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Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 94
06-07-2011, 06:39 AM
<>The Ties That Bind<>

"Commander Selet, you have the bridge."

With those words, Vice Admiral Wilem "Lone Star" Pulam'an strode off the bridge to the turbolift and headed out to unwind and gather his thoughts. While it was a tad unconventional leaving his 2nd-in-command in charge durning a hunt, especially one as high-risk as the Orions they were chasing, Wilem had no qualms or worries about it at all. "Crew deck," he spoke as the doors closed and he was whisked off. Selet was one of three people on his ship that had been with him since his first day in Starfleet; they all knew each other's rythyms, habits, and limitations. There would be no surprise the Vulcan couldn't handle. He'd hate losing her to her own command someday (one she'd earned many times over), but she's passed up multiple opportunities so far, claming she was making the "logical choice" by staying with him; who was he to argue?

His ship. Even now, as the car came to a stop and the doors opened, he smiled at the thought. While the Kennedy-C often suffered from the "Step-Child" syndrome to the Enterprise-E and other, more famous ships, it was his. He ran his fingers along the walls and thought at all the favors he'd had to cash in just to get the -B comissioned, Pa'lgat take them building a -C. Admiral Quinn must have thought him nuts to want to pass up more prestigious ships for the Kennedy, and the fourth at that. Or maybe that smile was from someone who knew what was in a name, and how much power they held.

As Wilem sat at his traditional table in the lounge, a cheap scorant felt in the corner, he thought about Clev's offer to teach him poker. The Bolian commented about how the scorant felt was close enough to a poker table to pull double duty. The rest of his thoughts, however, drifted to his home planet and exile for questioning the Matriarchal Council. He'd been on thin ice with his clan before the incident with Dath Hal'mat that led to his trial, but the speech he had made (broadcast to everyone in the ancestral lands, no less) was the final wound. Everyone thought an exile and severance (one of the most severe punishments handed down in recent memory) was getting off easy; Pulam'an was glad to be given the chance to make his name elsewhere. He'd discovered from the recently-exiled C'soyas clanner that most of his people still didn't have any use for Starfleet. Good. This is my clan now. Those fel'onts can trot off for all I care.

The impromptu white noise provided by his new clanners settled him into a half-meditative state as he shuffled through some of the famous and infamous images of Starfleet ships and captains on his personal holoprojector. Part of him noticed the lack of stars streaking by the windows, signaling the ship had fallen out of warp. The rest of his mind, however, was focused on what was in front of him. These were part of his new history now, even the notorious Captain Markham of the original Kennedy, as well as the legendary James T. Kirk and Jean-Luc Picard. This was where he finally fit into the yona game; striving to be the next lesson taught in Academy classrooms.

His thoughts were interrupted with a sharp chirp of is communicator. "Captain, we have the raider flight on long-range sensors," Selet said over the speaker. Lone Star was up and headed to the bridge before the commander had even started speaking. He was grinning a predatory grin this time as he confidently strode towards the bridge, letting his nictating membranes slide over his eyes.

"Acknowledged, Commander. On my way now."