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Stardate 22976.1

Lieutenant Gabriel Reed adjusted his course ever so slightly to bring the Claudius around for a smooth docking with his passenger's pride and joy: The USS Gainesville.

"Almost there, Captain. Just a few more meters and we can call it good and that means you owe me dinner the next time you come into port."

Leslie Parker chuckled out loud as she fingered her good luck charm--a rabbit's foot that she had made for this special occasion.

"This is my only time in port since I transferred out from Starbase 118 after the hearings, Mr. Reed. The fallout from the loss of the Wyoming hasn't gone away entirely. Even if had been roughly ten months since System G-12 fell to that Klingon raiding party."

The man nodded discretely even as he managed to execute a slightly lazy loop around the New Orleans class ship's starboard nacelle which carried them underneath the pylon and up towards the main shuttle bay tucked into the back of the ship's saucer section--between the two shoulder mounted torpedo tubes.

"Maybe so, but it still means I get to choose my dish of choice." The man deflected easily enough, keeping his hands on the pilot controls.

"I guess I should have been more brazen and forceful in my decision to hold the line against the Klingons." Leslie mused with open regret. "Instead, I tucked tail and tried to run from a stationary orbit above the new colony world when things went from bad to worse in a heartbeat."

"Nobody could have predicted you would be outmatched and outgunned." The helmsman offered graciously. "Things like that sometimes happens to the best of us--even if we all believe we have the best intentions in hand."

"Tell that to the Klingon Empire," the woman mourned with supreme worry. "They got another star system under their belts because of it. And it only cost Starfleet a California class heavy cruiser."

Reed shrugged indifferently. "I'm pretty sure in the end, everything will boil over and peace will reign between the quadrant's two super powers."

The woman snorted softly. "You wish." She said out of blind habit. She wasn't a believer in either fate or luck, and didn't have the same instincts as some of Starfleet's more famous captains, but she was pretty well known for her stellar command performances and lucrative mission profiles that ended in a solid win for their side.

If anything, Captain Parker's record spoke of dedication and loyalty and that was something of a rarity in this business of exploration and diplomacy.

"Just thank the stars that you're not one James T. Kirk and leave it at that," the other man teased at that point. "Otherwise, you would have had those Klingons for breakfast."

Leslie blushed a bit. "God no..." she breathed in solid embarrassment. "Anyone but that. I would take Fleet Admiral John Harriman over him any day. At least he was a stickler for the rule book."

"Sometimes, the rule book is no good for the vulgarities of the frontier. Or deep space--in some instances." Reed said as he made the final docking approach to the main shuttle bay. The door had slid open by now and both could see the internal workings of the ship itself behind the newly established atmospheric containment shield.

"And on that note...two seconds to touchdown. Reversing engines for final docking maneuvers."

"Do you always have to come in so gently, Lieutenant?"

"Would you rather that I crash nose first and damage your pretty ship?" The man retorted lightly. "These Hermes class shuttles aren't made for hot-dogging. Not like the old Class II's that are still in service on the Constellation's."

"I thought those things were retired?"

"I did too. But Starfleet still found some odd uses for them between Sol's resident orbital colonies and the Moon."

"Fair enough." Parker conceded as the ship made a perfect touchdown with a slight thump. She waited until Reed made some final adjustments to the ship's engines and life support systems, and then toggled a button to release the side hatch from its seals.

The sound of air escaping filled the forward cabin a bit as pressure equalized.

"There you go, ma'am. All safe and sound. I'm pretty sure Commander Davidson will be happy to know that your new good luck charm was instrumental in saving the day once again."

Leslie laughed. "I don't think Marcus is a superstitious man. Even though he was born and raised in the old French Quarter of New Orleans."

"Hence the ship's class name." Reed pointed out gaily. "But you tell that old space dog that he owes me one."

"I think it's two. One for each trip." The woman recalled easily.

Reed grinned. "I'll put it on my tab then. Safe travels, Captain." He said, reaching out to shake her hand.

Leslie Parker took it. "You too, Lieutenant. Have a good trip back to Starbase 412."

"I will."

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.

Description
Stardate 22976.1

Lieutenant Gabriel Reed adjusted his course ever so slightly to bring the Claudius around for a smooth docking with his passenger's pride and joy: The USS Gainesville.

"Almost there, Captain. Just a few more meters and we can call it good and that means you owe me dinner the next time you come into port."

Leslie Parker chuckled out loud as she fingered her good luck charm--a rabbit's foot that she had made for this special occasion.

"This is my only time in port since I transferred out from Starbase 118 after the hearings, Mr. Reed. The fallout from the loss of the Wyoming hasn't gone away entirely. Even if had been roughly ten months since System G-12 fell to that Klingon raiding party."

The man nodded discretely even as he managed to execute a slightly lazy loop around the New Orleans class ship's starboard nacelle which carried them underneath the pylon and up towards the main shuttle bay tucked into the back of the ship's saucer section--between the two shoulder mounted torpedo tubes.

"Maybe so, but it still means I get to choose my dish of choice." The man deflected easily enough, keeping his hands on the pilot controls.

"I guess I should have been more brazen and forceful in my decision to hold the line against the Klingons." Leslie mused with open regret. "Instead, I tucked tail and tried to run from a stationary orbit above the new colony world when things went from bad to worse in a heartbeat."

"Nobody could have predicted you would be outmatched and outgunned." The helmsman offered graciously. "Things like that sometimes happens to the best of us--even if we all believe we have the best intentions in hand."

"Tell that to the Klingon Empire," the woman mourned with supreme worry. "They got another star system under their belts because of it. And it only cost Starfleet a California class heavy cruiser."

Reed shrugged indifferently. "I'm pretty sure in the end, everything will boil over and peace will reign between the quadrant's two super powers."

The woman snorted softly. "You wish." She said out of blind habit. She wasn't a believer in either fate or luck, and didn't have the same instincts as some of Starfleet's more famous captains, but she was pretty well known for her stellar command performances and lucrative mission profiles that ended in a solid win for their side.

If anything, Captain Parker's record spoke of dedication and loyalty and that was something of a rarity in this business of exploration and diplomacy.

"Just thank the stars that you're not one James T. Kirk and leave it at that," the other man teased at that point. "Otherwise, you would have had those Klingons for breakfast."

Leslie blushed a bit. "God no..." she breathed in solid embarrassment. "Anyone but that. I would take Fleet Admiral John Harriman over him any day. At least he was a stickler for the rule book."

"Sometimes, the rule book is no good for the vulgarities of the frontier. Or deep space--in some instances." Reed said as he made the final docking approach to the main shuttle bay. The door had slid open by now and both could see the internal workings of the ship itself behind the newly established atmospheric containment shield.

"And on that note...two seconds to touchdown. Reversing engines for final docking maneuvers."

"Do you always have to come in so gently, Lieutenant?"

"Would you rather that I crash nose first and damage your pretty ship?" The man retorted lightly. "These Hermes class shuttles aren't made for hot-dogging. Not like the old Class II's that are still in service on the Constellation's."

"I thought those things were retired?"

"I did too. But Starfleet still found some odd uses for them between Sol's resident orbital colonies and the Moon."

"Fair enough." Parker conceded as the ship made a perfect touchdown with a slight thump. She waited until Reed made some final adjustments to the ship's engines and life support systems, and then toggled a button to release the side hatch from its seals.

The sound of air escaping filled the forward cabin a bit as pressure equalized.

"There you go, ma'am. All safe and sound. I'm pretty sure Commander Davidson will be happy to know that your new good luck charm was instrumental in saving the day once again."

Leslie laughed. "I don't think Marcus is a superstitious man. Even though he was born and raised in the old French Quarter of New Orleans."

"Hence the ship's class name." Reed pointed out gaily. "But you tell that old space dog that he owes me one."

"I think it's two. One for each trip." The woman recalled easily.

Reed grinned. "I'll put it on my tab then. Safe travels, Captain." He said, reaching out to shake her hand.

Leslie Parker took it. "You too, Lieutenant. Have a good trip back to Starbase 412."

"I will."

***

Artwork by Jetfreak-7.