering worse than ever, insulting each other at least once per conversation. The fact that Gabriel had made a slight error in his last calculations wasn’t helping matters either, and Crowley was taking full advantage of it to question his every judgment. Dean had stepped in earlier to maintain bridge protocol, reassigning Gabriel to the engine room to work with Geordi and Bobby. They were to test any potential engine limitations, in calculating the course for their final destination.
This had caused Bobby to complain, extensively and raucously, that Gabriel and Geordi were getting under his feet and disrupting his attempts to manage the engine room so that they would be ready to go to warp once they were finished on this planet. Dean had been confused when Bobby had cornered him in the elevator and demanded to know why Crowley couldn’t be sent to him instead. Not only would the helmsman be generally ineffectual in the engineering room at this time, due to a limited knowledge of the intricacies of the Impala’s engines, but Crowley was responsible for monitoring, computing and maintaining their position at the main controls. Dean had also been under the impression that Bobby and Crowley were two of his crew that clashed rather spectacularly. The last thing he needed was another incident like the one on Ivor Prime, when they had started a brawl with several Andorians that had been docked for repairs and restocking of supplies. It was one of the incidents that Dean had tried to play down to Central Command, with limited success.
They were but thankfully escaped an official inquiry. He had reprimanded both Bobby and Crowley heavily for their actions. After a week spent in the brig, slogging through mountains of backlogged crew manifests and diagnostic reports, their usual friction and banter warped into something sinister. Petty arguments erupted between them, seemingly never-ending, with one trying to outwit the other. It escalated until tensions between both of them reached an all time high, and inevitably descended into a dirty fistfight. They were moved to separate holding cells after that, but that hadn’t stopped the relentless shouting. Not even engaging the soundproofing on the cells seemed to have made a difference. Dean had sympathized with the security team, no one had wanted to guard them and eventually Worf conceded to the task, with permission to wear earplugs the entire time. Their release from the brig hadn’t exactly cooled their fire either, and so ever since Dean had been working to keep them apart and on as many opposing shifts as possible.
Nevertheless, Dean had given Bobby the score and told him in no polite words to ‘suck it up’. Bobby scowled and returned to the engineering room. Of course, he received an earful when Acting Ensign Jo had the misfortune of dropping an Interphasic compensator on Gabriel’s head hours later. Gabriel was recovering in the medical bay, and Dean had issued a terse warning to all staff to be mindful when working with their teams, and not to become lax now that they were in their final stages of the mission. Dean ‘expected his crew to operate at the same caliber that had been exhibited throughout the entirety of their mission so far’ and ‘forewarned of severe punishments for anyone who willing caused harm to another crewmember or caused willful detriment to any project’.
Yet, with the number of extended shifts the entire crew had been working for the past two months, these recent accidents and conflicts came as no surprise to Dean. In fact, he was amazed that it had not happened sooner, with the personality clashes within his crew and their history of occasional confrontation. In particular, he was impressed with the steady and ongoing co-operation between Castiel and Sam, who were not exactly the most amenable pair. The pressure on the both of them to provide as much detail to Starfleet as possible had resulted in a collaborative effort that exceeded all expectations. Their teams had combined on other occasions, generally once their findings either concurred (to save time they joined forces) or contradicted earlier discoveries (they worked together to solve these discrepancies), but nothing like this. Dean monitored this efficiency with pride, because without it they would not have been able to remain on schedule. He made sure to note daily appraisals to them when writing his Assessment Reports.
By the final day of their research only a few landing parties beamed down. They were gathering some last minute samples and finalizing any remaining surveying. The rest of the crew concentrated on the administrative work to be completed. The amount of completed logs entries flowing into Dean’s inbox had increased tenfold in the last twelve hours. Bobby’s team was occupied with repairs, ensuring they would not have any issues with warp drive. Despite the accidents and raised tensions, the insanity of the past two months was diminishing, to everyone’s relief. By 2200 hours, everyone would once again be aboard the ship and Dean would be issuing the orders to return to Starbase 514. The Base was at least two weeks away by Warp 5, so the science and medical crew would have time to complete their experiments and log their findings before they were due to arrive. Dean himself would be finishing all the administrative logs and conn reports he had been neglecting this mission.
It was therefore to his great annoyance that he received a new set of instructions from Starfleet at 2150 hours.
“Captain, I’m picking up an incoming message from Starbase 514 via Starfleet,” Ellen called over to him, her eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief.
The Beta shift was almost over, and Dean had to catch himself before he cursed Starfleet and their crap timing in front of the entire bridge. Not that any of them would have disagreed, from the looks that flashed in his direction. Instead he sighed, rather audibly, and nodded to Ellen.
“Patch it through to me. And send a copy to my personal computer, in case I need to look over it later.” Dean said.
Despite knowing that Starfleet had no sure way of knowing that shift was about to finish, Dean could be easily convinced they had waited until the most inconvenient moment possible to forward their message. The first thing Dean saw was Zachariah Sphetyra’s signature and insignia attached to the message. That’s when he knew that the timing was no coincidence. That bastard had definitely planned this. Dean quickly scanned the message, disabling the computer’s audio so the others could be spared the irritation building inside him. The alarm on his armchair beeped and he broke away from the message.
“2200 hours. That’s the end of Beta shift guys; you are relieved from your posts. Make sure to get some rest. I’ll be seein’ you bright and early tomorrow.” Dean announced.
The others switched their stations over to the officers who had just arrived on the bridge. Lieutenant Data stood at attention off to Dean’s right, ready to take over command for the Gamma shift. Dean nodded to him, but bent back over his console, scanning through the message once again just to make sure he had all the facts. Then he locked the message in his databank and shut down his screen, before standing to hand command over to Data, who was waiting for Dean’s word.
“Lieutenant Data, before I hand over the conn, I would like for you and Commander Picard to follow me. I have something important I need to discuss with you.” Dean told them, nodding toward the exit, ignoring their quizzical looks and those of his crew at the surrounding stations. He led them through to the nearest meeting room. Once they were seated inside, he closed the door behind them.
“Computer, engage door lock and soundproofing.”
Data and Picard exchanged looks of concealed bewilderment. Dean frowned as he turned to face them, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.
“I’m just doing this as a precaution; I don’t want the crew hearing about this just yet, especially since it probably isn’t going to go over very well with everybody.” Dean ran a hand over his face, and sat in a chair opposite the two of them. They continue to look impassively at him as they sat, still not sure what to say.
“I received a message from Starfleet shortly before you came onto the bridge. It contained this message from Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra.” Dean pressed a button his console. Zachariah’s balding, round head appeared on the mounted view screen.
“Greetings, Captain Winchester. Sorry to do this, but I need you on a mission.” He smirked slightly, betraying his utter indifference. “About one-half parsec from your current location is a planet called Beta VT36009. I think it would be fitting for your crew to take a look at this planet. The Federation wants up-to-date records of this area, and this planet hasn’t been visited in a hundred years, so I think it’s time. And what do you know; you’re right there, on a golden egg hunt! It’s perfect timing.” Zachariah grinned, a malicious note just audible in his cheery demeanor. “I’ll be sending through the orders from Command, with all available data about the planet. There’s a good lad. The Starbase sends its regards.” He waved shortly as the message ended and the screen blacked out.
Dean turned back to his officers. Picard’s mouth was set in a tight line, though Data seemed impervious, as usual.
“I’m going to contact Starfleet Command and see if we can get the mission delayed. I wouldn’t hold my breath, especially if these are coming directly from Starfleet. So I don’t want anyone to hear about this. You’re to sit quiet until next shift.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Keeping it from the crew?” Picard questioned.
“I agree, Captain. If the odds of success with Starfleet are indeed quite low, would it not be better to warn the crew in advance?” Data echoed.
Dean ran his hand along his jaw, frustration darkening his eyes. He grit his teeth, determined not to take his irritation out on the crew.
“You know, I’m not so sure. But I do know that it’s not fair on anyone that we’ve gotten these orders just minutes before our last mission officially ended. So in the interest of maintaining morale, I’m gonna wait until tomorrow. Everyone can hear it from me directly.” Dean stated. He stood, saluting his officers. They rose quickly to return the salute.
“I leave the ship in your capable hands. You have the conn, Data. Don’t make the alterations to our course too obvious, Picard.” Dean smiled at him. “But I’m guessing you already knew that?”
Picard nodded in reply, the corners of him mouth curled slightly in a knowing smile.
“Excellent. In that case, I’ll see you next shift.” He winked, a last attempt at humor before heading for the door. At the command, “computer, unlock door”, the doors slide open and the three of them filed out, Data and Picard heading back to the bridge while Dean strode toward the Turbolift.
Dean stepped into the elevator, slumped against the wall and told the computer to take him down to the science labs. He knew that if anyone was crazy enough to be working over-overtime, it would be his brother. Now that he was working with Castiel, he was even more likely to keep going until he literally dropped from exhaustion. It had happened at least once that he knew about already in the past two months. Sam had been on shift for twelve solid hours already, and he hadn’t signed off when Dean had taken Data and Picard aside, so he knew that Sam was going to continue working unless there was an intervention. So if he had to drag Sam’s sorry ass away from the screen, it wasn’t above using his command status to do so.
Sure enough, when the door to the lab slid open, Sam and Castiel were both still there, bent over the Biocomputer, recording their observations on their PADD’s. Dean didn’t even bother trying to sneak up on them - Castiel may look engrossed, but he definitely sensed Dean’s presence. Sam’s freakishly good hearing allowed him to hear the quiet whoosh of the door from across the room, so Dean may as well have announced his arrival with a welcoming parade.
Strolling up, Dean peered down at Sam’s PADD. It flashed rapidly, the analysis of the surrounding machine syncing to the ‘Pad in real time. Dean quirked an eyebrow at some of the results flashing across the screen. There were quite a number of unknown variables and undiscovered elements in the samples they were currently working on. No doubt that was why Sam hadn’t moved away from his station - he wanted to log them all before signing out.
In Dean’s mind, he wanted to tell Sam that it was another problem for another shift. But he knew that Sam would bitch for the next week if he dared disrupt his mojo. So Dean waited for a minute or two until the current analysis came to a blinkering halt to signal the end of the diagnostic, before placing his hand down on the desk.
“Sam, you have to stop.” Dean spoke gently, his breath rustling the fabric of the lab coat of Sam’s broad shoulder.
Sam glanced down at where Dean’s hand covered the next sample, before turning to look at him. He looked exhausted yet completely wired. Not for the first time Dean wondered if Sam was half-android. Dean’s hand remained firm on the desk and leveled his brother with a look, almost daring him to argue. Sam sighed and lowered his head, conceding. He quickly leaned over and turned off the Biocomputer, stacking his now blank PADD’s beside the pile of samples he had already examined. Dean glanced over at where Castiel was concentrating on his PADD, engrossed in his research.
“Cas. That means you too,” Dean called over to him. Castiel looked up at the Captain, eyes questioning. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion.”
Castiel locked eyes with Dean and, boring into him in a way that made Dean slightly uncomfortable, he glanced away. Dean just hoped that Castiel would keep his mouth shut, but that almost seemed too much to ask for. Sure enough, seconds later, Castiel cocked his head and opened his mouth to speak.
“The same can be said for you, Captain.”
Dean cursed inwardly and shot Castiel an irritated look. Sam, sharp as ever, picked up on the insinuation and turned to Dean.
“Dean, what’s Castiel referring to now?”
“I’m the Captain; I’m allowed to ignore what I preach.” Dean raised his eyebrow at this little brother, almost mockingly.
Castiel wasn’t finished however.
“Are you not intending to continue reading through Starfleet’s’ latest orders once you ‘retire’ to your quarters, Captain? Technically, you will continue to be working after we are done here.”
“Yes, thank you, Cas. Just the thing I didn’t need to hear right now.” Dean said tightly. “We talked about this, remember? Shutting up about things I don’t want to share.”
He wasn’t happy, because now, thanks to the annoying, psychic alien, Sam would want to know exactly what Dean was not telling everyone. Sure enough, Sam whipped round to face him, wearing an indignant expression of suppressed anger.
“Dean, what’s he talking about?” Sam snapped.
Dean shrugged in response. “Nothing I can do. That bastard Zachariah made sure to send it at the most inconvenient time possible, I just know it.”
“Dean. Is this true?” Sam leveled him with a look that made Dean’s insides squirm.
“Don’t give me that look, Sam. I have to do this, alright - the crew isn’t going to be happy about it so I have to see if I can get Starfleet command to see reason.”
“It’s not a case of reason, Captain. It is a case of logical diplomacy. I don’t quite understand your quarrel with the Rear Admiral, but surely even he would understand that Planet Beta VT36009 is close enough to Starbase 514 for us to complete the mission after shore leave,” Castiel reasoned.
Dean nodded grimly. “It’s obvious to anyone with a brain in their head that delaying it till after shore leave wouldn’t hurt anybody. I doubt they’d even lose time in getting the results they wanted - as it is they’re going to have to wait until this lot’s done before we can process anything from Beta VT36009.” Dean gestured to the surrounded cartridges of specimens.
“Captain, I don’t believe I mentioned hurting anyone. I do think though that it would be irresponsible to try and rush through too many observatory experiments. That’s how mistakes are made and results are misinterpreted. Like what happened during the last United Federation Election.” Castiel replied, nonplussed.
Dean almost laughed at that, and exchanged an amused look with Sam.“Yes, Cas, exactly. Unfortunately, human brains aren’t exactly ruled by logic, so we’ll just have to hope that someone sees reason.” Dean turned to Sam. “Right, well, as much fun as this party is, I came to escort you home, lovely lady. Move your butt, its time you were outta here.”
Dean smacked his brother on the shoulder and headed back to the door, flashing an easy grin to defuse the tension. Sam grumbled something unintelligible as he shrugged out of his lab coat and switched the machines off with a flick of his wrist.
As Dean headed out through the opening door, he yelled back over his shoulder.
“That means you too, Cas. You freakin’ workaholics’ need to rest sometime!”
Sam made a sound of disapproval as he got into the Turbolift beside Dean, but otherwise said nothing. They zipped up to the Captain’s floor and strode quickly down the hall once the ‘lift opened. Sam followed in silence, choosing to stay several paces behind. Dean was fine with that, sensing Sam was probably trying to avoid an argument in front of the crew. Sure enough, as soon Dean let himself in and they were safely behind closed doors, Sam whirled on Dean.
“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam yelled. “Were you ever actually going to tell me that we had just been given new Orders - new orders that are total bullshit, by the way. Why am I hearing this from Cas? My own brother wasn’t going to tell me Starfleet decided to screw us over royally, yet again?”
“Sam, don’t be stupid, you know that’s not -” Dean tried to argue.
“Is it, Dean? Is it really? They have been fucking us around for the past two months. It’s the same shit we’ve been dealing with since the academy. Hell, probably ever since Dad died, knowing those bastards. How long are we going to put up with this? It’s not fair on us and it’s not fair on the crew.”
As Sam ranted, he punctuated each sentence with wild gesturing. When he paused for breath, Dean quickly jumped in.
“I know, Sammy, but shouting about it isn’t going to help right now. It’s why I didn’t want you to know just yet - Zachariah is never going to listen to us if we go on the offensive. There are plenty of good, sounds reasons for the mission to be delayed - Castiel even named a few - and I’m positive someone back at Starfleet Headquarters will be willing to override Zachariah. Now, if you want to sit yourself down, I’m going to make that call.”
Dean waved Sam off, who kept his mouth shut in a tight line. Dean pulled up the transmission on his view screen, scanning through it once again to make sure he hadn’t missed any crucial info the first two times. Then he pulled up the latest repair log and kept it to one side. Settling back in his chair, he heard Sam sit in the chair off to the right, just out of the view screen’s range. Dean glanced and nodded grimly at him.
“Computer, get me Starfleet Command.” He waited for transmission to respond. Next second, Deputy Command of Operations Admiral Paris appeared on his screen.
“Ahh, good to see you, Admiral. I trust you are well?” Dean gave him his easy grin. Owen Paris looked completely unimpressed.
“Captain. What can I do for you?” his voice steely.
Dean coughed. “Yes, well. I received a transmission not long ago about a new mission for the USS Impala. However, I need you to give us some more time before throwing us into another mission. Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra is asking us to defer to Planet Beta VT36009 on our way back to his Starbase. I fear that the extra workload may be too much for my ship to handle just coming off this last mission. The repairs she needs alone should be enough to ask for a delay. No time would be lost if we were to go to the planet straight after touching base. My crew needs rest, Admiral Paris.”
The Admiral’s face softened. “Send me through the transmission. I’ll talk with the Chief of Operations, but I’m not sure we can do anything about it here, Captain Winchester. Your ship is the only one assigned to that sector of Delta Quadrant. Rear Admiral Sphetyra has ultimate discretion, he is the Commanding Officer of that section of Federation Territory.” At Dean’s frown, he shook his head.
“I know, Dean. But look, I’ll talk with Mission Control and get back to you right away.” A hint of a smile tempered him. “If it’s any consolation, you guys have been doing great out there, the brass are very impressed.”
Dean repressed the urge to grunt irritably. “Thank you, Paris. I do appreciate this.”
The connection was cut as he nodded in response.
Dean leaned back in his chair, scowling and slouching. Neither brother spoke to the other while waiting for the return transmission. Dean sightlessly watched the stars through his window. Sam just watched Dean, leg twitching.
Only a few minutes had passed before Dean’s screen blinked to life, indicating an incoming Starfleet Command transmission. Admiral Paris appeared, impassive as ever.
“Hello, Captain. I just spoke with Mission Control and it looks like no can do.”
Sam let out an outraged sound, so Dean raised his hand, silencing him. He kept his finger raised, accusatory, as he leaned closer to Paris.
“What, dare I ask, makes my request so damn impossible?” Dean’s voice was cold as ice.
“There was a possibility of a reassignment. Looks like Zachariah doesn’t want you in that sector of Federation space anymore. He’s on record stating you are to continue on to Vega after this mission. And unfortunately, that means VT36009 will not be anywhere close to your next destination, hence the assignment being given now, while you’re still conveniently located.” His eyes looked pitying. Dean could almost feel his blood boil.
“Right, thank you, Paris. I appreciate the help.” Dean said tightly. He saluted stiffly and barely waited for the returning salute before cutting the transmission.
Both brothers immediately exploded.
“Fuck that shit! It’s a fucking injustice that Zachariah decided to reassign us! That is bullshit and they all know it!” Sam shouted, leaping out of the chair.
“Injustice, fuck injustice. Convenient that he managed to pull this shit on us, that’s what. He must be loving this little power trip, that ever loving bastard!” Dean yelled, slamming his fist on the desk. He threw himself out of the chair and began pacing, but couldn’t think through the fog of rage.
“You must know someone else back at Headquarters that can vouch for us.” Sam said, evidently looking for ways to fight back.
“No, there isn’t anyone, Sam, at least not on such short notice.” Dean stopped pacing, shoulders tense, fists clenched.
“Dean, you know this is bullshit! He can’t get away with this! It’s not right - we have been working our asses off! Who is he to just come in here and power trip us out of here? How is Mission Control alright with that? We aren’t at the academy where we can be pulled out of class to assist the Federation just because they can! This is the real deal - these people’s lives are at stake! What happens if the crew screws up because they’re overworked and exhausted? It’s not a simulation where everyone can just say ‘oh, do better next time’. There is no ‘next time’! People have died from shit like this, Dean!” Sam tirade came to a halt as he caught his breath, gulping great lungfuls of air, his massive shoulders heaving.
Dean was barely listening, too busy being annoyed at everyone about the Impala’s reassignment. If they hadn’t called Paris then they probably wouldn’t have heard about it until they arrived for shore leave, or possibly not until afterwards and they were reading to receive their next mission. That would have left them in the lurch, considering nobody was expecting to venture into that area of the Federation. Dean was certain the engines would need some kind of special re-adjustment, if he recalled his outlying Alpha spaceography correctly. And the shit-storm from the crew would be enough to put the ship out of action for a day at least.
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly very weary. All he wanted was to sleep and deal with this in the morning. Sam was still ranting wildly though, and Dean knew better than to interrupt him mid-rant. So he moved over to his closet, pulling off his Command uniform as he went. When he pulled the black undershirt off as well, Sam stopped talking abruptly. Dean looked over at him, confused as to why Sam would stop. He was wearing an indignant expression.
“So what, you’re just done now. Take a shower, go to bed and hope it’ll all be better in the morning?” Sam spat. “You should be trying to fix this! You’re our Captain, what good is it if you don’t fight back?”
“No, Sam, there’s nothing, alright? Just shut up and go to bed. If you question my command again, I’ll make it an order.” Dean said, voice steely.
“Fine.” Sam’s eyes smoldered with anger and his muscles rippled with tension. Dean cursed inwardly, regretting his words in the face of Sam’s anger and hurt.
“Sam, no -” Dean tried, almost reaching out to him. Sam raised both his arms in a huff, cutting him off.
“No, Dean, I get it. You’re just going to switch over to Robo Dean, like you always do and take it. Whatever, man.”
Dean made an exasperated sound, trying to reason with Sam as he headed for the door. “Look, Sam, I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything I can do right now, alright. So it’s best if the both of us get some sleep, save that energy so we can fight this battle another day.”
“Yeah, Dean. See, the only problem with that is that ‘another day’ never comes.” Sam snapped before walking out.
Dean sighed, slumping against the cupboard. That didn’t go quite as he’d hoped; nothing about the last hour really had. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. So instead, he showered while cursing the universe and its grudge against him and his family, pulled on his nightclothes and climbed into bed. He fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed of winged, bright-blue-eyed men in trench coats chasing him and trying to smack his face with a winged hand.
After Dean woke the next morning, he had a moment of incredulity while showering. Strange dreams usually signaled one of two things: two much stress or not enough sex. At the moment, he actually suspected the former (for once). Mainly because that when under-sexed, Dean just had a long string of bondage, submissive, bloody rough sex dreams that stopped once Dean got laid. Sadly, resolving the stress would have to wait a few more days, because now he had to make an announcement that was likely to piss off every single one of his crew members. This was Dean’s least favorite part about being Captain - having the responsibility of bearing bad news.
Sighing, Dean dressed quickly, double-checking his hair quickly in the mirror beside the door. On the way to the bridge, Dean noticed the number of people hurrying about the ship with an almost tangible excitement. Guilt licked his insides, even more so when he saw Bobby and Crowley heading for engineering, bickering as usual. He walked by in time to hear Bobby growl exasperatedly, “I can’t wait for this bloody shore leave!”
He steeled himself and walked onto the bridge, ten minutes before Alpha shift was scheduled to start. He stopped beside Picard, gave him a silent nod and Dean took a deep breath and internally swore, ‘you will pay for this, you bastard, Zachariah’. He then reached out to hit the ship-wide communication switch.
“This is the Captain here. Crew, please give me your full attention, I have a very important announcement to make.” Dean paused. Everyone on the bridge turned to look at him, curious, save for Picard and Data. “Several hours ago, I received a transmission from Starfleet. They have new orders for us. Our instructions are to investigate life forms on nearby Planet Beta VT36009 as we make our way back to Starbase 514. Please be certain that this will in no way affect the length of your shore leave. The planet body is only twelve hours off our original course and the mission itself is relatively simple. It should delay us no more than three days. If you have made any plans, I apologize. You can take the time now to make any necessary arrangements to alter those plans for shore leave.” Dean halted, aware that everyone was probably whispering furiously to each other throughout the ship. Even those on the bridge were unable to help themselves; exchanges of ‘what?!’ hissed around him.
“Many of you will have questions about what will be required of you for this mission. Please be assured that shifts will return to normal after today, as was previously planned. I have already decided on those that will accompany me on the Planetside mission. If they feel they need extra help, they will approach those they feel will best help. If this does happen to be you, work as efficiently as you usually would. The sooner we finish this mission, the faster we can get back on track for Starbase 514.
“If you have any additional worries or concerns, please approach your supervisor later today, preferably after the Alpha shift. I will be holding a debriefing at 1100 hours that will hopefully serve to answer any and all questions.” Dean stopped again, trying to think if there was anything to add. He could think of nothing, so he just decided to shut up and get on with it. “Chief Commanding Officers will report to me in Observation Lounge at 1100 hours. Crew, thank you for your time. Please continue about your business.”
Dean cut the transmission and turned to Ellen. He ignored the disapproving frown and commanded, “Send a reminder to the Chief Commanding Officers on the ship about the meeting. You’d better attach a copy of Sphetyra’s transmission, with a note to say to review it before the meeting. I’m sure the crew will bombard them with questions, so they can bring those questions or issues to the meeting if they want.” Dean walked over to her and continued in a lower voice, “I’m sure you’re going to get a lot of the same shit coming through, so if you want to make some kind of generic response for questions after the meeting today, feel free.”
Ellen glared at him and nodded stiffly, and Dean almost wanted to shout in exasperation. Why did everyone hate him? It wasn’t his fault that Starfleet could be a bunch of bastards at the worst of times.
He glanced over at Sam, who looked equally pissy and knew he wouldn’t get any sympathy there. Nevertheless, he went over and asked, “Do you want Doctor Crusher to attend as well, since you’re already informed about the mission. I know that you’ll be busy finishing up the experiments from our current mission. Don’t give me that look - I know better than anyone just how much work you and your team have been doing.” Dean shifted uncomfortably at the deliberately neutral look that Sam leveled at him.
Sam gave an almost-shrug, stating, “We’re practically used to it by now. But I won’t be putting them on extended shifts unless it’s absolutely necessary. Starfleet can go jump for all I care. My team are already a Klingon’s breath away from a collective stress-breakdown.”
Dean held up his hand to stem the oncoming rant; this was hardly the time, or the place.
“I know, Sam, I know. I hear you, and I completely agree. If you think it would benefit the team to give a rest day, I’d be more than willing to sign off on that.”
He reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam closed his eyes, brows furrowed, and nodded briefly. Dean felt a pang of empathy. Sam looked so tired, borderline defeated. Dean squeezed his shoulder again, letting it rest there even as he moved away.
He approached Crowley and Gabriel at the helm with a tinge of apprehension at what was bound to be bitchfest of unmatched proportions.
“Gabriel, plot a course for Planet Beta VT. Crowley, for now, go to Warp 5.” He looked severely at the pair of them, both about to open their mouths, their expressions murderous. “Don’t even start. The pair of you can whine in private, but I will not tolerate unrest when you are on this bridge. No one is happy about this, I know, alright.” Dean snapped, moving around them to get back into his own Captain’s chair, but was interrupted.
Bobby strode onto the bridge, thunderous. As soon as Dean saw him, he diverted straight for him, gripping his arm and dragging him back out into the Turbolift, before he had even opened his mouth. Bobby barely seemed to notice.
“What the hell is this I hear about you divertin’ us to some unpopulated backwards ass planet? I’m up to my balls in necessary repairs, Dean! The past two months have been rough on the Impala - you can’t keep runnin’ her at full speed and not expect somethin’ to break.” Bobby stormed.
Dean winced at the thought. Not that he was surprised by what Bobby was saying; he saw the repair log daily and usually had Bobby ranting to him about it soon after. It didn’t help the sinking, sick feeling settling in his stomach when he thought about how Starfleet was causing him to abuse his beloved ship. He rubbed at his face, trying to clear his thoughts.
“I know, Bobby, I know. It’s only for three days though. Please tell me you can work that Bobby Magic and keep her ship shape for three days at least.” Dean cocked him a challenging eyebrow. Bobby nearly rolled his eyes in response.
“I can do that, Captain, not a problem. Just don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you when something goes wrong!” Dean smiled and clapped Bobby on the back, as he made to leave the Tubolift.
“Thanks, Bobby. I’ll buy you all the Klingon Ale you can drink after all this to make it up to you.”
Bobby snorted, “Sure, Dean,” as the Turbolift closed to head back to engineering.
Dean let out a loud whoosh of air, thankful to have dodged that potentially deadly laser. No doubt Bobby will have far worse things to say if shit did hit the fan, but Dean couldn’t worry about that right now.
He walked back onto the bridge and settled into the Captain’s chair, pulling up his PADD. Using his password, he logged into the Central Starfleet Planetary Database and extracted the archived files for Planet Beta VT36009. He downloaded them to the PADD, his personal laptop and the main computer for the debriefing. He skimmed the information quickly, intending on going over it in more detail at a later time.
At 1100 hours, Dean stood and picked up his PADD. Almost everyone else on the bridge stood with him and made for the door. “Picard, you have the Conn. Come get me if there’s an emergency.”
Then Dean and his fellow bridge Commanding Officers filed into the Observation room, with several other Commanders already seated around the rectangular table. Castiel and Sam were already there, along with Doctor Crusher and Sam’s top scientist, Ruby. Both Security Co-Commanders, Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore, were beside them, heads bent together as they spoke in low whispers. Data was seated at the seat on the end farthest from the door, so Dean moved to take the one closest to him. His fellow bridge officers moved to an available seat, taking up those at the opposite end of the table first. Dean tried not to take offence, but couldn’t help the purse of his lips.
Bobby came strolling in last, just as everyone had settled into their seat. Bobby took the open seat between Sam and Crowley, barely hiding a scowl as Crowley snarked, “Now that the cavalry has arrived, let’s get this show on the road.”
Dean shot Crowley a warning look, to hide his inner wince at not thinking to intervene and help keep those two apart. ‘Not much can do about that now.’ Dean reasoned, focusing his attention to the room at large.
“As you heard, Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra sent through a transmission last night detailing our new mission. After shift, I did contact the Rear Admiral to try and delay the mission until after our shore leave, for when we leave Starbase 514 and then return to this sector of the Alpha Quadrant. Basically, his response was to suck it up.” Dean paused for the stifled bickering and snorting around the table. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. His other argument though is that it is likely we will be reassigned a new sector after this mission, probably closer to Vega.”
Choruses of ‘what?’ issued from both Crowley and Bobby, who both looked thoroughly indignant at this change of plans. Dean ignored them. “So we may not actually be in the same proximity to the Planet as we are now. Since we are the only Starship this far out, we basically get stuck with the wrong end of the phaser.”
Bobby was the first to speak out. “You know that’s a crop of shit, right Captain? We could warp back out to Planet Beta VT and be back in the same amount of time as it is to sidetrack now. Idgit, really doesn’t know nothin’ about space travel, s-”
“Thank you, Bobby. I think you’ve made your point.” Dean cut across, stemming the potential tirade of profanity. “I do understand what you’re saying, and I did relay that to Starfleet’s Mission Control. Unfortunately they are have defaulted to work alongside the Rear Admiral’s decision. So that brilliance fell on deaf ears. Starfleet Command ultimately has to rely on the Starbase’s head officer, since they rely on the commanding officer to be unbiased and working for the best interests of everyone. So Zachariah can pretty much do whatever the hell he wants.”
A chorus of murmurs and cursing of Zachariah broke out around the room, which Dean had to remind himself he wasn’t allowed to join. Instead, he turned to Sam.
“Now, as you all know, everyone has been working extremely hard. We’ll revert to normal shifts as planned, but Sam and Castiel are not going to be able to keep pace with all of the extra evaluations and experiments that will be required with the new mission. Bobby, I’m going to have to ask someone from Engineering to make sure all of the scientific equipment is working at full capacity so the computers can do as much work as possible. Ellen, could you reassign Ensign Riker to organize all the information from both our current mission and the Beta VT mission. If you could oversee its transmission to Starfleet Intelligence that would really help.
“Crowley, Bobby, I need you both to work together to find the fastest possible way to get to Beta VT and then onto Starbase 514, to minimize the delay time as much as possible. If we keep the ship on track, we should be able to arrive at Starbase 514 less than a week late. I know there’s repairs that need to be made to the engine’s and the ship’s warp nacelle, along with minor repairs throughout the ship. Do your best with what you have, Bobby, but everything else will just have to wait until we dock at the Starbase.
Crowley, I already had Gamma shift alter course slightly, I’m sure you realized, but I want you to engage the highest possible Warp Factor. Keep in touch with Bobby to make sure the engine room can handle it, and the Dilithium Crystals can keep up. And for God’s sake, please try to keep civil. The last thing we need right now is fighting between Commanding Officers. Everyone is already pissed about delaying shore leave; don’t let them see another lashing out. If I have to, I will demote you. Fair warning.” Dean’s voice was stern.
“Message received, loud and clear,” Crowley mock saluted.
“Sure thing, Cap’n,” Bobby mumbled, shooting a look at Crowley from the corner of his eye.
Dean nodded, satisfied. “Alright, did everyone get to read through the transmission from Zachariah? Were there any questions?” Dean asked.
Ellen piped up. “I just wanted to clarify with our shift times - we’re going back to eight hour shifts, but when the science and medical departments need extra staff, some of the crew are going to have to be working overtime.” Sam shifted uncomfortably, wanting to make some defense, but was cut off by Castiel.
“The aim is for most of the work to be completed by the computer and the reassigned officers should make up the hours we need. So no one should be working overtime unless there is a malfunction in the dispensary - or they chose to.”
“How long until we arrive?” Everyone looked at Crowley.
“Two days or thereabouts, provided there are no mishaps in Engineering, of course,” he answered, with a sly look at Bobby. Bobby’s fists glanced and he glared in response to Crowley’s smirk.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Dean interjected loudly, “everyone can get back to work. I will assign officers to the away mission closer to arrival, when I can be sure they will be up to it,” he glanced pointedly at Sam.
Sam frowned in response as everyone gathered themselves to leave. “Captain, I would like to take Doctor Crusher and Riker, if they are up for it, on the away mission. They are good and have done very well so far, especially during the last mission.” Sam requested.
Dean nodded. “I’ll take it under consideration. I thought they had been doing more than their fair share of overtime though. Babyface is one ambitious kid, but he can’t keep running forever.”
“I agree, but Riker should still be involved. The two of them are rising stars, and this would be a good experience for them.” Sam insisted.
“To experience what? A pointless mission with a pointless outcome that’s wasting everyone’s time just so that Zachariah douchewad can have his power trip?” Bobby fumed from the doorway.
“Yes, Bobby because they are young, fresh from the academy, and eager to please. They might not see it as a total right off, and actually see something we might miss.” Sam turned back to Dean.
Bobby huffed and walked out without saying anything further. Dean raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on his brother’s terseness.
Sam ignored him and looked over at Ruby, who was still standing beside Ellen, waiting.
“I will stay in the lab and monitor the current experiments, as well as oversee the remainder of the incoming samples,” Ruby said, looking over at Ellen, who nodded back. “I would also like to request Jo to assist us. She’s the best we have at the moment and it will be good for her to be more involved.”
Dean also looked at Ellen while Ruby spoke, rubbing his mouth in thought. “You don’t think she’s too young and inexperienced? She is only a civilian on this ship, not even an Acting Ensign. I get that she’s your daughter, and has grown up on starships, but do you think she’s up for it?”
Ellen nodded. “I have full confidence in her, Captain. She helped me a lot with the last mission. She learns quickly and I would bet she’s anxious to help, when she can see how tired everybody is from overworking.”
“Fine. Have Jo report for Duty in the science lab. Otherwise, I want a skeleton crew in there and sickbay.” Dean looked back at Sam. “Each science officer is to take one shift between now and our arrival at Beta VT. You and your team need rest, and that’s an order.” Dean commanded, as Sam opened his mouth to protest.
Sam set his mouth in a hard line and nodded.
“Glad we understand each other. Dismissed.”
Sam, Ruby and Ellen walked out. Dean stayed for a moment before running his hand over his face and sighing. Deciding he couldn’t continue to sit there, Dean stood and began to head back to the Bridge. He was frustrated, but knew it was better to channel it into his work rather than bitch about it.
He was jostled out of his thoughts by Harry and Ed nearly running into him at the Turbolift.
“Captain, sir.” They spoke in unison, with synchronized salutes. “The Ghostfacers are at your service for the upcoming away mission,” said Ed. Dean tried not to smile at the nickname the security team had coined for themselves.
“We are ready to go at any time, you just say the word,” Harry continued. “Would you require our whole team or just a select few exemplary members?” he asked.
“Guys, I don’t want to overwork you,” Dean began.
“No sir, we are all properly rested and eager for another mission,” Ed interjected, brushing off Dean’s concern with a wave of his hand. Harry nodded in agreement.
“We understand the security risks are low, but we can always help in other ways. We will serve as many purposes as you need, Captain.”
Dean held up a hand to stop them. “Yes, alright, fine. I should only need a small security detail, three at most. Pick the team amongst yourselves and have them report to Transporter Room 1 when we are ready to beam down.” Dean stepped into the turbolift, silencing their synchronized confirmations.
‘A strange pair’, Dean thought, but knew they got the job done, which was all that mattered right now. He walked out of the turbolift and onto the bridge as someone announced ‘Captain on the Bridge’, and sat in his chair, preparing to continue through the mountain of paperwork.
Part Two
Author: foxie_trot
Artist: evian_fork
Crossover: Supernatural/Star Trek: The Next Generation
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 30,000~
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Bobby/Crowley, implied Ed/Harry, Cas, Jodie, Ruby, Gabriel, Picard, Riker, Data, Geordi, Dr. Crusher
Warnings: Incest, old men having sex, strong language, some mild violence
Spoilers: No spoilers for either show, set before the TNG universe
Summary: The crew, including Dean, Sam, Cas, Bobby, Picard, Data and Crowley, have just finished two months of intense data collection and experiments and are due for shore leave. However, Rear Admiral Zachariah puts their vacation put on hold, in order to investigate a nearby barren planet, which ends up being a little more adventure than the crew had anticipated.
Part One
As far as first missions go, Dean thought this one could not have been better. It was a relief; the pressure of success had weighed on him from all sides, from Star Fleet, his crew, his brother and himself. But once they had completed with very few complications, the pressure seemed to lift, for which Dean was extremely grateful. They had been responsible for issuing medical checkups and restocking the medical supplies on Annex SB G-6, an outlying colony in the northern Beta subdivision. Star Fleet had been informed of their civilizations’ progress and on-site observations and reports had been forwarded to the overseers at Administrative Operations. True, it had not been a particularly difficult mission, nor would there have been any cause for Dean to suspect that anything could go wrong. It was, however, reassuring to have completed a successful mission without incident. It gave him the renewed confidence that was needed to return to the captain’s chair and relay their next set of orders from Star Fleet. He could not help the pride that swelled in his chest as he stood on the bridge, beside his brother, and knew that the next five years were going to be the most memorable, challenging and invigorating of his life. The challenges that lay ahead filled Dean with an enthusiasm he had not felt since he had first entered into the space program.
His little brother leaned against his station, grinning over at Dean with a happiness that he had not seen in several years. It warmed his heart to see his baby brother’s smile. At this moment, he knew he had made the right decision to take command of the USS Impala. Whatever misgivings he felt prior to now, evaporated when he saw the smile that lit up Sam’s face. Dean returned Sam’s smile and swore to himself that these years would be for them - it would not be overshadowed by the legend of John Winchester. They would make the USS Impala renowned in their own right, and could finally stop living in their father’s wake. It was with this promise and the determination in his heart that Captain Dean Winchester strode forward to the captain’s chair, ready to tackle anything the universe could throw at him. He lowered himself into his confident sprawl and winked as he turned to his First Officer, Jean-Luc Picard.
“Ensign Riker, plot a course to Ivor. Crowley, ahead Warp Factor 4. We’ve got space to explore, baby!” Dean grinned. His surrounding crew gave short exclamations of excited agreement, but none were as enthusiastic as Sam, who pumped his arm into the air and let out a loud ‘whoop’. It caused everyone to break out in stifled giggles, clearly Sam’s goal from the way he was grinning around the bridge. The after-effect was immediate, however, the bridge felt warmer, more companionable. While they were still wading through the murky waters of unfamiliarity, together they would grow to a team that complimented each other, forming a conglomerate that would navigate the uncertainty of space to the best of their ability.
This knowledge comforted Dean, and he sat back in his chair. He was looking forward to the adventures which lay ahead.
In the years that followed, the crew aboard the USS Impala proved to be a formidable force to hostile encounters; eliminating threats with cold-hearted efficiency that led to little loss of life, while remaining a bureaucratic wonder when needed to negotiate trade treaties, and investigate new worlds with new species and alternative thriving living conditions.
On paper, they were the perfect Starship, fulfilling its duties with enthusiasm and intellectual application, resulting in few complications and incidents. In practice of course, this was hardly the case. Captain Dean Winchester felt however, that there were some things the brass did not need to know; those incidents remained lost amongst the vastness of space. The crew was grateful for it, knowing it would be one less thing to justify when they returned to Starfleet for evaluation at the end of their mission.
There were times, though, where Dean had no choice but to report every finicky detail, as was the case with their current mission. It was time consuming and irksome, but Starfleet Intelligence was monitoring their progress constantly and were meticulously reviewing the Assessment Reports that were being sent twice-daily. They were required to comply with Starfleet’s stipulations, due to this particular mission. It was their most important and most challenging yet. They had been assigned to search for a suitable location for a potential Starbase outpost on the border of Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, so that it could provide the neighboring system with supplies and act as an anchor for any future space exploration in that part of the galaxy. It involved the entire crew to gather as much information about the celestial bodies in the area as possible.
They were running as many experiments and analysis as the labs could take, all hands were constantly out exploring the M Class planets. The various scientists were constantly running between the labs and the transporter room, beaming down to the planet in order to gather more samples and evaluate their previous results. Each planet had to be assessed in terms of breathable air, their atmospheric constitution, and availability of useful minerals that could be mined. Anyone who had any, however limited, scientific training had been reassigned to assist in the research. Dean himself visited inhabited planets, conducting trade negotiations for any suitable commodities the Starbase may need. Lieutenant Ellen always came with him on these occasions, to provide translation where possible and to ensure that no offence was made against the native culture when subtleties were lost with the use of the translators.
Once all this had been completed for the day, Dean had to compile the reports necessary to forward to Starfleet. This often took him several hours, as he liked to review the discoveries made from all of the departments and numerous landing parties. As Dean intended on maintaining his current position exploring the border of the two Quadrants, he was determined to know everything he possibly could about the area. He had been adamant to his crew that they forward him as accurate information as possible, placing pressure on the senior staff to adhere strictly to Starfleet’s requirements when forwarding these reports. So far, his crew had done just that, and he was extremely proud and grateful, as the efficiency made the entire process a little more bearable. They used their inter-stellar travel time to work through the administrative reports, compiling them as quickly as possible for Dean to include with his periodical report to Starfleet. It was exhausting, and none of the crew had any kind of rest this entire time.
Thankfully, though, they were almost finished. Only two more days’ worth of surveying, investigating, and archeological and forensic gathering was left to conduct on this final planet. Then the crew would be free for two weeks of shore leave on Starbase 514. Everyone longed for the vacation and their restlessness had begun to adversely affect their work. There had already been two reported mishaps in the science lab this morning, when two separate assistants had accidentally mixed up their samples. It led to a shutdown of one of the ExobioAnalysis machines, so now the entire department was running behind schedule. Tensions were running high and not just with the science officers. Even on the bridge, Crowley and Gabriel were bickering worse than ever, insulting each other at least once per conversation. The fact that Gabriel had made a slight error in his last calculations wasn’t helping matters either, and Crowley was taking full advantage of it to question his every judgment. Dean had stepped in earlier to maintain bridge protocol, reassigning Gabriel to the engine room to work with Geordi and Bobby. They were to test any potential engine limitations, in calculating the course for their final destination.
This had caused Bobby to complain, extensively and raucously, that Gabriel and Geordi were getting under his feet and disrupting his attempts to manage the engine room so that they would be ready to go to warp once they were finished on this planet. Dean had been confused when Bobby had cornered him in the elevator and demanded to know why Crowley couldn’t be sent to him instead. Not only would the helmsman be generally ineffectual in the engineering room at this time, due to a limited knowledge of the intricacies of the Impala’s engines, but Crowley was responsible for monitoring, computing and maintaining their position at the main controls. Dean had also been under the impression that Bobby and Crowley were two of his crew that clashed rather spectacularly. The last thing he needed was another incident like the one on Ivor Prime, when they had started a brawl with several Andorians that had been docked for repairs and restocking of supplies. It was one of the incidents that Dean had tried to play down to Central Command, with limited success.
They were but thankfully escaped an official inquiry. He had reprimanded both Bobby and Crowley heavily for their actions. After a week spent in the brig, slogging through mountains of backlogged crew manifests and diagnostic reports, their usual friction and banter warped into something sinister. Petty arguments erupted between them, seemingly never-ending, with one trying to outwit the other. It escalated until tensions between both of them reached an all time high, and inevitably descended into a dirty fistfight. They were moved to separate holding cells after that, but that hadn’t stopped the relentless shouting. Not even engaging the soundproofing on the cells seemed to have made a difference. Dean had sympathized with the security team, no one had wanted to guard them and eventually Worf conceded to the task, with permission to wear earplugs the entire time. Their release from the brig hadn’t exactly cooled their fire either, and so ever since Dean had been working to keep them apart and on as many opposing shifts as possible.
Nevertheless, Dean had given Bobby the score and told him in no polite words to ‘suck it up’. Bobby scowled and returned to the engineering room. Of course, he received an earful when Acting Ensign Jo had the misfortune of dropping an Interphasic compensator on Gabriel’s head hours later. Gabriel was recovering in the medical bay, and Dean had issued a terse warning to all staff to be mindful when working with their teams, and not to become lax now that they were in their final stages of the mission. Dean ‘expected his crew to operate at the same caliber that had been exhibited throughout the entirety of their mission so far’ and ‘forewarned of severe punishments for anyone who willing caused harm to another crewmember or caused willful detriment to any project’.
Yet, with the number of extended shifts the entire crew had been working for the past two months, these recent accidents and conflicts came as no surprise to Dean. In fact, he was amazed that it had not happened sooner, with the personality clashes within his crew and their history of occasional confrontation. In particular, he was impressed with the steady and ongoing co-operation between Castiel and Sam, who were not exactly the most amenable pair. The pressure on the both of them to provide as much detail to Starfleet as possible had resulted in a collaborative effort that exceeded all expectations. Their teams had combined on other occasions, generally once their findings either concurred (to save time they joined forces) or contradicted earlier discoveries (they worked together to solve these discrepancies), but nothing like this. Dean monitored this efficiency with pride, because without it they would not have been able to remain on schedule. He made sure to note daily appraisals to them when writing his Assessment Reports.
By the final day of their research only a few landing parties beamed down. They were gathering some last minute samples and finalizing any remaining surveying. The rest of the crew concentrated on the administrative work to be completed. The amount of completed logs entries flowing into Dean’s inbox had increased tenfold in the last twelve hours. Bobby’s team was occupied with repairs, ensuring they would not have any issues with warp drive. Despite the accidents and raised tensions, the insanity of the past two months was diminishing, to everyone’s relief. By 2200 hours, everyone would once again be aboard the ship and Dean would be issuing the orders to return to Starbase 514. The Base was at least two weeks away by Warp 5, so the science and medical crew would have time to complete their experiments and log their findings before they were due to arrive. Dean himself would be finishing all the administrative logs and conn reports he had been neglecting this mission.
It was therefore to his great annoyance that he received a new set of instructions from Starfleet at 2150 hours.
“Captain, I’m picking up an incoming message from Starbase 514 via Starfleet,” Ellen called over to him, her eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief.
The Beta shift was almost over, and Dean had to catch himself before he cursed Starfleet and their crap timing in front of the entire bridge. Not that any of them would have disagreed, from the looks that flashed in his direction. Instead he sighed, rather audibly, and nodded to Ellen.
“Patch it through to me. And send a copy to my personal computer, in case I need to look over it later.” Dean said.
Despite knowing that Starfleet had no sure way of knowing that shift was about to finish, Dean could be easily convinced they had waited until the most inconvenient moment possible to forward their message. The first thing Dean saw was Zachariah Sphetyra’s signature and insignia attached to the message. That’s when he knew that the timing was no coincidence. That bastard had definitely planned this. Dean quickly scanned the message, disabling the computer’s audio so the others could be spared the irritation building inside him. The alarm on his armchair beeped and he broke away from the message.
“2200 hours. That’s the end of Beta shift guys; you are relieved from your posts. Make sure to get some rest. I’ll be seein’ you bright and early tomorrow.” Dean announced.
The others switched their stations over to the officers who had just arrived on the bridge. Lieutenant Data stood at attention off to Dean’s right, ready to take over command for the Gamma shift. Dean nodded to him, but bent back over his console, scanning through the message once again just to make sure he had all the facts. Then he locked the message in his databank and shut down his screen, before standing to hand command over to Data, who was waiting for Dean’s word.
“Lieutenant Data, before I hand over the conn, I would like for you and Commander Picard to follow me. I have something important I need to discuss with you.” Dean told them, nodding toward the exit, ignoring their quizzical looks and those of his crew at the surrounding stations. He led them through to the nearest meeting room. Once they were seated inside, he closed the door behind them.
“Computer, engage door lock and soundproofing.”
Data and Picard exchanged looks of concealed bewilderment. Dean frowned as he turned to face them, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.
“I’m just doing this as a precaution; I don’t want the crew hearing about this just yet, especially since it probably isn’t going to go over very well with everybody.” Dean ran a hand over his face, and sat in a chair opposite the two of them. They continue to look impassively at him as they sat, still not sure what to say.
“I received a message from Starfleet shortly before you came onto the bridge. It contained this message from Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra.” Dean pressed a button his console. Zachariah’s balding, round head appeared on the mounted view screen.
“Greetings, Captain Winchester. Sorry to do this, but I need you on a mission.” He smirked slightly, betraying his utter indifference. “About one-half parsec from your current location is a planet called Beta VT36009. I think it would be fitting for your crew to take a look at this planet. The Federation wants up-to-date records of this area, and this planet hasn’t been visited in a hundred years, so I think it’s time. And what do you know; you’re right there, on a golden egg hunt! It’s perfect timing.” Zachariah grinned, a malicious note just audible in his cheery demeanor. “I’ll be sending through the orders from Command, with all available data about the planet. There’s a good lad. The Starbase sends its regards.” He waved shortly as the message ended and the screen blacked out.
Dean turned back to his officers. Picard’s mouth was set in a tight line, though Data seemed impervious, as usual.
“I’m going to contact Starfleet Command and see if we can get the mission delayed. I wouldn’t hold my breath, especially if these are coming directly from Starfleet. So I don’t want anyone to hear about this. You’re to sit quiet until next shift.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Keeping it from the crew?” Picard questioned.
“I agree, Captain. If the odds of success with Starfleet are indeed quite low, would it not be better to warn the crew in advance?” Data echoed.
Dean ran his hand along his jaw, frustration darkening his eyes. He grit his teeth, determined not to take his irritation out on the crew.
“You know, I’m not so sure. But I do know that it’s not fair on anyone that we’ve gotten these orders just minutes before our last mission officially ended. So in the interest of maintaining morale, I’m gonna wait until tomorrow. Everyone can hear it from me directly.” Dean stated. He stood, saluting his officers. They rose quickly to return the salute.
“I leave the ship in your capable hands. You have the conn, Data. Don’t make the alterations to our course too obvious, Picard.” Dean smiled at him. “But I’m guessing you already knew that?”
Picard nodded in reply, the corners of him mouth curled slightly in a knowing smile.
“Excellent. In that case, I’ll see you next shift.” He winked, a last attempt at humor before heading for the door. At the command, “computer, unlock door”, the doors slide open and the three of them filed out, Data and Picard heading back to the bridge while Dean strode toward the Turbolift.
Dean stepped into the elevator, slumped against the wall and told the computer to take him down to the science labs. He knew that if anyone was crazy enough to be working over-overtime, it would be his brother. Now that he was working with Castiel, he was even more likely to keep going until he literally dropped from exhaustion. It had happened at least once that he knew about already in the past two months. Sam had been on shift for twelve solid hours already, and he hadn’t signed off when Dean had taken Data and Picard aside, so he knew that Sam was going to continue working unless there was an intervention. So if he had to drag Sam’s sorry ass away from the screen, it wasn’t above using his command status to do so.
Sure enough, when the door to the lab slid open, Sam and Castiel were both still there, bent over the Biocomputer, recording their observations on their PADD’s. Dean didn’t even bother trying to sneak up on them - Castiel may look engrossed, but he definitely sensed Dean’s presence. Sam’s freakishly good hearing allowed him to hear the quiet whoosh of the door from across the room, so Dean may as well have announced his arrival with a welcoming parade.
Strolling up, Dean peered down at Sam’s PADD. It flashed rapidly, the analysis of the surrounding machine syncing to the ‘Pad in real time. Dean quirked an eyebrow at some of the results flashing across the screen. There were quite a number of unknown variables and undiscovered elements in the samples they were currently working on. No doubt that was why Sam hadn’t moved away from his station - he wanted to log them all before signing out.
In Dean’s mind, he wanted to tell Sam that it was another problem for another shift. But he knew that Sam would bitch for the next week if he dared disrupt his mojo. So Dean waited for a minute or two until the current analysis came to a blinkering halt to signal the end of the diagnostic, before placing his hand down on the desk.
“Sam, you have to stop.” Dean spoke gently, his breath rustling the fabric of the lab coat of Sam’s broad shoulder.
Sam glanced down at where Dean’s hand covered the next sample, before turning to look at him. He looked exhausted yet completely wired. Not for the first time Dean wondered if Sam was half-android. Dean’s hand remained firm on the desk and leveled his brother with a look, almost daring him to argue. Sam sighed and lowered his head, conceding. He quickly leaned over and turned off the Biocomputer, stacking his now blank PADD’s beside the pile of samples he had already examined. Dean glanced over at where Castiel was concentrating on his PADD, engrossed in his research.
“Cas. That means you too,” Dean called over to him. Castiel looked up at the Captain, eyes questioning. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion.”
Castiel locked eyes with Dean and, boring into him in a way that made Dean slightly uncomfortable, he glanced away. Dean just hoped that Castiel would keep his mouth shut, but that almost seemed too much to ask for. Sure enough, seconds later, Castiel cocked his head and opened his mouth to speak.
“The same can be said for you, Captain.”
Dean cursed inwardly and shot Castiel an irritated look. Sam, sharp as ever, picked up on the insinuation and turned to Dean.
“Dean, what’s Castiel referring to now?”
“I’m the Captain; I’m allowed to ignore what I preach.” Dean raised his eyebrow at this little brother, almost mockingly.
Castiel wasn’t finished however.
“Are you not intending to continue reading through Starfleet’s’ latest orders once you ‘retire’ to your quarters, Captain? Technically, you will continue to be working after we are done here.”
“Yes, thank you, Cas. Just the thing I didn’t need to hear right now.” Dean said tightly. “We talked about this, remember? Shutting up about things I don’t want to share.”
He wasn’t happy, because now, thanks to the annoying, psychic alien, Sam would want to know exactly what Dean was not telling everyone. Sure enough, Sam whipped round to face him, wearing an indignant expression of suppressed anger.
“Dean, what’s he talking about?” Sam snapped.
Dean shrugged in response. “Nothing I can do. That bastard Zachariah made sure to send it at the most inconvenient time possible, I just know it.”
“Dean. Is this true?” Sam leveled him with a look that made Dean’s insides squirm.
“Don’t give me that look, Sam. I have to do this, alright - the crew isn’t going to be happy about it so I have to see if I can get Starfleet command to see reason.”
“It’s not a case of reason, Captain. It is a case of logical diplomacy. I don’t quite understand your quarrel with the Rear Admiral, but surely even he would understand that Planet Beta VT36009 is close enough to Starbase 514 for us to complete the mission after shore leave,” Castiel reasoned.
Dean nodded grimly. “It’s obvious to anyone with a brain in their head that delaying it till after shore leave wouldn’t hurt anybody. I doubt they’d even lose time in getting the results they wanted - as it is they’re going to have to wait until this lot’s done before we can process anything from Beta VT36009.” Dean gestured to the surrounded cartridges of specimens.
“Captain, I don’t believe I mentioned hurting anyone. I do think though that it would be irresponsible to try and rush through too many observatory experiments. That’s how mistakes are made and results are misinterpreted. Like what happened during the last United Federation Election.” Castiel replied, nonplussed.
Dean almost laughed at that, and exchanged an amused look with Sam.“Yes, Cas, exactly. Unfortunately, human brains aren’t exactly ruled by logic, so we’ll just have to hope that someone sees reason.” Dean turned to Sam. “Right, well, as much fun as this party is, I came to escort you home, lovely lady. Move your butt, its time you were outta here.”
Dean smacked his brother on the shoulder and headed back to the door, flashing an easy grin to defuse the tension. Sam grumbled something unintelligible as he shrugged out of his lab coat and switched the machines off with a flick of his wrist.
As Dean headed out through the opening door, he yelled back over his shoulder.
“That means you too, Cas. You freakin’ workaholics’ need to rest sometime!”
Sam made a sound of disapproval as he got into the Turbolift beside Dean, but otherwise said nothing. They zipped up to the Captain’s floor and strode quickly down the hall once the ‘lift opened. Sam followed in silence, choosing to stay several paces behind. Dean was fine with that, sensing Sam was probably trying to avoid an argument in front of the crew. Sure enough, as soon Dean let himself in and they were safely behind closed doors, Sam whirled on Dean.
“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam yelled. “Were you ever actually going to tell me that we had just been given new Orders - new orders that are total bullshit, by the way. Why am I hearing this from Cas? My own brother wasn’t going to tell me Starfleet decided to screw us over royally, yet again?”
“Sam, don’t be stupid, you know that’s not -” Dean tried to argue.
“Is it, Dean? Is it really? They have been fucking us around for the past two months. It’s the same shit we’ve been dealing with since the academy. Hell, probably ever since Dad died, knowing those bastards. How long are we going to put up with this? It’s not fair on us and it’s not fair on the crew.”
As Sam ranted, he punctuated each sentence with wild gesturing. When he paused for breath, Dean quickly jumped in.
“I know, Sammy, but shouting about it isn’t going to help right now. It’s why I didn’t want you to know just yet - Zachariah is never going to listen to us if we go on the offensive. There are plenty of good, sounds reasons for the mission to be delayed - Castiel even named a few - and I’m positive someone back at Starfleet Headquarters will be willing to override Zachariah. Now, if you want to sit yourself down, I’m going to make that call.”
Dean waved Sam off, who kept his mouth shut in a tight line. Dean pulled up the transmission on his view screen, scanning through it once again to make sure he hadn’t missed any crucial info the first two times. Then he pulled up the latest repair log and kept it to one side. Settling back in his chair, he heard Sam sit in the chair off to the right, just out of the view screen’s range. Dean glanced and nodded grimly at him.
“Computer, get me Starfleet Command.” He waited for transmission to respond. Next second, Deputy Command of Operations Admiral Paris appeared on his screen.
“Ahh, good to see you, Admiral. I trust you are well?” Dean gave him his easy grin. Owen Paris looked completely unimpressed.
“Captain. What can I do for you?” his voice steely.
Dean coughed. “Yes, well. I received a transmission not long ago about a new mission for the USS Impala. However, I need you to give us some more time before throwing us into another mission. Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra is asking us to defer to Planet Beta VT36009 on our way back to his Starbase. I fear that the extra workload may be too much for my ship to handle just coming off this last mission. The repairs she needs alone should be enough to ask for a delay. No time would be lost if we were to go to the planet straight after touching base. My crew needs rest, Admiral Paris.”
The Admiral’s face softened. “Send me through the transmission. I’ll talk with the Chief of Operations, but I’m not sure we can do anything about it here, Captain Winchester. Your ship is the only one assigned to that sector of Delta Quadrant. Rear Admiral Sphetyra has ultimate discretion, he is the Commanding Officer of that section of Federation Territory.” At Dean’s frown, he shook his head.
“I know, Dean. But look, I’ll talk with Mission Control and get back to you right away.” A hint of a smile tempered him. “If it’s any consolation, you guys have been doing great out there, the brass are very impressed.”
Dean repressed the urge to grunt irritably. “Thank you, Paris. I do appreciate this.”
The connection was cut as he nodded in response.
Dean leaned back in his chair, scowling and slouching. Neither brother spoke to the other while waiting for the return transmission. Dean sightlessly watched the stars through his window. Sam just watched Dean, leg twitching.
Only a few minutes had passed before Dean’s screen blinked to life, indicating an incoming Starfleet Command transmission. Admiral Paris appeared, impassive as ever.
“Hello, Captain. I just spoke with Mission Control and it looks like no can do.”
Sam let out an outraged sound, so Dean raised his hand, silencing him. He kept his finger raised, accusatory, as he leaned closer to Paris.
“What, dare I ask, makes my request so damn impossible?” Dean’s voice was cold as ice.
“There was a possibility of a reassignment. Looks like Zachariah doesn’t want you in that sector of Federation space anymore. He’s on record stating you are to continue on to Vega after this mission. And unfortunately, that means VT36009 will not be anywhere close to your next destination, hence the assignment being given now, while you’re still conveniently located.” His eyes looked pitying. Dean could almost feel his blood boil.
“Right, thank you, Paris. I appreciate the help.” Dean said tightly. He saluted stiffly and barely waited for the returning salute before cutting the transmission.
Both brothers immediately exploded.
“Fuck that shit! It’s a fucking injustice that Zachariah decided to reassign us! That is bullshit and they all know it!” Sam shouted, leaping out of the chair.
“Injustice, fuck injustice. Convenient that he managed to pull this shit on us, that’s what. He must be loving this little power trip, that ever loving bastard!” Dean yelled, slamming his fist on the desk. He threw himself out of the chair and began pacing, but couldn’t think through the fog of rage.
“You must know someone else back at Headquarters that can vouch for us.” Sam said, evidently looking for ways to fight back.
“No, there isn’t anyone, Sam, at least not on such short notice.” Dean stopped pacing, shoulders tense, fists clenched.
“Dean, you know this is bullshit! He can’t get away with this! It’s not right - we have been working our asses off! Who is he to just come in here and power trip us out of here? How is Mission Control alright with that? We aren’t at the academy where we can be pulled out of class to assist the Federation just because they can! This is the real deal - these people’s lives are at stake! What happens if the crew screws up because they’re overworked and exhausted? It’s not a simulation where everyone can just say ‘oh, do better next time’. There is no ‘next time’! People have died from shit like this, Dean!” Sam tirade came to a halt as he caught his breath, gulping great lungfuls of air, his massive shoulders heaving.
Dean was barely listening, too busy being annoyed at everyone about the Impala’s reassignment. If they hadn’t called Paris then they probably wouldn’t have heard about it until they arrived for shore leave, or possibly not until afterwards and they were reading to receive their next mission. That would have left them in the lurch, considering nobody was expecting to venture into that area of the Federation. Dean was certain the engines would need some kind of special re-adjustment, if he recalled his outlying Alpha spaceography correctly. And the shit-storm from the crew would be enough to put the ship out of action for a day at least.
Dean rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly very weary. All he wanted was to sleep and deal with this in the morning. Sam was still ranting wildly though, and Dean knew better than to interrupt him mid-rant. So he moved over to his closet, pulling off his Command uniform as he went. When he pulled the black undershirt off as well, Sam stopped talking abruptly. Dean looked over at him, confused as to why Sam would stop. He was wearing an indignant expression.
“So what, you’re just done now. Take a shower, go to bed and hope it’ll all be better in the morning?” Sam spat. “You should be trying to fix this! You’re our Captain, what good is it if you don’t fight back?”
“No, Sam, there’s nothing, alright? Just shut up and go to bed. If you question my command again, I’ll make it an order.” Dean said, voice steely.
“Fine.” Sam’s eyes smoldered with anger and his muscles rippled with tension. Dean cursed inwardly, regretting his words in the face of Sam’s anger and hurt.
“Sam, no -” Dean tried, almost reaching out to him. Sam raised both his arms in a huff, cutting him off.
“No, Dean, I get it. You’re just going to switch over to Robo Dean, like you always do and take it. Whatever, man.”
Dean made an exasperated sound, trying to reason with Sam as he headed for the door. “Look, Sam, I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything I can do right now, alright. So it’s best if the both of us get some sleep, save that energy so we can fight this battle another day.”
“Yeah, Dean. See, the only problem with that is that ‘another day’ never comes.” Sam snapped before walking out.
Dean sighed, slumping against the cupboard. That didn’t go quite as he’d hoped; nothing about the last hour really had. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. So instead, he showered while cursing the universe and its grudge against him and his family, pulled on his nightclothes and climbed into bed. He fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed of winged, bright-blue-eyed men in trench coats chasing him and trying to smack his face with a winged hand.
After Dean woke the next morning, he had a moment of incredulity while showering. Strange dreams usually signaled one of two things: two much stress or not enough sex. At the moment, he actually suspected the former (for once). Mainly because that when under-sexed, Dean just had a long string of bondage, submissive, bloody rough sex dreams that stopped once Dean got laid. Sadly, resolving the stress would have to wait a few more days, because now he had to make an announcement that was likely to piss off every single one of his crew members. This was Dean’s least favorite part about being Captain - having the responsibility of bearing bad news.
Sighing, Dean dressed quickly, double-checking his hair quickly in the mirror beside the door. On the way to the bridge, Dean noticed the number of people hurrying about the ship with an almost tangible excitement. Guilt licked his insides, even more so when he saw Bobby and Crowley heading for engineering, bickering as usual. He walked by in time to hear Bobby growl exasperatedly, “I can’t wait for this bloody shore leave!”
He steeled himself and walked onto the bridge, ten minutes before Alpha shift was scheduled to start. He stopped beside Picard, gave him a silent nod and Dean took a deep breath and internally swore, ‘you will pay for this, you bastard, Zachariah’. He then reached out to hit the ship-wide communication switch.
“This is the Captain here. Crew, please give me your full attention, I have a very important announcement to make.” Dean paused. Everyone on the bridge turned to look at him, curious, save for Picard and Data. “Several hours ago, I received a transmission from Starfleet. They have new orders for us. Our instructions are to investigate life forms on nearby Planet Beta VT36009 as we make our way back to Starbase 514. Please be certain that this will in no way affect the length of your shore leave. The planet body is only twelve hours off our original course and the mission itself is relatively simple. It should delay us no more than three days. If you have made any plans, I apologize. You can take the time now to make any necessary arrangements to alter those plans for shore leave.” Dean halted, aware that everyone was probably whispering furiously to each other throughout the ship. Even those on the bridge were unable to help themselves; exchanges of ‘what?!’ hissed around him.
“Many of you will have questions about what will be required of you for this mission. Please be assured that shifts will return to normal after today, as was previously planned. I have already decided on those that will accompany me on the Planetside mission. If they feel they need extra help, they will approach those they feel will best help. If this does happen to be you, work as efficiently as you usually would. The sooner we finish this mission, the faster we can get back on track for Starbase 514.
“If you have any additional worries or concerns, please approach your supervisor later today, preferably after the Alpha shift. I will be holding a debriefing at 1100 hours that will hopefully serve to answer any and all questions.” Dean stopped again, trying to think if there was anything to add. He could think of nothing, so he just decided to shut up and get on with it. “Chief Commanding Officers will report to me in Observation Lounge at 1100 hours. Crew, thank you for your time. Please continue about your business.”
Dean cut the transmission and turned to Ellen. He ignored the disapproving frown and commanded, “Send a reminder to the Chief Commanding Officers on the ship about the meeting. You’d better attach a copy of Sphetyra’s transmission, with a note to say to review it before the meeting. I’m sure the crew will bombard them with questions, so they can bring those questions or issues to the meeting if they want.” Dean walked over to her and continued in a lower voice, “I’m sure you’re going to get a lot of the same shit coming through, so if you want to make some kind of generic response for questions after the meeting today, feel free.”
Ellen glared at him and nodded stiffly, and Dean almost wanted to shout in exasperation. Why did everyone hate him? It wasn’t his fault that Starfleet could be a bunch of bastards at the worst of times.
He glanced over at Sam, who looked equally pissy and knew he wouldn’t get any sympathy there. Nevertheless, he went over and asked, “Do you want Doctor Crusher to attend as well, since you’re already informed about the mission. I know that you’ll be busy finishing up the experiments from our current mission. Don’t give me that look - I know better than anyone just how much work you and your team have been doing.” Dean shifted uncomfortably at the deliberately neutral look that Sam leveled at him.
Sam gave an almost-shrug, stating, “We’re practically used to it by now. But I won’t be putting them on extended shifts unless it’s absolutely necessary. Starfleet can go jump for all I care. My team are already a Klingon’s breath away from a collective stress-breakdown.”
Dean held up his hand to stem the oncoming rant; this was hardly the time, or the place.
“I know, Sam, I know. I hear you, and I completely agree. If you think it would benefit the team to give a rest day, I’d be more than willing to sign off on that.”
He reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam closed his eyes, brows furrowed, and nodded briefly. Dean felt a pang of empathy. Sam looked so tired, borderline defeated. Dean squeezed his shoulder again, letting it rest there even as he moved away.
He approached Crowley and Gabriel at the helm with a tinge of apprehension at what was bound to be bitchfest of unmatched proportions.
“Gabriel, plot a course for Planet Beta VT. Crowley, for now, go to Warp 5.” He looked severely at the pair of them, both about to open their mouths, their expressions murderous. “Don’t even start. The pair of you can whine in private, but I will not tolerate unrest when you are on this bridge. No one is happy about this, I know, alright.” Dean snapped, moving around them to get back into his own Captain’s chair, but was interrupted.
Bobby strode onto the bridge, thunderous. As soon as Dean saw him, he diverted straight for him, gripping his arm and dragging him back out into the Turbolift, before he had even opened his mouth. Bobby barely seemed to notice.
“What the hell is this I hear about you divertin’ us to some unpopulated backwards ass planet? I’m up to my balls in necessary repairs, Dean! The past two months have been rough on the Impala - you can’t keep runnin’ her at full speed and not expect somethin’ to break.” Bobby stormed.
Dean winced at the thought. Not that he was surprised by what Bobby was saying; he saw the repair log daily and usually had Bobby ranting to him about it soon after. It didn’t help the sinking, sick feeling settling in his stomach when he thought about how Starfleet was causing him to abuse his beloved ship. He rubbed at his face, trying to clear his thoughts.
“I know, Bobby, I know. It’s only for three days though. Please tell me you can work that Bobby Magic and keep her ship shape for three days at least.” Dean cocked him a challenging eyebrow. Bobby nearly rolled his eyes in response.
“I can do that, Captain, not a problem. Just don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you when something goes wrong!” Dean smiled and clapped Bobby on the back, as he made to leave the Tubolift.
“Thanks, Bobby. I’ll buy you all the Klingon Ale you can drink after all this to make it up to you.”
Bobby snorted, “Sure, Dean,” as the Turbolift closed to head back to engineering.
Dean let out a loud whoosh of air, thankful to have dodged that potentially deadly laser. No doubt Bobby will have far worse things to say if shit did hit the fan, but Dean couldn’t worry about that right now.
He walked back onto the bridge and settled into the Captain’s chair, pulling up his PADD. Using his password, he logged into the Central Starfleet Planetary Database and extracted the archived files for Planet Beta VT36009. He downloaded them to the PADD, his personal laptop and the main computer for the debriefing. He skimmed the information quickly, intending on going over it in more detail at a later time.
At 1100 hours, Dean stood and picked up his PADD. Almost everyone else on the bridge stood with him and made for the door. “Picard, you have the Conn. Come get me if there’s an emergency.”
Then Dean and his fellow bridge Commanding Officers filed into the Observation room, with several other Commanders already seated around the rectangular table. Castiel and Sam were already there, along with Doctor Crusher and Sam’s top scientist, Ruby. Both Security Co-Commanders, Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore, were beside them, heads bent together as they spoke in low whispers. Data was seated at the seat on the end farthest from the door, so Dean moved to take the one closest to him. His fellow bridge officers moved to an available seat, taking up those at the opposite end of the table first. Dean tried not to take offence, but couldn’t help the purse of his lips.
Bobby came strolling in last, just as everyone had settled into their seat. Bobby took the open seat between Sam and Crowley, barely hiding a scowl as Crowley snarked, “Now that the cavalry has arrived, let’s get this show on the road.”
Dean shot Crowley a warning look, to hide his inner wince at not thinking to intervene and help keep those two apart. ‘Not much can do about that now.’ Dean reasoned, focusing his attention to the room at large.
“As you heard, Rear Admiral Zachariah Sphetyra sent through a transmission last night detailing our new mission. After shift, I did contact the Rear Admiral to try and delay the mission until after our shore leave, for when we leave Starbase 514 and then return to this sector of the Alpha Quadrant. Basically, his response was to suck it up.” Dean paused for the stifled bickering and snorting around the table. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. His other argument though is that it is likely we will be reassigned a new sector after this mission, probably closer to Vega.”
Choruses of ‘what?’ issued from both Crowley and Bobby, who both looked thoroughly indignant at this change of plans. Dean ignored them. “So we may not actually be in the same proximity to the Planet as we are now. Since we are the only Starship this far out, we basically get stuck with the wrong end of the phaser.”
Bobby was the first to speak out. “You know that’s a crop of shit, right Captain? We could warp back out to Planet Beta VT and be back in the same amount of time as it is to sidetrack now. Idgit, really doesn’t know nothin’ about space travel, s-”
“Thank you, Bobby. I think you’ve made your point.” Dean cut across, stemming the potential tirade of profanity. “I do understand what you’re saying, and I did relay that to Starfleet’s Mission Control. Unfortunately they are have defaulted to work alongside the Rear Admiral’s decision. So that brilliance fell on deaf ears. Starfleet Command ultimately has to rely on the Starbase’s head officer, since they rely on the commanding officer to be unbiased and working for the best interests of everyone. So Zachariah can pretty much do whatever the hell he wants.”
A chorus of murmurs and cursing of Zachariah broke out around the room, which Dean had to remind himself he wasn’t allowed to join. Instead, he turned to Sam.
“Now, as you all know, everyone has been working extremely hard. We’ll revert to normal shifts as planned, but Sam and Castiel are not going to be able to keep pace with all of the extra evaluations and experiments that will be required with the new mission. Bobby, I’m going to have to ask someone from Engineering to make sure all of the scientific equipment is working at full capacity so the computers can do as much work as possible. Ellen, could you reassign Ensign Riker to organize all the information from both our current mission and the Beta VT mission. If you could oversee its transmission to Starfleet Intelligence that would really help.
“Crowley, Bobby, I need you both to work together to find the fastest possible way to get to Beta VT and then onto Starbase 514, to minimize the delay time as much as possible. If we keep the ship on track, we should be able to arrive at Starbase 514 less than a week late. I know there’s repairs that need to be made to the engine’s and the ship’s warp nacelle, along with minor repairs throughout the ship. Do your best with what you have, Bobby, but everything else will just have to wait until we dock at the Starbase.
Crowley, I already had Gamma shift alter course slightly, I’m sure you realized, but I want you to engage the highest possible Warp Factor. Keep in touch with Bobby to make sure the engine room can handle it, and the Dilithium Crystals can keep up. And for God’s sake, please try to keep civil. The last thing we need right now is fighting between Commanding Officers. Everyone is already pissed about delaying shore leave; don’t let them see another lashing out. If I have to, I will demote you. Fair warning.” Dean’s voice was stern.
“Message received, loud and clear,” Crowley mock saluted.
“Sure thing, Cap’n,” Bobby mumbled, shooting a look at Crowley from the corner of his eye.
Dean nodded, satisfied. “Alright, did everyone get to read through the transmission from Zachariah? Were there any questions?” Dean asked.
Ellen piped up. “I just wanted to clarify with our shift times - we’re going back to eight hour shifts, but when the science and medical departments need extra staff, some of the crew are going to have to be working overtime.” Sam shifted uncomfortably, wanting to make some defense, but was cut off by Castiel.
“The aim is for most of the work to be completed by the computer and the reassigned officers should make up the hours we need. So no one should be working overtime unless there is a malfunction in the dispensary - or they chose to.”
“How long until we arrive?” Everyone looked at Crowley.
“Two days or thereabouts, provided there are no mishaps in Engineering, of course,” he answered, with a sly look at Bobby. Bobby’s fists glanced and he glared in response to Crowley’s smirk.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Dean interjected loudly, “everyone can get back to work. I will assign officers to the away mission closer to arrival, when I can be sure they will be up to it,” he glanced pointedly at Sam.
Sam frowned in response as everyone gathered themselves to leave. “Captain, I would like to take Doctor Crusher and Riker, if they are up for it, on the away mission. They are good and have done very well so far, especially during the last mission.” Sam requested.
Dean nodded. “I’ll take it under consideration. I thought they had been doing more than their fair share of overtime though. Babyface is one ambitious kid, but he can’t keep running forever.”
“I agree, but Riker should still be involved. The two of them are rising stars, and this would be a good experience for them.” Sam insisted.
“To experience what? A pointless mission with a pointless outcome that’s wasting everyone’s time just so that Zachariah douchewad can have his power trip?” Bobby fumed from the doorway.
“Yes, Bobby because they are young, fresh from the academy, and eager to please. They might not see it as a total right off, and actually see something we might miss.” Sam turned back to Dean.
Bobby huffed and walked out without saying anything further. Dean raised an eyebrow, but did not comment on his brother’s terseness.
Sam ignored him and looked over at Ruby, who was still standing beside Ellen, waiting.
“I will stay in the lab and monitor the current experiments, as well as oversee the remainder of the incoming samples,” Ruby said, looking over at Ellen, who nodded back. “I would also like to request Jo to assist us. She’s the best we have at the moment and it will be good for her to be more involved.”
Dean also looked at Ellen while Ruby spoke, rubbing his mouth in thought. “You don’t think she’s too young and inexperienced? She is only a civilian on this ship, not even an Acting Ensign. I get that she’s your daughter, and has grown up on starships, but do you think she’s up for it?”
Ellen nodded. “I have full confidence in her, Captain. She helped me a lot with the last mission. She learns quickly and I would bet she’s anxious to help, when she can see how tired everybody is from overworking.”
“Fine. Have Jo report for Duty in the science lab. Otherwise, I want a skeleton crew in there and sickbay.” Dean looked back at Sam. “Each science officer is to take one shift between now and our arrival at Beta VT. You and your team need rest, and that’s an order.” Dean commanded, as Sam opened his mouth to protest.
Sam set his mouth in a hard line and nodded.
“Glad we understand each other. Dismissed.”
Sam, Ruby and Ellen walked out. Dean stayed for a moment before running his hand over his face and sighing. Deciding he couldn’t continue to sit there, Dean stood and began to head back to the Bridge. He was frustrated, but knew it was better to channel it into his work rather than bitch about it.
He was jostled out of his thoughts by Harry and Ed nearly running into him at the Turbolift.
“Captain, sir.” They spoke in unison, with synchronized salutes. “The Ghostfacers are at your service for the upcoming away mission,” said Ed. Dean tried not to smile at the nickname the security team had coined for themselves.
“We are ready to go at any time, you just say the word,” Harry continued. “Would you require our whole team or just a select few exemplary members?” he asked.
“Guys, I don’t want to overwork you,” Dean began.
“No sir, we are all properly rested and eager for another mission,” Ed interjected, brushing off Dean’s concern with a wave of his hand. Harry nodded in agreement.
“We understand the security risks are low, but we can always help in other ways. We will serve as many purposes as you need, Captain.”
Dean held up a hand to stop them. “Yes, alright, fine. I should only need a small security detail, three at most. Pick the team amongst yourselves and have them report to Transporter Room 1 when we are ready to beam down.” Dean stepped into the turbolift, silencing their synchronized confirmations.
‘A strange pair’, Dean thought, but knew they got the job done, which was all that mattered right now. He walked out of the turbolift and onto the bridge as someone announced ‘Captain on the Bridge’, and sat in his chair, preparing to continue through the mountain of paperwork.
Part Two