Genesis20

Mansel was quite aware of the exchange. He was surprised to see that Lieutenant Commander Broadaway had spoken, much less contradicted someone. He also noticed that Lieutenant Talaj had used Broadaway’s first name, Jason. Did they already know each other? Mansel decided that it was none of his business to ask. He returned to the situation at hand. “We worked well as a team. The Explorer was damaged in the battle, but you can’t come out of every battle without a scratch.” He looked to his Executive Officer. “Do you have anything else to add, Commander?”

Commander Vaughn shook his head. “No sir. Except to say this: now we’re a real starship crew.”

Mansel smiled and nodded. “Quite right. Dismissed.”

***

As the bridge crew sat and silently did their prescribed tasks, ambassador Wilson appeared on the bridge.

“Ambassador on the bridge,” Lieutenant Talaj called before anyone else could. The bridge crew rose to attention. Wilson approached Captain Mansel and extended his hand.

“Thank you, captain, for saving my life.”

Mansel accepted it. “No problem, sir. Just doing my job.”

“And what is your job?” Ambassador Wilson asked, sitting in the guest chair to the right of Mansel’s own command chair.

Mansel and the rest of the crew sat down after the ambassador did. The captain turned his chair to face the ambassador. “Our mission, sir, is to explore the galaxy. Map the system; make contact with new alien races. Uphold and defend the name of the UNSF. That, sir, is my mission.”

Ambassador Wilson’s eyebrows rose. “Do you believe so, Captain Mansel?” His eyes sparkled as he sat back in his chair, gazing intently at the rookie starship captain. “I think you’ll see that there’s much more in store than you think.” He jerked an idle thumb behind him. “If the way you handled that situation back there is any indication of your blossoming command skill, than you have much more in store for you.”

The Explorer approached Dock 001, the Spacedock closest to Earth. “Begin docking procedure, Lieutenant Commander Broadaway,” said Commander Vaughn, sitting in Mansel’s command chair. The captain was in his quarters, catching up on some much-needed rest.

Vaughn punched a button on the armrest. “Sir, we’re at Earth.”

The voice on the other end was groggy. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The Explorer was already docked by the time Mansel reached the bridge. “Is the ambassador ready?”

“Ready and waiting, captain,” reported Lieutenant Hardy from Communications. “Also, Commander-in-Chief Wilson requests that you report to his office immediately.”

Mansel gave Vaughn a “what did I do now?” face as he started back for the turbolift he had just came from. “Very well, Lieutenant,” he said, standing in the doorway. “Commander Vaughn, you have the bridge.”

“Yes sir.”

Back in Admiral Wilson’s office for the third time, Mansel sat in the same chair he had only three months earlier. This time, however, it was for a different reason.

Ambassador Wilson and Deputy Commander-in-Chief Sean Story were present as well, both seated on a couch against a far wall. Admiral Wilson was at his usual position, sitting at the corner edge of his giant desk.

“I’d like to thank you for rescuing my brother, captain,” said C-in-C Wilson, gesturing to his younger brother, ambassador Wilson.

Mansel had noticed that their last names were the same, but hadn’t made the connection; he’d been busy with other things. He shifted in his chair to look directly at the Commander-in-Chief.

“It was no problem, sir. My crew did their job, that’s all.”

“Nevertheless captain,” said Admiral Story from his spot on the couch, “we’d like to thank you for the good work.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and Mansel was dismissed to go back to his ship.

A week later, the Explorer was ready to launch again. “We’re ready to go,” announced Commander Vaughn when Mansel reached the bridge. “We’re waiting for permission from Space Control. There’s anther ship about to come in.”

As he finished talking, the bay doors opened to reveal the very ship that Vaughn had been talking about. Flawlessly perfect, and sleek in design, it looked as if it could slice through space without hesitation or effort. A noticeable contrast to all other UNSF ships, this one was jet black, designed to give honor to the old USAF SR-71 Blackbird. Its name was the U.S.S. Stealthlon.

“Now that is a ship,” commented Lieutenant Commander Fleury, who happened to be leaning against a console on the bridge near Lieutenant Talaj. They all continued to stare as it effortlessly docked

“The flagship of the UNSF,” said Captain Mansel, whose gaze was still locked on the ship. “What I wouldn’t give to command something like that.”

“Who knows?” said Commander Vaughn. “Maybe you will after your seven years here.”