TOS Border Dogs – 2: “Sparring Partners”
Introduction
Border Dogs is a TOS-era series set in Earth year 2260 and following. The series focuses on Commander Silas "Sonny" Parker, CO of the Border Cutter USS Merlin. The story will be presented in noir style - first person from Parker's perspective. (Think "The Maltese Falcon" or the "Mike Hammer Mysteries.)
The Merlin is a Kestrel - class refit. Here's a link to the Starfleet Museum page to see and learn more about the Merlin: Starfleet Museum - Kestrel Class
I hope you enjoy this foray into the 23rd century. As always, your comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Special thanks to DavidFalkayn for insights and suggestions into the TOS character, Robert Wesley, who is featured in David's Star Trek: Lexington series. In this story, Wesley is still a Captain and in command of the destroyer, USS Ajax.
Chapter One
Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I mean, you can get really creative and no one really cares. Plus, it’s pretty much a given that breakfast is a meal you can walk around with and no one will think you were raised by Klingons. Well, no one I care about, anyway.
By the way, my name is Silas Parker. My friends call me Sonny. I won’t mention what my enemies call me. I command the border cutter, USS Merlin, part of the Seventh Border Service Squadron based out of Star Station Echo. If you’ve never heard of Echo, it’s out near the Klingon and Orion borders – a real fun spot if you’re a pirate, smuggler or enjoy getting robbed, raped, enslaved or killed. Not necessarily in that order.
Anyway, back to breakfast. It was a Tuesday morning, about six weeks after I took command of the Merlin. I had stopped by the mess hall and grabbed three powdered doughnuts, a pastrami sandwich, and a burrito. I also grabbed a mug full of hot, black sludge (some might call it coffee – we know better) and headed back to my cabin to finish some reports.
Balancing my breakfast on top of a data slate, I waited for the lift to arrive.
“Morning Skipper!”
I turned to see the lovely Lt. Sharlon Brooks Erdon, my XO, and arguably the most beautiful woman in the quadrant. By the way, she hates the name Sharlon, so she goes by Brooks. The XO was wearing blue coveralls instead of her normal gray tunic and black pants. Brooks can make coveralls look good!
“Mornin’ back at ya, XO,” I said. “Are you impersonating a crewman or did the ‘cycler eat your regular uniform?”
She stuck her tongue out. “For your information, while you’ve been loading up on calories, I’ve been helping Chief Dursk replace some EPS junction boxes. He’s too big to fit in a Jeffrey’s tube and Chief Kruff is claustrophobic, so I agreed to help out.”
I frowned. “Isn’t there someone else in engineering who could do that?”
“No one that I’d trust not to accidentally blow up the ship. Besides, it didn’t take long.” She stopped for a moment and inspected my assembled repast. “Are you really going to eat all of that?”
I feigned a hurt expression. “Hey! I require a lot of calories – I’ve got a high metabolism.”
She patted my middle. “You’re gonna have a wide cross section if you keep eating like that.”
The doors to the turbo-lift slid open. “Deck two,” I announced and raised an inquiring eyebrow at her. She nodded. “Me too. I want to get changed before I head to the bridge.”
Considering that the Merlin only has seven decks and we were already on deck four, the trip took about three seconds. As we exited the lift, Brooks turned to me.
“Any word on getting a replacement for Rhys-Davies?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I admitted. Our former Ops officer, the late Lt.(j.g.) Trevor Rhys-Davies, had been part of a clandestine smuggling operation that the Orions had been running on our ship. Unfortunately for Lt. Rhys-Davies, his partner in crime, Crewman Josiah Farmingham, had blown a hole through him with a Klingon disruptor pistol. I actually kind of missed the Lieutenant. He had been a pretty decent Ops officer, even if he had been a scumbag. Now the XO was having to do double duty, filling in at Ops in addition to her other bridge and administrative duties.
Brooks sighed. “I guess we’re pretty far down the totem pole for decent replacements, huh?”
And that was the problem – decent replacements didn’t usually end up with the Border Service – unless they had screwed up royally in the regular fleet.
“I’ll check with Commodore Paski. Maybe she can expedite things,” I suggested, hopefully.
She gave me a wistful smile. “Sure, Sonny.” Then she headed around the corridor. I felt bad – Brooks had been working her butt off trying to get the Merlin ship-shape. Time to become the squeaky wheel with Paski.
* * *
I managed to make it to my quarters without dropping my breakfast. Setting my food down on my slightly cluttered desk, I looked at Earl, my stuffed Centauran ridge rat.
“Do you think I’m getting fat?”
Earl regarded me silently with large, black eyes. His counsel would remain forever his own, however, so I began to work through a stack of data slates as I choked down breakfast.
Maybe tomorrow I’d skip the burrito.
After about fifteen minutes of reading reports, writing reports, correcting reports, and initialing reports. My communicator buzzed and the face of Lt. M’Roal, our Caitian communications officer filled the terminal screen.
“Captain, I have an incoming message frrom Commodorre Paski,” she said in her pleasant rumbling alto.
“Patch her through, Lieutenant.” The screen shimmered and shifted to show the image of a woman in her mid-fifties with collar-length, sandy brown hair. Dark circles under her brown eyes told me that Commodore Paski wasn’t sleeping well lately. She smiled at me.
“Good morning, Captain Parker. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Not at all. I was just finishing some reports and I was hoping to speak to you today.”
She sighed and nodded knowingly. “Let me guess – you need an Ops officer.”
I grinned. “Guilty as charged ma’am.” I thought about my conversation with Brooks and my smile faded. “Commodore – we really are short-handed right now. My XO has been pulling double duty for over a month. Hell! She spent the morning crawling around in an EPS conduit!”
“I hear you, Captain, and I’ll do my best – that’s a promise. But you know very well how hard it is to get qualified replacements out here.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but does Fleet Command have a clue? I mean, who the hell do they think is out here playing chicken with the Klingons?” My mouth was now getting dangerously ahead of my brain.
“At ease, Captain, I’m on your side.” The Commodore’s expression was still pleasant, but there was a note of warning in her tone. One more word and I might find myself back on a Starbase, in charge of deuterium storage. My brain finally caught up with my mouth and shut it firmly.
Paski nodded slightly in approval as I abruptly halted my tirade. “I am looking for a new officer for the Merlin, Captain. In fact, I’ve been reviewing the personnel folders on two possible candidates. But that’s not why I contacted you.”
“Yes ma’am,” That’s usually a safe response when addressing a senior officer. Well, assuming that officer is female.
“I need you in my office at 1300 hours today. It seems that we have been directed to participate in a war game exercise with a destroyer group. The cutters Merlin, Diornis, and Accipiter will play ‘aggressor’ against the destroyers.”
It took a moment for my brain to fully relinquish control of my mouth. “Any idea who we’ll be up against?” I asked.
“Like I said, the briefing is at 1300. You’ll meet the other captains then. Oh, and Captain?”
“Ma’am?”
“You’ve got a little something, right here . . .” she pointed at the corner of her mouth. Then she smiled. “Paski, out.” The screen went black.
I walked into the head and looked in the mirror. A streak of mustard, lightly dusted with powdered sugar, ran south from the right corner of my mouth.
“Oh, Parker – you stud muffin. Mom would be so proud.”
* * *
Introduction
Border Dogs is a TOS-era series set in Earth year 2260 and following. The series focuses on Commander Silas "Sonny" Parker, CO of the Border Cutter USS Merlin. The story will be presented in noir style - first person from Parker's perspective. (Think "The Maltese Falcon" or the "Mike Hammer Mysteries.)
The Merlin is a Kestrel - class refit. Here's a link to the Starfleet Museum page to see and learn more about the Merlin: Starfleet Museum - Kestrel Class
I hope you enjoy this foray into the 23rd century. As always, your comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Special thanks to DavidFalkayn for insights and suggestions into the TOS character, Robert Wesley, who is featured in David's Star Trek: Lexington series. In this story, Wesley is still a Captain and in command of the destroyer, USS Ajax.
Chapter One
Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I mean, you can get really creative and no one really cares. Plus, it’s pretty much a given that breakfast is a meal you can walk around with and no one will think you were raised by Klingons. Well, no one I care about, anyway.
By the way, my name is Silas Parker. My friends call me Sonny. I won’t mention what my enemies call me. I command the border cutter, USS Merlin, part of the Seventh Border Service Squadron based out of Star Station Echo. If you’ve never heard of Echo, it’s out near the Klingon and Orion borders – a real fun spot if you’re a pirate, smuggler or enjoy getting robbed, raped, enslaved or killed. Not necessarily in that order.
Anyway, back to breakfast. It was a Tuesday morning, about six weeks after I took command of the Merlin. I had stopped by the mess hall and grabbed three powdered doughnuts, a pastrami sandwich, and a burrito. I also grabbed a mug full of hot, black sludge (some might call it coffee – we know better) and headed back to my cabin to finish some reports.
Balancing my breakfast on top of a data slate, I waited for the lift to arrive.
“Morning Skipper!”
I turned to see the lovely Lt. Sharlon Brooks Erdon, my XO, and arguably the most beautiful woman in the quadrant. By the way, she hates the name Sharlon, so she goes by Brooks. The XO was wearing blue coveralls instead of her normal gray tunic and black pants. Brooks can make coveralls look good!
“Mornin’ back at ya, XO,” I said. “Are you impersonating a crewman or did the ‘cycler eat your regular uniform?”
She stuck her tongue out. “For your information, while you’ve been loading up on calories, I’ve been helping Chief Dursk replace some EPS junction boxes. He’s too big to fit in a Jeffrey’s tube and Chief Kruff is claustrophobic, so I agreed to help out.”
I frowned. “Isn’t there someone else in engineering who could do that?”
“No one that I’d trust not to accidentally blow up the ship. Besides, it didn’t take long.” She stopped for a moment and inspected my assembled repast. “Are you really going to eat all of that?”
I feigned a hurt expression. “Hey! I require a lot of calories – I’ve got a high metabolism.”
She patted my middle. “You’re gonna have a wide cross section if you keep eating like that.”
The doors to the turbo-lift slid open. “Deck two,” I announced and raised an inquiring eyebrow at her. She nodded. “Me too. I want to get changed before I head to the bridge.”
Considering that the Merlin only has seven decks and we were already on deck four, the trip took about three seconds. As we exited the lift, Brooks turned to me.
“Any word on getting a replacement for Rhys-Davies?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I admitted. Our former Ops officer, the late Lt.(j.g.) Trevor Rhys-Davies, had been part of a clandestine smuggling operation that the Orions had been running on our ship. Unfortunately for Lt. Rhys-Davies, his partner in crime, Crewman Josiah Farmingham, had blown a hole through him with a Klingon disruptor pistol. I actually kind of missed the Lieutenant. He had been a pretty decent Ops officer, even if he had been a scumbag. Now the XO was having to do double duty, filling in at Ops in addition to her other bridge and administrative duties.
Brooks sighed. “I guess we’re pretty far down the totem pole for decent replacements, huh?”
And that was the problem – decent replacements didn’t usually end up with the Border Service – unless they had screwed up royally in the regular fleet.
“I’ll check with Commodore Paski. Maybe she can expedite things,” I suggested, hopefully.
She gave me a wistful smile. “Sure, Sonny.” Then she headed around the corridor. I felt bad – Brooks had been working her butt off trying to get the Merlin ship-shape. Time to become the squeaky wheel with Paski.
* * *
I managed to make it to my quarters without dropping my breakfast. Setting my food down on my slightly cluttered desk, I looked at Earl, my stuffed Centauran ridge rat.
“Do you think I’m getting fat?”
Earl regarded me silently with large, black eyes. His counsel would remain forever his own, however, so I began to work through a stack of data slates as I choked down breakfast.
Maybe tomorrow I’d skip the burrito.
After about fifteen minutes of reading reports, writing reports, correcting reports, and initialing reports. My communicator buzzed and the face of Lt. M’Roal, our Caitian communications officer filled the terminal screen.
“Captain, I have an incoming message frrom Commodorre Paski,” she said in her pleasant rumbling alto.
“Patch her through, Lieutenant.” The screen shimmered and shifted to show the image of a woman in her mid-fifties with collar-length, sandy brown hair. Dark circles under her brown eyes told me that Commodore Paski wasn’t sleeping well lately. She smiled at me.
“Good morning, Captain Parker. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Not at all. I was just finishing some reports and I was hoping to speak to you today.”
She sighed and nodded knowingly. “Let me guess – you need an Ops officer.”
I grinned. “Guilty as charged ma’am.” I thought about my conversation with Brooks and my smile faded. “Commodore – we really are short-handed right now. My XO has been pulling double duty for over a month. Hell! She spent the morning crawling around in an EPS conduit!”
“I hear you, Captain, and I’ll do my best – that’s a promise. But you know very well how hard it is to get qualified replacements out here.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but does Fleet Command have a clue? I mean, who the hell do they think is out here playing chicken with the Klingons?” My mouth was now getting dangerously ahead of my brain.
“At ease, Captain, I’m on your side.” The Commodore’s expression was still pleasant, but there was a note of warning in her tone. One more word and I might find myself back on a Starbase, in charge of deuterium storage. My brain finally caught up with my mouth and shut it firmly.
Paski nodded slightly in approval as I abruptly halted my tirade. “I am looking for a new officer for the Merlin, Captain. In fact, I’ve been reviewing the personnel folders on two possible candidates. But that’s not why I contacted you.”
“Yes ma’am,” That’s usually a safe response when addressing a senior officer. Well, assuming that officer is female.
“I need you in my office at 1300 hours today. It seems that we have been directed to participate in a war game exercise with a destroyer group. The cutters Merlin, Diornis, and Accipiter will play ‘aggressor’ against the destroyers.”
It took a moment for my brain to fully relinquish control of my mouth. “Any idea who we’ll be up against?” I asked.
“Like I said, the briefing is at 1300. You’ll meet the other captains then. Oh, and Captain?”
“Ma’am?”
“You’ve got a little something, right here . . .” she pointed at the corner of her mouth. Then she smiled. “Paski, out.” The screen went black.
I walked into the head and looked in the mirror. A streak of mustard, lightly dusted with powdered sugar, ran south from the right corner of my mouth.
“Oh, Parker – you stud muffin. Mom would be so proud.”
* * *
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