Faraday Gray
Posted on Fri Oct 30th, 2026 @ 7:24pm by Captain Rylan Gray
1,199 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
The Invisible Hand
Location: Bridge | USS Faraday
Timeline: MD005 - 0800
"Welcome to the USS Faraday, Sir," the young man said. Dressed in engineering blue, he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, shifting back and forth as he spoke. "Just got her registration number, NCC-72318. We're about through our last inspections." He gaze turned hopeful as he proffered a PADD. "I can run through it all with you if you like?"
"Thank you, Ensign," Rylan said, his English accent, refined in the boarding schools he grew up in, clearly evident; he suppressed a smile though his gray eyes twinkled somewhat at the apparent display of enthusiasm. "I do want to know everything I can about the ship. Perhaps we can schedule a meeting for this afternoon? I just wanted to get a peek before my meeting with Commodore Ward ... and you know how she feels about being kept waiting."
"Indeed, Sir," the ensign said at once, a light blush spreading across his face, because he didn't and they both knew that. "I'll update this with the morning's activities. Say 1300 ... if ... if you're available, that is."
"That would be fine, Ensign," Rylan said. "Thank you." He watched the young man move off and envied him the natural speed. His recovery had taken long enough for him to have lost command of the Thunderbird but finally, just this past week, he'd been fully cleared to return to duty. Healthy again and with the regular workouts his doctor was practically demanding, he was already feeling a return to the spring in his step.
As the ensign moved off to consult with another of the team readying Faraday for departure, Rylan took a long look around the bridge, nodding in satisfaction. With fifteen officers and sixty-five enlisted, many of them in the medical and science disciplines, Faraday was a much smaller vessel than the Akira Class he had formerly commanded and yet, she suited him somehow. She was meant for exploration rather than putting out fires. "We'll get along well," he murmured as he turned and headed back to the turbolift and Starbase 11.
[Commodore Ward's Office, Starbase 11]
Admiral Schofield, the outgoing commanding officer of starbase 11 generated a virtual whirlwind of activity and attention as he started preparations to leave; by contrast, Helena Ward the base's new commanding officer slipped in with barely any fanfare at all. She was slowly assuming the day-to-day activities of running the starbase, as Schofield relinquished his miser's grip one duty at a time, while studying recent reports and getting to know the captains who would be under her direct command.
She was still in a small office, originally intended for the Admiral's yeoman though in reality the poor man hardly ever sat down, and the majority of her gear was being stored until the 'big day'. Privately, she doubted that would happen any time soon and in reality, it didn't matter. The trappings of the job had never mattered to her that much. The work mattered. Always had.
She had made a pot of tea, after having been tutored in the art by the Head Chef, using a tea service that Chef had vowed would cost her an ear if there was even the slightly chip or crack evident upon its return. Schofield, she thought, would gleefully preside over her funeral if the set was shattered and put off his departure for another year. She was smiling at the image the idea presented when she heard her door chime. "Enter," she called out.
Rylan Gray, former commanding officer of the USS Thunderbird, entered the office. He had always been slim and in that, recovery from a slow-acting poison had done him no favors; his expression, sharp gray eyes that spoke of an active intelligence, didn't miss a step as he took in the room and walked up to her desk. "Commodore Ward," he said, "I understand you wanted to see me."
"Yes, I did and please, have a seat, Captain," she gestured toward a small conference table that had been jammed into one corner of the room. "Space is at a premium in here but I've done what I could." She took a seat across from him, one slim hand touching the handle of the teapot. "Fresh-brewed. Would you like a cup?"
"I would, thank you. Splash of milk. No sugar," Rylan answered as he settled into place and watched her prepare his tea and pass it over to him before pouring one for herself (no milk, no sugar). He took a sip, his lighting up at the taste, and nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent."
"Norsgaard is doing well aboard the Thunderbird," Ward said. "I hope you understand that I can't give you that command back."
Rylan nodded, his expression shuttered, as the reality settled in. "I knew that already," he said after a moment, "though hearing you say it, well, it has a weight that it hadn't had before."
"I understand," Ward said, "And I know that Admiral Schofield had mentioned the Sitting Bull as a possibility but I have something else in mind. The USS Faraday. Nova Class. Just finished its shake down cruise and ready to go into service. I'd love for you to take command." She passed over the PADD containing Faraday's mission profile and specifications, as well as a wealth of technical data. "Have a look at this."
Rylan read through the profile, noting stellar and subspace research, planetary surveys, frontier navigation, scientific investigation, and colony assistance. Faraday's principal strengths would be her laboratories, sensors and a specialist crew that could determine, for example, whether navigational hazards were natural or artificial, assess damage to inhabited systems, and provide detailed scientific analysis to ships, like Thunderbird, that were tasked with protection, rescue capacity, and more dangerous investigations.
"Interesting," he said as he set the PADD on the table and picked up his teacup, taking a long sip. "But I have questions."
"Would be disappointed if you didn't," Ward answered. They spent the next ninety minutes talking about the ship, its mission profile, crew assignments and other practical matters as well as as a long discussion about the complexities of commanding a ship filled with scientists. In the end, when the questions became fewer and the conversation slowed, Ward knew she had him. "I think you'd be a good fit," she said, "and I'd like you to accept command. So what do you say, Captain, are you ready to get back to work?"
"More than," Rylan answered. "I accept."
"Good," Ward said. "We'll do the change of command ceremony tomorrow morning and I'll start funneling command staff candidates you're way. If you have any questions, just ask."
Rylan finished his tea, thanked her, and rose smoothly to his feet. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "I'm looking forward to the challenge."
"Dismissed," Ward said, and then, added, "and if you see a terrified petty officer outside, send him in, would you?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Rylan said, chuckling lightly. He left the office and found the petty officer, pacing just outside the door, and gestured for him to enter then went on his way. In command again. Felt good to say that. So very good.
Captain Rylan Gray
(About To be) Commanding Officer
USS Faraday
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