“This Ain’t Hell, But . . .”
(Author’s note: This short story takes place in 2354, during the height of the first Federation-Cardassian War. Joseph Akinola is an enlisted man, serving as Chief of the Boat on the border cutter, USS Bluefin.)
Stardate 31782.3 (13 October 2354)
USS Bluefin
Beloti Sector – en route to Mericor System, Warp 6
Part One
Master Chief Petty Officer Joseph Akinola sat at his office desk in the cutter’s armory with a glacial expression on his face. He rhythmically tapped a stylus against a PADD - the sharp tak . . . tak . . . tak . . . was the only sound in the room, save for the muffled hum of the environmental system. Across his desk were the objects of his malevolent gaze – two very sorry specimens, in his estimation.
Standing before him, ramrod straight, were two of the cutter's crew – both bruised, bloodied and disheveled. One was a stocky Human; a Petty Officer 2nd Class with close cropped hair and a nose that had obviously been broken several times. By its current swollen and bloody state, it was obvious that the nose had been broken again, very recently. His lower lip was puffy and a thin crust of dried blood streaked his chin. Perspiration glistened on his high forehead, despite the relatively cool temperature of the office.
The other was a young, muscular Red Orion Petty Officer 3rd Class. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and the left sleeve of his jumpsuit was torn completely off. His glossy black hair was mussed and wet with perspiration. The Orion’s left hand was badly swollen with wounds that looked suspiciously like teeth marks forming a crescent between his thumb and forefinger. Like his compatriot, he stood at rigid attention; his gaze focused twenty centimeters over the head of their pissed-off Chief of the Boat.
Master Chief Akinola finally tossed the PADD and stylus on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, shifting eye contact from one subject to the other.
“This is the third time in as many months you two have gotten into it,” he said, quietly.
“Actually, it’s the fourth . . .,” began the Human petty officer.
“Shut your face, McManus!” Akinola snapped. “Do not open your mouth unless I tell you to.” The Master Chief stood and placed his hands on his waist, glaring at the two misbegotten non-commissioned officers.
“Who started it?” he asked, once more in a quiet voice.
“I did, Master Chief!” they said in unison.
Akinola restrained from smirking. “I see. Very noble of you both – take the blame, maintain honor, then get into another fight at the first opportunity.” He walked around his desk and stood very close to both of the men. He moved to McManus first, moving in so close that their noses nearly touched.
“You don’t like Orions, do you Petty Officer McManus?”
The pugnacious Scotsman cut a quick glance at the Red Orion. “Nae, Master Chief, I do not! They’re a thieving,’ murderin’ lot! It’s daft t’ allow ‘their kind in th’ service!” McManus’ brogue was thicker than usual as he spoke through split, bloody lips.
Akinola nodded, then stepped in front of the Red Orion. “And you, Petty Officer Brin – you don’t like Humans, do you?”
To his credit, Brin did not flinch. “I like Humans just fine, Master Chief. I just don’t like him!” he said, with a sideways jerk of his head.
Again, the Master Chief nodded. “I see.” He pursed his lips and again shifted his gaze from one man to another. “I suppose you both like Cardassians?”
Both non-coms looked shocked. “Nay! . . .” “Of course not . . .” they began, simultaneously.
“Really? I’m surprised, seeing as how you both are putting more effort into killing each other than you are the snake-heads!”
Akinola suddenly bellowed at point-blank range, “You two are a waste of rations and atmosphere! We’ll be going up against the Cardies within days and you’ll both probably be taking up space in sickbay while people who are doing their jobs will be getting killed because we’re short handed. You make me sick! I swear, I want to puke, but I won’t give you the satisfaction! Follow me!”
Akinola suddenly stormed out of his office. McManus and Brin exchanged puzzled looks, then quickly followed him.
The Master Chief took the ladder up one deck, then headed forward toward the ship’s gym. As he entered, Akinola suddenly turned on the two men.
“Attack me,” he said.
McManus blinked and Brin frowned in puzzlement.
Akinola suddenly lashed out with a back fist that dropped McManus to his knees. He spat out bright red blood and a tooth onto the deck.
The Master Chief stood, hands at his side. “You two will learn to fight together against a common foe, or I will personally put you both in sickbay.”
“Uh, Master Chief? Isn’t that against . . .” Brin’s protest was abruptly cut off by a vicious side-kick to his mid-section. He doubled over, gasping for breath.
“Attack me!” Akinola repeated.
This time, McManus launched himself at Akinola with a growl of wounded fury. Unfortunately for McManus, he was a brawler and lacked any sense of subtlety.
Akinola easily side-stepped the charging Scotsman and punched the man in the kidney. McManus tumbled to the deck, writhing in pain.
Solly Brin took advantage of McManus’ attack and attempted to tackle the Master Chief around his middle. A knee strike to his nose dissuaded him of that strategy. Solly staggered, trying to remain conscious as his vision darkened at the periphery. Blood poured from his injured nose. Through eyes blurred with tears of pain, he saw the Master Chief moving toward him.
Expecting a fist to his face, Solly brought up a forearm to block a punch. Akinola, however, merely swept the Orion’s legs out from under him. The Orion’s head bounced off the unpadded deck, and his breath exploded from him in a sharp, oomph!"
Having learned from his previous attack, McManus stealthily approached Akinola from behind as the Senior Chief dispatched the Orion. He brought his fist back to punch Akinola from behind. His sense of stealth proved to be sadly lacking.
The Master Chief executed a text-book back kick, striking the Scotsman squarely in the crotch with the heel of his boot.
With a high-pitched keening, McManus thrust his hands between his legs, and dropped sideways to the deck, curling into the fetal position.
Akinola surveyed his handiwork, shaking his head in disgust. “Pathetic!” he growled. "You two better learn to work together or some snake-head is going to make sure you have short careers!"
“Master Chief, may I inquire as to what you are doing?” came a calm voice from the gym entrance.
Akinola brushed at his jumpsuit sleeve and turned to see the ship’s XO, Commander Stanek. An eyebrow was raised prominently on the Vulcan’s forehead.
“It’s a training exercise, sir,” replied Akinola. “I was demonstrating how to defend against multiple attackers.”
Stanek nodded his head slowly. Akinola thought he detected a slight glimmer of amusement in the XO’s eyes. “I see. It would appear that your ‘students’ still have much to learn. Carry on, then.” Quietly, the Vulcan withdrew.
After the XO departed, Akinola walked over to the bulkhead and punched the comm. button.
“Akinola to sickbay.”
“Sickbay, Dr. Peterson here. What’s up, Master Chief?”
“Doc, could you send a corpsman to the gym? I’ve got two men with minor injuries.”
A chuckle came over the open channel. “I bet they’re not so minor to your victims. I’ll have Korlut head down there. Peterson, out.”
End Part One
* * *
(Author’s note: This short story takes place in 2354, during the height of the first Federation-Cardassian War. Joseph Akinola is an enlisted man, serving as Chief of the Boat on the border cutter, USS Bluefin.)
Stardate 31782.3 (13 October 2354)
USS Bluefin
Beloti Sector – en route to Mericor System, Warp 6
Part One
Master Chief Petty Officer Joseph Akinola sat at his office desk in the cutter’s armory with a glacial expression on his face. He rhythmically tapped a stylus against a PADD - the sharp tak . . . tak . . . tak . . . was the only sound in the room, save for the muffled hum of the environmental system. Across his desk were the objects of his malevolent gaze – two very sorry specimens, in his estimation.
Standing before him, ramrod straight, were two of the cutter's crew – both bruised, bloodied and disheveled. One was a stocky Human; a Petty Officer 2nd Class with close cropped hair and a nose that had obviously been broken several times. By its current swollen and bloody state, it was obvious that the nose had been broken again, very recently. His lower lip was puffy and a thin crust of dried blood streaked his chin. Perspiration glistened on his high forehead, despite the relatively cool temperature of the office.
The other was a young, muscular Red Orion Petty Officer 3rd Class. His left eye was nearly swollen shut and the left sleeve of his jumpsuit was torn completely off. His glossy black hair was mussed and wet with perspiration. The Orion’s left hand was badly swollen with wounds that looked suspiciously like teeth marks forming a crescent between his thumb and forefinger. Like his compatriot, he stood at rigid attention; his gaze focused twenty centimeters over the head of their pissed-off Chief of the Boat.
Master Chief Akinola finally tossed the PADD and stylus on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, shifting eye contact from one subject to the other.
“This is the third time in as many months you two have gotten into it,” he said, quietly.
“Actually, it’s the fourth . . .,” began the Human petty officer.
“Shut your face, McManus!” Akinola snapped. “Do not open your mouth unless I tell you to.” The Master Chief stood and placed his hands on his waist, glaring at the two misbegotten non-commissioned officers.
“Who started it?” he asked, once more in a quiet voice.
“I did, Master Chief!” they said in unison.
Akinola restrained from smirking. “I see. Very noble of you both – take the blame, maintain honor, then get into another fight at the first opportunity.” He walked around his desk and stood very close to both of the men. He moved to McManus first, moving in so close that their noses nearly touched.
“You don’t like Orions, do you Petty Officer McManus?”
The pugnacious Scotsman cut a quick glance at the Red Orion. “Nae, Master Chief, I do not! They’re a thieving,’ murderin’ lot! It’s daft t’ allow ‘their kind in th’ service!” McManus’ brogue was thicker than usual as he spoke through split, bloody lips.
Akinola nodded, then stepped in front of the Red Orion. “And you, Petty Officer Brin – you don’t like Humans, do you?”
To his credit, Brin did not flinch. “I like Humans just fine, Master Chief. I just don’t like him!” he said, with a sideways jerk of his head.
Again, the Master Chief nodded. “I see.” He pursed his lips and again shifted his gaze from one man to another. “I suppose you both like Cardassians?”
Both non-coms looked shocked. “Nay! . . .” “Of course not . . .” they began, simultaneously.
“Really? I’m surprised, seeing as how you both are putting more effort into killing each other than you are the snake-heads!”
Akinola suddenly bellowed at point-blank range, “You two are a waste of rations and atmosphere! We’ll be going up against the Cardies within days and you’ll both probably be taking up space in sickbay while people who are doing their jobs will be getting killed because we’re short handed. You make me sick! I swear, I want to puke, but I won’t give you the satisfaction! Follow me!”
Akinola suddenly stormed out of his office. McManus and Brin exchanged puzzled looks, then quickly followed him.
The Master Chief took the ladder up one deck, then headed forward toward the ship’s gym. As he entered, Akinola suddenly turned on the two men.
“Attack me,” he said.
McManus blinked and Brin frowned in puzzlement.
Akinola suddenly lashed out with a back fist that dropped McManus to his knees. He spat out bright red blood and a tooth onto the deck.
The Master Chief stood, hands at his side. “You two will learn to fight together against a common foe, or I will personally put you both in sickbay.”
“Uh, Master Chief? Isn’t that against . . .” Brin’s protest was abruptly cut off by a vicious side-kick to his mid-section. He doubled over, gasping for breath.
“Attack me!” Akinola repeated.
This time, McManus launched himself at Akinola with a growl of wounded fury. Unfortunately for McManus, he was a brawler and lacked any sense of subtlety.
Akinola easily side-stepped the charging Scotsman and punched the man in the kidney. McManus tumbled to the deck, writhing in pain.
Solly Brin took advantage of McManus’ attack and attempted to tackle the Master Chief around his middle. A knee strike to his nose dissuaded him of that strategy. Solly staggered, trying to remain conscious as his vision darkened at the periphery. Blood poured from his injured nose. Through eyes blurred with tears of pain, he saw the Master Chief moving toward him.
Expecting a fist to his face, Solly brought up a forearm to block a punch. Akinola, however, merely swept the Orion’s legs out from under him. The Orion’s head bounced off the unpadded deck, and his breath exploded from him in a sharp, oomph!"
Having learned from his previous attack, McManus stealthily approached Akinola from behind as the Senior Chief dispatched the Orion. He brought his fist back to punch Akinola from behind. His sense of stealth proved to be sadly lacking.
The Master Chief executed a text-book back kick, striking the Scotsman squarely in the crotch with the heel of his boot.
With a high-pitched keening, McManus thrust his hands between his legs, and dropped sideways to the deck, curling into the fetal position.
Akinola surveyed his handiwork, shaking his head in disgust. “Pathetic!” he growled. "You two better learn to work together or some snake-head is going to make sure you have short careers!"
“Master Chief, may I inquire as to what you are doing?” came a calm voice from the gym entrance.
Akinola brushed at his jumpsuit sleeve and turned to see the ship’s XO, Commander Stanek. An eyebrow was raised prominently on the Vulcan’s forehead.
“It’s a training exercise, sir,” replied Akinola. “I was demonstrating how to defend against multiple attackers.”
Stanek nodded his head slowly. Akinola thought he detected a slight glimmer of amusement in the XO’s eyes. “I see. It would appear that your ‘students’ still have much to learn. Carry on, then.” Quietly, the Vulcan withdrew.
After the XO departed, Akinola walked over to the bulkhead and punched the comm. button.
“Akinola to sickbay.”
“Sickbay, Dr. Peterson here. What’s up, Master Chief?”
“Doc, could you send a corpsman to the gym? I’ve got two men with minor injuries.”
A chuckle came over the open channel. “I bet they’re not so minor to your victims. I’ll have Korlut head down there. Peterson, out.”
End Part One
* * *
