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Old October 7 2009, 09:15 AM   #7
unusualsuspex's Avatar
Location: Norfolk UK
Re: Star Trek : Angel

2 (cont)

August 30th 2371 - 1300 FST

Commander Anthony Winston III was a bear of a man sporting a broken nose and the acerbic gallows humour of a man who had seen much of life’s worst moments. Not just in his personal life, though he had had his fair share. It was his duties as a combat medic that had shown him how frail and fragile human life could be when exposed to the trauma of combat in the unforgiving medium of space.

And yet he was a gentle and well spoken man. He had trained in most facets of the medical profession and served as counsellor, medic, and senior neurosurgeon in his career. He now awaited his latest posting, that of Chief Medical Officer aboard the new Franklin class refit USS Angel.

Starfleet, in its over-bureaucratised manner, had managed to completely bungle his orders leaving him stranded out on the borders of Federation space to await the arrival of the Angel. Winston however took it all in his world weary stride. If life gives you lemons he thought, nobody notices.

Standing at the administration reception desk, he grinned in his slightly lopsided manner. The broken nose had come early in his life during the emergency evacuation of the USS Camberwick, his first posting as a Counsellor. Strangely it had been in this very region of space in 2360, during the Federation-Tzenkethi conflict, and it was a memory that still haunted him.

He’d been shepherding the medical crew to the escape pods with the last of the wounded when there had been an explosive decompression just forward of the lifeboat deck. The pressure door that should have sealed the corridor jammed partway to the deck, leaving Winston and a small group of medics scrabbling for purchase as the atmosphere vented to space. He’d watched helplessly as, one after another, his colleagues had eventually lost there grip and been slammed mercilessly into bulkheads and stanchions and their broken bodies eventually expelled into the cold dark of space. Finally, unable to maintain his own grip, the inexorable pull of escaping atmosphere tore his hands free from the railing and he was thrown face first against the top of the jammed door, miraculously freeing its mechanism. As it slammed down inches from his face, the last thing he remembered was being grabbed by his own CMO of the time and forced into an escape pod.


The insistent voice of the duty clerk brought him back to the present. He had no idea how long she’d been calling him and felt slightly foolish as he gathered his thoughts.
“I’m sorry, I was…well it doesn’t matter. Erm, I’m booked in for a brief stay awaiting the Angel? Commander Anthony Winston III.”

The clerk scanned her list briefly. “Yes Sir, I have your details here. You’ll be staying in our transit accommodation, deck 37, section 15. Will you need any help with your luggage?”

He looked at the meagre collection of battered hand luggage he’d brought with him.

“No, I don’t think so, but thank you. If you could just give me directions please?”

She smiled at his polite, well mannered demeanour. It made a change from the usual demanding clientele that passed through. Handing him the electronic key to his temporary quarters, she pointed to the bank of turbolifts at the end of the corridor.

“Certainly Sir. Down to deck 27, turn right out of the lift and it’s the second cross junction. All the rooms are signed. Enjoy your stay Sir.”

He nodded his gratitude. “It has to be quieter than my last visit to these parts.”

Ambling away with his luggage, the clerk couldn’t help being reminded of a large, sad teddy bear.

August 30th 2371 – 1400 FST

Dan Fishlock sat at the centre of perfectly ordered quiet as he watched the final seconds tick away. As the chrono finally flicked to 1400, he turned to his right. This is it he thought.

“Mr DeSalle, request clearance departure from dry dock control.”

The tall and muscled Chief of Security bobbed his shaved head as his fingers tapped at the panel. “Aye Sir, clearance departure requested.”

From mission ops to his left, Lieutenant Amanda Gittings chimed in, “All decks secured for departure Sir.” His first officer, Kat Gray moved to stand behind his seat, with no position available for her at the moment.

Looking to DeSalle once more, Fishlock watched as the security chief’s dark eyes scanned his board before looking up with a smile and saying, “Dry Dock Control reports they are ready for our departure Sir. Message from Admiral Connors, Godspeed and don’t scratch the paintwork.”

Fishlock chuckled. “Hope you heard that Ensign Pharana?”

The young Denobulan conn officer swallowed hard. “I did indeed Sir, I’ll do my best. Helm ready Sir.”

“That’s all I ask Ensign, that’s all I ask.”

"Yard command signalling clear, Sir.” DeSalle routed the departure lane clearance through to ops.

“Mr Edwards, clear all moorings.” Fishlock felt his heart beat a little faster. “Conn, mooring thrusters to standby, aft thrusters to one-quarter.”

“Port and starboard to standby, aft to one quarter aye Sir.”

Pharana worked her board at conn like a concert pianist and imperceptibly, Angel began her journey. Work bees and shuttle craft scurried across Angel’s path in a co-ordinated ballet of movement as the sleek vessel gathered speed.

“Let’s give them some lights Mr Edwards.”

Around the huge ship running lights, navigation lights and anti collision strobes lit up with the final light being the one illuminating the Angel’s name and registry forward of the bridge.

“Dry dock reports us clear and free to manoeuvre Sir.”

“Conn, take us out, half impulse. Let’s make it one for the books.”

The Angel, free at last from her constraints, came alive as the thrum of the impulse engines transmitted the heartbeat of the ship through her deck plates. It seemed to combine and concentrate the anticipation of every member of the crew as the Utopia Planitia Yards receded behind them and they passed the navigation marker buoys. He smiled up at Gray, the pride plastered across his face a sight to see.

“Free space Sir, warp online, and ship secure.”

Fishlock looked up at the main viewscreen. “Excellent. Lay in a course for Starbase 621; warp five as soon as we clear boundary markers Ensign. Commander Gray if you’d join me in the ready room, Mr DeSalle you have the bridge.”

He stood, heading for the ready room to the port side of the bridge, and with a mischievous grin said “Children don’t break anything; I’ll only be next door.”

As the last of the Yard vessels peeled away from their escort duties, Angel headed out into her natural environment, her mission at last under way and the adventure just beginning.

August 30th 2371 – 1600 FST

Vonny Dixon, her shiny new ensign pip pinned to her brand new uniform, felt a sense of excitement she thought would never abate. The warp core thrummed happily and the cathedral like atmosphere of the engineering deck momentarily took her back to her childhood.

Her mother and father had taken her to London to visit relatives and they’d done the usual sight seeing trip. It was a visit to St Paul’s cathedral that had made the young Vonny stand in awe that such a vast space could be so quiet and breathtaking. The huge domed cathedral had weathered the storms of world wars virtually unscathed unlike the rest of London and its atmosphere of history and something that Vonny couldn’t place left her wide eyed.

“So, Ensign,” came a voice from behind, “was it all ye expected.”

Vonny self consciously brushed the shiny single pip at her collar as she turned to face Lieutenant Commander Andi Machilveen, the Chief Engineer.

“Yes ma’am and then some. When the warp core came on line and…” Vonny gestured around her, for once at a loss for words.

Machilveen chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what ye mean. Still gets to me too.” Her Glaswegian accent, usually just a low hint, strengthened slightly as she looked at the quiet professionals at work around her. “It’s times like this lass that ye’ll remember. Still,” she said, shaking her reverie, “work tae do. Let’s see if we cannae work a few more miracles before Starbase 621.”


Vin DeSalle had returned to security following the departure from the Yards, and was now briefing the Beta shift team on their duties. The shift ran from 1600 to midnight ship’s time and for the present appeared to be trouble free.

“Janowski, I want you to rotate duty controller between you, Hannar and T’Mass. Get a feel for the shift cycle ok? I also want to play shift deployment by ear for this first cruise. Let’s see where duty stations are best located.”

Janowski nodded. As Beta shift supervisor, it would be his responsibility to deploy the personnel of security on patrols. Like all the other duty positions on the ship however, in the event of an emergency, control reverted to the Alpha shift leader who was usually the section Chief.

“You have the shift Lieutenant, let’s keep it safe.”


Lieutenant John Dorian closed the supply cabinet and looked at the young crewwoman perched on the edge of the biobed. The flashburn on the back of her arm was far from serious, but still painful. He’d applied an analgesic cream and now gently set to work with a regenerator.

“You know I think we should put up a small plaque to you.”

She gave him a slightly baffled look. “Sir?”

“You have the distinct honour, Miss Palmer, of being our first ever patient. Maybe a small picture as well? Just over there by the main entrance.”

“I think I’d rather live in anonymity for this one thank you doctor. Ten minutes out of dry dock and I get injured?” She grinned wryly at the dubious honour. “Not good.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “I’m sure there have been less auspicious starts to careers.” He turned off the regenerator and inspected his handiwork, the skin healed and showing little more than a fresh pinkness for its ordeal.

“Shame all my jobs aren’t as simple as this. Best keep the steriwrap on for the rest of the day though.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As she carefully donned her tunic, he packed away the equipment and said, “If I promise I won’t put up a plaque, will you promise to keep your bodily parts clear of faulty EPS conduits?”

She laughed as she hopped down from the biobed. “You can count on that Sir. Thanks again.”

As she left, a lieutenant in ship’s services yellow hobbled in favouring his left leg. Turning to Misaki who’d been observing his work he asked for a snap diagnosis.

“I would say leg or back strain. The fact that he is still mobile in a non-crisis situation suggests that it is probably not a fracture but we should treat it as such until proven otherwise.”

He nodded. “Good, and treatment?”

She paused. “If it is a fracture, then bone regeneration and analgesic treatment, to remain off duty for at least 24 hours. A sprain simply requires deep muscle regeneration.”

He nodded, pleased with the answers. Moving to the injured lieutenant, he helped him up on to the biobed. “Lieutenant, unfortunately you missed the honour of being our very first patient but to compensate I would like to offer you this once in a lifetime chance to be treated by our star combat medic Ensign Hiroshi Misaki. Hasn’t lost a patient yet so she tells me.”

Despite his obvious discomfort, he smiled. “Then let’s hope I’m not the first.”

JD rolled his eyes skyward. “Oh ye of little faith. Thank you lieutenant, that’s appreciated.” He held out his hand for Misaki to proceed, and said dryly “Now you remember which end the legs are?”


Dan Fishlock hugged the mug of raktajino appreciatively and watched as Kat Gray replicated her favourite blend of Assam tea.

“So come on, how long had you known about it?”

Her face was guileless as she looked at him. “Know what?”

He adopted a hokey thinker position. “Hmm, let me try and recall the exact words…’Oh and I have one final surprise. Mrs Fishlock if you would?’ Yep I’m fairly certain that was how it went.”

Gray couldn’t hold it in any longer and released one of her trademark laughs that Dan was sure could be heard through two doors and out on to the bridge.

“Oh but your face was such a picture!” She set down the china cup and saucer on the desk and sat, crossing her long legs.

“Well I’m so glad that your commanding officer was available to give you such a much needed funny boost!” He relaxed back into his chair taking a swig of the hot, bitter Klingon coffee. “Thanks Kat that meant a lot to me however you managed to arrange it.”

“Seriously, I just mentioned it as a nice idea to Admiral Connors. He cleared the way for it, but you’re welcome.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while watching the stars streak past outside the ready room window. Finally Dan said, “Think we should go show our faces round the ship then?”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Please! If the crew see any more of your face, they’re gonna have nightmares. Let ‘em be for tonight and give Megan a call.”

Dan chuckled as he stood and stretched the kinks from his back. “Yes ma’am.”

Kat stood to leave Dan to his call when he said, “Still sure you want to serve with a newbie?”

She held the ready room doors for just a moment as she said “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

As they closed behind her, Dan thought neither would I.
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