There's Always a Bigger Job

Posted on Mon Apr 28, 2025 @ 7:49pm by Captain Liam Pope
Edited on on Sun Jun 15, 2025 @ 1:05pm

1,008 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: 1. Trouble Brewing
Location: USS Iron Lady
Timeline: MD 4 21:23 Hours

[USS IRON LADY]
[NCC 19932 | SOYUZ CLASS]
[CAPTAIN L. POPE, COMMANDING]

Liam drummed his fingers on the armrest of the command chair. Due to his short stature, he had a tough time using both armrests. Wearing the bomber jacket with the rank of Captain, a Klingon Heavy Rock band t-shirt underneath with a pair of denim jeans showing off his youthful pale skinny legs with his Nike AirMax shoes dangling a couple of inches off the floor as he watched the main viewscreen on tactical mode, displaying a planet's surface. Miranda IV.

Mirada IV was a shithole, Liam's choice of word while debreifing the admilratry, while it was a Class M, it's oxygen atmosphere was extremlty thin that you felt like you was chocking plus it was a desert world with an extremely high humidity so breathing air was impossible to find during the planet's summer. Thankfully for the tactical assault teams from IR (Iron Lady), it was winter but they brought oxygen masks with them.

Liam's orders when taking over the Iron Lady were 1. Stop the Pirate Lady from expanding her territory, and 2. Prevent her from repeating her takeover scheme in the future. IR was a heavily armoured ship but lacking in speed; her crew wasn't Starfleet's best, but he quickly whipped them into shape, his fastest whipping to date. Stopping the Lady from expanding was easy, but making her stop in the future? She needed to be deposed, trouble was, the heirs weren't suited to Starfleet's interests.

It had taken Liam 3 years of extremely hard work, the kid was burned out. He lashed out at his officers and was extremely exhausted to the point he slept while he stood in the turbolifts, and some days, dreading working. Maybe after this, he could rest? Nahh, he knew the admiral would ship him off elsewhere to deal with some other god faken problem only he could solve.

The Australian surfer First Officer tied his strawberry blonde hair into a small manbun as he stepped onto the bridge, buckling his white uniform strap displaying the rank of Lt. He was the son of an admiral and was what society expected, extremely dumb, "Captain," Charlie Wright said in a thick Western Austrilan accent, returning to the ship from the front lines with hopeful news. "The pirates are on the run, the Lady is taking command of the control of frontlines herself."

Liam predicted all outcomes of a battle, this is one he saw. The pirate HQ had anti-transporter tech, something it stole from a dismantled signal outpost. As he watched the viewscreen, the frontlines of Iron Lady vs Pirates, he was going to put an end to the issue. Here and now. "Tactical," Liam cried out to the Vulcan, Ens Luchal, a junior officer, and the only officer in the tactical department who wasn't on the planet. "Load torpedo bay 1, fire onto the planet surface."

The bridge died. Did Liam just order the destruction of all forces? Yes, he did, he knew it. The Lady had a history of faking her death in previous battles with IR, and he was done playing cat and mouse. He repeated the order, with a hint of anger and fury in his voice. The XO tried to reason with Liam; he'd given worse orders, but this was the worst one yet. Liam wasn't listening. The Vulcan fired the torpedo in fear of being reprimanded.

There was a large flash of light on the tactical display on the main viewscreen, then nothing. Every soldier on the battlefield was dead. "Lt Wright, you have the bridge. Begin rescue ops and fire phasers onto their stronghold. Bury it and begin rescue ops there too, I'll be in my office."

I'd been 3 hours since Liam stepped off the bridge. He sat behind his desk, getting shouted at by his CO, Rear Admiral Trik, an Edosian Man who was Acting CO of Starfleet's anti-piracy unit. His job was to make policy on piracy for the whole of Starfleet while advising the UFP President on Galactic militant piracy. "You killed an estimated 78 Starfleet personnel just to ensure the Pirate Lord wouldn't become a Queen?!" He shouted down the comm channel.

"Yes," Liam coolly replied. "I was tasked to dismantle her operations. I did. I was also tasked to remove her from power. I just did. She is extremely intelligent with experience in faking her death. I have taken measures to ensure her death." Yes, he knew what he did was wrong, but after 3 years of trying to stop her, Liam felt like he was drowning while struggling to find solutions to combat her. Now the nightmare was over.

But frankly, he hated Trik's guts and his overreaching, always interfering. "For fuck sake Admiral, if I didn't take the measures I did, she would've inspired her troops, killing ours. They were goddam dead before I ordered that torpedo." All Liam wanted was a goodnight rest, a retirement from Starfleet, heaven knows he needed it.

"You watch your mouth, Captain Pope," Trik ordered, the arm jutting out of his torso pointing a finger directly at the monitor intended for Liam. "...While this wasn't what I wanted but the operation is now complete, you can stand down. Transfer temp command to your XO and stand by for reassignment." The viewscreen flicked off, displaying the UFP logo.

"Re-assigned, great," he muttered with an eyeroll. The thought of giving command to a nitwit sent a shiver up his spine on the overhand. He'd recommended Lt Wright for re-training, but his father shot that down, wielding his influence. At least he got what he wanted, a rest. Maybe it'll take them a month to find a problem they wanted him to solve, but right now. Liam had a bath waiting for him, and just thinking of all the bubbles, toy spaceships, and action figures he was going to play with while in the tub made him all giddy... But before that, he'd needed to brief the nitwit.

Post by:
Capt Liam Pope
Commanding Officer

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