Have baggage, will travel

Posted on Fri Jan 2nd, 2026 @ 12:30pm by Kaelen & Captain Rueben Gregnol

Mission: Shackles
Location: Freeport Station
3219 words - 6.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Gregnol yawned to himself as he looked down the space dock as the last person left the ship from the group they had rescued last month. It was a relief to not have them under his care and be his responsibility any longer as it had been a huge learning curve for him and the Fenris Rangers. They had successfully negotiated everyone to a place where they could get back home and hope they survived with knowing what was out in the wider universe or they could start again in the Federation and learn what the wider universe was about. He turned and stopped surprised to see someone standing next to him.

“I did not hear you join me,” he said to the Denobulan standing next to him. Was he there watching the same scene as him?

The Denobulan looked up at Rueben with a smile that, while genuine, did not fully reach his eyes. "My apologies, Captain Gregnol, I seem to have you at a disadvantage."

He now fully turned to face the Captain and held out his hand in greeting. A deeply human gesture, usually not practiced by Denobulans who tend to reserve physical contact for intimate partners only. "My name is Kaelen. I was one of the many people you corresponded with over the past weeks to secure their future. I had briefly mentioned that I would also be here to see them off, but it must have gotten lost among the more pertinent topics of discussion. It is an old habit of mine that I try to at least see the faces of those whose lives I have impacted. I find it helps to keep oneself grounded."

The man raised an eyebrow, but took the hand he shook it firmly for a moment before letting go. He had worked with many Denobulans over the years, so he was not phased. "I remember I have corresponded with you. I never considered that someone would come all this way," he admitted.

"They were brought all this way and still have not reached their destination. Since I was part of the discussion, I thought it the least I could do," Kaelen replied, glancing thoughtfully toward the docking ring where the last of the Coterie were disappearing.

When he continued, he almost spoke to himself more than Gregnol "To be fair to the Rangers, Captain, complex humanitarian repatriation isn't exactly in their mission statement, They were built to fight tyrants and safeguard the defenseless, not to juggle the bureaucratic nightmare of re-integrating displaced persons from pre-warp societies. It was a blind spot in their operations, one they hadn't considered until they stumbled upon it. As people with more good intentions than foresight tend to do. I was just happy that I could put skill set to use and ensure a favorable outcome for everyone involved. It is rare, these days, that almost everyone walks away satisfied."

Kaelen paused, his expression shifting from reflective to business-like. "However, I must admit, Captain, that my presence here isn't entirely sentimental. I do have an ulterior motive for intercepting you before you depart. If you have a moment, perhaps we could continue this over a beverage? There appears to be a Bolian establishment just over there with some open standing tables. I promise not to take up too much of your shore leave."

Gregnol nodded, his curiosity piqued, and the two men navigated the flow of the transit lounge. The station was a hive of activity—refugees, traders, and travelers all waiting for their connection to somewhere else; to a place more important than here. They found a spot at the small Bolian kiosk, standing at a high metal table off to the side, slightly removed from the commotion of the main concourse.

Once their drinks were ordered—a simple tonic for Kaelen—the Denobulan wasted no time.

"I will get straight to the point, Captain, the Fenris Rangers are doing necessary work, work that Starfleet is either too busy or too bound by protocol to address. But as you saw with the Coterie, their footprint, their impact, is widening. They are encountering situations that cannot be solved by blowing up a supply depot or shooting a warlord. In fact, the likelihood of these complex, non-combat encounters is only going to increase as the rocks they throw at the lake of the galactic political landscape get bigger and cast bigger waves."

He took a sip of his drink. "It was perhaps a stroke of good fortune that I became disillusioned with the Federation when I did. It allowed me to offer my services to the Rangers just when they realized they needed a different kind of weapon."

Kaelen reached into his pocket and produced a small, translucent blue data crystal, sliding it across the table toward Rueben.

Without Gregnol needing to ask, Kaelen offered his explanation "My old personnel file. I served over fifty years in the Federation Diplomatic Corps. I’ve negotiated treaties, settled border disputes, and shaken appendages with species you’ve likely only read about. But I grew weary of the machinery of large organizations. The Federation, Starfleet... they have a tendency to lose the individual in favor of what they consider the 'greater good.' I see things differently now. I am sure a man with your background can verify the contents of that crystal independently."

He watched Rueben pick up the crystal, then continued his pitch. "The Rangers view the Mary Rose as a unique asset. You are technically civilian, yet you operate effectively within their network. You have a flexibility that their standard patrols lack. Because of that, the idea was bounced around that I might join your crew. It would place a dedicated diplomatic specialist directly in the field, shortening the reaction time for situations that require a scalpel rather than a hammer. I wouldn't be part of the chain of command, per se, but an advisor and specialist for when talk is required. Either with whoever we encounter or the Rangers themselves."

Kaelen offered that slightly-too-wide Denobulan smile. "I’ve packed my bags, but the decision is naturally yours, Captain. What do you think?"

The man looked up several times to take in what the Denobulan was offering. He and Kaylin had focused several times on having a liaison in the field out there among them, but that discussion had been shelved a while back, he thought. He would need to have another chat with the Romulan, as she should be approaching him and not just approaching a potential crew member.

“There is nothing per se about my crew. You would be my crew,” Gregnol commented, twirling the crystal in his fingers as the man finished his pitch. “I am quite capable of talking to the Rangers. Kaylin and myself have quite a good relationship,” he reminded with a small smile.

Kaelen listened, his head tilting slightly to the side. He didn't retreat, nor did his smile falter, though the politician's mask slipped just enough to reveal the serious negotiator beneath.

"A valid point, Captain," Kaelen conceded, though he didn't reach for the crystal. "A point I was hoping you’d make. I agree entirely that a man cannot serve two masters, nor can a ship follow two vectors at once. To be candid, the 'advisor outside the chain of command' structure was a last-minute addition by Ranger HQ before my departure—a bit of administrative hedging, I suspect, in case they find my presence aboard your vessel an uncomfortable reminder of their own ideals. If those reporting lines are your point of contention, I will happily relay it back to Command. I am certain we can iron that out.”

"Allow me to be absolutely clear, though: this was never meant to be some ill-worded attempt at undermining your authority over your own vessel, even though my sudden appearance might suggest it. The idea of me joining the Mary Rose had come up at HQ after your run-in with the Coterie, and I personally seized the opportunity to strike while the proverbial iron was hot, because I saw the merit in it. Before others had the opportunity to voice any proper objection. I suspect some people at Command felt a bit perplexed by one of their few diplomatic minds heading out 'into the wild', though that should not concern you. Even vigilantes have political squabbels amongst themselves."

“Every organisation or community does.” Gregnol commented. He was under no illusions in that regard they the Fenris Rangers or Starfleet were different in the squabbles that happened in their ranks. The rangers at least do not hid it, he was fully aware of Indigo and her views of most of the rangers.

Kaelen took a slow sip of his tonic. "But as for the rest... the Rangers are exceptional at overthrowing tyrants. They have the 'shooting the problem between the eyes' part down to a science. But it is the morning after where the trouble usually starts. When the dust settles, and you can't just phaser the resulting power vacuum into submission. Nor can you torpedo a humanitarian crisis, tempting the thought may be."

He gestured vaguely back toward the docking ring. "Take the Coterie. We did a good thing here. We offered those people the one thing they haven't had in ages: a voice in their own destiny. A choice. But then making their choices a reality required coordination, representation of interests, calling in favors, politics. Just as it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a fleet to accomplish a mission. And fleets run on relationships, not just warp plasma and grit."

Gregnol looked amused for a second at the mention of how it took a village to raise a child seeing one of the last passengers to leave had been a child who the crew had taken to raising for the last month until suitable alternatives could be made. “I am aware but how does it concern me and my crew?” He wondered.

Kaelen leaned in slightly. "I've seen your file, Captain—or what's not redacted of it. You strike me as the archetypical lone wolf. You had to be one to accomplish the tasks you were given. But the situation is different now. A single ship, no matter how powerful, no matter how capable the crew, will only ever get you so far. I sensed the frustration in your correspondence during the final stages of the negotiation. The delays, the circular arguments, the re-confirmations. Do you really want to continue to spend your time on that?"

Gregnol did not believe he really spent or wasted time on a lot of negotiations recently. But maybe the Ranger thought differently. “And how does you fit into this?” He wondered thoughtfully looking at the crystal.

He tapped the table near the crystal. "I am not looking to be a mere extra set of hands. I can be a force multiplier. I handle the politics so you can focus your attention on the mission and the ship. Focus on doing the right thing." Kaelen's smile momentarily vanished, his blue-grey eyes clouding over with a painful memory. "And before you think me naive... know that I hold the Rangers to a very high moral standard. Perhaps higher than they hold themselves. I want to ensure they do what is right, not just what is easy or convenient. It is a story for another day, but it is precisely because I want to ensure that 'right' is done that I left my old life behind."

He forced the smile back into place. "And for me, that means being here, close to the situation, not sitting in an office light-years away reading reports about what you did, whenever you actually do find the time to author one."

He leaned back, letting the pitch settle. "So, I’m confident that I can fix the chain of command issues with a call. The question is, do you want the help?"

“I do not believe I have a chain of command issue.” The man said amused by the Denobulan to say the least. He had not met one that had not amused him so far but this one was by far amusing him the most. He was certainly throwing the correct pitch at him. “And if I thought you were here to undermine my chin of command I would be already gone. Your pitch interest me as I hold myself to a very high moral standard more so than Kaylin. I do not believe in shooting first but I do believe in shooting if it is needed.”

Kaelen’s expression softened, taking on a reflective, almost somber quality. "'Need' is a very subjective thing, Captain. One man’s absolute necessity is often another man’s arbitrary whim. I’m sure you only shoot when you think it’s needed—If you shot people for fun, you’d likely be captaining a metaphorical starship in a psych ward instead of the Mary Rose. But the threshold of 'need' is a malleable thing. It can be bent by desperation, or twisted by someone else's agenda until you can't recognize the shape of it anymore. Too often, we are told our duty is to ignore that moral friction for the sake of the mission, but I've found that when duty and conscience collide, it is the soul that bears the brunt of the impact."

“How long were you in Starfleet and how long ago?” The human demanded, picking up the crystal and twirling it in his fingers. He could look at it later, but he wanted to hear from the Denobulan himself. “I’ve been out nearly ten years, despite what the redactions and hearsay might say. Starfleet left me to die with slave traders, which will not be on the file,” he offered as a highlight to why he was doing what he was now.

Kaelen’s gaze didn't waver, but the atmosphere at the small table grew noticeably colder. The jovial diplomat was gone, replaced by a man who looked every bit his ninety-three years; at least by Denobulan standards. When Kaelen replied, his voice low and devoid of its usual melodic lilt. "I was in the Diplomatic Corps for over fifty years, Captain. I spent half a century believing I was the architect of peace. An agent of peace and understanding. I left two years ago. Or rather, I woke up three years ago, took time to deliberate and reflect, then left."

He looked down at his drink, the blue light of the station reflecting in the glass. "The Kaelen I used to be... he would have called your story a fabrication. A bitter tale from a disgruntled officer who was simply overlooked for a promotion. He was very good at rationalizing the 'unfortunate realities' of the frontier." He looked back up at Gregnol, his eyes dark. "But the man sitting here now? I find Starfleet quite capable of leaving someone to rot—or worse—if it serves a greater convenience. I have learned that they are experts at the 'quiet' casualty and rationalizing it away because it serves some greater good du jour."

He let out a short, hollow breath. "The sale's pitch is over, Captain. I am here because I spent decades thinking I was doing 'good,' only to find out I was just the wrapping paper on a very ugly gift. I’ve reached a point where I’m terrified of how much damage I might have done while I thought I was being a force for good."

“Good because I am not a salesman.” The human commented dryly.

Kaelen looked toward the docking ring, where the station's security was patrolling with visible authority. "People call the Rangers simple. They call them blunt, or violent. But there is a certain beauty in that simplicity. Taking out a bad guy to protect the exploited... there's no hidden agenda there. No 'simulation protocols' or strategic sacrifices. Just a choice to be better than the universe expects you to be for somebody else’s benefit. And I want that to be their identity. To be their guiding principle."

Gregnol resisted the urge to snort at the poetic truth of what the man was saying. Who was he to stop the man’s words and truths coming out. Everyone eventually came to realisations like that. You either stopped the problems or became the problems.

Kaelen turned back to Gregnol, his expression a mix of resolve and a deeper, more private conflict. "Perhaps it is selfish, Captain, searching for my own clarity in the wake of other people's ruined lives. Finding my own peace of mind while helping others pick through the ashes of theirs. But I am tired of guessing. I want to be close to the work. I want to see the faces of the people we're affecting, so I never have to wonder again if I'm just another lie in a report. I want to do good for the people who were wronged, simply because they were wronged—not because it serves a strategic pivot."

“Welcome to the simple side of life then I guess.” Gregnol commented as he tossed back the data crystal. “I make my own decisions without the need for that especially if you have been working with my friends to fix the problem we have had for the last few weeks” He was relieved it was fixed before they needed more fingers in the pie . “Whilst I make it clear this is my ship and my crew. So if want to right the wrongs and be close to the work then join me.” The man looked at the waiter and indicated he was ready to pay the bill.

Kaelen caught the data crystal, the weight of it—symbolizing his past, his service, his shame—felt different now. He watched Gregnol signal for the check, but Kaelen was already reaching for his own credit-chip, a small movement of his wrist stopping the waiter's progress toward the Captain.

"One of the few consideration Ranger HQ provides, Captain. They insist on facilitating 'pre-deployment consultations.' It would be a shame to waste their generosity, lest they completely forget about the notion of hospitality," Kaelen said, his voice regaining a hint of warmth. As he settled the account, a genuine sense of relief washed over him—not the giddy high of a successful negotiation, but a quiet, heavy settling of the spirit. He had a place on the Mary Rose. He had a purpose. Now all Kaelen had to do was to actually make it work.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Captain," Kaelen said, standing up and smoothing out his jacket. The veneer of the diplomat wasn't entirely gone—it was too ingrained to ever truly disappear—but for the first time in a long time, the Denobulan underneath it felt like he was standing on solid ground. "I believe you'll find I'm quite good at the 'simple' side of things when the alternative is another lifetime of lies. I'll get my luggage aboard the Mary Rose immediately. I look forward to what we can accomplish together."

He offered a short, respectful nod, his wide Denobulan smile returning, though this time, it felt a little less like a shield.