September 23, 2407
0813 hours
Earth, Sector 001
U.S.S. Rhino, Admiral’s quarters
Admiral Roth stood quietly in his quarters aboard the U.S.S. Rhino, one of the few remaining Galaxy-class starships in service. He had his arms folded behind him, quietly staring out of the ship’s window into space. He was looking at Earth. Every species says that their homeworld is the most beautiful; the Admiral, being an Earth native, thought no differently of his own planet. But there was something extremely restful with the way the Earth looked, something that was absent from any other homeworld. Maybe it was the swirling clouds or the large ocean of water, but it was restful.
He sipped his Raktajino, a Klingon coffee. Not much has changed about it since Admiral Roth first got hooked on it. He still remembers the day, even the minute when he first tried the Klingon drink. He was a young ensign on an important mission to the Chin’toka system during the Dominion Wars. It was one of his first missions, and an extremely dangerous one. He made sure that he did his best job, because he was dead set on earning the respect of his new captain. The captain was a fierce leader, one that commanded loyalty from just about anybody, even from people that didn’t even like him. But what Admiral Roth remembered most was his love for Raktajino. His teeth were near black he drank so much.
But Raktajino was more of an acquired taste, and even then, not everybody could stomach it. In fact, it was generally recommended that humans warm up with normal coffee for at least two months before trying Raktajino. He was studying the new specifications of the ship in the mess hall and noticed the captain walking in with his security officer and sat down near his table. Naturally, he had an extra large cup already in one hand, only to order more when he sat down. To impress him, and the young ensign Roth ordered a Raktajino also, never having touched a drop in his life. In fact, he never made it a habit to touch coffee ever. He took a giant sip of the harsh drink, but as the first drop touched his tongue he nearly gagged at the foul taste. As he swallowed more of the drink, he could have sworn that he tasted blood, which actually wouldn’t be have been too outrageous for a Klingon drink. He finished it, rather reluctantly, but it was that quirky, disgusted expression that he had on his face that made the captain laugh. Much to Roth’s disappointment, that’s how his captain always remembered him.
The year was 2407. It has now been more than thirty years since the end of the Dominion War. For most, it was just an artifact of the past, a subject of academic debate, not something really remembered first-hand by most anymore. Admiral Roth was a veteran of that war. In a way, the war united the Alpha Quadrant like nobody had seen before, but it took a heavy toll on all sides. It seemed that every race involved in the war retreated to their space to lick their wounds. For once, space was silent.
To add to the Alpha Quadrant’s woes, just years following the war, the destruction of Romulus further disrupted the quadrant’s economics. With one less major power and many other weakened ones, interspecies trade grinded to a halt. Things that the Federation needed could not be obtained, and things that the Federation had too much of couldn’t be traded away. Although many of the basic necessities of life could be replicated, the Federation couldn’t make everything. There were some things that just needed to be actively harvested, manually synthesized, or traded. And if fear and distrust among the major powers continued to permeate the quadrant, then there can be no trade, but it was a time when trade was needed most. The intergalactic economy began to falter soon after. This was a Ferengi’s nightmare. Or opportunity.
As Admiral Roth drank his Raktajino, he couldn’t help but wonder, was exploration really worth it? Federation citizens have been asking themselves that question a lot in recent times. For as long as anyone in the Federation could remember, people began to fear space. If exploration leads us only to more powerful species bent on domination, then what was the point? What is really learned, and should it cost billions of lives for that knowledge? It had been thirty years now since the end of the last war, and the Alpha Quadrant was only beginning to recover. Distrust, starvation, crime, and poverty, which threatened to rear its ugly head once more, were finally becoming less common again. But why must it have happened in the first place?
Fortunately, the younger generation never lived through the war. They hear only stories in their childhood, some true, others embellished. They may be naïve, but at least they had a sense of eagerness that Admiral Roth once had as a young man, something that he had lost now as a seasoned officer. That was so rare for such a long time, because harsh realities set in for so many people for so long. A little youth, naiveté and eagerness just may be what the Federation needs right now.
The Admiral’s door chimed. “Come in,” he said, reflexively.
The doors hissed open, and a young ensign came in. “Admiral, they’re ready.”
“The new ship is ready to be deployed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, son. Set a course for Mars,” he instructed. “Is Captain Darren Seth aboard the Rhino?”
“Not yet, sir. The Chicago has not yet arrived. They are to be here in twenty or so minutes.”
“When they get here, please tell him that I’m ready to see him.”
“Understood, sir.” The ensign made a quick bow, and quietly stepped out of the door.
Well then, the Admiral thought. Boldly we go.
