The Captain's Yacht
Posted on 10 Nov 2025 @ 1:22am by Captain Bane Plase
1,193 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Shakedown
Location: Deck 16, Captain's Yacht
ON:
After the extensive repairs and upgrades to the USS Cygnus, the ship gleamed with renewed life. Fresh hull plating reinforced the decades-old frame, the warp nacelles thrummed with refined power, and mission systems had been upgraded to cutting-edge Starfleet standards. The ship carried its long history with renewed vigor, a fusion of legacy and innovation.
Captain Bane made his way from Main Engineering to Deck 16, where the docking port for the Captain’s Yacht awaited.
Captain Bane stepped fully into the Captain’s Yacht, letting the hatch close behind him. Immediately, the quiet hum of the ship enveloped him, a stark contrast to the muted mechanical heartbeat of the Cygnus. The main deck was dominated by the cockpit and navigation array, but beyond the polished consoles, there was a deliberate warmth in the space. The panoramic viewport stretched overhead, giving him a sweeping view of the stars, and he found himself instinctively imagining charting courses through uncharted sectors. Even as a seasoned officer, the sleek elegance of the yacht stirred a restrained thrill within him, a subtle luxury in a life accustomed to the utilitarian confines of starships.
Across from the helm, a small lounge invited quiet reflection. Plush chairs, upholstered in dark, woven fabric, faced a low table carved from polished duranium, its grain patterned to evoke the rolling hills of Bajor. On one corner rested a replicated bonsai tree, a miniature homage to his homeworld’s landscapes, while on the other, a stack of personal logs and mission records reminded him of the decades he had served. Among them were detailed accounts of the T’Kar Relief Operation, where he coordinated the evacuation of a war-torn colony; the Rylos Sector Rescue, a daring shuttle mission through an uncharted asteroid field to recover a stranded research team; and the Shinan Dispute Mediation, a diplomatic assignment that required delicate negotiation to prevent interstellar conflict. A more personal and recent volume recounted the Antioch III Plague Response, a mission that tested his leadership under the most harrowing conditions, one that had shaped his understanding of responsibility and consequence. Bane allowed himself a brief smile as he ran a hand across the table. The lounge was not ostentatious, yet the subtle opulence of the materials and design whispered of personal indulgence—the kind of luxury he had rarely allowed himself in decades of command.
A corridor led aft to the private quarters, compact yet meticulously arranged. His bunk, modest but well-cushioned, sat opposite a wall of storage and personal memorabilia. A collection of Bajoran crystal vases rested on a shelf, each etched with symbols of resilience and hope. Beside them, a small framed painting of the Bajoran moon Derna, which brought memories of quiet nights on Bajor, watching the five moons of Bajor chase each other across the night sky. Bane felt a pang of nostalgia. These items were silent companions to his life of service, reminders that even amid the vastness of space, there were anchors to home, heritage, and personal identity.
The lower deck held a small but fully functional galley and dining area. The replicator system had been upgraded, capable of producing any meal he desired, yet Bane gravitated toward simple, replicated dishes reminiscent of Bajoran cuisine—mok’bara stew or spiced root vegetables. He poured himself a cup of tea and sat at the dining table, staring through the viewport as stars streaked past. There was a quiet satisfaction in knowing he could enjoy these small indulgences while alone, unobserved, the galaxy spread before him like a canvas waiting for his decisions. Even in isolation, he felt the muted thrill of having a space that reflected not just his command but his taste, his history, and his comforts.
Adjacent to the galley, a small personal library offered volumes he had collected over the years: tactical manuals, Bajoran literature, and rare historical texts from Starfleet archives. He ran a finger along the spine of The History of Bajoran Resistance, remembering his parents’ stories of survival and leadership. Mixed among the books were small trinkets from previous missions, from a worn navigation console button salvaged from the U.S.S. Pegasus D to a tiny model of the first shuttle he had piloted. Bane allowed himself a faint smirk at the absurdity of cataloging these relics, yet he understood the necessity. They were tactile reminders of a life fully lived, each object a chapter in a long and storied career.
The upper deck was devoted to a private observation room and small meditation space. A curved viewport stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a nearly panoramic view of space, while a few cushions and a low platform invited quiet contemplation. Here, Bane could watch nebulae swirl and distant stars burn with impassive grandeur, his thoughts drifting from tactical considerations to personal reflection. A small holo-projector played scenes of Bajor’s rivers and plains, giving him a sense of presence on a world light-years away. He felt a restrained thrill at the juxtaposition: commanding a vessel at the frontier of space while being able to feel the quiet solace of home simultaneously.
In a private alcove near the observation room, Bane saw someone had arranged his shadow box of ranks from Ensign to Captain, awards, medals, and decorations. Each item was meticulously polished and carefully displayed, from Starfleet commendations to a Bajoran Provisional Government Medal. Surrounding the shadow box were smaller personal tokens: a carved wooden Pagh, a holo-photo of his Resistance cell, and miniature models of every ship he had commanded. He picked up each. First was the Akira-class U.S.S. Pegasus D. He had origanlly taken command of that ship when Captain Montgomery had taken sabbatical. It became official when the Captain unexpectedly decided to retire from Starfleet. He sat it down and picked up the next, the Nova-class U.S.S. Bloembergen, followed by the Sentinel-class U.S.S. Sentinel and finally the ship he was on now, the Nebula-class U.S.S. Cygnus. He lingered over the display, feeling the quiet pride of decades of service. The yacht’s design had afforded him more than just luxury—it had allowed him to curate a space that honored both his heritage and his accomplishments, a subtle indulgence that required no applause, only his own recognition.
Finally, he explored the small engineering bay tucked beneath the main deck, compact but efficient. Systems mirrored those of the Cygnus, though scaled for one, allowing him to manage propulsion, shields, and life support personally. Even here, he had left personal touches: a small charm of the Bajoran sun painted on the bulkhead, a token of luck for journeys into the unknown. Sitting at the auxiliary console, he felt the low hum of the engines reverberate through the deck, a quiet thrill in knowing that this vessel, though smaller than the Cygnus, offered autonomy and control. In this private yacht, Bane recognized a rare freedom, the luxury of solitude, the ability to navigate both the galaxy and his own thoughts in complete independence.
OFF
Bane Plase, Captain
USS Cygnus, Commanding
RSS Feed