Drift and Anchor, Part 1

Posted on Thu Jul 17th, 2025 @ 11:55pm by Captain Remy Johansen & Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil

1,425 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Main Bridge, Deck 1
Timeline: MD 06, 1130 Hours

Jean-Baptiste stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Astrea. His meandered over the constellation of lights from the blinking consoles as if they were distant stars. Officers were milling around, relaxed but vigilant. Perhaps the proximity to Barisa Prime was the reason for the unusual lightness, and nobody could blame them that.

His eyes drifted to the door to the Captain's Ready Room. Walking through that door meant he would officially be joining the Astrea, and subjecting himself to an inspection by her commanding officer.

So who was Remy Johansen? JB recalled her name appearing on very few intelligence reports, and what he knew of her was scant: she was considered one of the straightest shooters currently occupying a command chair. And that could spell good news or bad news for an ex-Intelligence analyst like him.

He paused at the ready room door, rolling his shoulders to loosen the last bit of tension that seemed to hide itself there.

He tapped the chime with two fingers.

When the door opened, he crossed the threshold with the sure gait of a someone who had finally turned a page in his life.

He saw Captain Johansen standing there, steady as a mooring line in a morning fog. Her red hair, cut to frame her face, gave her an almost tender look--though nothing about her suggested softness where it counted. She wasn't tall; no one would say that. But the way her uniform lay against her shoulders and arms spoke of strength kept close. The kind earned in heavy packs and hard miles.

"Lieutenant Dorsainvil, I'm sorry about the delay in catching up to you. But, I've heard you found a way to keep yourself busy." Remy stepped forward and extended her hand in greeting. "Welcome to Astrea, finally. Can I get you something to drink?"

Jean-Baptiste accepted her hand with a firm and practiced clasp, but there was also warmth in it--almost grateful, as if he were shaking the hand of an old friend he'd just remembered.

"Thank you, Captain," he said, his words landing smoothly.

He glanced once around the ready room, seeing touches of her personality displayed across nearly every wall: dustless bookshelves containing actual books in their original bindings, a vintage recruitment poster for Starfleet with a beautiful brunette carrying a resolute expression and crossed arms. It felt like a place someone actually lived, rather than just occupied.

"I'm fine, ma'am. Thank you," he answered.

"Please have a seat then," she said warmly gesturing toward her guest chairs.

"So, this is your first assignment aboard a starship. How are you feeling about that?" She asked the question casually as she walked around her desk, taking a seat in her own chair. She picked up a short, thermal mug shaped in the fashion of a regular coffee mug and took a careful drink, and held the mug in her hands as she listened to the Lieutenant's answer.

He settled into the chair across from her, easing himself back as though he'd finally found the right best spot to relax on the ship.

"Feels good," he said plainly, though a quiet charge tickled behind the words. "As though you've been looking at the same shoreline from afar and you finally decide to put your feet in the water."

He let his eyes drift for a long moment--over the books, the poster, the small plant in the far corner. He wondered if they were tiny markers of the Captain's inner compass.

Remy put the cup down on the desk. She nodded, a slow, subtle movement. "And what do you know about how you ended up here? On my ship?" She asked. It was neither a test, nor a challenge, but curiosity. His analytical skills were renowned, and the make up of her senior staff peculiar. She was wondering what he'd been told, and what he'd managed to put together.

"I know the how," he replied, lowering his eyes to Remy's mug. "I don't know the why." His gaze drifted to the poster on the wall and he considered the woman at the center. Her defiant posture, her folded arms, her look of impossible resolve. Framed by words meant to induce patriotism, curiosity, and virtue. Words that now rang hollow to him. And oh how he wished for them to once again mean more to him.

"Captain," he went on, his eyes meeting hers with a firm and exacting look, "I'm here because no one else would stand up to him. But after four years in Intelligence, I can tell you with brutal honesty that I would rather scrub deuterium tanks for the rest of my career than spend another day gambling with the lives of innocents just so the stars might align more perfectly for some powerful individuals."

He realized he had been more candid than he'd have preferred--an uncharacteristic moment for him.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," JB said, looking away. "I spoke out of line."

Remy grinned. "Not at all, Lieutenant. I like that. As long as you remember when and where you are, a sharp tongue and complete candor is sometimes exactly what is called for."

She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes meeting his with sincerity. "And, if you haven't noticed, you aren't here to scrub deuterium tanks. You're here in a supervisory role, with potential for a senior staff position," she pointed out. "And yes, it is exactly who you stood up to that landed you here, and in such a position."

Jean-Baptiste held her gaze for a moment. He sat back a little, but it was not in retreat--more like a man who had been finally allowed to set down a heavy load. His hands now rested on his thighs, fingers lightly curled.

"Then I suppose," he said, his voice low, "I owe you my thanks, Captain. Not just for the post... but for seeing me as more than the sum of my worst day."

Remy sat back as well, and there was a kindness in her eyes as she regarded the young officer, empathy really. He was walking a path she had found herself in not all that long ago.

"Well, to be honest, three weeks ago I didn't know who you were," she confessed. "But, I've been learning."

"It's becoming more and more apparent that Starfleet is in a dark hour. I found out a few years ago that some started noticing the signs while we were still helping with the Romulan evacuations. I think the rest of us began to sense something after the synth attacks. They seemed to be such a catalyst for radical change..." The Captain clearly was leaving more unsaid. The unspoken theories, rumors, and even knowledge filling the room.

"The only person on my senior staff I didn't hand pick is in the Diplomatic Division - Ryan Keel." Remy stood up, picking up her cup and walking casually toward the replicator as she continued talking.

"And he's new. I'm still getting to know him. Oh, and the Akadian exchange officer was given a seat at the table as well, but that's politics. Are you sure I can't get you anything? Tea, lemonade?"

"You know... tea would be fine, thank you," he said, beginning to feel more comfortable with his new captain.

He glanced again at the recruitment poster. That woman--arms folded, eyes ahead--felt less like an invitation to glory now, and more like a tacit dare to stay upright when the current turned. He could almost hear his father's voice: Kanpe wo Jean-Baptiste. Mond lan pral eseye pliye ou an mwatye; pa kite sa rive. ("Stand tall, Jean-Baptiste. The world will try to fold you in half; don’t let it.")

"Of course. Hot, iced? Chamomile, Earl Grey? What do you like? I like mate in the afternoon with a little milk and honey, but not everyone's into the earthy flavors."

JB smiled at Remy. "I'll take a mate as well, Captain. Milk and honey, please."

"Anyway, as I was saying," Remy continued as she walked back toward her desk with their beverages. "There's clearly a faction. Orders that don't make sense. Starfleet officers ordered to let people die, or worse. This isn't the Starfleet I joined, and I've been building a place here where we can find our way again."

She carefully handed him his tea in a thermal mug similar to the one she'd been drinking out of before turning the corner around her desk.

~tbc~

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