Admiral Camilla Etrusha's ready room was stark, minimalist. She hadn't bothered to personalize it much, beyond the stereotypical models of past vessels of infamy both in the wet navy and black navy alike; the Nimitz, the Enterprise, the Yorktown all featured prominently as the usual recycled aliases. A single, antique bobblehead was her only nod towards personalization, that of a husky, smiling man with wavy black hair and checkered overalls raising high a single hand held palm upward. She often wondered about the antique, dating to before World War three. The words "Big Boy" had once been written on the plain white shirt- what little of it was visible past the red and white checks of the overall suspenders- but very little of the black paint remained. She'd restored the bobble spring and the inner frame but she had quite deliberately not altered or touched up the surface paint, well preserved as it had been. Its weathered look was part of its charm, after all. Anyone could have replicated a fresh version of it with crisp, perfect paint and detailing, but its scratches, wear, and chipping were unique. Told the tale of the centuries it had existed. No, the only exterior touch she'd added was a polymer sealant to prevent it from further incidental damage. Preserved, as it were, in its unique state, an artifact of lost cultural significance for some niche thing or other.
Right now, she was in no mood to contemplate her ancient bobblehead; at the moment she was mulling over the subspace communique from the USS Olympus, the centerpiece of Taskforce 1909, which had been dispatched to respond to a distress call from a colony on the rimward edges of the Federation, on a marginally habitable class L world called Fafnir. The colony had come under attack by Tholians, and while the attackers had left, the colony was virtually destroyed. Some eight thousand or so survivors had escaped to the cavernous mountains, and requested evacuation, as the native plant life was indigestible for humans, and their current supplies would hold for less than a week even with strict rationing. The dispatch had seemed straight forward, if demanding: the Olympus was a Jupiter class carrier, and backed up by a Presidio class battlecruiser and a Dakota heavy cruiser. The plan had been simple: High tonnage and lots of spare room, with enough shuttles and delta flyers to evacuate the refugees rapidly despite the ionized atmosphere that would prevent the use of transporters. It was during the third shuttle deployment, with the majority of the task force's small craft in atmosphere, when the Tholians returned. Left without their fighter screens and with no rapid maneuvering vessels to cover their flanks, the taskforce had taken a severe beating and been forced to retreat to the outer system, after which the Tholians proceeded to decimate the refugee loaded shuttles attempting to return to orbit and then orbital bombarding the mountain range they'd been picking up passengers from. The taskforce was limping back to core Federation space with severe damage, almost total shuttlecraft loss, and seven hundred colony survivors, the majority of which were the most critically injured. In retrospect, Camilla knew she should have posted a more nimble escort vessel rather than the heavy destroyer or perhaps the Presidio- but then there would have been a further shortage of either shuttles or space for the refugees. No perfect answer, but plenty of responsibility for the fallen. The option, of course, remained to send a fourth vessel, but with the Federation fleet spread thin across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, the aftermath of the Klingon Civil War still leaving large swathes of klingon space in turmoil, and the ever present threats of a dozen other hostile or intractable species, even three vessels for this minor colony had felt like a painful investment.
Her musings were interrupted by a request for admittance, and Admiral Etrusha looked up from her desk at the sound of the chime. "Enter."
The door whispered open, and a lanky, unfamiliar human in gold with a lieutenant's pip on his collar walked in, carrying a few more PADDs than strictly wise for anyone with fewer than four arms. His brown, short cut hair was mildly disheveled, although it seemed to be a congenital disorder rather than any neglectful grooming on his part, given the slight stiffness of carefully but ineffectually applied hair gel. He stopped several steps in, barely keeping hold of one of the PADDs, and looked at her expectantly.
"Yes?" she asked impatiently, wishing the mild discomfort behind her eyes would either go away or progress into a full headache, rather than this nebulous, half unpleasantness she was enduring.
"... Admiral, the briefing? On my design?" he responded. "Seventeen hundred?"
Admiral Etrusha blinked once, trying to remember, then- right. Merrick Kuiper. Lieutenant in charge of ship development. The briefing on his design team's new ship. Was it seventeen hundred already? A quick glance at the corner of her terminal display indicated past the LCARS layout that yes, in fact, it WAS seventeen hundred and one hours. "Damn it all. My apologies, Lieutenant Commander Kuiper, I lost track of the time. There's always more to be done than time to do it in. Please, proceed."
"Of course, Admiral! What we of the design team have done is return to basics. It's been demonstrated that while battlecarriers are capable jack-of-all trades vessels, flight deck operations and vessels are best served as dedicated fighter bases. To this end, we've put forth the Osiris class dedicated carrier..."
What followed was a somewhat dry technical run down, along with construction cost projections, expected mission profiles, and onboard facilities. It was really more of a light mobile station than a conventional starship, with onboard replication facilities and repair bays, docking for subcapital sized ships like frigates, configurable for commensurately more smaller fighter craft. And despite its slightly smaller size than the Jupiter, it could carry fifty percent more combat small craft. Of course, it paid for this by being more lightly armed than the typical carrier that Starfleet fielded, which made her a little wary. On the other hand, its onboard craft were supposed to be its teeth, and could project power considerably farther than regular ship mount weapons could. Given an adequate set of engines, it could probably expect to outpace opposition long enough to wear them down with repeated fighter or frigate strikes.
As the lieutenant wound down his presentation, Admiral Etrusha glanced back at her terminal, where the colony evacuation debrief was still on display. A carrier like this COULD have been useful during the evacuation, able to maintain a squadron of fighters for defensive purposes while not detracting from the number of shuttles sent down to evacuate the planet- and one of the best defenses against the tholian fighter craft codenamed 'Widows' was to intercept with fighters of one's own.
This would require more consideration. "Thank you and your design team for your hard work on this project. I'll kick it up the chain to the admiralty board. You and your team may be giving a formal briefing on it soon."
"Thank you, Admiral!" the Lieutenant gushed happily, collecting up his PADDs. "I'll get the team working on a presentation immediately!"
"You do that. Dismissed."
As the young man rushed from the room, Admiral Camilla Etrusha turned back to her terminal to continue reading through the remainder of her mission reports for the evening.
Lvl 50: 35400
Lvl 65: 46020
Hull modifier: 1.15
Shield modifier: 1.10
Turn rate: 8
Impulse modifier: 0.16
Inertia rating: 35
Warp core: Standard
+10 Auxiliary power
Lieutenant Commander Universal
Lieutenant Commander Engineering
Device slots: 3
Starship Mastery unlock 5: Combat Air Patrol
While all hangar bays have at least half their maximum hangar pets in flight, your hangar pets gain +10% damage and your ship gains +1 turn radius and +5 engine power.