What The Hell, Man?

Posted on Wed Jun 4th, 2025 @ 8:30pm by Commodore Elias McEntyre & Commander Gil’an Tyris

1,141 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: USS Decker, docked at DS12 construction platform
Timeline: June 15, 2375

Captain Elias McEntyre rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was seated at the desk in the Ready Room of his Steamrunner class starship, enjoying a piping hot espresso, when his XO had interrupted. The seasoned, thirty-something Caitian had nearly spilled his drink upon hearing the Bolian Lieutenant Commander’s words.

“So, just to recap,” said the Captain. “One of the locals stowed away on one of our supply shuttles from the planet and is now here. On the Decker.”

“Yessir,” said Pheylin, the blue-skinned first officer.

“A low-technology planet. How the fuck did that happen, XO?”

“He hid aboard one of the supply shuttles. We have him sitting in guest quarters now.” Pheylin responded with an authoritative response one.

“Very well, X.O. I will go see our wayward stowaway.” Elias stood as he spoke, all 6 foot 10 of him. He was a hulk of a Caitian and the low ceilings of a Steamrunner did not do him any favors as he strode for the door of his ready room.

“You have the conn, XO” Elias nodded as he exited.

—————

When he arrived at Guest Quarters, the lone sentry stood to attention and snapped off a salute. A lanky 19 year old, fresh out of the Ground Force Boot Camp at Parris Island. His royal blues of his jumpsuit and armor looking huge on him.

“Has he spoken to anyone?” Elias asked as he saluted back.

“No, Sir.” The private, Jones, responded quickly.

“I want to see him.” Elias ordered, standing to parade rest as the sentry rang the chime of the quarters out of courtesy.

Gil’an Tyris sat on the small sofa, his legs crossed. The decor in the ‘guest quarters’ was spartan at best. No color, no ornamentation, no artwork. Plain, and downright boring. But he has come to expect blasè from the monolithic United Federation of Planets. Since this Federation, the dominant astropolitical entity in this region of space, has made its presence known to the Bak’u, it has proven itself to be both beneficent and tiresome simultaneously.

“Come in,” said the youthful-looking sandy haired Bak’u.

The doors slid open with a hiss. Elias stood tall in the doorway before stepping into the spartan room.

“I apologize for the state of the quarters. We don’t often receive guests. I’m Elias McEntyre, commander of this vessel.” He greeted with a soft suave smile.

“Gil’an Tyris,” said the Bak’u, rising from the sofa. “I wasn’t planning on being discovered. But, it seems your sensory equipment is more sensitive than anticipated. At least I was finally able to get off that agrarian wasteland.”

Elias tilts his head at the statement. "Agrarian Wasteland? I heard it was quite beautiful down on the surface." He commented with the question, though at this point, he was more interested in the man before him. He was handsome, ravagely so. His heart thumped in his chest.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong…it is quite beautiful there. But not all of us can be happy watering flowers and being artisans. Some of us have the capacity to contribute to the greater galaxy.”

Elias was intrigued. Tilting his head in a cat like curiosity. “So, if I may be so bold, what is it you do on Bak’u?”

Gil gave the large felinoid a sidelong smirk. “I’m an archivist. My function is to peruse the databases your Government has provided to the Bak’u, compare them with our own.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly to the right. “Not exactly what Starfleet would expect to find from a people that do not employ high technology in their daily lives. But also perfect for someone with an eidetic memory.”

Elias purrs in thought. This was the most interesting man he's ever met. Eidetic memory and a scientist wanting to flee what was literally paradise.

"And if, I was to grant your request to take you from Bak'u, what would be your intentions?" He asked pointedly, bluntly. He needed to know if he had to send him back, or grant his request. Theoretically, he should, simply because only a few months ago, his people were nearly forced from their by the Son'a and by a lesser extent, the Federation. Elias thought this could be a bridge between the Federation and Bak'u. More than just a Station in orbit, real cooperation.

Gil shrugged. “There’s a lot of galaxy to see. And I know for a fact that the Bak’u Council has granted any citizen the right to come and go as they wish; like your Federation, Bak’u culture is based on freedom and self-determination.” He sighed heavily. “Surely there is somewhere in your Federation where my talents would be useful.”

Elias thought for a few moments in that cat like sort of way.

“As it happens, my Chief Science Officer is taking retirement after this tour is over. I could put you forward as my choice if you would be willing to take a commission into Starfleet.” He offered the olive branch, hoping he’d take it.

“Tempting,” said Gil coyly. “But, I would need to become better versed in Starfleet methodology before accepting any type of field commission. I believe that is, as Terrans might say, ‘only fair’.”

“Only fair. When our assignment is done here, we’re rotating back to Earth. Starfleet has an Officer Candidate School boot camp, 24 weeks. If you’re interested.” Elias mentions as he leans back in his chair.

“Hmm,” Gil hummed thoughtfully. This could be his chance, a chance to make a real difference….and to see what the galaxy had to offer. A chance to apply what the Federation representatives described as the Bak’u ‘extraordinary mental discipline and clarity of perception’. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is the first step in that process?”

“The first is application, which I’ll help you with. A letter of recommendation from a command level officer which I’ll also help with.” Elias elaborated before giving him a smile.

“But before all of that, I’d love to take you out to dinner”

“Dinner. The oral consumption of nutritional biomatter, typically done in the evening. Your database says that ‘dinner’ in most cultures is a form of relaxation at the conclusion of the work day. It is also considered part of courtship rituals.” Gil eyed the much taller felinoid up and down “Whichever way it is intended, I accept the invitation.”

Elias reaches a paw out to take the hand of the handsome Bak’u, standing as he does.

“Then shall we?” The Caitian smiles as the pair leaves together. The start of a beautiful romance.

—————

Captain Elias McEntyre
Commanding Officer
USS Matthew Decker


Gil’an Tyris
Bak’u Refugee
Future Starfleet Officer

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