How it all got started...

Posted on 02 Oct 2016 @ 1:12pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Prelude; Breakfast at Curmudgeon's
Location: Starfleet Command, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: MD -5: 1345 Hours

Admiral Nathan Cowell drummed his fingers against the desk in front of him impatiently. It had been over a month since the ‘incident’ that had brought him into conflict with the Admiralty. Trouble was, with his extensive experience and the large number of contacts he had made in his time among the Admiralty, there was more than likely a throng of people who were trying to keep him firmly planted in the chair he sat in despite his own wishes. Nathan turned in his chair and stared out at the busy streets that stretched out from Starfleet Command to San Francisco proper. Watching people going about their lives on their own terms simply pissed the old man off even more.

To make a bad situation even worse, Nathan had caught wind that the one person he could turn to and lament properly about his whole situation had been transferred elsewhere in the Fleet right under his nose. To say that not having his adopted daughter around was a part of the cause of the ‘Incident’ was neither unfair or untrue. It wasn’t the primary reason Nathan had done what he did, but it sure didn’t help matters.

“We’ve discussed matters, and the USS Arizona will be scrapped. Your mission in the Delta Quadrant has also raised serious questions as to your ability to command. Unless you bring forward further accountings of what happened in that plasma nebula, we will simply have to call the near loss of your vessel an act of incompetence…”

Those words at the recent inquiry were the true catalyst for Nathan’s outburst. While he had a small pang of regret over it, it wasn’t the fact that he had told the stuck up inquiry board where they could shove their verdict and opinion of his ‘competence’, it was the fact that he hadn’t told them where to take their inquiry before it had started. Temporal Prime Directive be damned, Nathan had about as much abuse as he was going to take from a bunch of pencil pushing know-nothings and let loose a long list of casualties and just how they had ended up that way. The pale faces and gapped mouths had been all the satisfaction Nathan had needed before he stormed out of their little conference chamber.

The follow up conversation with Temporal Investigations was equally as pleasant, in so much that it was simply Nathan getting his ass chewed over telling any member of the Admiralty the details. Nathan’s jab at them over not glossing things over properly in the first place being the cause of the little inquiry didn’t blow over very well either, though there wasn’t much of a discussion after he said it. The entire affair left a sour taste in the old man’s mouth.

“Admiral Cowell,” a voice broke the silence in Nathan’s office, and for a moment the old man didn’t recognize it. The second time the comm beeped and the woman spoke his name, Nathan recalled that it was the aide they had put on his door a few months ago after he ran the last one off.

“What is it?” Nathan grumbled.

“Admiral White is here to speak with you,” the woman replied.

“Does he know how to open a door?” Adm. Cowell asked sarcastically.

The only response he received was that of his officer door being pulled open, followed by the form of his longtime acquaintance and someone he might even call a friend, Admiral Gregory White. Admiral White had the unfortunate pleasure of being the Chief of Staff for all of Starfleet, which meant that he was Nathan’s boss, regardless of appearances to the contrary.

“Doc,” White said as he walked into the room, “Heard you’ve been making a rather large scene on this side of the building lately.”

“You heard that, did ya?” Nathan groused, “Take it they sent you over to put me in my place.”

“No, Doc… they sent me here to relieve you of duty,” Adm. White said with a somber face, “I have a petition from the inquiry board to strip you of your rank and send you back to Alaska.”

Nathan gave the man an even look, “So why aren’t you flanked by a bunch of security goons then?”

“Because I’m not going to let you get off that easy,” Greg said as smugly as he could.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, “Oh no? So what are you going to do, leave me in this office to rot, put me in charge of sanitation or something?”

Adm. White laughed at the idea, “It was actually discussed, yes. But I think there’s a job even more fitting for you. I’m giving you back the Arizona… in a manner of speaking. The old boat you brought us back was in piss poor shape. So you’re going to have to settle for the one we have at the shipyard above us finish up its trial runs through the Sol System as we speak. I’ve already authorized the ship’s reclassification and registry change.”

“You didn’t put a damn A on it, did you?” Nathan frowned.

Greg shook his head, “You’re not the Flagship, Nathan.”

“Good. When do I leave?” Nathan pushed himself out from behind the desk.

“As soon as you take those bars off and go back to being a regular line officer. You’re being demoted to Captain,” Admiral White informed him.

“About damn time,” Nathan sighed as he practically tore the rank bars off his uniform, throwing them rather unceremoniously to the desk, “Anything else?”

“No, Doc, that’s all I came down here for,” White smirked.

Nathan walked up to the man and shook his hand, “You’re a damn saint for this. Now get the hell out of my way…”

Greg couldn’t help but laugh at the old man as he stormed out of the office, “You know you’re supposed to call me sir now, right?”

“Kiss my ass, Greg,” Nathan retorted as he slammed the door.

Admiral White stood in awe at what had just happened. Not only had he just given Nathan Cowell his ship back, he had effectively been told off and become a saint in nearly the same sentence. No matter how many years he had known the old El-Aurian, Nathan never ceased to shock the man.