Chapter Two: Isn't It The PRIME Directive?

 "We're still about three hours out, Sir, if you want to head into the back. It's not OFFICIALLY the Captain's Yacht until we dock."

Syndella "Syn" Starr allowed her attention to be pulled from the quavering, warping star-field streaking at the runabout to look toward the pilot to her right. Starfleet protocol, as progressive as it was, still hadn't gotten past the use of "Sir" to address a superior officer.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but I'm fine up here," Lt. Starr said with a smile. 

The statement was, at least, partially true. This was important, since the pilot, one Lieutenant Junior Grade Alinn Song, was clearly Betazoid, and Syn wanted her to remain at ease. Stressing out one's pilot was NEVER a wise idea.

The full truth, though, was Starr was tense. She had been in Starfleet for a few years, but, to this day, she was not comfortable being a PASSENGER, especially in a smaller craft. It took a good portion of Syn's self-restraint to not strike Lt. Song in her clearly vulnerable temple to knock her unconscious and take the controls from her.

It wasn't a statement against Song's abilities. Far from it. Alinn Song seemed almost a part of the ship as it slide along its flight path toward Risa. Syn Starr, however, just did NOT like someone else at the controls.

But, best, she though, to try and keep her at ease.

"This is your first assignment, isn't it, Lieutenant?" Syn asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Sir. I just graduated last month. My flight instructor recommended me for this posting. I can't believe I'm a senior bridge officer straight out of the Academy. It's exciting!" 

Song was only 26 years old, though she displayed the enthusiasm of a much younger woman. A part of Syn's mind told her to try and make her nervous.

"Especially," Syn began, mentally smiling, "given our assignment is at the far reaches of the Gamma Quadrant. A bit like the wild west out there." 

Syn felt the sudden chill run along Song's thoughts before Song broke her instinctual telepathic connection.

It was a little mean, Syn would admit, but, it's always good to keep people a LITTLE off balance when one can. Of course, one COULD take that too far. That, likely, almost landed her in the brig two days back.

It wasn't really something Lt. Starr had been PROUD of, but, frankly, everything about the situation that day had annoyed her.

In her four years with Starfleet, Syn Starr had a reputation as one of the most effective tactical and security officers in the service, possibly history. Syn had been raised in Starfleet from birth, her mother and grandfather had both served as senior tac officers, her great grandmother had served as a MACO and the life Syn had been born into was all tactical all the time. As such, she had developed an instinctual sense of people's vulnerabilities and how to exploit them. 

That reputation had given Syn her choice of assignment. When she heard about the opening on The Pendragon, she leaped at it.That was what landed her in Admiral Janeway's office on Earth...

That was... Not Syn's best day.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," Admiral Janeway said,her voice friendly, but with a slight commanding tone. Not unpleasant. Not angry. More "maternal" than anything else. That immediately set Syn's teeth on edge.

"Thank you, Sir," Syn said, taking a seat. Janeway's dislike of the protocol regarding senior officers and the means of address was public knowledge. Starr, therefore, felt the need to call the Admiral "Sir".

"Lieutenant, I know it's protocol to call superior officer's 'Sir', but I prefer 'Admiral',or 'Ma'am' in pinch."

"Yes, Sir." Syn replied, concealing her enjoyment of the Admiral's discomfort.

Admiral Janeway was someone Syn knew well by reputation and history, and, honestly, Syn was less than impressed.

It's well known that Admiral Kathryn Janeway managed to merge what was left of her crew on Voyager and a rag-tag bunch of Maquis terrorists into a functioning crew aboard Voyager, stranded some 80 years from Federation space, and that she, somehow, managed to get the ship and most of those surviving crew members home, but what WASN'T as well known, or at least well acknowledged, was how all of this came to be.

Having read through the history, Syn had determined that then Captain Janeway was trapped in the Delta quadrant because of the first of her DOZENS of blatant violations of the Prime Directive and, eventually, even the TEMPORAL Prime Directive. She, as far as Syn was concerned, needlessly placed her crew in jeopardy repeatedly, endangered any potential diplomatic futures for the Federation and, frankly, SHOULD have been immediately court-martialed upon return to Federation space. Voyager's return, however, was on the heels of the end of a vicious and costly war with the Dominion, one with the Klingons, several skirmishes with the Borg. As far as Syn could tell, the desire for some non-war related good news caused the Federation Council to insist that Starfleet forego the court-martial and, instead, promote Janeway to an Admiralty position, out of the way...

Mind you, Janeway's ACTUAL position proved that theory incorrect, but, still, it was Syn's opinion. Being a mere Lieutenant, and a mere CHILD at the time the decision was made, it really wasn't up to Syn.

It was, however, nearly impossible for Lieutenant Syndella Starr to fully hide her contempt for Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway, so, she'd needle the Admiral however she could.

Janeway sighed, being unable to actually fight Syn's use of "Sir", since it didn't violate regulations.

"I received your request for the Senior Tactical post aboard The Pendragon. Your record is exemplary. Given your family history, that's not surprising, of course. I wanted to touch base with you about the needs of the position, though. For now, Pendragon's ship security team is rolled into the Tactical team. While your record is impeccable, I do have some reservations about your ability to perform double duty like this so early in your career, Lieutenant..."

"If I may speak, Sir?"

Janeway nodded with visible, though slight irritation.

"I hold commendations from each of my previous department heads and commanders. I still hold the current sharp-shooting record from the Academy and I have never had a dis-commendation on my record. I am aware I have a reputation for the highest regard for Starfleet regulations and..." Syn cleared her throat pointedly, "directives. I am, in every measurable way, the perfect candidate for this posting. Beyond that, I served as Second Tactical Officer on the Ranger during the battle over Khitomer, earning the Silver Cross. With all due respect... Sir... There is no better officer in the service to hold this posting."

Janeway held her stare at the young Tactical officer in front of her, an almost imperceptible twitch playing the corner of her mouth.

"Lieutenant, I'll be frank: I am still not sure about you on this post. I don't think, were it up to me, I'd approve this transfer, but... Captain D'arko received your request for transfer and signed off his approval. I make it my policy not to contradict any ship's Captain on their duty rosters. At 0700 tomorrow, I want you to report to the main shuttle bay on Earth Spacedock and meet Lieutenant Junior Grade Song to board a runabout bound for rendezvous at Risa with the Pendragon to begin your assignment. Dismissed."