Over in the Eleventh Fleet, it isn' all space battles and adventurous scouthing missions, sometimes it's just a lot of hard work, and few ships work harder that the Supply Ship Hellespont.
*****
Star Trek: Hellespont
“Fish Out Of Water”
By Brydon Sinclair
The Mediterranean-Class supply ship Hellespont was by no stretch of the imagination a big ship, but enough laps around deck five was enough to keep Abigail (Abby to everyone except her mother) Reynolds fit and limber. The ship had a decent gym set up, with all the necessary equipment for the crew of thirty to meet their exercise requirements for the week, but Abby had always preferred running.
As she ran, she met the occasional off-duty crewman—deck five housed most of the quarters and support systems, very rarely was there a member of the crew on duty roaming the corridors—and she’d greet each one by first name, though didn’t stop to chitchat. She had a good pace going and didn’t want to break it. In the four and half years she’d been running through the corridors of the Hellespont, she had become very adept at dodging and ducking around crewmen, cargo containers and numerous other obstacles in her way, and the crew that had been onboard for a few years knew to keep out of her way.
Fortunately they were empty—which was a rarity since they had been assigned to the Eleventh Fleet—and heading to Sanctuary for a brief stopover for some R&R, seeing as how entertainment onboard was limited to the gym and the mess hall that doubled as their recreation room (which had led to it being nicknamed the Messy-Rec long before she had come onboard, and the name still stuck). Not that they didn’t know how to relax and enjoy themselves on the job, but it just meant that when the crew got access to the recreational facilities on a station, they appreciated them and made the most of everything that was available.
Abby had managed to get her crew a full five days leave on Sanctuary, a favour Captain Drii owed her would see the Kongo pick up the slack of being down one supply ship during that time. No doubt she would owe him a favour in the near future and vice versa, as the fleet’s two only designated supply ships their workload was astronomical, but they had managed to handle it through sheer luck and a lot of favours on both ships—not to mention a few friendly civvie skippers both she and Drii knew.
“Bridge to Commander Reynolds,” came the voice of her overly-formal XO.
“Go for Reynolds,” she called into the comgrid with her customary New Zealand twang, not breaking her stride.
“Commander, we are receiving a priority four transmission from Sanctuary,” Lieutenant T’Pelis stated.
“I’m on my way up now. Reynolds out.”
Having to cut her run short—by twelve laps—she ducked down a short corridor that ended with a turbolift. She got to the doors which opened with her approach. Inside she glanced at the roof, as she tried to restore her breathing to normal. “Bridge.” The lift chirped and up she went. The ride was a short one and she stepped out onto the Hellespont’s compact bridge.
Her chair was on a step above the rest of the deck, close to the aft bulkhead which was dominated by the ship’s MSD, on either side of which were two sets of equipment locker and then the two doorways onto the bridge (port being the turbolift and starboard leading to her office and the briefing room), there were then two consoles on either side, engineering and environmental on the port side, tactical and mission operations on the starboard side (during normal operations only one of these were manned by a deckhand, Crewman Janine Rodgers had pulled the duty on Beta Shift), the viewscreen was at the front as was customary. The Conn and Ops consoles were situated next to each other, roughly halfway between her chair and the viewscreen. Both consoles were manned during all three shifts, and on Beta Shift that meant Lieutenant T’Pelis at Operations and Petty Officer Samru H’riss at the Conn.
“Put it up T’Pelis,” she said, coming to stand behind the two freestanding consoles.
The Vulcan nodded and tapped a panel on her console. On the viewscreen, the streaks of stars that they warped by was replaced by the distinctive face of a Basmari with a gold collar and the rank pips of a lieutenant commander.
“Grafydd? This is a surprise. What can I do for you?” she asked Sanctuary’s senior engineer.
“You may change your tune after you hear what I’m calling about Abby,” the bulky engineer said, sounding apologetic.
“Another run?” she asked, the exhaustion more than evident in her voice.
“Not really,” he told her. “It’s more a check up for us, seeing as how you’re the best suited ship in the area, shouldn’t take more than a day to check out. After that we’ll make sure you make up that time here.”
“What is it then?”
“We’ve lost contact with one of our comm relays in that sector, and we don’t have any runabouts free or I’d look into it myself. I need you to swing by and take a look, see if you can make repairs or if it will need to be replaced.”
“Graf, contrary to popular belief, supply ships don’t have spares just lying about the corridors. We aren’t a repair ship, isn’t there anyone else close by that could handle it?”
“The only other ship in the sector is the Nemesis and if the relay had to be taken in to make repairs, they don’t have the cargo capacity to handle it,” he explained. “If there was anyone else who could do it, I’d have called them. But you’re the best ship for the job.”
She sighed heavily, then nodded reluctantly. Abby had known Grafydd since serving together on K-7, and she knew he wouldn’t be asking unless there wasn’t an appropriate alternative. “Alright Graf. We’ll go take a look-see. But you just make sure that we make this time up on Sanctuary in the best possible way.”
He gave her a big, toothy grin. “I won’t let you down Abby. I’ll transmit the co-ordinates. Thanks again.”
“You owe me big for this one, Graf.”
“Co-ordinates received, Commander,” T’Pelis stated.
“We’ll keep you posted. Hellespont out.”
The channel closed and the image on the screen reverted to the star field. Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, it looked like R&R would have to wait for a little longer. But she would make sure that Grafydd was as good as his word, or he would live to regret it.
“Samru, lay in our new course and maintain warp five.”
The Saurian nodded his bulbous purple head. “Altering heading. ETA in ten-point-two hours.”
“Thanks,” she said, patting his shoulder before looking at her First Officer. “T’Pelis, run a full range of scans, the last thing we need is to run into any surprises out here. Also, call a staff meeting in nine hours. I want to get this checked out and dealt with as quickly as possible.”
“Aye ma’am,” she replied promptly.
With everything seen to as far as she could think, she headed back for the lift. “I’m going to try and catch some sleep before we arrive. If anything comes up, give me a comm.”
“Of course,” T’Pelis stated.
Back in the lift, Abby ordered it to deck four, which was where her quarters were. This wasn’t their usual assignment, but her crew were hard workers and proven to be able to handle just about anything thrown at them. They would rise to this challenge as well. She only hoped it was nothing more that a blown power coupling or a misaligned comm antenna.
*****
Abby had tossed and turned all the time she had been in bed, getting less than a couple hours sleep in total, before she admitted defeat and got up, with two hours to go until the time of the meeting. With the cargo holds empty and no runs scheduled for almost a week, she didn’t have any paperwork to catch up on. She had gotten everything in order so that she would be ready to enjoy her downtime as soon as they arrived.
Gamma Shift were now three hours into their watch, but she didn’t want to go to the bridge, as it would seem like she was looking over Lieutenant JG Leii Tio’s shoulder, and the young Deltan had proven to be a solid Second Officer, despite her age. If Abby went up to take over, it might give the younger woman the wrong impression and she didn’t want to lose a good officer.
So she had gotten out her guitar and started strumming, playing odd little bits of her favourite songs—all from the late twentieth and early twenty-first century—or just making it up as she went along. The pieces she liked the scribbled down on a spare PADD, along with the odd lyric or line that came to mind. That managed to kill half an hour, but produced little she was happy with. She would look at it again when she wasn’t quite so tired or distracted.
She then brought up the specs for the comm relay, to see what might have happened to it that would account for its going dark. But what she saw she didn’t overly like. The relay was robustly designed, capable of taking a pounding and still working. It was a little smaller than a runabout, which would mean they could just get it inside the hanger doors and no more, once inside they had more than enough room for it though. Taking it onboard would also be easier to fix whatever problem may have occurred, rather than floating around in bulky EVA suits. That was if there was a problem they could fix. It could be beyond repair, in which case she would have to inform Sanctuary, and they would have to organise deploying a replacement.
With an hour still to go until the meeting, she went for a shower and changed into a fresh uniform. She opted to braid her long strawberry blonde hair, so that was out of her way and she wouldn’t need to worry about it later in the day. Once dressed and presentable, she headed for the messy-rec which was on the starboard side of deck four.
The ship was a little busier, no doubt everyone onboard now knew about their latest assignment, and they were all eager to get it done and enjoy some much needed time off. It was one of the things she liked most about the Hellespont, everyone on the crew knew each other, and they all banded together in order to get the job done.
Abby entered the messy-rec and found five people at two of the four tables in the room, whilst the couches were vacant. She greeted both tables and then headed to the replicators and ordered a fruit juice blend, with croissant, cheese and salami. The table of two was occupied by Chief Erion Tamae and Petty Officer Kuuvar, and so she opted to join them. As she approached, Tamae pushed a chair out with his foot for her and she slipped into it.
“Morning gentlemen.”
“Boss,” Tamae said, stifling a yawn, before stretching and scratching the spots at his right temple. His blond hair was unkempt and stuck up in every direction possible.
Abby hated being addressed as ‘sir’, and wasn’t overly fond of ‘ma’am’ or ‘Commander’ though they were acceptable in small doses. So after she had assumed command of the supply ship, she had adopted the title of ‘boss’ for those that didn’t want to use her given name. Due to the small crew complement onboard, she was comfortable with a far more relaxed state of affairs than on the larger ships in the fleet. No doubt her style wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes, but it worked for her and so she wasn’t about to change things.
“Morning Abby,” replied Kuuvar, a friendly grin on his handsome youthful face. When she had first met the Vulcan medic (a follower of v’tosh ka’tur), his smile and the ease with which he displayed his emotions had thrown her. But over the years she had come to appreciate his quick wit and compassion. The fact he was a brilliant corpsman also helped in cementing his place onboard.
“I take it you’ve both heard,” it was a statement, not a question.
Kuuvar nodded. “When was there ever a secret kept onboard this ship?”
She chuckled. “True.”
“Is this cutting our hols short?” Tamae asked, looking about ready to put his head on the table and fall asleep again. It was understandable, as the Hellespont’s Supply Chief it fell to him to keep the cargo bays, hanger deck and transporters running smoothly, and given their workload over the last few months, he was well overdue for some time off.
“I’ve been assured by Commander Grafydd that, whatever time we take to get this sorted we’ll get back when we get to Sanctuary.”
“Good,” the Trill said simply.
She tucked into her breakfast, as Kuuvar finished up his, and Tamae seemed to doze in his seat, his head lolling back and snoring softly. He was definitely an odd one, and took a little getting used to. She had long since gotten accustomed to the eccentric non-com, though some of the newbies onboard—such as Lieutenant T’Pelis—didn’t know quite what to make of him. Abby had learned long ago, the best way to work with Tamae was to go with the flow, wherever he wanted to take it.
Once he finished, Kuuvar pushed his tray to one side and looked at her. “So any hints as to what might be wrong out there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine at the moment,” she admitted. “Hopefully it will be something we can do quickly and then put into dock. The crew could definitely use the rest.”
“I’ll say. I’ve had more than a few cuts and bruises and burns caused by impaired judgement, thanks to exhaustion.”
“I know, I do read your reports Kuuvar.”
He flashed her a cheeky grin. “Just checking.”
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Will you be joining us for the meeting?” she asked, taking a bite of the croissant and salami.
“If it’s all the same, I think I’ll pass. The job doesn’t exactly call for any medical input, unless the relay has developed a cold after being in space for so long.”
“You know you are always more than welcome at staff meetings. It has to beat spending time with the EMH.”
“Holo-Doc and I get along just fine, I’ll have you know.”
She gave him a serious look, assessing his body language and expression in a heartbeat. “This isn’t because of the Lieutenant is it?”
Kuuvar shrugged and crossed his arms. “She doesn’t like me Boss—or I should say she doesn’t like v’tosh ka’tur.”
It was true. Ever since T’Pelis had come onboard, she had never been comfortable around Kuuvar. She hadn’t said anything to Abby directly, though had raised ‘concerns’ about his ability and competency—even though she made a point of anytime she visited sickbay, to do so out with his usual duty shift, so that she saw the Mark-II EMH. Aside from Kuuvar, T’Pelis was the first Vulcan onboard the Hellespont in the whole time that Abby had been onboard. It was the reason that he had sought an assignment to the ship, so he didn’t have to put up with ‘traditional Vulcan snobbery’ (as he put it) concerning those Vulcans that sought to embrace their emotions.
So far, it hadn’t caused any serious problems in how the ship run, but the last thing she needed was to have a major personnel issue, between her First Officer and the ship’s only flesh-and-blood medic. After their R&R, she would sit them both down and try to get things sorted. She avoided doing it now, as she was tired and getting crabby, and petty schoolyard bickering would most likely be the end of her.
“I’ll have a word with her Kuuvar. In the meantime, if you change your mind, there will be a chair free for you.”
“Thanks Abby,” he said gently.
She finished her breakfast platter and drained her glass of fruit juice. “Well, I’d better get this day started.”
“Sounds good to me. I still have to conduct inventory on the medical stores, make sure we’re fully stocked before we head back out,” the young Vulcan told her, as he stood and picked up his tray. She followed suit, but as she headed back to the replicator, Kuuvar gave Tamae a nudge. “You still with us Eri?”
Tamae waved him away and muttered something incoherent, before his soft snoring started again. Kuuvar left him be, and brought his tray back to the replicator as well. As it was recycled, Abby gestured to the Trill.
“Can you make sure he remembers about the meeting?”
“No problem.”
“Thanks Kuuvar,” she called as she headed out the door and towards the nearest turbolift.
*****
*****
Star Trek: Hellespont
“Fish Out Of Water”
By Brydon Sinclair
The Mediterranean-Class supply ship Hellespont was by no stretch of the imagination a big ship, but enough laps around deck five was enough to keep Abigail (Abby to everyone except her mother) Reynolds fit and limber. The ship had a decent gym set up, with all the necessary equipment for the crew of thirty to meet their exercise requirements for the week, but Abby had always preferred running.
As she ran, she met the occasional off-duty crewman—deck five housed most of the quarters and support systems, very rarely was there a member of the crew on duty roaming the corridors—and she’d greet each one by first name, though didn’t stop to chitchat. She had a good pace going and didn’t want to break it. In the four and half years she’d been running through the corridors of the Hellespont, she had become very adept at dodging and ducking around crewmen, cargo containers and numerous other obstacles in her way, and the crew that had been onboard for a few years knew to keep out of her way.
Fortunately they were empty—which was a rarity since they had been assigned to the Eleventh Fleet—and heading to Sanctuary for a brief stopover for some R&R, seeing as how entertainment onboard was limited to the gym and the mess hall that doubled as their recreation room (which had led to it being nicknamed the Messy-Rec long before she had come onboard, and the name still stuck). Not that they didn’t know how to relax and enjoy themselves on the job, but it just meant that when the crew got access to the recreational facilities on a station, they appreciated them and made the most of everything that was available.
Abby had managed to get her crew a full five days leave on Sanctuary, a favour Captain Drii owed her would see the Kongo pick up the slack of being down one supply ship during that time. No doubt she would owe him a favour in the near future and vice versa, as the fleet’s two only designated supply ships their workload was astronomical, but they had managed to handle it through sheer luck and a lot of favours on both ships—not to mention a few friendly civvie skippers both she and Drii knew.
“Bridge to Commander Reynolds,” came the voice of her overly-formal XO.
“Go for Reynolds,” she called into the comgrid with her customary New Zealand twang, not breaking her stride.
“Commander, we are receiving a priority four transmission from Sanctuary,” Lieutenant T’Pelis stated.
“I’m on my way up now. Reynolds out.”
Having to cut her run short—by twelve laps—she ducked down a short corridor that ended with a turbolift. She got to the doors which opened with her approach. Inside she glanced at the roof, as she tried to restore her breathing to normal. “Bridge.” The lift chirped and up she went. The ride was a short one and she stepped out onto the Hellespont’s compact bridge.
Her chair was on a step above the rest of the deck, close to the aft bulkhead which was dominated by the ship’s MSD, on either side of which were two sets of equipment locker and then the two doorways onto the bridge (port being the turbolift and starboard leading to her office and the briefing room), there were then two consoles on either side, engineering and environmental on the port side, tactical and mission operations on the starboard side (during normal operations only one of these were manned by a deckhand, Crewman Janine Rodgers had pulled the duty on Beta Shift), the viewscreen was at the front as was customary. The Conn and Ops consoles were situated next to each other, roughly halfway between her chair and the viewscreen. Both consoles were manned during all three shifts, and on Beta Shift that meant Lieutenant T’Pelis at Operations and Petty Officer Samru H’riss at the Conn.
“Put it up T’Pelis,” she said, coming to stand behind the two freestanding consoles.
The Vulcan nodded and tapped a panel on her console. On the viewscreen, the streaks of stars that they warped by was replaced by the distinctive face of a Basmari with a gold collar and the rank pips of a lieutenant commander.
“Grafydd? This is a surprise. What can I do for you?” she asked Sanctuary’s senior engineer.
“You may change your tune after you hear what I’m calling about Abby,” the bulky engineer said, sounding apologetic.
“Another run?” she asked, the exhaustion more than evident in her voice.
“Not really,” he told her. “It’s more a check up for us, seeing as how you’re the best suited ship in the area, shouldn’t take more than a day to check out. After that we’ll make sure you make up that time here.”
“What is it then?”
“We’ve lost contact with one of our comm relays in that sector, and we don’t have any runabouts free or I’d look into it myself. I need you to swing by and take a look, see if you can make repairs or if it will need to be replaced.”
“Graf, contrary to popular belief, supply ships don’t have spares just lying about the corridors. We aren’t a repair ship, isn’t there anyone else close by that could handle it?”
“The only other ship in the sector is the Nemesis and if the relay had to be taken in to make repairs, they don’t have the cargo capacity to handle it,” he explained. “If there was anyone else who could do it, I’d have called them. But you’re the best ship for the job.”
She sighed heavily, then nodded reluctantly. Abby had known Grafydd since serving together on K-7, and she knew he wouldn’t be asking unless there wasn’t an appropriate alternative. “Alright Graf. We’ll go take a look-see. But you just make sure that we make this time up on Sanctuary in the best possible way.”
He gave her a big, toothy grin. “I won’t let you down Abby. I’ll transmit the co-ordinates. Thanks again.”
“You owe me big for this one, Graf.”
“Co-ordinates received, Commander,” T’Pelis stated.
“We’ll keep you posted. Hellespont out.”
The channel closed and the image on the screen reverted to the star field. Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, it looked like R&R would have to wait for a little longer. But she would make sure that Grafydd was as good as his word, or he would live to regret it.
“Samru, lay in our new course and maintain warp five.”
The Saurian nodded his bulbous purple head. “Altering heading. ETA in ten-point-two hours.”
“Thanks,” she said, patting his shoulder before looking at her First Officer. “T’Pelis, run a full range of scans, the last thing we need is to run into any surprises out here. Also, call a staff meeting in nine hours. I want to get this checked out and dealt with as quickly as possible.”
“Aye ma’am,” she replied promptly.
With everything seen to as far as she could think, she headed back for the lift. “I’m going to try and catch some sleep before we arrive. If anything comes up, give me a comm.”
“Of course,” T’Pelis stated.
Back in the lift, Abby ordered it to deck four, which was where her quarters were. This wasn’t their usual assignment, but her crew were hard workers and proven to be able to handle just about anything thrown at them. They would rise to this challenge as well. She only hoped it was nothing more that a blown power coupling or a misaligned comm antenna.
*****
Abby had tossed and turned all the time she had been in bed, getting less than a couple hours sleep in total, before she admitted defeat and got up, with two hours to go until the time of the meeting. With the cargo holds empty and no runs scheduled for almost a week, she didn’t have any paperwork to catch up on. She had gotten everything in order so that she would be ready to enjoy her downtime as soon as they arrived.
Gamma Shift were now three hours into their watch, but she didn’t want to go to the bridge, as it would seem like she was looking over Lieutenant JG Leii Tio’s shoulder, and the young Deltan had proven to be a solid Second Officer, despite her age. If Abby went up to take over, it might give the younger woman the wrong impression and she didn’t want to lose a good officer.
So she had gotten out her guitar and started strumming, playing odd little bits of her favourite songs—all from the late twentieth and early twenty-first century—or just making it up as she went along. The pieces she liked the scribbled down on a spare PADD, along with the odd lyric or line that came to mind. That managed to kill half an hour, but produced little she was happy with. She would look at it again when she wasn’t quite so tired or distracted.
She then brought up the specs for the comm relay, to see what might have happened to it that would account for its going dark. But what she saw she didn’t overly like. The relay was robustly designed, capable of taking a pounding and still working. It was a little smaller than a runabout, which would mean they could just get it inside the hanger doors and no more, once inside they had more than enough room for it though. Taking it onboard would also be easier to fix whatever problem may have occurred, rather than floating around in bulky EVA suits. That was if there was a problem they could fix. It could be beyond repair, in which case she would have to inform Sanctuary, and they would have to organise deploying a replacement.
With an hour still to go until the meeting, she went for a shower and changed into a fresh uniform. She opted to braid her long strawberry blonde hair, so that was out of her way and she wouldn’t need to worry about it later in the day. Once dressed and presentable, she headed for the messy-rec which was on the starboard side of deck four.
The ship was a little busier, no doubt everyone onboard now knew about their latest assignment, and they were all eager to get it done and enjoy some much needed time off. It was one of the things she liked most about the Hellespont, everyone on the crew knew each other, and they all banded together in order to get the job done.
Abby entered the messy-rec and found five people at two of the four tables in the room, whilst the couches were vacant. She greeted both tables and then headed to the replicators and ordered a fruit juice blend, with croissant, cheese and salami. The table of two was occupied by Chief Erion Tamae and Petty Officer Kuuvar, and so she opted to join them. As she approached, Tamae pushed a chair out with his foot for her and she slipped into it.
“Morning gentlemen.”
“Boss,” Tamae said, stifling a yawn, before stretching and scratching the spots at his right temple. His blond hair was unkempt and stuck up in every direction possible.
Abby hated being addressed as ‘sir’, and wasn’t overly fond of ‘ma’am’ or ‘Commander’ though they were acceptable in small doses. So after she had assumed command of the supply ship, she had adopted the title of ‘boss’ for those that didn’t want to use her given name. Due to the small crew complement onboard, she was comfortable with a far more relaxed state of affairs than on the larger ships in the fleet. No doubt her style wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes, but it worked for her and so she wasn’t about to change things.
“Morning Abby,” replied Kuuvar, a friendly grin on his handsome youthful face. When she had first met the Vulcan medic (a follower of v’tosh ka’tur), his smile and the ease with which he displayed his emotions had thrown her. But over the years she had come to appreciate his quick wit and compassion. The fact he was a brilliant corpsman also helped in cementing his place onboard.
“I take it you’ve both heard,” it was a statement, not a question.
Kuuvar nodded. “When was there ever a secret kept onboard this ship?”
She chuckled. “True.”
“Is this cutting our hols short?” Tamae asked, looking about ready to put his head on the table and fall asleep again. It was understandable, as the Hellespont’s Supply Chief it fell to him to keep the cargo bays, hanger deck and transporters running smoothly, and given their workload over the last few months, he was well overdue for some time off.
“I’ve been assured by Commander Grafydd that, whatever time we take to get this sorted we’ll get back when we get to Sanctuary.”
“Good,” the Trill said simply.
She tucked into her breakfast, as Kuuvar finished up his, and Tamae seemed to doze in his seat, his head lolling back and snoring softly. He was definitely an odd one, and took a little getting used to. She had long since gotten accustomed to the eccentric non-com, though some of the newbies onboard—such as Lieutenant T’Pelis—didn’t know quite what to make of him. Abby had learned long ago, the best way to work with Tamae was to go with the flow, wherever he wanted to take it.
Once he finished, Kuuvar pushed his tray to one side and looked at her. “So any hints as to what might be wrong out there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine at the moment,” she admitted. “Hopefully it will be something we can do quickly and then put into dock. The crew could definitely use the rest.”
“I’ll say. I’ve had more than a few cuts and bruises and burns caused by impaired judgement, thanks to exhaustion.”
“I know, I do read your reports Kuuvar.”
He flashed her a cheeky grin. “Just checking.”
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Will you be joining us for the meeting?” she asked, taking a bite of the croissant and salami.
“If it’s all the same, I think I’ll pass. The job doesn’t exactly call for any medical input, unless the relay has developed a cold after being in space for so long.”
“You know you are always more than welcome at staff meetings. It has to beat spending time with the EMH.”
“Holo-Doc and I get along just fine, I’ll have you know.”
She gave him a serious look, assessing his body language and expression in a heartbeat. “This isn’t because of the Lieutenant is it?”
Kuuvar shrugged and crossed his arms. “She doesn’t like me Boss—or I should say she doesn’t like v’tosh ka’tur.”
It was true. Ever since T’Pelis had come onboard, she had never been comfortable around Kuuvar. She hadn’t said anything to Abby directly, though had raised ‘concerns’ about his ability and competency—even though she made a point of anytime she visited sickbay, to do so out with his usual duty shift, so that she saw the Mark-II EMH. Aside from Kuuvar, T’Pelis was the first Vulcan onboard the Hellespont in the whole time that Abby had been onboard. It was the reason that he had sought an assignment to the ship, so he didn’t have to put up with ‘traditional Vulcan snobbery’ (as he put it) concerning those Vulcans that sought to embrace their emotions.
So far, it hadn’t caused any serious problems in how the ship run, but the last thing she needed was to have a major personnel issue, between her First Officer and the ship’s only flesh-and-blood medic. After their R&R, she would sit them both down and try to get things sorted. She avoided doing it now, as she was tired and getting crabby, and petty schoolyard bickering would most likely be the end of her.
“I’ll have a word with her Kuuvar. In the meantime, if you change your mind, there will be a chair free for you.”
“Thanks Abby,” he said gently.
She finished her breakfast platter and drained her glass of fruit juice. “Well, I’d better get this day started.”
“Sounds good to me. I still have to conduct inventory on the medical stores, make sure we’re fully stocked before we head back out,” the young Vulcan told her, as he stood and picked up his tray. She followed suit, but as she headed back to the replicator, Kuuvar gave Tamae a nudge. “You still with us Eri?”
Tamae waved him away and muttered something incoherent, before his soft snoring started again. Kuuvar left him be, and brought his tray back to the replicator as well. As it was recycled, Abby gestured to the Trill.
“Can you make sure he remembers about the meeting?”
“No problem.”
“Thanks Kuuvar,” she called as she headed out the door and towards the nearest turbolift.
*****
Maybe there's something cute and cuddly in there that they could adopt as the ship's mascot?
?
