This is a missing scene from between this story and the next one "The Ruse"
that was posted for the Ad Astra Just for Forum - A Place for Prompt Responses
Chapter Notes: A missing scene from between Trial by Fire and The Ruse. Written for anyone who has gotten one of those ready meals only to discover that the microwave has destroyed it and anyone who has ordered takeaway and found their order wrong / incomplete.
Hello everyone. With the discussion forum down and not all of us having our Ad Astra blogs up and going I thought I would try to create a little round robin story where we can all post a little response to my posited ‘How do we cope when technology fails?' prompt.
Our heroes would have to tackle Star Trek life without the magic of their technology - say no transporters, no replicators, no grav-plates, no warp power, etc. Maybe they find themselves in a crutch, maybe it ends up with some hilarious or fish out of water moments, or puts their lives in mortal peril. Have at it. Remember to keep it clean given the K rating and that this is just for fun to help us while over the absence of the forum.
Just post your prompt response as a new chapter and sign your name to the ‘chapter' you write. Well that's the plan. Fingers crossed as to whether this works! Remember, just write it, don't edit it to death - for this one time on the archive!
Wilcox sat at his desk looking over some of the personnel files for the new positions that he had available on the Nightingale. Everyone on the files had almost the exactly same record, recently graduated or recently completed basic training; very few had actual field experience. Some of individuals had not even been outside of the Sol system. None of them were that qualified to serve on his ship, yet this was all Starfleet was willing to give him. He rubbed his temple in frustration, hoping the small massage will help conjure up some sort of answer to his problem. He sighed when nothing came forward. Turning to his small replicator, one of only six on the whole of the Nightingale he breathed a sigh of relief that at least Earl Grey was now available since the replicators were repaired. "Earl Grey hot," he said pressing a button on the top of the machine, but nothing happened, "Earl Grey hot," he repeated his order.
Then in front of his eye a small mug of steaming liquid materialised, John sighed in relief, at least he had one ally, Earl Grey. Taking the mug he took a sip, noticing a touch of spice in the liquid that started to burn his tongue he spat out the hot liquid. "Computer," he addressed the machine, "I asked for Earl Grey tea, not a Tholian Spiced Coffee." The computer did nothing in return, but blinked its lights on and off as if nothing was amiss. "Computer, let me put this simply for you, hot Earl Grey tea."
The computer again materialised a mug in the machine and Captain Wilcox gave it a quick look, "Well it looks right," he continued to the machine, "Let's have a quick taste." John grabbed the mug and quickly took a sip. This time there was no need to spit out the liquid, at least it wasn't going to end him up in sickbay, "Computer this is English Breakfast; not Earl Grey tea." Wilcox attempted not to get a huff on, "Do I get a refund if I am not completely satisfied?"
"You inquiry was not recognised," the computer replied to John's jester's comment.
"Computer, how many varieties of tea do you have?" John asked.
"There are a total of sixty six thousand four hundred and thirty two varieties of tea that this unit can produce," the computer replied monotonously, unaware of the problems it was causing. "Please give your order."
"A hot Earl Grey tea," John said, stressing the words made him feel better, but the computer probably didn't respond to such emotional responses. A mug suddenly appeared and John grabbed it and smelt the liquid inside, "Computer this is a Raktajino," he announced, "It's not even a tea, its a bloody coffee."
John drew in a deep breath and then hit the replicator squarely in the middle at the top of the machine, "Computer, I want a hot Earl Grey Tea, and I want it now!" he shouted loudly. The machine did nothing a moment and then materialised something that looked about right. John took it into his hand and smelt the liquid, he smelt about right. He then took a sip, instantly spitting it out. "They stewed the tea, it's ruined."
John sat at his desk and pressed the intercom button, "Captain Wilcox to Lieutenant Torlik."
" Lieutenant Torlik here Captain,
" the chief of operations answered quickly.
"I need a repair crew in my office Lieutenant, my replicator is on the fritz," he ordered.
"They'll be there in five minutes sir
," came the reply.
"Thank you Lieutenant, Captain Wilcox out," John turned off the com channel and sat back in chair, five minutes plus repair time without tea seemed like an eternity.