Admirals' Table

LadyBlue

[Day 3, 1930 hours]
[Vandorin's Bistro]

Everything was perfect. Because Beckett had said so, and Commodore Beckett was a man accustomed to getting his own way. He anticipated being among the most junior in rank for this meal, but despite this he had been excruciating in the demands placed upon Esterra Vandorin. Or perhaps because of this, for though they would gather in one of the private rooms of the exclusive Bistro, attended upon by the redoubtable chef himself, there was no way to misunderstand. Chief of Staff Alexander Beckett was the host.

The dining preferences of every flag officer was not information he could always acquire. But often someone, somewhere had wined or dined or both with the upper echelons of the fleet, and with the right leaning they talked. Someone had a soft spot for a good kilm steak. Someone else was inclined towards dishes that made Vandorin's perfectly-prepared Oskoin an obligatory entrée. And there was no better choice for the main wine on offer than a Ktarian Merlot.

The man himself had already assumed his seat at the head of the long table, white linen bright and polished silverware glinting in the lighting, subdued enough to not be harsh on the eyes but enough to see what they were doing. The wine had not been poured. The serving staff were on standby. But Vandorin's people knew by sight which esteemed arrivals at the bistro were to be invited beyond the main dining area, and into this private space. And here, perhaps, brass officers could relax and reflect among their equals.

Not that Beckett was much in the habit of thinking anyone his equal.

Nate

Commodore Camilla Dougherty arrived outside Vandorin’s after a stroll around the station. This conference was not at all something she wanted to attend, but it gave her an excuse to get away from the unpredictability and non security of life on Reliquary.

The redhead smoothed down the front of her uniform and brushed a piece of lint from the crimson shoulder as another Commodore, this one older, approached.

“Hello Catherine.” Dougherty said, recognizing the other woman as Commodore Catherine Waldorf from the USS Proxima.

“Camilla, you look lovely.” Said Waldorf. “How are you finding the conference?”

Camilla scoffed. “I’d take anything over life on that Alien Death Trap.”

Catherine laughed. “Sounds like you need some wine.” She said, gesturing for her Task Force Executive Officer to lead the way into the restaurant.

capierno

"I'll have more to say in the morning, I promise." Bob smiled and swatted down potential questions with his hands. "Let us reconvene in the morning, plenty more to discuss. Until then, you all know how to contact Commander Yi, she will be happy to take the last of your inquiries." Bob smiled and nodded to his deputy. He mouthed a subtle thank you to her before walking away from the press gaggle. He swiftly, but slowly, walked towards the nearest turbolift and waited for the doors to close behind him before exhaling. It had been quite the day. There was a lot of buzz around Task Force 93 and what they have announced today - there were no doubt lingering questions. "Vandorin's." Bob announced, allowing the turbolift to begin moving.

Bob checked his face in one of the unactivated control panels, letting the sheen of the glass act as a mirror. He ran a hand through his short hair and rubbed his eyes. He neither liked, nor disliked occasions such as these where the top brass was allowed to mingle. Bob hadn't been a part of the 4th fleet staff as long as others, but he knew that Teylas had a good head on his shoulders and that they were lucky he had agreed to come out of reserve duty. He couldn't help but feel a little anxious about what was in store at this dinner... nothing a little single malt couldn't fix though.

The doors opened after a minute and Bob took the short stroll from the lift to the restaurant entrance. He pulled down on his tunic and straightened his pips before nodding to the server on his way in, moving swiftly towards the bar.

Taral81424

Next in the door was Commodore Juliet St. Clair. Her own briefing had gone well, as had the others from Task Force 93. She had been given the opportunity to speak with quite a few officers, many up and coming whose careers she wanted to follow closely.

But that could wait for another day. Tonight was all about dinner with her immediate peers and superior officers, some of whom she’d met at the conference, while others she knew for years.

She was guided into the private space and smiled at those already gathered.

“Camilla, Catherine,” she said, approaching her fellow TFXO and the Commander of Proxima. “Pleasure to see you both.”

Nate

Catherine smiled. “Juliet, great job today.” She offered a polite compliment.

Commodore Dougherty only feigned a smile, while looking for someone to take her drink order.

David

"I should promote Bancroft so I can send him to these things," Knox said, as he straightened the white jacket of his mess uniform. He'd never cared for formal dining, and that hadn't changed in the roughly ten years he'd been of flag rank. Elaborate dinners weren't his style, but he also wasn't one for eating at his desk: he preferred to eat at home with his wife and as many of his children that could be brought to the same place at the same time.

"I'm pretty sure he'd kill you if you tried to promote him again. All the poor boy ever wanted was to fly starships, you know," Linda-Stanton-Knox replied; her uniform was trimmed in blue and she bore the insignia of a commodore, having recently completed a four-year stint in the Surgeon-General's office and now on her way to join Knox's staff as the liaison between the Delta Exploration Initiative and Starfleet Medical. They'd generally taken turns being the one forced to move for the other's career, and this time it was hers. Between the two of them, they'd been to more formal dinners than Knox could count, so at least he knew which forks to use when.

"Well, he should have thought about that before he revealed how competent he is at being a flag lieutenant," Knox replied, with a chuckle. The turbolift came to a stop and the two of them walked through the doors and onto the promenade, before going to the bistro. The private dining room was easy enough to find, as were their places at the table.

As soon as they sat down, a staff member from either side of the table came up to them inquiring about their drink orders: Stanton would have a vodka martini with a twist, and Knox would have sparkling water, which is the most adventurous he ever got with his beverage choices.

Taral81424

“Thank you,” Juliet said to Catherine before moving along to find wait staff to take an order.

She loved this sort of event, and got to attend more and more of them as the years went on. Sometimes dress uniforms were called for. Other times, her favourite red dress. Always welcome was a glass of sparkling wine, which a young woman brought her.

Tia

T'Vrell had not met most of her peers in person prior to arriving at Starbase 4, so this was likely to be an experience. Still, she herself was unmistakable - the short-cropped hair and pointed ears were almost standard-issue among her people, but the gold wedding band on her left ring finger and the inviting smile she offered in more relaxed company had become things of minor legend during her time as a command officer. Rather than immediately find her seat, she moved to one of the members of staff to acquire a glass of water before starting to mingle.

LadyBlue

'Good evening,' said Beckett, standing as the first entered the room. He himself had already procured a vodka martini as aperitif as the gathering brass officers mingled. 'Please, make yourselves comfortable, take your time. Staff will bring you whatever you wish to drink, and we can sit down to eat once everyone is here. I'm expecting a few more, though I've no doubt we'll have some last-minute disappointments. Business never rests, especially not here. But I thought it would be remiss of us to not take the opportunity to socialise, and in some cases meet for the first time.' He gave one of his smiles, the ones which were perfectly disarming even though they didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Before we're scattered to the four winds, or quadrants, of course.'

Nate

Camilla Dougherty ordered for herself and for Waldorf. “Two double gin martinis, very very dry. I’ll take two olives in mine please.” She patted the Bolian server on the shoulder. “Keep them coming.” She smiled and joined her colleagues.

Catherine was starting a story about her most previous mission. “So there we are in the Duckblind, the excursion teams have only just left, and this new Medical Officer begins telling me how I should be running the ship. “ She scoffed. “Now I’ve learned over the years to indulge young officers suggestions, encourage them. Well he went on and on, and then there was an issue with the teams. I issued my orders to the team in the Duckblind and he had the gall to try and belay my orders to issue his own. It was absolutely ludicrous. I mean, as a Junior Grade I would never presume to be insubordinate to my Commanding Officer.” Waldorf shook her head as the Bolian arrived with the drinks.

Emily

“We’ll take care of this tomorrow,” Elizabeth told her adjutant as they approached Vandorin’s Bistro. “If I’m even a minute late to this dinner, I’ll never hear the end of it from Commodore Beckett.” The dinner was a rare opportunity for all of the fleet’s admiralty to socialize outside of a briefing room, and Elizabeth didn’t want to disappoint the Chief of Staff considering how much work he put into the conference. With a tug on her uniform, she stepped into the restaurant. The ambiance was a perfect fit for the night: dim lighting, beautiful table settings, and a breathtaking view of the fleet’s starships.

Elizabeth recognized every officer in attendance, although she didn’t have the opportunity to meet some of them in person. Not wasting any time, the woman found a waiter and ordered a glass of Château d'Yquem. While waiting for her drink, she approached Commodore Beckett at the head of the table. “You really outdid yourself this time,” she quietly said to the man as she continued to admire the room.

LadyBlue

Beckett's smile was faint, and faintly supercilious. Still, his incline of the head was genuine in its respect. 'Thank you, Ma'am. I believed an opportunity like this was sufficiently rare it should be treated with all due significance. Who can say when, if ever, we'll get a chance like this again? The least I could do was make sure everyone enjoys a little fine dining before endless, turgid stretches in mess halls. Speaking of...' He straightened, aperitif finished, and raised his voice to be heard over the gentle hubbub. 'Respected colleagues, please. It's splendid to see you all. The first course will be brought out imminently, so if you'd all take your seats.'

He settled down himself, and as the great and good - or at least, the pip-wearing - assumed their seats, staff began their elaborate work of filling glasses with the right drinks, bringing the first course. It was a varied antipasto, offering a selection chosen by Beckett to aim to appeal to the varied tastes of the gathered, light and flavoursome ahead of more heavy courses. But before anyone could reach for the cutlery, the Commodore, in his seat at the head of the table, reached for his glass of freshly-poured wine.

'If I may. I shan't keep you from your food long. It is very much my privilege to see you all here. I owe you thanks for making the time to attend, both at this dinner and at Starbase Bravo. I believe the work we're doing here is laying down fundamental building blocks for the fleet's future; for the Federation's future. Our mission is of the utmost importance to Starfleet. Let us start as we mean to go on, in excellence, and in companionship. So before we begin, I would like to propose a toast.' He lifted his wine glass. 'To the Fourth Fleet.'

As glasses were lifted, Commodore Beckett again gave that faintly supercilious smile and took a sip. 'Please. Enjoy the food.'

David

Linda Stanton watched her husband across the table out of the corner of her eye as she started into the first course. He wasn't a philistine, not by a long shot, but his tastes were relatively simple and fine dining rooms made him uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, enjoyed it. It's not like they'd get many opportunities for that sort of thing being back in the Barzan system, other than similar restaurants on the starbase. Like the atmosphere, Barzan foodstuffs were completely toxic to Humans, so it wasn't likely that they'd be able to indulge in any burgeoning local food scenes like they had on Earth.

It had taken Knox a full two months to make the decision to accept the new assignment. They'd be back on the frontier for at least another few years before retirement. He'd been in charge of Delta Quadrant operations before, but when he'd heard that the fleet would be engaging in exploration in earnest again, it was a hard thing to resist. Stanton was happy enough to oversee Delta Quadrant medical policy, even if that was going to put her much, much closer to the Phage than she'd ever wanted to be. As a couple, they had been lucky that both of them had been able to continue their careers as far as they wanted, while also remaining together for the vast majority of forty years, though she always felt a little self-conscious wearing blue in a room full of red.

JonM

A late arrival to the evening’s festivities, Fleet Admiral Allison Reyes missed most of Commodore Beckett’s welcome speech. She had just enough time to swoop an empty wine glass off the table, still standing, and raise it for the toast. “To the Fourth Fleet!” she repeated back softly before the architect of the night’s festivities bode them all to enjoy the feast.

As Admiral Reyes took her seat, a sommelier approached. “On this fine occasion ma’am, may I offer you a drink to start? An ‘86 Ktarian Merlot perhaps at the recommendation of Commodore Beckett?”

The Admiral thought she spied Beckett steal a glance in her direction. “I’m sure the Merlot is a phenomenal choice,” Reyes replied, in part to the sommelier and in part out of sensitivity to the Fourth Fleet’s Chief of Staff, who she knew had slaved over every detail of this evening. “But I learned long ago to order whatever Elizabeth’s drinking.” She gestured, for the sommelier’s benefit, in the direction of the Deputy Commander of the Fourth Fleet, a comrade in arms who, like Reyes, had fought to see this day arrive, the day when the Fourth Feet would truly reembark on a mission of exploration.

“A glass of the ‘89 Château d'Yquem?”

“Sounds absolutely lovely.” Truthfully though, Reyes had no clue, except that Admiral Wolf’s picks were always good. A chronic workaholic, Reyes had never afforded herself the time to develop a discerning palette. She’d missed far more of these dinners than she’d attended.

The Fourth Fleet’s Command Judge Advocate had no responsibilities during this event, but somehow she’d managed to make herself busy in a dozen other ways. She’d met with foreign dignitaries who’d been invited by Starfleet as a courtesy, connected with numerous colleagues around Osiris Initiative logistics, and even found herself below deck, whiteboarding in a science lab with a group of physicists from Daystrom and Starfleet R&D on how they might adjust the Barzan verteron array to increase the stability of the wormhole. As her glass of wine arrived though, she reminded herself it was time to relax, if only for a few hours for this one night. She loosened her posture, leaned back in her chair, took a sip, and then turned to greet those seated next to her: “A pleasure to see us truly stepping back out into the stars, isn’t it?”

David

“Starfleet Medical’s non-official position on exploration is that it increases our exposures to unknown pathogens, but I don’t toe that line, Admiral,” Commodore Stanton replied, with a grin. “In fact, the only reason my husband and I haven’t bought a literal farm is this idea that we might actually get back to pre-war, pre-synth attack, pre-Romulus Federation values,” she added, with a laugh.

“I’m sure what Commodore Stanton means to say—,” Vice Admiral Knox interrupted, but Stanton waved it off.

“I think the Federation had very good reasons for adopting the policy that it has for the last twelve years, but I’m happy that we’re shifting gears,” she clarified.

JonM

“On our policy that led to a twelve year slumber, I beg to differ that there was any good reason,” Admiral Reyes replied with a tinge of bitterness at what she believed was one of the Federation’s most regrettable choices. “But on our return to the great unknown, you’ll hear no disagreement from me. It’s well past time.” This was a belief she shared with nearly everyone gathered around the banquet table. Each of them had played a part in making the Osiris Initiative reality.

Reyes paused to take a bite of a Rigelian mollusk set on a katterpod puree. Beyond decadent classics, Esterra Vandorin was known for interesting fusions, and this appetizer’s mix of meaty crustacean and smooth root vegetable mash was exactly that.

“So tell me Commodore,” Reyes then continued. “How is it being back in the Barzan system?” Linda had recently left her prestigious role as Assistant Surgeon General to join her husband back on the frontier. A few years earlier, when she’d taken that job, it had been much the opposite, Jonathan leaving his post as a Task Force Commanding Officer to teach at the Academy. Reyes didn’t know how the two did it. The Admiral barely had time for her own career, let alone to find a partner or balance his career with her own.

David

Stanton chuckled. "Well, Barzan II isn't the most hospitable place in the galaxy, but it has its own unique charms so long as you don't take your EV suit off. We're building a hospital planetside to train Barzan doctors and dealing with the atmospherics has been a major test on the engineers, but it's kind of satisfying to have an actual solvable problem in front of me again," she replied. "Working in the Surgeon-General's office is also rewarding, but... I don't think any of us joined Starfleet to want to spend all of our time on Earth."

Tia

"Being in space was, for me, a requirement for me to leave command rank," T'Vrell said, hands folded on the table before her. "While being constantly close to Vulcan would have its advantages, I was born in space, and I have always been most comfortable there. I met my wife in space. Space is more home to me than any world ever could be." She brushed her thumb against the rim of her plate thoughtfully. "I expect you will find me using my offices aboard Dreadnought more than those that have been so kindly provided for me here. Staying still has never precisely agreed with my constitution."

capierno

Bob heard the chimes noting that he should take a seat. He had just gotten his cocktail from the bar and made his way over to the table with the other brass assembled. He could see the table from afar. Shit, he thought. Those chairs were looking mighty close together. For a man of his size he always opted for some extra room, for both his and those around him. It always led to a more pleasant evening, and clean uniforms. He took one of the last open corner seats, so at least he wasn't crowding the person next to him. Before Commodore Beckett began speaking, the staff came around to fill their wine glasses. Amused, Bob took a quick sip of his drink as a sommelier approached, "Red wine, sir?" Bob nodded. "Please."

As they stepped away Bob leaned in to the person sitting next to him and whispered, "Two drinks are always better than one at tables like these." He joked.