Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Thirty three
Stardate 54079.2 (5 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
En route to Star Station Echo - warp 4
Captain Akinola carried his breakfast tray into the wardroom to find Admiral Bateson already seated and holding a mug of coffee, a pensive expression on his face.
"Good morning, Admiral - did you rest well?"
"Hmm? Oh, 'morning Joseph. Yes, I got a little sleep."
Akinola placed his tray across from the Admiral and filled his own mug from a caraffe on the table. He noticed that Bateson still looked tired and seemed distracted.
"I slept like a log, which is pretty unusual for me." Akinola took a sip of coffee and poured syrup on his waffle. He took another look at Bateson and his expression became concerned.
"Morgan? Are you alright?"
Bateson seemed to rouse himself and smiled. "Sure. I've just been playing back all that's happened these past few days, trying to fit everything together."
"And?" asked Akinola around a mouthful of waffle.
Bateson leaned forward and clasped his large hands together on the table. "Doesn't it seem that Garth gave up pretty easily?"
"I don't know that I'd call blowing up your ship, 'giving up," replied the Captain.
"No . . . I suppose not. But it just doesn't seem his style, Joseph. It was such a . . . futile gesture, I suppose. Garth always thought two or three moves ahead - surely he had a better escape plan than to try to outrun us in a shuttlecraft!"
Akinola set his fork down, leaned back and crossed his arms. "So what's your point?"
"I spoke to Dr. Kliss again," he said in a seeming non sequitur. "I found out that one of those cloning cylinders had been there for awhile - apparently for some time before Kliss, Xerok and the other scientists arrived."
Akinola frowned. "Are you going where I think you're going?"
Bateson nodded. "He had himself cloned once. What if there are other clones running around? Hell, what if we've never actually run into the real Garth?!"
"That's just speculation, Admiral," but a trace of doubt had crept into Akinola's voice.
"True. And even if we knew for sure that he was still alive, we have no clue where he might be!"
"Here's an even scarier thought, Admiral."
"What?"
"What if all of this was just a ruse - a decoy to cover his real plan?"
"Yeah," agreed Bateson morosely. "That's what's keeping me awake."
* * *
"O.C.! Hey, wait up!"
Dr. Castille turned and his face broke into a large grin as Delta Simms trotted up to him.
"Hi!," he said, "Where are you headed in such a hurry?"
She returned the smile. "Just heading back to my quarters so I can get changed for my workout. I was wondering . . . when we get to the station, would you like to go rafting with me?"
"Rafting?" he asked, puzzled.
"White-water rafting. I've got a great holo-deck program of the Ocoee River. There's some great cat-4 rapids - it's a blast!" she said with enthusiasm.
"Rapids?" Castille's puzzlement turned to concern.
"Don't worry - I keep the safety protocols on . . . well, most of them, anyway. It wouldn't be any fun if there wasn't some risk, would it?"
"I suppose not . . . "
"Great! We should arrive in about four hours, but we both have our duty shifts - why not tomorrow, say 0900?"
Though he was nervous about the idea of white-water rafting, the hopeful expression on her face, her bright, hazel eyes and her lovely smile melted his defences.
"I look forward to it!" he said.
Her eyes sparkled and her smile grew even brighter. "Great! Catch you later, O.C.!" She trotted off toward her quarters.
Castille felt a bit dizzy, as if he'd just been caught in a tornado. He smiled.
It was a nice feeling.
* * *
"Docking clamps engaged and umbilicals connected. Station power on standby - positive pressure at airlock," announced Lt. Fralk from the helm.
"Thank you, Mr. Fralk," replied Commander Strauss. "Mr. Bane, shift to station power and notify Mr. Gralt that he may power down his engines."
"Aye, ma'am," replied Bane.
Inga stood and walked over to the Denobulan helmsman. She placed a hand affectionately on his shoulder. "We're going to miss you, Mr. Fralk, but I know you'll be glad to see your family again."
Fralk turned and favored her with a disconcertingly wide grin. "Thank you, Commander! Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my four wives and most of their other husbands. There are a couple of their husbands, I must admit, that I hope not to see."
"Ah, right," replied Inga. It made her head hurt trying to understand Denobulan family relationships. "When are you heading out?"
"Tomorrow," he said. "I have to get processed out, then I catch a transport home. I'll arrive on Denobula in about four days."
Bane walked over and extended his hand. "It's been a pleasure, mate! We're gonna miss your smilin' face on the bridge!"
Fralk returned the handshake. "Likewise, Nigel. Perhaps both of you will visit Denobula one day? I'd love to show you some of the sights! It's a vibrant place, if a bit crowded. You would enjoy the communal baths of Tretaria! A marvelous, intimate setting - hundreds of people, all writhing in the throes of passion . . ."
Inga's face had turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "That, ah, sounds lovely, Fralk! Perhaps one day . . ."
"Oh yeah!" said Nigel with a wicked wink. "You can count on us, fair dinkum!"
Strauss cleared her throat and gave him an "are you out of your mind?" look. "Mr. Bane, perhaps you should see to securing your station . . . now?!"
"Right-o, Commander," he replied, still wearing a roguish grin. "I'll see you before you leave, Fralk."
* * *
The senior NCOs gathered in the armory for a solemn ceremony.
"Attention on the deck!" bellowed Senior Chief Solly Brin.
Chief Deryx, Chief Rumraa, PO 1st Class Sanders and PO 1st Class Menendez all came to strict attention.
Petty Officer 1st Class Rice shook her head, smiling. "Okay guys, this is just silly . . ."
"Attention to orders!" called Brin, ignoring the petite corpsman. He unrolled a piece of replicated parchment. "Be it known to those gathered for this solemn occasion, we hereby recognize Corpsman 1st Class Linda Renee Rice upon her promotion to the exalted position of civilian, 3rd class, with all the rights, responsibilities and headaches, etc. etc."
"Hear, hear!" said Menendez.
"Shut up, Raul, I'm not done yet."
"Sorry!"
"As I was saying, we gather to honor the service of Corpsman Rice, for dedication to duty, her bravery in the face of extreme height deprivation . . ."
"Hey!" said Rice, in mock indignation. "I resemble that remark!"
" . . . her courage, and administering enemas above and beyond the call of duty!"
"Screw you, Senior Chief!" said Rice, struggling to keep a straight face.
"Hear, hear!" said Menendez.
"Shut the Frak up, Petty Officer Menendez, and stick to the script!" said Brin.
"Sorry!" said Menendez.
"As a token of our esteem and our soon-to-be drunken state," continued Solly, "we hereby award you the Royal Order of the Bedpan." Brin produced a vintage, stainless steel bedpan. In the bottom was a picture of Brin, Deryx, Rumraa, Sanders and Menedez with target rings superimposed over their image. He solemnly handed it to Rice who began to giggle.
Brin glared at Menendez then elbowed him hard in the side.
"Huh? Oh! Hear, hear!" said Menendez. The other Non-coms began to applaud.
Rice shook her head with a goofy grin as she held the bedpan. Her eyes shone with restrained tears. "I'll think of you guys every time I go to the head!"
"Well, that was too much information!" observed Sanders. "Come on, Senior Chief - break out the hooch!"
Brin picked up Rice in a big bear-hug. "Just make good grades in medical school, kid! Maybe you'll end up as CMO on one of these tubs one day!"
* * *
Stardate 54080.2 (6 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth 16
"Captain, it has been an honor to serve under you!" said Lt. Fralk, sincerely.
"The honor is mine, Lieutenant. You've been an excellent officer and a fine helmsman. I wish you all the best!" replied Akinola as he firmly gripped the Denobulan's hand. "Not to wish you ill, but if the 'Fleet ever activates your reserve commission, I'll be looking for you to report back to the Bluefin!"
"Absolutely, sir!" Fralk made his way down the line of his fellow officers in the crowded wardroom. Shaking hands and receiving hugs.
When he came to Lt. Sarnek, the Vulcan offered the traditional spread-finger salute. "Live long and prosper, Fralk of Denobula. You have shown yourself to be an adequate helmsman."
Fralk tried to return the salute, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. "Try not to scratch the paint, Sarnek. And Bralus . . . " Fralk turned to the third helmsman. "for the Maker's sake, don't blow out the ventral compensators again! Let the impulse regulators do their job."
The blue-skinned Bolian rolled his eyes. "Yes, master. This wretched excuse for a helmsman humbly receives your wisdom."
Fralk nodded in approval. "Well-said, young Padawan!" He then grabbed Bralus in a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, Blue-boy!" He said, trying to contain his emotions. He stepped back, smiled, then quickly exited.
Inga wiped her eyes. "I hate good-byes," she said.
Akinola nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too."
* * *
Stardate 54082.5 (8 February 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Berth 16
Inga and Nigel strolled along level ten of the station, deciding whether to go to one of the holodecks or get something to eat. They were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Hey! Do either of you know where a girl could catch a ride on a cutter?"
Inga and Nigel quickly turned. "T'Ser!" Inga said, surprised, and her face lit up in a big smile.
The two women hugged, then Inga stood back looking at her friend.
"So, are you back for good?"
T'Ser's smile faltered slightly. "Well, let's say I'm back for now. I'll tell you about it later." She turned to Bane. "Nigel - aren't I entitled to a hug?"
"Well, Commander, you know what the regs say about public displays of affection!" he replied, before scooping up the Vulcan officer and spinning her around on his shoulder.
"Nigel!" hissed Inga, mortified. "For God's sake, put her down! Someone might see!"
T'Ser steadied herself after her "ride." "Glad to see that you've matured, Mr. Bane. What are you two up to?" she asked, still grinning.
"Dinner and the holodeck," replied Inga, "Only we can't decide which to do first. Why don't you join us?"
T'Ser shook her head and patted her clamshell carryall. "Can't - I still need to check in and stow my gear. I'll see you both later." She moved off toward the bank of turbo-lifts, heading toward the ships' bays.
"It's sure good to see her back," remarked Bane.
Inga's smile faded. "Yeah. I just wonder for how long."
* * *
"Welcome aboard, Commander!" said Akinola as he moved around his desk to greet T'Ser. He clasped her hand and indicated for her to take a seat, while he leaned against his desk.
"Thank you, sir. I have to admit, it feels good to be here."
"I imagine you're tired after your trip."
She smiled. "Three days on a runabout is not the way I'd want to travel on a regular basis."
Akinola chuckled and walked to the beverage servitor, pouring a mug of steaming dark roast. "How about some coffee, Commander?"
"Yes sir, thanks!" Akinola handed her a mug. She took a sip, savoring the strong flavor. "You know, after six weeks in the Mecca for coffee snobs, I really came to appreciate the coffee here."
Akinola returned to his desk chair and leaned back. "It does grow on you, that's true." He took a sip and regarded the Vulcan woman. "So, how are you doing, T'Ser."
She smiled, having anticipated the question. "Better, sir. And thanks again for letting me have some time away. I was able to come to grips with a few things . . ."
"But not all?" asked Akinola with a raised eyebrow.
T'Ser sighed. "There are still a lot of ghosts on this ship, Captain. And, as much as I love it here, I did put in for a transfer."
The Captain nodded in understanding. "I'm glad you reached a decision, T'Ser. And I'm especially glad you're here again, even if for a short while."
"You're . . . not upset with me, are you?"
Akinola smiled. "Hardly. That's not to say you won't be missed - you will. And finding another competent Ops officer to put in the rotation won't be easy, but we'll manage. The important thing is that you didn't allow indecision to paralyze you. You considered the factors, then made a tough call. I'm proud that you did."
"I appreciate that, sir. It means a lot . . . coming from you, that is."
Akinola inclined his head. "That being said, I've made some changes. Lt. Commander Simms is now in the second officer slot. I'd like to keep her there for continuity, especially since you've put in for your transfer."
T'Ser nodded. "Understood, sir. No problem here."
"Good. You're still senior Ops officer and you'll work Alpha shift for the duration. We've got two weeks lay-over while Gralt finishes some repairs that he rushed through earlier. Also, we've got some replacements coming in as well." Akinola stood, indicating that the meeting was at an end. T'Ser also stood.
"It is good to see you, T'Ser. I'll let you get your gear squared away now."
"Thank you, sir."
Akinola nodded. "Dismissed."
* * *
Ensign Drii An'Shil moved slowly through the throng of beings, trying to find directional indicators to the ship berthing area. The young Andorian woman was fresh from the Academy and more than a bit apprehensive about her first ship-board assignment. She checked once again to make sure she had the padd containing her orders. It was the third time in five minutes that she had done so.
As she looked at the padd, she collided with a very large, solid man, and fell unceremoniously to the deck. Quickly, a strong hand grabbed her arm and easily lifted her back to her feet.
She looked up into the dark, red face of an Orion senior chief petty officer. He had a slightly amused expression on his face, which countered his otherwise intimidating visage. She blinked at the large man, momentarily speechless.
"Sorry about that Ensign," said the senior chief. "Are you okay?"
"Yes sir, I'm fine," she replied and winced. She knew better than to address a non-com as "sir."
The Orion seemed not to notice. "Can I help you ma'am? Begging your pardon, but you seem a bit lost." he said, not unkindly.
"Thank you, I could use some help with directions. I'm trying to find the USS Bluefin."
Another look of amusement crossed the big non-com's face. "The Bluefin, you say? . . . Yes ma'am, I can most definitely help you there." He reached down and picked up her carryall. "If you'll follow me, Ensign, I'll take you there m'self."
"Oh, I don't want to take you out of your way . . ." she protested.
"Actually, it's right on my way. My name's Brin, Solly Brin."
She hurried to keep up with the burly Orion. "I'm Ensign Drii An'Shil." She hesitated before adding, "I just graduated from the Academy."
Brin chuckled. "Yes ma'am. I kinda figured."
* * *
Admiral Bateson rubbed his eyes, then returned to the stack of padds on his desk. His brief stint on the Bluefin had not slowed the influx of reports, requests, complaints, and directives that now threatened to overwhelm his desk.
His terminal chimed and his new aide appeared on the screen. He stifled a sigh and stared impassively at the terminal.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
The Trill lieutenant looked befuddled. "Uh, sir? There's a Klingon captain here with a bottle of blood-wine demanding to see you."
Bateson's face broke into a broad grin. "By all means - send Captain Mertok in!"
* * *
Stardate 54085.1 (11 February 2377)
By the Yuchan Sea, Klaamet IV
The old man stood on the balcony of his veranda, overlooking his beloved sea. Dark clouds moved quickly across the sky and the waves thundered against the shore, giving promise of an approaching storm.
He closed his eyes, savoring the wind and the tang of spray in his face. His long white hair streamed in the wind.
After a few moments of solitude. He opened his eyes and sighed. It was time to move on. Already, he had stayed beyond what he knew to be a safe interval. But he dearly loved this place and it pained him to leave.
Turning he re-entered the pink-stone house and closed the double doors. He moved to the den where a fire crackled in a stone fireplace, pushing back the chill and dampness. He settled into a favorite chair and picked up a black box, smooth and lustrous, marked with alien glyphs hinting at its mysterious contents.
The old man caressed the box, even as his still-sharp ears picked up a faint sound behind him. He replaced the box on the low table, then stood, turning to face the intruder.
"I must say, I'm impressed Commander Chalmer! I honestly didn't think you had the mental capacity to track me down."
The Section 31 operative gazed impassively at the old man. "You crossed us, 'Mr. Chandler.' That is something that my superiors do not forgive."
The old man shrugged. "Well, you served my purpose after all. That's what counts."
Commander Chalmer leveled a phaser at the old man. Beads of perspiration covered his forehead. "You've caused enough trouble . . ." Chalmer began to cough violently, his eyes widened in surprise and sudden fear. Dropping the phaser, he clutched at his throat and fell to his knees.
The old man walked over and casually retrieved the phaser. "You might be interested to know, Commander, that I keep a particularly virulent and fast-acting agent circulating through my humble house at all times. Of course, I and those authorized to be here, have been inoculated." He squatted before the choking Section 31 agent. "Unfortunately, it seems you were not invited. Pity."
Chalmer's eyes rolled back and he fell over, hitting the wooden floor with a loud thud.
The old man regarded Chalmer for a moment, then he reached forward and clasped the agent's face between his hands.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. It's been a long time since I've done this, he thought.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in the blink of an eye, the old man assumed the form of the dead Section 31 agent.
Garth of Izar straightened and brushed the clothing that had also morphed. He moved to a mirror to inspect the change. He sighed.
"You're a homely sod, but I suppose I can't be choosy." He pocketed the phaser, picked up the Req'ti, and exited his Veranda. As to his destination and plans, Garth will keep his own counsel. For now.
END
* * *
