An old Academy mate and I were solving all the galaxy's problems one night when talk came around to our respective fleets. Despite nearly identical scholastic records, our careers could not have taken more different paths. Whereas he now commands a near-armada of the most sophisticated escorts in all of Starfleet, I was sentenced to lead a rag-tag band of support vessels on a wild goose chase around the galaxy.
I didn't know she was the Admiral's daughter, for crying out loud.
He tells me that, in his line of work, the things he wants his fleet to be best known for are: Success in battle, respect for the enemy, and the fact that they're better than everybody else. It's braggadocio, for sure, but would you really want the head of your spear any less sharp?
He then asked me and I drew a blank. Hell, I'm just hoping this assignment doesn't even show up on my record. In a year I'll be instructing in sunny Frisco again and this will all be a bad memory.
No, I did not know she was in one of my classes, either.
So what do I want Federation Search and Rescue to be known for? I'll let you in on a little secret: I don't know what the hell I'm doing out here. That I'm actually in command of a vessel is truly terrifying. If I, my crew and the rest of the fleet can somehow manage to stay alive, and maybe even help some distressed vessels along the way, then that's good enough for me. Anonymity will suit us just fine.
If you're considering a transfer, there are some things you must consider:
I don't give an Yridian's posterior what specialization you or your ship are. If you can heal, you can help.
There will be no awards, medals, hazardous duty pay or parades. Survival will be the only reward for this endeavor.
Most ships will never even be aware of your presence. Their seemingly miraculous escape from the clutches of oblivion will go down in their logs as an "unexplained engineering anomaly". You will have warped from the sector before they've even finished their damage reports.
You will help and get no response. Starfleet operations code 847.62 expressly prohibits distressed starships from expending energy on anything but life support systems, even down to the relatively miniscule amount required for communications. If you're looking for recognition and a warm, fuzzy pat on the back, ask your mother to send you a card.
In a nutshell, I want FSAR to be best known for getting home. If you're ultimately headed that way, too, then you can count on us to help: LINK
As a support vessel, the U.S.S. Corpsman is neither the fastest nor the sleekest ship of the line. We haven't the most powerful shields, our weaponry is hardly devastating and we're woefully deficient when it comes to the latest offensive tactics. But without a doubt, it's certainly an honor to support those who are taking the fight directly to the enemy.
On a routine patrol of the Psi Velorum sector last night, FSAR entered a fleet engagement against the Romulans. With five entire squadrons to eliminate, this was going to be a perilous and protracted affair. Then the U.S.S. Widowmaker warped in.
I'll admit it, I raised an eyebrow. That moniker is quite a target to be painting on your ship, after all. Any one of the myriad Federation enemies would take extra pleasure in downing a vessel like that. I suppose it goes back to that whole Escort mindset, however. Not to generalize, but they're the cockiest, rowdiest, most belligerent bunch of captains you'd never want to meet. That being said, I'm glad they're on our side.
Eager to see what this ship and her hotshot captain were capable of, I fell in behind and sounded a red alert. Wasting no time, she streaked into a formation of D'daridex Warbirds.
The Widowmaker was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Swooping in and out and all around with apparent ease, firing beams and cannons I never knew existed, she was quite a sight to behold. I imagined the Romulan captains growing quickly frustrated, and not long after that, undoubtedly frightened.
To be frank, they never stood a chance.
As the last of the Romulans were defeated, the Corpsman came to a halt. Engineering reported yet another thruster malfunction and near-breach of the warp core. I swear, it seems as if half the ship is held together with nothing but Tarkan tape and wishful thinking. As we foundered, the Widowmaker made some last-minute sweeps and eventually warped off to points unknown. I didn't catch her hull number or the captain's name, but they've definitely earned my admiration.
It's an honor for Federation Search and Rescue to serve. On occassions like this, it's also a pleasure.