Three Weeks to Kannok

Posted on Thu Jul 31st, 2025 @ 3:22pm by Captain T’Kal & Alaric Fenner
Edited on on Thu Oct 9th, 2025 @ 7:52pm

1,459 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: ARYL 1X04: All the Friends We Can Get
Timeline: SD 8959.5 (5 August 2290, 21:30)

While on course for Station Delta 4, Captain T’Kal was looking over the profiles for the next few stops along their journey. With the help of Starfleet Command, she had established a list of destinations where the Ark Royal could best contribute to interstellar peace.

An efficient use of limited resources.

But perhaps the resources need not be so limited. If what Admiral Cartwright had said was true, she should be able to secure additional personnel for her mission. Surely. Something cannot be a priority but also be done with austerity.

The Drenkul Republic. At the very terminus of the Neutral Zone. Indeed, their space defined the end of it. A nation which held jurisdiction over a corridor of space between the Federation and the Klingon Empire.

It also meant that the Drenkul probably had listening posts far closer to the Klingon border than the Federation had. Even if they weren’t as good (and maybe they were actually quite advanced; T’Kal wasn’t sure one way or the other, and knew better than to assume based on biases of Federation technological advancement that theirs must be better than the smaller nation’s), the proximity might be enough to make a difference.

So why not see about engaging the Drenkul? Maybe they could trade?

And why not leverage those experts that T’Kal knew quite well?

Late in the evening, she asked Jin-Ah to establish a secure channel with the Federation Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Namely, the home office of one Alaric Fenner.

The man who answered had, in this light at least, sharp grey-blue eyes and sharply defined features. The background didn’t show Earth, but a high, sunlit view of the Martian landscape...terraformed slopes behind museum-clean glass. The room was spare: neutral walls, a desk with only two visible objects: a closed notebook and a ceramic mug. Both precise. Both placed exactly.

He looked into the transmission feed with the kind of measured attention that felt less like welcome and more like assessment. “Captain T’Kal,” he said, voice calm and clear, without preamble. “The message said it would be you.”

There was no smile, but something behind his eyes shifted, a flicker of alertness, a faint narrowing of focus. A mental note being filed. There was a slight pull at his mouth, the suggestion of a smile, perhaps, but it faded quickly. Composure settled back into place. It was the calm of a man accustomed to working across species. Accustomed to adjusting.

And just now, he adjusted to the Vulcan Captain on his screen.

"Mister Fenner," T'Kal said, acknowledging his greeting with a nod. "Apologies for contacting you this late but this has been my first opportunity to reach out. You have read the reporting on the Drenkul Republic, as I requested." Not a question. A statement of fact.

“I have,” Alaric said: unnecessary confirmation, perhaps, but clarity mattered on secure channels. “The Drenkul Republic is...structurally democratic, emotionally brittle, and governed by a patchwork of local autocrats held together by mutual caution.” He folded his hands on the desk, posture measured. The curl at his lips wasn’t quite a smile, more the suggestion of one. “I did notice the initiating context has been redacted. Which usually means it’s either politically delicate or someone edited in a hurry. Possibly both.”

T'Kal arched an eyebrow. "Likely both," she agreed. Years in the ministry, she understood where those reports came from, and how staff from across disparate branches had to input. Revise. Soften. It would do no good for some Starfleet hotshot to spoil years of negotiations by doing something politically insensitive.

"As for the context, in approximately three weeks I intend to visit the Drenkul frontier world of Kannok," she explained. "While there, I will need to meet with representatives from the Republic's federal level to begin the process of enhancing political-military cooperation." She chose her words carefully. She was not there to sign some grand treaty. These were opening moves. Shows of good faith and expressions of what was needed and what could be offered. It would not be her doing the bulk of negotiation. She knew her place. "We worked together on seven separate occasions during my tenure in Starfleet Command. In each case, your expertise and professionalism directly contributed to positive outcomes. I have concluded that your assistance would be most valuable to my mission in Sector 262."

He watched her, the only real sign of reaction a slight tightening between his brows...thought, not resistance. “I’m what’s politely referred to as a free agent these days, Captain,” he said, tone even. “An independent consultant, aligned with whoever retains my services. So.” There was a pause, not defensive, just deliberate. Consideration, not concession. Then he met her eyes fully, and a small smile surfaced. It didn’t quite reach his mouth, but it lit something in his gaze. “Is this a job offer, T’Kal?”

She saw it. That slight shift in energy. That flicker that said 'I want in'.

"It is. And indeed, your status as a 'free agent', as you say, makes you all the more useful. The full benefit of your years of education and experience, without being hampered by other managerial pressures." Something shifted in her own eyes. That slight bit of playfulness that sometimes snuck out. "Also, this technically does not constitute poaching from my former colleagues and friends at the Ministry."

She leaned forward, that brief spark having vanished and would be denied if attested to. "My quartermaster will arrange travel for you to Kannok. I intend to arrive on Stardate 8966.3. You are tasked with arranging a conference between myself and the appropriate Drenkul officials for the talks I described. When the conference ends, you will find yourself in a warrant position on my crew under the Communications department, as a political and foreign affairs advisor." As before, this was not a question. It was a statement of fact. Fenner was no Vulcan but nevertheless the Captain found him to be on her wavelength most of the time. Including now.

Alaric held her gaze through the screen. Weighed her words. Their implications. It would mean a return to Starfleet. Technically not as an officer, but aboard a Starfleet vessel. No rank. But a position. Presence. Purpose.

He recognised one thing, though.

She still knew him.

No gamble. No uncertainty. She knew he’d say yes.

Damn her.

A slow exhale escaped: dry, almost amused. “Just as well,” he said lightly, “I’ve been wondering how to escape my family for a few months.” A nod followed, deliberate. Sealing the deal. Committing himself to it, to her. “You have your political advisor, Captain.”

"Very good." And it was. She had what she needed. Who she needed. "You will receive your travel itinerary tomorrow. Safe travels, and I shall see you on Kannok." She reached her hand toward the switch to close the circuit but stopped.

She briefly considered saying something...welcoming? I look forward to working with you. It has been too long. For a Vulcan, she was generally friendly. Such pleasantries were not uncommon for her. But here it felt...forced? Their dynamic had never been one of unnecessary words. The necessary ones were always enough.

Then the right words came to her. Something to communicate some of her priorities, and perhaps ending on a positive note. Necessary words.

"While there, please do me a kindness and find some shore leave options for my crew. We have not been in space long, but they have been working hard. They deserve it."

He raised a singular eyebrow, his eyes softening a little at the edges. At the way she said it. "Very well," he said, his voice making the commitment. He could come up with a list. Some of them even acceptable for people. And then he added, "and somewhere with a sunset worth meditating to?"

"That..." T'Kal considered, "would be most welcome yes." She nodded to his image on the screen. "Welcome to the crew of the Ark Royal, Mister Fenner. We shall see you in three weeks."

The words landed oddly in Alaric's chest. Being part of a crew, even in civilian garb. But he inclined his head to her, a quiet farewell. "Three weeks," he acknowledged. And the screen went dark, the image of T'Kal's face replaced with the logo of the United Federation of Planets. He turned it off completely and sat back, reached for his cup of tea.

Held it.

And let the conversation reflect in his mind.

END

Captain T'Kal
Commanding Officer, USS Ark Royal

Alaric Fenner
Diplomatic Advisor, USS Ark Royal

 

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