Alrighty, to get this pagfe back on track, I'm gonna post some more story.
Some of this chapter, and maybe the story itself, might be overly dramatic. Or maybe the oposite. I don't write things like this very often and need the practice. If y'all have hints on 'fluff' stories, please present them. But, without further adu...
CH. 2
Lieutenant Commander Davenport lowered the data PADD he’d been perusing and eyeballed the senior helmsman as he exited the shuttle parked in the center of Bay One. Lieutenant Bronstien was just as tall as the ops chief, which was saying something. He was half as thin though, and this made Ron feel overweight despite his grade-passing build. The dark haired boy held an air of menace in his eye as he gazed at the senior officer.
“Does the shuttle meet with your expectations, Mister Bronstien?” Ron drawled.
“Indeed it does, Mister Davenport.” Johnathan responded. He bobbed a bit on the balls of his feet. The kid was itching to get out there and ride the ionized rapids. Davenport had never been such a daredevil. He considered this lad to be a bit touched.
“The deflector generators are all tied in. All we need now are the final provisions and the skipper’s okay.” He told the young LT. Bronstien nodded and looked the Patricia over. She was a Type J cargo shuttle, which had been modified again and again over the last six years. Her warp drive was good for sustained warp for longer duration than any craft currently aboard ship. She had racks for mounting capitol ship-grade phaser emitters and an extensive sensor refit. Now she had three new heavy shield generators to go with her numerous other additions.
The after main hatch opened with a loud drone of machinery. In from the causeway beyond came several enlisted ratings bearing antigrav units laden with supplies. Right behind them slumped their tired captain. Ron waited silently till the men closed in and began onloading their wares onto the shuttle. Ford handed Ronald a manifest.
“One emergency long-range comm unit, seven cases of field rations, three complete field medkits, four EVA suits, one emergency life support generator and ten pounds of coffee with a battery powered coffee maker.” Ford rattled off as Davenport smirked over the last entry.
“Ten pounds of coffee, huh? Think that’ll be enough for two weeks?”
Ford made pained face.
“You’ll just have to make it stretch, Mister Davenport…”
The operations officer shrugged whimsically. “Oh well, when I get down to about four pounds, I’ll just dump a man out the airlock for every pound we use after that.”
Ford chucked his friend on the shoulder.
“Officer’s thinking, Commander. I knew I promoted you for a reason.” Ford watched for a moment in silence as Lieutenant Bronstien and Smith checked off the provisions aboard the craft. “You just don’t get killed out there, Ron. We’ve lost enough people out here on this mission. And none of them for any good reason.”
Ron nodded, saying nothing. All those deaths were riding heavily on Ford’s mind. The ops chief carried his own anxt for his treatment by the Gorn. They’d shot him down like a dog after he’d rigged up life support for their unborn children. Everything that they were struggling with now was the result of a rash captain’s bad judgement.
“I almost wish I’d accepted the Gorn’s offer for a tow…” The captain eyed Davenport searchingly. He wanted to know how his friend felt about the decision. If they had accepted the tow, they would be out of the string region and well under way toward help by now. Ron clasped Chevy on his drooping shoulder.
“I’d have made the same choice, Skipper. That captain wasn’t trust worthy.”
Ford looked away, mulling that over in his mind.
“Just make sure you get your people back home, Commander.”
He walked away then, leaving Ron to finish outfitting the Patricia for the trip.
The portside main door to Shuttle Bay One reeled slowly open before the Patricia. Ron watched it open through the tinted barrier of the forward porthole and keyed the main comm. “Bridge, this is Shuttle Seven. Ready for launch.”
“Understood, Shuttle Seven,” Came back an unfamiliar voice over the speaker. “You are cleared for departure. Good luck.”
It’s bad luck to wish someone good luck, Ron thought to himself. He might not believe in all superstitions, but he certainly kept track of them. He sighed as he began to key a series of controls. “Thank you, bridge. Seven out.”
The ops chief gave a gesture to his pilot. Bronstien plied his hands about the console before him and their tiny ship lifted. They passed through the bluish forcefield holding in the bay’s atmosphere and began to slowly traverse the distance beneath the slope of the saucer section’s bottom. Once clear of their home ship, the helmsman poured on more speed to take them off toward their journey.
“We’re clear, Commander.”
Ron was silent a moment, going over lists and considerations in his mind. Then he nodded to himself. “Alright, Lieutenant. Set me a course of 047 mark 085. Accelerate to warp factor one till we reach the first way point and then edge her up to maximum warp.”
Only a few days ago, Bronstien had kept Davenport teetering on the edge of his seat by flying at impulse power through all this soup about them. Now they were in a much more fragile ship, and he was ordering the kid to fly them through the same stuff at faster than light speeds… Ron appreciated the irony of the situation. He still wasn’t comfortable with this, however.
Johnathan caught the flicker of nervousness in the other’s hands as he keyed the warp drive. Holding a straight face, he looked suddenly at a phantom display. “Uh-oh!”
“Uh-Oh?” Ron parroted back, eyes wide. “What uh-oh?”
“Oh, it’s nothing…”
“You let me decide what’s nothing!”
The flash of subspace penetration pulsed before their porthole and they were off.
***
Captain Ford paused before the doors that would allow him entrance into the interior of sickbay. He still was not used to this. Coming here every day and seeing his oldest friend laid up on that damned bed, immobile, was a trial. To be sure, the captain’s anguish was nothing compared to what Thomas himself was dealing with. But it was taxing none the less on an already burdened starship commander.
Ford took a deep breath, and allowed himself to center his thoughts. Once prepared, he forced himself over the invisible mental barrier and entered the medical ward. The main admissions center of the circular constructed complex was a warm, fuzzy shade of Fleet blue and thickly carpeted. The waiting chairs matched the floors and the walls, and the end tables placed here and there were faux wood. The nurse’s desk faced the captain, and Nurse Galloway nodded kindly to her skipper upon recognizing him. She said nothing to Ford as he quietly made past her station and entered the recovery/observation ward.
Mister Thomas was laying on the very last biobed in the ward. A small meal table had been erected over his torso and he’d propped himself up to better look at the contents thereon. Ford smirked at the sight of what his XO was doing with that table covered in data PADDs and took a swift step that way to join his companion. The blonde form of Doctor Andrea Keller was soon blocking him.
“Doctor.” He greeted her. The slim, short woman wore a typical white medical coat over her olive green duty tunic. Her shirt boasted the older turtleneck collar that Ford had hated so much over the last twenty years. He was ever so glad to finally have the optional slim collared tunic.
“Captain, might I have a word with you about your Number One?”
“I went to the head before I got here, thanks.”
Keller’s eyes clenched so much at Chevy’s attempted joke that he believed they might cross. He stepped back and forced himself to relax a bit more. His gaze centered fully upon hers. “Alright, Doc. What about the XO?”
“He has been ordering the yeomen and deck attendants to bring him data work to go over. As you can see, he has quite a pile of them.” She complained her voice low. She was doing her best to keep from being over heard, but Ford saw his XO glance over a raised PADD and smile. Ford kept his own grin at bay.
“Well…whatever keeps him happy…”
“That’s just it, sir.” She pressed, making a halting gesture with the palm of her hand as though she believed he was about to bolt past her any second. “I would prefer it if the Commander found something more relaxing to bide his time. He is supposed to be on the mend, you know. Data work is not what one reviews for fun.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Anything. He could use those PADDs to read a book or galactic news…”
“I’m not sure Thomas even knows how to read.”
“Sir--?”
Ford looked over the round-faced doctor and motioned to his friend.
“Hey, Ben. You know how to read?”
“Nope!”
Ford looked back to the doc with a playful shrug. “See there, Doctor. Can’t read a lick.”
Keller’s hands found their way to her slim hips. “Then how is he doing all that data work?”
“Mostly he just amuses himself with the graphs we make him and all the pretty pictures. Then he just puts his thumb up to every yellow box he sees…Which got him in trouble with the yellow skinned women on Triannus Three. Thank you, Doctor.” Ford moved past Keller, whom he left in such a confused state she just stared after him.
Ford went to settle into what had become his customary chair beside the narrow bio platform Ben rested on. Thomas lowered his PADD just enough to eye his captain conspiratorially. “You know I only had the yeoman department bring me these to keep her from hovering over me all the damn time.”
Chevis made a false frown and shrugged. “I know how you just love paperwork.”
“How’re repairs going?”
“They’re not, really. The whole area around Endeavour is currently saturated in heavy radiation. I can’t send any hull teams out. I’ve ordered full impulse, so maybe we’ll get to clearer space soon.”
Ben thought about the news in silence.
“I’m wishing now that I’d pulled my team back before we contacted the Gorn.” Seeing the captain’s face immediately darken,
Thomas swiftly changed the subject. “Any report on our shuttle team?”
Ford nodded.
“Davenport reports they’ve reached the first planned waypoint. Ten hours till the next, then they’re off our scopes.”
Ben’s expression sagged upon his broad, husky face.
“I’d give anything to be on that mission with ‘em.”
Ford could see the wetness welling within the exec’s blue eyes. His own heart sank at the pitiful sight. He wanted to club that Gorn captain down…beat her bloody… This was his friend! Did the Gorn even recognize friendships? Did they have the basest idea of the concept? Surely. But how could that captain have been so blatantly out of bounds? Had she been insane? She’d brought on the deaths of numerous Starfleet crewmen and officers, and lost several of her own men in the violent boarding of this ship. What had it been for?
There was a deathly real chance that Benjamin Thomas might never walk on his own again. Dying in the line of duty was one thing, and readily accepted as part of the service. But being made lame… Crippled… That would be hard to live with. Science could cure many afflictions, but some things were beyond even today’s medicine. Only luck and a load of carefully monitored antibiotics could help Ben now.
Ford looked up at his XO. He grasped the larger man’s shoulder. Thomas barely felt it. He was tingly from the neck down. He smiled back anyway. There was nothing they could do to alter the past. They could not track down the Gorn and exact revenge. They had neither the motive capacity nor the lack of principle to do such.
“As with every thing else in our Starfleet lives, Mister Thomas…” Chevy told him, “We’ll fight our way back to right. This is only temporary.”
Ben closed his eyes for a long time. And when he felt controlled enough to open them back up, Captain Ford was still there. Just like he always had been.
***
And there's another chapter! Most of 'em are pretty short in this story.
Hope it's enjoyed!
--thu guv!!
Topic: Endeavour Story #3: Side Trip (Read 11583 times)