By Lieutenant Commander Electra Reece
USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50207.13 - 50207.21 |
Soundtrack: "Malibu" By Hole (Utopia Planetia Construction Scene)
At first, Corgan was relieved that he could be off ship. Being stuck on oneof
the many transit runabouts in the sector, traveling from the border of Federation
Space to it's core system in a trek that took a week tocomplete, was not a pleasant
experience. Sitting together in a cramped compartment, sharing the bunks with
morning and evening crews, and havingto spend the time playing 3D chess with
complete strangers was not his idea of fun.
The destination, however, had far more interesting surprises than he could have imagined. The USS Galaxy, Captain Brhode, and their 'heart to heart' talk.
And now this.
Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, trapped in the bowels of Utopia Planetia's shipyards, was wandering its vast labyrinth of hallways,corridors and tunnels in the overly huge shipyards like a lost touristtrying to find the way to the observation lounge. In all reality, he was atourist. This was his first time at the Federation's largest shipyard, and he was having a hard time finding his way to anything in this huge mega-complex. Shipyards in space. Research facilities on the planet. Not to mention the hundreds of towns and dozens of cities used to house andaccommodate the workers. it was almost impossible to go anywhere.
There was also another reality to this tourist analogy. He was looking for the observation lounge. It had to be somewhere.
But like a lost vole in a Cardassian death maze, he thought he would be stuck here for all eternity. Someday, a doomed wanderer just like him, or a ship builder, might run into his dried out skeleton of a corpse in these winding, endless halls. That is, unless he found his way to the observation lounge. It was simple at first. Corridor B-2181, subsection AlphaGammaBlack of Stardock Two.
Or was it AlphaGammaWhite?
"Dammit." He muttered. If that was the case, he was on the wrong side of the shipyards! He thought, ~"Keep marching. I'll eventually find something."~
He passed by the magnificent view of the shipyard's dry docks. Endless rows of berth gantries, all of various sizes and each size type organized into their own sub section and tucked away just above the planet's ionosphere. They were simple tritanium skeletal structures branching out from even larger tubes that then led onto the nervous system of the shipyards; a pair of giant stardock where even more dry docks and refit bays were attached like spindly limbs of a metallic tree. Inside most of the dry docks were Federation Starships in various stages of assembly and refit.
Over in the far corner of the gigantic porthole James walked by, a row of Excelsior class vessels were given a thorough refit. Definitely not their first, but probably not their last either. The Excelsior was a fine and versatile vessel which Starfleet wasn't very willing to give up. In another row was a wing of Steamrunner class ships, minus the hull plating to show nude decks and frames, like a body without the flesh and bones. In another section, Constellation class vessels were disassembled for parts by buzzing and milling work bee pods. They cut up the ships more like ants than bees, and then sent the chunks of dissected hull plating to a humongous furnace, where the parts would be melted and recast into parts for the newer vessels.
Recycling at its finest.
So many other activities were taking place, but Corgan gave them a passing glance, noting the beauty and efficiency of this place, momentarily forgetting that he was lost.
And then he turned away from the porthole, and landed himself back into reality. A reality, however, that he didn't mind hearing in the first place. He heard light music playing in the background and the chatter of shipbuilders going off shift. He saw the neon lights of the bar beam out through an open doorway.
~"This is it! HELL YES! Finally!"~ His feet and his brain gave out an exasperated sigh. It has taken so devilishly long to get to where he needed to go, but upon checking his wrist chrono, he found that he was still early. That was what he got for being too cautious.
However, caution was not something he wanted to throw into the wind now. He had to meet someone at the lounge, and their relationship had been a virtual unknown during the past couple of years. She was stuck at Starfleet Medical due to a malady not of her choosing, separating the two apart. After that, she wasn't the same since, and he doubted that she would ever be the same again.
The problem was, how was he to talk to her? The last few months yielded only letters, all which did nothing to address the lack of intimacy and communication in their relationship. She didn't want to talk too much, and it was frustrating him to the core. He might as well have been battering his fist against a fully energized forcefield for all his efforts did.
He entered the lounge, and was buffeted by the cheeriness of the crowd and the lulling harmony of the music. It was fashioned much like Ten Forward on the Galaxy. A wide bar like area where a Ferengi server and his waiters delivered drinks and took orders was at the front, while tables of polished wood and metal took up the rest of the gray carpeted area. The starship metal walls reflected the light, making the room bright and cheery.
But over in a lonesome corner was his love, his uncertainty.
Electra Reece.
Electra stared through the viewport but saw nothing. She was completely occupied with her thoughts. She had planned to get some dinner here at the yards rather than eat solitarily on the ship but on her way, she had gotten a communique from James, asking her to meet him here.
Lexa had agreed to the meeting but wasn't sure what was going to come of it. She loved the younger Security officer deeply and he claimed to love her, but she had always been unsure of their relationship. James' feelings for Rebecca von Ernst had always troubled her and given her many nightmare-filled, sleepless nights.
Before the Hirogen accident, she had never felt secure in her own body. Her height (which had come on at an early age) had caused much jealousy and teasing and caused Lexa to view herself as a freak. She could never see what it was James saw in her.
But now, still a stranger in her own skin (though in a different way), Lexa struggled to make sense of life and her relationships with people. It was difficult. She had never been good at personal interactions. She wanted to express herself to James but had no experience to fall back on, and with her new problems from the time in the darkness, she didn't know if this could work. She didn't know if James would feel that she was worth the trouble.
Like a wraith drifting in through the fog, James navigated his way through the throngs of people, wondering to himself how he was going to negotiate his way through the confusion in his mind. It had been so long since they last saw each other, and she was still in the coma when he was shipped off to the SS Edmund Teach. Two years and counting. Too long for young lovers to be apart, and that breed problems all its own.
What was she like now, personally? Even he didn't know the full extent of the changes in her personality, except by the lack of letters and communique's to each other. She was withdrawn into herself, putting up the shields and leaving him out. And when she was in this mood, it was almost impossible for him to talk to her.
~"How do I talk to her?"~ He asked himself over and over, but as he approached his distracted girlfriend, a submissive whisper was all he needed.
"Lexa."
She turned her head and saw him standing there, resplendent in her eyes in his gold uniform and shiny new pip. She smiled. After a brief pause, fighting with her own inclinations, she spoke, "Hello, James."
"Lexa..." He still stood up, astonished and agape in wonder. Here she was, the woman he had not seen in so long, now alive and about. Some days it felt as if she would never rouse from that coma, and today he was witnessing the opposite. Whatever changes in her were moot now; he was just glad to see her again.
And smiling no doubt.
Maybe there was still hope for him after all.
With a joyous grin not seen in ages, James took a seat next to Lexa, and asked, "How have you been? It's been so long since we talked... and I haven't heard from you much when I was on the Edmund Teach. How are things?"
She gave another smile as she licked her lips and spoke. "Fine. Was a lab rat for Dr. Gerren. He loves running tests. Lots of paperwork at Starfleet Medical. Now I'm here. Saw Bhrode." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Ship's empty."
"My god..." He heard the abridged version of their time apart from her perspective, ~"A lab rat? I hope she's ok."~ "Mine was uneventful compared to yours. I told you in my letters what happened on the Teach. Patrols, bureaucracy... all that junk. And now BUPERS sent me here. I had to talk to Captain Bhrode and he made me the chief of security. And better yet, I can pick whoever the hell I want for my staff. Kind of strange, come to think of it."
A waiter interrupted their conversation. James casually ordered the waiter to bring him a synthaholic Absinthe. "Would you like anything, Lexa?"
"Water, iced."
The waiter answered, "Yes sirs", and hurriedly trundled off to the bar, leaving the two Starfleet officers alone to contemplate their personal interaction troubles.
For a moment, Corgan was unsure of what to say, always afraid of talking to Lexa in fear of offending her. He always treated people like minefields. One wrong word, one slip up, and he could very well ruin a relationship. It was like that before, always like that when he meant well.
First and foremost on his mind was his friendship with Rebecca.
He shook his head, waving off the image of his former comrade turned ice queen. Too wash out the bad memory, he questioned politely, "So, where did Bhrode stick you?"
"Chief of OPS, again." She didn't comment on how much that surprised her. Considering her track record with Bhrode and his stated feelings (with Rebecca's statistics) on how the Hirogen had taken her out, she had thought she would be as far from bridge duty as possible.
James breathed a sigh of relief, ~"Thank god..."~ The reason he was the former chief of operations on the Galaxy was because he looked out for her. Wanted to save the position for Lexa while she was recovering, assuring her career and memory would not be forgotten by Starfleet. But that was next to impossible when he was transferred to the Advanced Tactical and Security program, then the Edmund Teach. But her position was nonetheless saved by luck and grace.
Lexa stared at James as he shifted uncomfortably. She knew she should say something to break the ice, start the conversation, but she couldn't do it. She was just so uncomfortable talking. She felt rusty. She wanted to ask him about himself, about them, about life and death and time in between, but she couldn't articulate what she was thinking. It all seemed to get lost between her brain and her mouth. Wishing he was telepathic like Bhrode's yeoman, Lexa smiled at him. She forced her lips open "Ja-." Her eyes were caught by the pips on his collar, the extra one almost a beacon and she slid away in her mind.
Blood splashed across the two gold and one black pip, the gold collar soaked in it. The room was dark, a voice was calling out, "Red Alert, All hands, Red Alert!!!" There was a flash of light and --
Lexa's eyes took on a far away look. The lights in her eyes snuffed out, her pupils like black saucers searing through his uniform. He noticed her eyes on his collar, and at a loss, James weakly called, "Lexa?"
Her gaze was locked onto his collar. "Lexa?" He called again softly, calling attention away from her. Her head was lolled back, her head caught up in an unknown fugue. Helplessly, James tried again to rouse her from her lapse, with no success. "Lexa? Are you ok?"
The waitress came by, with a tray of drinks. She carefully placed down James' Absinthe, water, and sugar cube, but after setting Lexa's water down on the table, she started to notice that something was wrong. "Excuse me sir, but is everything ok with her?"
Ignoring his drink, James replied with the only answer he could provide, "Haven't a clue. I don't know what's going on. I've never seen her do this before." He turned his attention to his girlfriend for one last try, speaking slightly louder and more confident than before. He placed his hand on her shoulder and asked, "Lexa.... hello? Are you ok?"
Lexa blinked and looked around her, flushing when she saw that both James and the server staring at her like she was a freak. She realized she must have been sitting there for a while in one of her "states" to have this reaction from them. Sometimes people didn't even realize something had happened to her it was so fast in real time, though to her it might seem like minutes or even hours. Other times, what seemed to the dazed officer to be seconds was in reality minutes or longer before something jarred her enough to bring her to a sense of real time.
Biting her lip, she grabbed the glass in front of her and downed it in a single gulp before pressing her finger to the PADD for payment and rising. Head up, shoulders back (so unlike the unsure girl she had been) the officer strode out of the bar.
"Hey!" James objected as she exited the bar, "Where are you going? Lex!Come back!" Unsure of himself, he looked back at his vanishing girlfriend, then the waitress as she impatiently waited for him to pay the bill. He looked back at the door again, seeing no trace of Electra Reece around. "F**k..." He groaned, self defeated. Pressing one hasty finger on the waitress's PADD, he paid for the bill on a drink he never had the chance to enjoy, and left the lounge in a fast walk.
The corridor was wide open for him to see. Looking from left to right, he saw from the corner of his blurred eye a spot of black and gray. Turning more in the right direction for his glasses to cover the area of view, he saw Electra Reece rounding a corner to another corridor, the signs pointing her path as the direction to the turbolift.
"LEXA! WAIT UP!" His full hearted, pathetic plea boomed out, devoid of any sternness or hostility. "I want to talk!"
A voice in his head, his conscience, the wise sage and overall pain-in-the-ass, decided that now was the time to butt in on his situation and give his two credits worth of advice. It said, "Corgan... she doesn't want to talk to you. Get it through your skull, Broken Head."
~"Wait..."~ James sprinted down the corridor to make up for lost time, ~"I haven't heard ANYTHING from you in a year, and you chose NOW to talk?"~
~"Yeah..."~ Conscience snidely remarked, ~"Why? Is this a bad time for you?"~
"Hrrrrrrr...." Corgan grumbled, passing the corner into the next hallway. Lexa was already pushing the button to the turbolift. The doors whooshed open, swallowing her inside. Then, they began to slowly close.
Corgan's foot prevented the doors from closing full circle. Sharp, crushing pain ran up James' leg and registered in his brain, but he held firm, hurt but not damaged.
"What happened in there?" Commander Corgan face turned red as the door's servo's strained to close, feeling deeply concerned more for Lexa instead of his foot. The way she shut out of reality was frightening and chilling, and he feared for her well being. But it was more than being concerned about how she was feeling. There was a familiarity he thought would not come up. Her faraway look, as if he'd seen it before. Not here, but somewhere else, and he couldn't place exactly where.
Shrugging off his concern with a nonchalance far from what she
was truly feeling, she replied, "Lab rat. It happens. Bhrode knows, I'm
sure. In my file. The coma. Side effects or something. Like how I talk. Not
sure what it is. Temporal viewing? Dimensional? Kareevis thought a gift. Maybe
a curse. Don't know. Or care. Hate it. Can't change it. Meds don't do anything.
My brain. Not all here. Some elsewhere." She strode on, not looking at
him, not knowing how much he understood of her explanation. She wished he would
understand and not think she was being a bitch. But most people thought so.
Stuck up at best, an expletive deleted to the extreme
at worst.
Either way, she didn't want to hear more of it. She didn't want to know if he considered her as freakish as everyone but Kareevis did. She couldn't face seeing the revulsion in his eyes that she had seen in others. Not from him. Her booted toe, as gentle as a feather in a breeze, intercepted his foot, popping it out of the doorway. Taken aback from the seemingly cruel insult, James confusingly begged, "What the hell? Lexa! Wait..." before the doors slammed shut and the turbolift rocketed down to the lower levels.
In shocked surprise, Corgan leaned back against the wall, cradling his throbbing foot. This was unlike the Lexa he had known before. The old Lexa was uncommunicative, but before it was much easier for her to talk to James. She was more forthcoming, more intimate, more involved in the relationship. As for today, none of that was present. It was more than not receiving letters from her in the past few months. This was a real encounter, re-enforcing what James knew all along.
She had changed, better or worse. The coma changed her. Though his understanding of what happened to her was limited, he partially understood what was going on. Temporal and dimensional viewing? Sounded so far fetched, but she wasn't prone to lying. Or at least, the old Lexa wasn't prone to lying.
"What the f**k is going on?" He cried, exasperated.
His conscience was quick to provide an answer, ~"Broken Head, what did I tell you before? She's died in that coma. Physical death and changes in personality are all the same. Your Lexa is dead. The new Lexa is alive. Get used to it."~
~"F**k that!"~ James smacked his comm-badge, "Commander Corgan to Commander Reece. Lexa?"
He heard nothing but the light static of EM interference on the comm. lines.
~"Broken Head, you can try, but you know you can't help her. You already tried to help people, and you failed miserably. Remember Rebecca and Lysander? Boy, did you royally f**k up that one! Lexa's in the same boat. She's changed, and you're trying to fix it! And you can't! So don't bother trying!"~
"Commander Corgan to Commander Reece. Please... respond! I want to talk to you!"
Conscience pressed the attack of reason, ~"Corgan, listen to me. She's doesn't want your help. You can't understand what she's going through. You can try, but unless you saw what she saw... you can't fully understand. Unless... the darkness had something to do with it."~
Corgan's mind clicked as he remembered the dark void. The Darkness, as he labeled the realm that skirted life and death, was a pitch black, endless plains, where one could wander for hours without going anywhere. The Hirogen Letag took James to the edge of death with a lethal knife wound, taking the sight of his eye and trapping him in the darkness for some time. But the strangest sight of all was when he saw the first sign of human life.
Lexa was there, in the darkness. Whether she was a figment of his imagination or her real spirit wandering aimlessly was hard to guess, but from what he saw, she was trapped, waiting to be consumed by the light. Where that light was that wanted to take her away was unknown, but rumors from human and alien cultures suggested 'the other side'. Sto'vo'kor, heaven, the divine treasury, wherever or whatever it was, Lexa was on the edge.
Was it death? It was safe to say that it could have been, and the darkness that he was trapped in momentarily was a comatose state? Did it matter if he was really there, with Lexa? No, it mattered not, but the fact that she could have been in something like it frightened him.
~"So, you understand? About time, Broken Head."~ Conscience muttered, ~"The Darkness, where you went when the Hirogen put you in a coma. That near death experience changed you somewhat. But imagine more than a year in there. Now do you understand how and why she changed?"~
"Yes." James whispered, "I think I do."
~"Good"~ James heard the imaginary echo of clapping as conscience applauded, ~"Maybe you can help her after all. You do have a rudimentary understanding of what happened, and if you're off... oh well, she'll love the fact that you tried. Or... she'll shove you away again because your idea of trying is so damn annoying. But what the hell. Give it a try now. Tap that badge... and call again."~
"No..." James rebelled, his hand inches from his comm.badge, but not making contact with the metallic surface. He wanted to call her, tell her what he experienced, but it was such a long shot. He didn't think it would work, and he didn't relish becoming the fool. Lexa wouldn't appreciate the equivalent of a childlike understanding of what went on inside her mind. How could he really understand? Why simplify it down to 'The Darkness'? Did that mean he was trying to understand something he couldn't?
His hand dropped uselessly down to his waist.
"No..." He shook his head and sighed, "I can't do it. If I told her... she would just... I don't know... laugh it off. I can't do it. She'll just argue that I don't understand."
With an exasperated groan, conscience said, "Fine... you p*ssy."
James didn't hear the voice again. He was left alone to his thoughts, unsure as a child lost in the corridors of Utopia Planetia, with a simple and unsure understanding of what was going on inside his lover's head
As the door slid shut behind her, Lexa slumped against it, her knees bending until she sitting on the floor. Her head came down to rest on her knees and the tears she had refused to release before poured down her face. The incident and James' reaction to it filled her mind.
~ Oh, James. Why did you have to see it? Why did it happen in front of you? Oh, god! I can't bear it. I can't bear it. Oh, god, please, please, please. ~
As her mind continued its tortured refrain, it locked on itself and the present faded away to reveal to her pictures of the past. Images of herself and James. Peanut butter spewing from a replicator, opening tear-filled eyes and seeing his face releasing her from the brig cell, in the corridor in the dress he gave her watching him and Rebecca, his face transfigured as he sang. Snapshot after snapshot filled her mind's eye until it came upon one specific image and the movie of the past began even as James' hail filled the present.
It was just after their first date and they were outside her quarters.
---
"Well ... we're here ... ummmmm yep. We're right here ... At your quarters ... On the ship ... heh heh? Right place, right?" James asked.
"This is my quarters." Lexa replied with equal nervousness.
"Hmmm ... shame. Seems to be a shame to have it end so soon. I was having fun. We should do this more often."
"I wish it didn't have to be over. You are so much fun. I'd love to do this again." Lexa smiled, nervous. ~ Should I ask him in? I think he wants me to but I don't know. I don't know if I can handle that, alone, just the two of us, he could hurt me, he could -- stop it! This is James! He doesn't hurt! He's the GOOD GUY!!! Just ask him in for a drink. ~
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Lexa opened her mouth to issue the invitation but before she could speak James began, "I had a wonderful evening. I swear, it couldn't have gone more perfectly. I know. I'm a bit of an uncultured brute. To me, the height of music was not opera, it was Ozzy Osbourne's classic composures and the works of Michel Cretu's Enigma. I'm no renaissance man, though I try to be. I wish I knew half of what you did on Engineering and Science. Me, I used to think in my youth that I was at least well rounded. Years of fighting have dulled my civilized edge."
"You're NOT uncultured! You just enjoy different culture than other people. Besides, I was stuffed to overflowing with culture when I was young and it gets old when it isn't what you want. You're fresh and experimental and to you anything is possible. You're not held back by "tradition" and strait-laced cultural mores which are out-moded in this day and age anyway."
"You flatter me too much." James continued, "I'm just a man who tries to be more than he can be. You. you've helped me reach for that goal. I mean, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have thought that Opera could be as good as it was. Without you, I wouldn't have known how to crack into that stubborn lobster. I came to Ops because I showed interest in the job, and you showed me how interesting Ops can be."
"That's just it. You're open to new things. You can see that opera has potential and lobster is good when you have to work for it. But you don't just accept that because you were told so. And ... as for OPS, YOU made the change because it felt right. I just helped you to be happy there. I - I -I ..."
"You opened the world to me. If it wasn't for you, where would I be? I would be a recluse, sitting in his brig, writing hateful songs while bitterly complaining about the state of my life. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have many blessings to count, or moments to look forward to. I wouldn't even be here, enjoying your company, and hating to part ways for even a few hours."
"Lexa. I once thought that love was for the undeserving. I was only half correct, because I don't deserve what you have given me. I want ... I want ..."
Lexa's eyes were filled with tears as she tried to show him how wonderful he was to her. She put her hand on arm and squeezed in comfort.
"Ummmmm. *AHEM* I'm a bit nervous here. Forgive me." James apologized, grinning to show that everything was ok, "I want ... I want to ask you ... can you ... I mean ... can I ... can I be your boyfriend?"
Lexa's mind whirled. ~ Does he mean it? He really likes me and wants to have a steady relationship? But why? Does he feel about me the way I do about him? Could he possibly love me? How could he? He's so wonderful and I'm a freak. But he asked -- he ASKED!!! ~
Lexa smiled and took the plunge. She didn't know how he could see her as deserving of this, but she didn't care. She loved him and she wasn't going to let this chance slip away, no matter her doubts. Looking deeply into his eyes, she nodded. "I love you," she whispered, worried and afraid.
"Oh ... my ... god ... wha-- ? Did you just say ..."
"I love you."
James smiled, "Thank you! Now I don't feel to guilty about doing this."
As James rejoiced and leaned towards her, Lexa's mind fought itself, one part terrified by what was about to happen, the other thrilled, one part wanting to run away from the possible pain, the other wanting to lean close and let it happen, one part seeing Poet and Vlad, the other seeing only the love in James' eyes. She ruthlessly silenced the former and allowed the latter to take over as their lips met and merged, their arms twining about the shoulders of the other, her leg rising behind her in the time-honored fashion of a woman bowled over by a kiss.
---
Lexa lay on the floor for the rest of the night, her mind locked into repaying that kiss, as real to her as if it was taking place at that moment. The tears dried and her breathing hitched before slowing into an evenness resembling sleep.
When she woke the next morning, she resolved to contact James and explain, before duties irreparably separated them. If he rejected her, she would just have to accept it and try to move on. She typed a message to be sent to him as soon as he came aboard.
TO: Lieutenant Commander James Corgan
FROM: Lieutenant Commander Electra Reece
RE: I'm sorry
James,
Please forgive me. We need to talk.
Or something. I want to explain better. Or at least try. I miss you and don't
want to lose you. I hope I haven't already done so. I need to have you understand
or at least know
what happened before you make any unalterable decisions. Contact me about when
to meet. Please, James. Please. Don't ignore this. Or me. Come to see me. Please.
I love you, James.
Electra
Lexa sat in her office and stared at the personnel files in her hand. She wasn't sure what to do with them. She only recognized one of the officers and crew who would serve as OPS skeleton staff while the ship flew its shakedown cruise.
~ Or until BUPERS can find more souls to sacrifice to Bhrode's ship of the doomed. Home of floggings, keel-haulings, and dark holds filled with rats. ~ The tall woman sighed. It seemed that most of her crew had come aboard over the past few days and she needed to vet them, position them on the duty roster, and choose an assistant chief from among them.
The only name she knew was of an officer she had grown up with, though she could have sworn he had gone into medical and loved it there. Looking over his personnel file, she noted that he had been a doctor, even been promoted to full lieutenant, but for some reason had transferred to the USS Galaxy just after she left and requested the only open OPS position which meant a voluntary demotion. She shrugged. Cam always had been a little strange.
= BEEEeeeeeeeep beep. =
The public door to her office announced an arrival. ~ I have to get someone to staff that outer reception area, too. I wish we had a yeoman. Oh, well. I'll add it to the list. ~
Rather than give a verbal reply, she pressed a button on her desk and the door slid open. On the other side was an older man, looking to be in his mid-to-upper fifties wearing rank insignia of a petty officer third class. Her memory supplied the name to fit the individual. Grant Pinoshin. Lexa rose and indicated with a wave the chair opposite her desk.
Studying her, the older man walked to the chair and sat as Lexa returned to her previous position. He looked at her hard as she raised an eyebrow at him. Finally, he nodded. "You'll do, ma'am. Don't mind saying I was that worried after I saw your file, what I could access of it, but you'll do."
She inclined her head. "Thank you, chief."
"I prefer the Quartermaster's office. Any one will do but I usually end up with the main one that serves bridge crew and officer full lieutenant or greater in rank. But I ask that wherever you put me its on the late night shift. Don't know how many shifts this ship rotates on but I prefer the last."
Lexa acknowledged his request with a smile. "Four." And she rose again.
Nodding, the old man gave a brief smile and a small salute before leaving the office.
------
= BEEEEEeeeeeep beep. =
~ That is going to give me such a headache. ~
As the door opened it revealed a Trill wearing the uniform of a lieutenant. The man entered the room without waiting for any further acknowledgement and walked to a chair. "Lieutenant Moe Branson," he said as he sat down.
Lexa looked at him in disapproval. ~ This is a candidate for assistant chief? He acts like he's the chief. Or the captain. Arrogant. Cocky. Immature despite his 29 years. No wonder he's never been joined if this is how he acts to give a superior officer a first impression. I sure hope the other full lieutenant is better. ~
"Lieutenant. Talk about something."
He stared at her with a slight sneer on his face. "What do you want me to say? How happy I am to be working under you? I can work on top, too. I know that's how you got your position and how officers ... under ... you get ahead. I'm ready and willing."
Lexa's nostrils flared at the unveiled insults. "Lieutenant. Or ensign? Dismissed."
He stood slowly and raked her body with an insolent glare. "Don't you worry. Call on me anytime, sweetie." He turned and left, while Lexa tried to control her shaking. ~ He must know Freeman. He always hated me since I was promoted over him and then James was, too. God, what lies. It's like the Academy and Marx. I hate vicious gossip. I should bust Branson for insolence and insubordination. But that will just spread his filth further. If he keeps it up, I'll have to, though. No choice. ~
She slumped over the desk, holding her head in her hands as silent tears trickled down her cheeks.
-----
= BEEEEEEEEeeep beep. =
~ Oh! My head! ~
At Lexa's kinetic command, the door opened, revealing a tall human man with two shiny gold pips on his collar. He was dark haired and had an unusual full beard and mustache, closely trimmed. He smiled broadly. "Lieutenant Calvin D'Neer reporting in, sir."
"Ma'am," she replied.
He nodded his understanding, knowing that, regulations aside, many female officers disliked being called "sir". "Yes, ma'am. Understood." He entered the room at her gesture and stood at attention while she took the time to inspect the second of the two candidates for her assistant chief.
She saw an athletic looking man who filled the uniform with precision. He stood comfortably at attention, not shifting his weight as some would. "Talk about something, lieutenant."
His eyebrows shot up. "I'm happy to be aboard such a fine ship, though I am curious as to what it will be able to do after the refit. It's an interesting design. Shakedown cruises are always supposed to be interesting. You never know what will happen. A friend of mine was on the USS Prometheus when it was on its first deep space test. Never could have guessed the ship would be taken over, everyone killed and two medical holograms fend off an attack. I hope this cruise is nowhere near as eventful but with a name like USS Galaxy ... it could be. I've heard about some of the missions the original ship took on. Amazing."
~ Well, he may be a suck up but he has a sense of the ridiculous and he should deal well with people. Unlike that ass earlier. He can make up for my drawbacks with our crew. Just what I need. I hope. ~
She nodded. "Was there for some. Like your attitude. Can talk to people. Need that. Check in next door. Your new office. Assistant Chief. Good luck."
He stared in surprise and some shock before saluting and wandering out of the door to check out his new post.
----
= BEEEEEEEEEEEp beep. =
~ I REALLY have to get a receptionist. Maybe this one'll be it. ~
The door slid open at the touch of her finger and revealed a young woman, dark skinned with forehead ridges, blunted by the force of human genes wearing an ensign's pip. Lexa stood and once again indicated the chair opposite her. "Ensign Marga'ri'ta Tan'we."
The young woman entered and nodded as she took the seat. "Yes, ma'am."
The chief sat down. "Looked at your record, ensign. Have a temper?"
Feeling like her department head was as bad as the captain, the young ensign sat forward earnestly. "Ma'am, anyone with Klingon genes has a temper. I've learned how to control mine, I promise you. Things happen and I do still lose it, just like anyone else. I don't claim to be perfect. But I've worked hard to get where I am now. I graduated the Academy and with top honors, too. You can trust me."
Lexa smiled easily. "Not riding you, ensign. Relax. Can you handle bureaucracy? Paperwork? Angry or upset officers? With no damaged people or furniture?"
The young ensign slumped a bit in her chair, glad that her chief's way of speaking was just abrupt and not her personality. "I can handle the red tape, ma'am. I have so far, haven't I? And I haven't damaged anyone since my sophomore year at the Academy." Noting the raised eyebrow of her superior, the ensign shifted a bit. "Furniture, I can't promise on."
Lexa grinned. "Checked in? Ready for duty?"
Marga'ri'ta nodded uncertainly. "Yes, ma'am."
"Temporary assignment, reception. Handle that desk out there. Don't use that door buzzer!"
Ensign Tan'we grinned in return. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
Rising, she gave a full salute, still with a wide grin on her
face. "Dismissed." At that, she turned on her heel and left the room,
settling
in the position behind the reception desk and looking over the files over those
who were marked as not reporting in as yet.
In the office she had left behind, Lexa hoped that this would help her headache.
*remember that brain freeze title thing. I think its staying around awhile !
Ella hauled her things into the barracks, instantly saw that she had the top bunk yet again, and dropped the heavy bags on the ground. She really had to throw out some clothes again. The weight of them was almost ridiculous.
Rotating her wrist, she quickly scanned the small room, found it suitable, and then went over to the replicator to punch in her request for water. The clear liquid materalized in front of Ella, a miracle that never failed to impress her. As a child she had taken the family one apart to see how it functioned. It was surprisingly simple. Unfortunately, her father hadn't been impressed when he had gone to replicate a london broil for dinner.
Ella shrugged. The sacrifices you had to make in the pursuit of science. She took a sip of her water and then looked warily at the two drawers that were probably hers. Ella seriously doubted she could shove her two bags worth into that. At least she had some time to kill befor her meeting with Cheif Engineer Samara. She could get a head start.
She was surprised when she opened the first bag and found two rose-colored envelopes on top of a large brown package that was tied with red string. ~~That sneaky Laura,~~ she thought amused, as she sat on the lower bunk and carefully opened the first envelope.
The letter was from her mother, obviously last minute and obviously dictated because of A) the srawling penmenship and B) little liberties the letter writer had taken. Ella was almost possitive her mother had never stooped to calling her 'pumpkin' or 'peanut.'
For the most part, it was a dreadfully dull letter, reminding Ella that the Bjurstroms and Candells would be staying for Christmas and that her father would order a shuttle for her when she eventually left Starfleet. Don't keep the engine running Dad, Ella thought with a smirk. Then there was a reminder that one of her cousins was getting married and a comment about some horrible woman named Maureen that her mother was going to be forced to play tennis with that afternoon.
It was signed, "Best wishes."
Ella rolled her eyes and then opened the other letter. Inside was a quick note, which somehow managed to show more depth and feeling in two lines then her mothers had with two pages.
It read -
Dearest Ella,
I thought you might like them. Take care, sweetie, Laura.
Ella smiled and set the card aside for the package. She almost laughed. Inside was a box of brightly colored LEGGOS, a puzzle, and a put-it-together-yourself shuttlecraft, without the directions of course. That made it funner.
You know me too well, Ella thought with a happy shake of her head.
She smiled again as she shook the box of LEGGOS, amazed that the blocks were still in production after all these years. The puzzle, when completed, would show a picture of some kittens tangled in yarn. Cute but definately for a time when she was bored out of her mind. The shuttlecraft would probably take her two hours, if all the pieces were there that is. Perhaps she would save that too.
Ella set the box aside and gave a thoughtful look at her clothing and then the drawers.
Well, they said anything was possible.
Dr. Brooke O'Connell was told that she needed to see Brhode before she could be officially the CMO. ~~What kind of crap was that?~~ she wondered.
She decided to go and get it over with. Once Brooke was there, in the reception room, she saw someone walk by her, sweating profusely and looking as if he had just been hit by a truck. She wondered what was so bad about this Brhode guy, that he elicited that sort of reaction.
Her thoughts were interrupted by someone, a yeoman, "People have been going in, looking like they were going to faint and then coming out, looking either relieved or worse for the wear. I should warn you. He isn't the nicest man, in fact, he can be your worse nightmare."
Brooke smiled, "I'm not worried. I've dealt with the meanest and nastiest Klingons. In fact, before I got into Starfleet, I've been known to break some Klingon's noses. So this Brhode guy should be a piece of cake."
The intercom on the Yeoman's desk squawked.
"The... umm.. Piece of cake will see you now Ma'am. ood luck, you'll need it." The Yeoman told her, with a rueful grin.
She wanted to laugh but didn't. She wasn't nervous at all. She has always liked challenges. She walks in and gives the place a once over.
The office is big and cold.. Impersonal. Bhrode's parked at a desk in front of an observation window looking at the ship.
"Doctor O'Connell. Let me start by asking if you know your predecessors on this vaunted ship?" Bhrode hit a stud and the holoprojector sprang to life.
"That is Doctor Andree Dorthan. When I last commanded Galaxy, he decided his medical oath came second to his own amusements. He is now the Liaison Medical officer to the Breen Embassy. I hear he likes treating frostbite so much, that he had to amputate his own toes." Bhrode pressed the button again and the portrait changed.
"That is Doctor Queyverysonn. I caught her and her husband fornicating on my very bridge. They are both currently treating advanced Lurkisons Leprosy at the Quarantine Planet in the Jukos system. I bet that Man Root of his doesn't throb like it used to." Bhrode snapped off the holoprojector with a flourish.
She shook her head. It amazed her that anyone could have such low regard for their job. Brooke ran a tight sickbay and wouldn't tolerate that from any of her people, "Sounds like they got what they deserved."
"Just so we are clear, Doctor. I am providing you with a sneaky little rat bastard to be your hatchet man. Use Malgin to be the 'bad guy' and you play the 'good Doc.' If you do your job, keep your Department in order, and perform to the level your record indicates you do.. you and I will never have to speak again. BUT. . . if Malgin gets in pissing wars with the Security Chief, if all hell is breaking loose in your Department, or if you turn out to be worthless.. you're gone."
Lots of things went through her mind like why she needed someone to be the bad guy and who was this Malgin anyway? As far as she was concerned, it was just somebody to be in her way. She choose to not say a word until he was done with his little scare tactics. She mused that he mistook her silence for understanding. He was wrong...
So was she.
"I'm glad we understand each other. Dont get me wrong, Doctor. I'm a swell guy. But I'm a swell Starship captain who's responsible not just for one Thousand souls on my ship, but for the entire Federation, every time I put on this uniform. Every waking moment of every day. I want a full physical exam of each of my Senior Staff completed, as soon as you have your Department in order. Dismissed." Bhrode turmed back to his desktop terminal.
She stood there for a moment, then spoke up, "Dismissed, just like that?" She wasn't going to let him dismiss her so easily, "If I may speak freely which you'll probably not allow, I'll say it anyway. First of all, I don't know who this Malgin is and quite frankly, I don't even want him in my sickbay. I don't need a bad guy, it's just someone to be in the way. Second of all, I run a tight sickbay. If there is any hell breaking loose anywhere, it won't be in my department. I'm damn good at my job and I expect the same of my staff or there WILL be some heads rolling. And last but not least, I don't like to be threatened. I understand the responsibility you have, hell, I'm responsible for the health of this ship and the crew. You'll have those senior staff evaluations on your desk but not until I am satisfied with MY sickbay...not before."
She laid her hands on his desk, leaning and looking straight at him, "Like you said, I'm glad we understand each other."
Bhrode glared at her and pointed one blocky finger at her chair.
"I dont' think we do understand each other Doctor. I think we have a failure to communicate here. Most people who climb into MY face like that regret it. Sit. That is a direct order. Listen. Also a direct order."
When Brooke had done that, Bhrode pressed on.
"Firstly, by dint of the hard work you've put into your career to achieve your position, you've earned the right to speak your mind to me. However, if you EVER use that snotty tone with me again, I'll break you and not even blink. You and I both are people who're used to being in charge. However, on this starship, there is only one ultimate authority, and you're looking at him."
"Malgin, is the most senior officer on your roster. He's an arrogant little twerp, an insufferably smug pedantic lieutenant. He's also one of the best surgeons and doctors you're ever going to have work under you. He also has an inablity to play well with others. Thus I suggested you assign your problematic cases to him, as they'll no doubt heal faster just to get away from his smart assed mouth. You will also be answerable to me, not only on the medical well being of MY crew, but also regarding the development of your junior officers and crew. Espicially Malgin. You get that part, Doctor?" Bhrode demanded.
She gave him that same glare that he gave her earlier, "Oh I get it, loud and clear." She still wasn't afraid of him.
"As for my 'threatening' you, you are mistaken. I don't need to make threats. I am telling you what will happen if you turn out to be another Dorhtan, Or Queverrsonn. I am making a promise. If you're really as tough and competant as you seem to TELL me you are, then by all means accept the job and PROVE it to me. Talk's cheap Commander. If you're simply another hose job artist, save me the time and yourself the embaressment, and go crying back now and tell someone else how horrible it is that I hold you accountable for your actions."
Bhrode tuned back to his terminal.
"I'll expect those reports on my desk when YOUR sickbay is good and ready to produce them. Or You can hand me your transfer request at that time. Good day Doctor." Bhrode snapped.
Brooke stood up and a grin formed. Bhrode didn't see it which was a good thing. As she walked out, she returned the goodbye, putting emphasis on his rank, "Good day...Captain." The yeoman saw that Brooke was grinning. Brooke looked at the Yeoman, "Finally, a commanding officer with balls. I think that I'm going to like it here." She walked off, feeling a lot of respect for Bhrode, and onto the turbolift...still grinning.
Tim was checking over his uniform, normally he didn't put this much effort in
to his spit and polish but apparantly this Bhrode was some sort of stickler
for rules and regulations so he fixed up nicely and changed his uniform.
Stopping by the captain's ready room he looked at the door then pressed the chime...
A very pretty, young Betazoid stuck her head out into the corridor and looked Tim up and down, then checked in both directions.
"You're not the courier from the Medical Sciences Division!" She said, in an almost accusing voice.
Tim raised an eyebrow, "No I'm most definately not a courier I'm Commander O'Connell, Chief of Tactical."
"Oh.. Commander.. I thought you were.... you didn't see a Russian wandering around, did you? Tall, cute, wearing Blue? Never mind. The Fleet Captain will see you in a moment, Please have a seat." She indicted a waiting room. An extremely nervous looking Benzite was the only other officer waiting. A tiny 'prap' of methane escaped the Benzites' breathing apperatus.
"Sorry" the Benzite said.
Tim shook his head, "it's fine."
A Caitian Lieutenant came out, tail lashing and ears pressed flat in annoyance.
"Yeoman. Notify the Shore Patrol that Lieutnant Kirrip just pulled three days in the Brig for having a smart-assed big friggin mouth. I want his fuzzy rear end in a cell yesterday. Who's next?" A voice asked over the intercom.
"Lieutenant Hof Garugh... although Commander O'Connell just. . ." the poor girl began.
"Send in O'Connell. Can't abide Benzites. They stink." Whoever was on the other end cut the comm.
"The captain will see you now." The Yeoman indicated the only other door in the place.
Tim walked in to the office and looked over at the man seated behind the desk of the huge room.
The office was huge. A Fed Issue basic workstation sat before a majestic view, the refurbished USS Galaxy in the hanger. Bhrode was staring out the window, fingers templed, eyes brooding.
Tim snapped to attention, "Commander O'Connell reporting as ordered sir."
"Cut the Kay-det crap. Tactical is important. It's not Helm, it's not Ops. It's fighting. you don't have to shine your shoes and salute me. All you have to do is kill some bastard trying to kill us or our charges. Ultimate application of the Golden Rule. 'Do unto others before the bastards can do unto you.'" Bhrode spun the seat and indicated one of the five chairs, bolted to the deckplates before his desk.
Tim took his seat, "Well how dead do you want the sonsabitches, because I will make them quite bloody damned dead."
Bhrode smiled. "You know... I've had over 200 of these little chats in the last month. With every officer and key NCO's who want to come aboard. Youre only the fourth to pick the seat where you can watch what's going on behind you. I like that."
Tim nodded, "Gotta keep an eye on things. Otherwise you got problems."
"Look at that ship and tell me what you see?" Bhrode indicated the Galaxy.
Tim looked around, "Well I see a ship with more firepower at it's disposal then was used during world wars 1, 2 and 3 combined."
"Damn straight. And you haven't seen what that monster Pulsed Phaser Cannon will do. No one has. I don't think this nutcase who designed it knows what will happen when we push that trigger. I tell you, Commander, that ship scares the fuck out of me. It's too powerful. If we unloose THAT much ass-whup, you can bet the Romulans are going to shit a brick. Ibet . . . with the new multiphasic shield, that PPC and the Pulsed Phasers on the Dorsal saucer, and the multiphasic shields? plus DOUBLE the photon torpedoes? I bet that lady can kick a Ra'Chu in the goolies and not blink." Bhrode broke off to stare at O'Connell.
Tim looked at him, "It is scary, that much power at one hand..." It was one thing he had to deal with, the using of such power on a starship, he was security through out his career, protect and serve and all that. Now he was part of the tactical departments. Hell, he was the HEAD of the Tactical Department.
"You heard of VonEarnst and Hawksley? My XO's The pair of them deal in Tactical and Strategic thinking that the rest of us don't even begin to understand. I want you with them 24/7. I want you to suck their brains dry and learn every trick the sneaky little bastards know. Because I dont' trust either." Bhrode continued.
Tim nodded, "Yes sir."
"So . . . you want the job or what?" Bhrode pressed.
TIm nodded, "I want the job. "
Bhrode did the 'stare' at him some more.
But this wasn't some wet behind the ears ensign who John Q Bhrodie could intimidate. But was a West side Chicago Po-Leece, even in the 24th century that ment something. So he simply returned the stare as if to say, 'what that's all you got?'
Finally, the brush cut guy broke the silence.
"Then go dig up VonErnst first. She doesn't say much, but what she does say, is gennerally scary enough to make me wet myself. She's the brighter of the two. But, brush up on your Higher Application math first. She doesn't even use a firing computer, works out solutions in her head. Sometimes, faster than the computer does. I don;t expect you to match it, just understand her when she talks slowly. She also doesn't do social graces very well. So don't expect a lot of leeway from her."
Tim nodded and made some notes, "and the otehr guy, Hawksley?"
"Hawksley? Decent tactician, damn good pilot. Seems to always be one move ahead of an enemy. Does it different than her. Seems to be able to get into someone';s head.. guess their moves. She does it straight by the math. Take him out of the hotseat, and you have a mess though. Headcase. Party boy. Thinks with the little head. You think you can live up to their Reps? And of course, I mean their duty Reps."
"Well All I can do is try, I can say that I won't let people blow up the Galaxy, but aside from that..." he shrugged, "I'll just do my best."
"Going to have a problem with them looking over your shoulder? You play your cards right, you may learn something from them both."
Tim didn't, them looking over his shoulder ment problems though he wouldn't say that, "I don't see a problem with it.."
"Horseshit. Nothing I hate more than someone telling ME how to do my job. Get to work Mister O'Connell. At least I have ONE Department that's not gonna need it's hand held. Oh... prove me wrong on that, and you're a dead man career wise. We understand each other?" Bhrode demanded, fixing a glare on Tim that reminded him of an ex-Homicide Detective he knew, who used to reduce felons to sobbing tears in moments.
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