• Welcome! The TrekBBS is the number one place to chat about Star Trek with like-minded fans.
    If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

USS Kestrel - Hunting Grounds

Nice scene setting here. Every Border Service story, or border story in general, at some point needs a visit to the seedy pirate town/planet, complete with prevalent lawlessness, strange aliens and dangerous saloons.

And you can't get stuff done in a place like that by playing by the rules. Cutler will figure this out soon enough. Let's hope it's before he's auctioned off as a sex slave ...

Also, I'm a sucker for artwork. Nice one.
 
Thanks a million CeJay glad you liked.

* * *

‘Not to Dwell on Matters’​


“So this is the infamous Aubrelis dwells. It doesn’t seem to do its reputation justice. When we were in training for our advanced security some of the officers spoke of this place being a true testing ground for a security officer.”

The two security officers walked in tandem eyes constantly scanning their surrounds with every appearance of casualness but really masking their alertness. Tac shook his head at his new crewmember’s bravado. It was the type of bravado that got security officers killed. “One of the reasons the Captain chose you for assignment aboard the Kestrel was because of your evaluations and scoring in those courses. He was under the illusion you understood the criminal element and could work in an environment such as this and see the engrained criminality of the people who live here. I guess he was mistaken ‘cause you speaking like a fool.”

“Hey I was only giving an opinion. My Academy training ...”

“Kid, the Captain didn’t hire you for your Academy training.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve a wealth of experience and knowledge that he wants to call upon.” Sebastian stopped in his tracks. “Hey don’t get offended. He thinks you the best candidate for the post because of that experience. No need to get personally affronted. Asides from the fact someone in your position cannot afford to be offended or affronted when their past is thrown in their face. Do the crime and pay the time.”

“What like yourself sir?”

Constantly surveying his surrounds Caleb Dexter casually replied, “Hey no point comparing our records. I did what I did as a kid in order to survive and help my family survive. What was your excuse?” Sebastian ground his teeth. “Yeah didn’t think you had one. You sought out your thrill seeking crimes for a high and a buzz.”

Templar balled his fists up in anger. “Wishing to speak freely sir but you don’t know enough about my past ...”

“I know enough. All I need to know is whether you can do the job. Your past might be of interest to the Captain but it ain’t to me. I’m more concerned with the here and now. Are you still hooked on sex and stimulants? On the other hand, can you focus on your job? Answer in the affirmative to the latter and I am content.”

Templar looked at the security officer trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. Was he trying to bluff him or did he not judge him on his past?

Caleb sensed what the look was about. He answered for Sebastian’s sake. “I don’t approve of your past mistakes Templar. But I’ll give you credit for trying to change things around. Far too many cadets signing up to Starfleet are too squeaky clean. They cannot possibly comprehend the dirty underside to most worlds. You have a unique world view if you will and it might just serve you to the better. As I said, your past is your past, my past is my past, and as far as I am concerned, none of it is of immediate concern. What matters is here and now.” He hefted his phaser rifle and beckoned the ensign to follow him.

“And right now we have trouble ahead.”


* * *​

“Ok Nestyquan, fess up. You know you want to.”

Commander Cartwright belied her age pinning her snake against the back alley wall. He struggled to move but she held him tightly in place. Nestyquan tried to squirm free grabbing her arms with his reptilian claws. Molly Cartwright merely shoved her face up to his her nose mere centimetres from the ridge of tiny horns that traversed the centre of his green scaly face up and back over the top of his head.

“You promised me credits Molly! This isn’t fair.”

“You promised me ten crates of suspicious materials were to be found on that Ferengi tug last time I saw you. I guess our promises aren’t holding up. How about we call it evens once you impart me with the information you know I want. Otherwise, I will bear a grudge and if I should meet your clapped out rusting hulk in space, I will use it as target practice and shoot it apart piece by piece by piece.”

“Ok, ok. What is it you want? Then we’re evens yes?”

“So long as your information is correct and you know what I want, where’s Cassie?”

He paused unwisely to consider. He appealed to Cutler but as queasy as he felt about the modus operendi employed by the Commander the nefarious character of Nestyquan upset him more. So the sooner this was done with the better. He was obviously a weasel with base selfish interests at all times his guiding principles.

“She’s over at Hellem’s Wharf.”

Molly released him letting him fall to the ground. “You had better be right. How long ago?”

He made as if to run off but she kicked up dirt in his face as if stopping herself from kicking his face. It caused him to reconsider. “Just a few hours ago. I was there completing a few transactions. I saw her. I decided to get out before you guys showed up looking for her.”

“Well lucky you didn’t get too far away. I would sorely have missed meeting you again. We must have drinks the next time.” She nodded towards the other end of the alley giving him permission to scarper. He scrambled on all fours before gaining a stooping run.

“Come on Cutler.”

“I thought you said we had to bargain for information.”

“We do but as I said there’s lot of ways to bargain and pay for information. Trust me you would have found out except we have to act on this information quickly before she moves on someplace else.”

She trudged away leaving Cutler to ponder in what ways she meant and who Cassie was. Molly just thought back to the fan Cutler had made in the bar. The pervert feeling himself in growing ecstasy at the sight of Cutler was a rogue trader at the best of times and Molly was sure he would talk to Cutler. However, that could wait until another time.


* * *​

“Hey Commander! What you doing here?”

“I’m here for you.”

“You are? That’s so kind. That’s sooo groovy. That’s sooo fantastic. Of all the people I say it to, out of all of them, when I say it to you, I mean it the mostest!”

“Is that right? Ensign, take her other arm.”

“Are we going? Oh hello. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Ensign Noah Cutler of the USS Kestrel. Careful.”

“Careful yourself there Noah. Sorry, Ensign Noah Cutler of the USS Kestrel, of the deep lovely eyes and cutest baby cheeks. Let me see your bum.”

“Time for that later Cassie.”

Noah blushed. “Mmm, I can’t wait. Wait, where are you taking me again?”

“To the ship.”

“The ship?”

“Yes Ensign Noah Cutler’s USS Kestrel.”

“I know that ship!”

“Of course you do dear, you’re the science officer.”

“I am? I love science. I love Aubrelis. I love alcohol.” At this stage, Cutler and Cartwright were dragging Cassie with her head hanging, her feet creating two continuous troughs in the mud. “I love your bum Ensign Noah Cutler. It is really nice.”

“Sorry ma’am did you say she was a science officer onboard?”

“No I said she was the Science Officer onboard. This is Lt Commander T’Vel, second officer of the Kestrel, aka Cassie when planet side on Aubrelis. This is Cartwright; we are at the transport coordinates. We have three to transport let the Captain know.” The ship transporter took them.

“I feel all tingly. Wow, mega scenery change. Let’s do it again. Hey Eddie! Hey Judy!”

The Lt Commander reacted exuberantly to Judith Monroe and Eddie Gardner awaiting them in the transporter room. It looked as though Gardner had beamed them up himself despite being in charge of the bridge. “Hey Eddie, cool transport. You are the best. Of all the people I say it to, out of all of them, when I say it to you, I mean it the mostest”

Monroe gently crouched beside the drunken female and pressed a hypo into her thigh. “There, there, daughter. It will all be fine in a bit.”

“In a bit? Sure Judy, it is all fine now. Oh, I feel woozy. Judy did you stick me with something? I’m so disappointed.” Then she hugged the doctor. “Of all the people I say it to, out of all of them, when I say it to you, I mean it the mostest! Live Long and Prosp ...”

Monroe caught her up in the hug as she passed out and quickly checked her vitals. “She’s fine. Just drunk.”

“Can you site to site transport her and the doctor to T’Vel’s room Chief?”

He headed back behind the controls. “Already programmed in. You ok to go Judith?”

“Yes thanks Eddie.” In a moment, the doctor and the Vulcan science officer beamed out of sight to the Lt Commander’s quarters.

Cutler turned in confusion and looked around at the Chief and XO. “What was that all about?”

“She’s returning from her leave ensign. But we count on your discretion. Make no mention of this to anyone not even your friend, Ensign Jex. Nor indeed to Lt Commander T’Vel herself. By tomorrow she will have forgotten it all.”

“But, but, but she’s Vulcan.” He wanted to yell, Vulcans do not get drunk. Ship’s second officers do not get drunk. He wanted to but knew that he dare not say those thoughts aloud.

Cartwright looked to the now empty space on the transporter pad. “Yes but damaged too in some ways. Just don’t mention it ever. Right go back to your quarters and clean up. Get the muck and smell of Aubrelis off of you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Still unsure of himself Cutler hesitantly left the transporter room.

A disgusted frown crinkled her forehead. “Damn, I hate that planet.”

“Yeah but she only ever goes with you. The rest of us end up in a scuffle with her.” Molly chose to not respond to Eddie’s comment that had plenty of truth in it.

Stalking towards the door, Molly groused, “I’m away for my own shower before he arrives back.”

Gardner joked, “Who the Captain? You two still fighting?”

Yet Molly could find no mirth. She frowned as she thought back to her ‘conversation’ with McGregor after they had left Starbase 49 and informed him of Paul’s actions. She decided not to dwell on the matter or stand around waiting for the boy. “No, the Captain is merely insufferable. It’s the boy. I let Stanley know he was planet side, so he’ll be able to track him down to whatever dive he is in.”

Gardner watched her go and knew it was not just the mud and smell she was trying to wash off. “I better man the transport for that one too.”

* * *​
 
A drunk Vulcan? That was priceless.

And apparently she's got split personality disorder too.

Did I mention that this is a very very interesting crew? Of all the crews I say that to, out of all of them, ....
 
A drunk Vulcan? That was priceless.

And apparently she's got split personality disorder too.

Did I mention that this is a very very interesting crew? Of all the crews I say that to, out of all of them, ....

Ah I wasn't sure if I had conveyed that correct. Well split personality disorder might not be the correct terminology (especially with the yet to be revealed causes and complications) but it is the jist of the character's problem.

More coming up...
 
‘Second Chances’​


Three weeks earlier, outside Captain’s quarters


Molly braced herself as she chimed the door. It unnerved her even that she was unnerved. It took a lot to affect her so after such a long time. She had always been a strong and forceful personality hard to shake and even harder to frighten. That was one reason why Starfleet allowed her the XO position on the Kestrel. McGregor’s rep was not infamous but it was well known. Therefore, billets to be his First Officer were avoided.

Molly Cartwright was not in a position to be picky at the time of the billet nor was she the likely candidate to be scared by a man she had once before served with. In fact, Molly had been his superior officer before she had moved onto the regular fleet. Sourly she thought sarcastically of how she had moved on to greater and better things. All of which happened before that day ...

She shook away the memories threatening to steal her resolve. She reminded herself that she was not a person to be easily scared. That she was not scared by McGregor nor impressed by his tirades. She knew his tricks far too well for his tactics to work. She did however hate what she had done. She had let Paul off scot-free and McGregor would throw that in her face if not physically throw her in a brig.

“Molly!” McGregor stood in front of the door as it slid open, his amorous hands disengaging from a nonplussed Harris. “Come on in! A top of the morning to you.”

She wagged a finger sternly, “Don’t do your mock Oirish accent.” McGregor shrugged and wagged Molly to enter. Passing Harris he cheerfully slapped her rear.

Molly entered, casting a disapproving glance at Harris now retrieving a work pad from a plush couch. McGregor’s apartment was a throw back bachelor pad Spartan in it’s furnishings and devoid of any personal trinkets or holo-photographs. Of course, Molly did not expect any such paraphernalia after the events, in particular thee Event, in McGregor’s life. In more ways than one he had left his past behind.

The door whispered closed as Harris disappeared for duty. Molly cocked an eyebrow at McGregor. “Now, now Molly, don’t begrudge me my simple pleasures. No harm no foul.”

“You have far too many simple pleasures and indulge in them far too often for my tastes Captain. A degree of decorum might not go amiss at times. I could have been anyone at the door.”

“Eh ... actually I didn’t hear the door, Harris was on her way before I reminded her to collect her PADD. Then we got a little distracted. No one is getting hurt, Molly. Don’t be such a prude. You don’t frown at Monroe’s different dalliances.”

“Judy doesn’t parade her dalliances in front of the crew. She leaves that to her shore leave.”

His tone of voice turned more serious. “Speaking of which, I’ve gotten a call from Quibilris 9. It appears T’Vel has absconded from her holiday apartment. They’re not too sure where she headed after.”

Molly cursed softly under her breath shaking her head despondently. “Well if she’s true to form we’ll track her down to her usual haunts. Did they say whether she went off the rails much?”

A concerned tone crept into his voice. “Her last shuttle was booked under Cassie.” His emphasis on 'Cassie' implied a significant meaning. Molly winced hearing it even though she was expecting to hear that name.

“Any ideas what sparked it?”

“A Vulcan science team passing through the system stopped off for repairs and several of its crew encountered her on the ground. The Cassie switch happened soon after it appears from the sketchy reports.”

“Any drugs involved?”

“No, thank goodness. You worry too much about that. She’s never done it before. She indulges in other vices sure enough but sure we all do!”

“You might. But she’s a Vulcan. The more she indulges now the more she’ll regret later.”

McGregor shrugged it off as inconsequential. “Remember later she’ll revert back to type and do a Vulcan proud. She’ll regret nothing. That’s far too emotional.”

“T’Vel is living proof that Vulcans have emotions. This release of them is evidence of it. It’s about time you get that McGregor. We’ve lived with this for several years now. You think you’d have a basic understanding of it.”

“Molly I don’t care for your tone. I’ve always looked out for T’Vel – for that matter Cassie. I checked in as soon as we departed. I allow her to go off on extended shore leave and I’ll happily reroute the patrol to visit the Aubrellis Dwells first. Because you and I both know she’s going to be there somewhere.”

“We hope.”

McGregor tired of the challenge in Molly’s voice. He saw too that she was adopting a defensive posture and attacking McGregor as a means of deflection. It was an assessment Molly herself could have denied. “What brings you to my door Molls? I was due for duty in half an hour. What can’t wait or be said on the bridge?”

Thoughts of grabbing breakfast from the galley disappeared as McGregor noticed Molly take a deep breath. “I think I’d best take a seat Molls. Ought I grab a drink?” He flopped onto the black leather couch and picked up an empty tumbler from a stowed rack.

Molly considered replying yes to his query. “It’s about Paul.”

Rolling his eyes McGregor turned from her to pour a splash of brandy into the tumbler. “I hate to break it to you Molly but I’m not exactly a relationship counsellor. Not to mention the fact that I thought your days of chasing after Paul were long gone. You’re hardly a spring chicken ye know.”

“This is going to be hard enough for me to say without you throwing insults around.”

“I apologise, go ahead, I’m all ears.” He took a swallow of his drink as she started speaking.

“Before I go on, I want you to know that I know what Paul did was completely out of line. What I’ve done is also pretty deplorable in only telling you now.”

Adjusting his trousers, the captain shifted on the leather couch hardly paying Molly any mind. “Molly he’s a cargo hauler. I dare say he’s not the first to try and increase his profits margins by running something not quite legal. Gees where do you think me and Eddie get half of our bootleg drinks from?”

“This is a little more serious than that. He didn’t of course at the time – but afterwards he figured it out.”

“Figured what out? If this is the way you’re going to continue your conversation then I would hazard a guess and say that your marriage to Paul collapsed because of communication problems.”

“Damn it McGregor. If you keep interrupting with snide remarks, I’ll get nowhere. You know fine well what went down with Paul and me. And it certainly wasn’t a lack of communication!”

Pushing himself to his feet, McGregor demanded darkly, “Well then spit it out whatever it is. I hate being led on! You’re obviously trying to cover his ass and you’re anticipating that I’m going to go gunning for Paul when this all done and said. I probably will, but let’s spare ourselves the dramatics of beforehand and spit it out Molly!”

“Paul ... Paul gave passage to T’Hos and his men to Starbase 49. They used their aliases and holographic disguises so he couldn’t have known any better.”

“Couldn’t have known any better?" McGregor asked innocently before roaring, "Couldn’t have known any better! He smuggles illegal persons onto a Federation station. In what way did he think what he was doing was in any way innocent. It’s one thing to carry bootleg but it’s another to carry illegal immigrants. It’s not a matter of shading, it’s not a matter of degrees of illegality, it’s a matter of being completely and utterly criminal! Slavers, diseased vagrants, fugitives, spies, terrorists. They fit the bill for those seeking secret passage onto a secure Federation post. Not asylum seekers or refugees. Nowhere and in no way could he have thought himself to be doing a noble thing. Nor could he think his actions were innocent or a simple money making exercise!”

“All this I know and explained to Paul!”

McGregor hurled his tumbler at the bulkhead, narrowly missing Molly as he did. It exploded in shards of glass one grazing Molly’s cheek bringing a thin line of blood to the surface as McGregor hollered, “You should have explained it to him in a brig!

Stalking over to the companel on the bulkhead over his bunk McGregor ducked to activate the controls. Molly wiping the tears of blood from her cut followed after him and spun McGregor around yanking on his elbow. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think Molly? You’ve bought Paul some time but I’m turning the Kestrel about and chasing him down. In was working in league with T’Hos. T’Hos who nearly killed everyone aboard our ship! How would Paul live with that eh? Knowing that he delivered the man who killed you to your doorstep.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. Duty asides I owe Paul the same treatment we received from T’Hos.”

“No! No! I turn and I turn a blind eye to your deeds far too often for you to not return the favour. I made a mistake. Paul made a mistake. But you can’t let him pay for the crimes of T’Hos. You said your very purpose headed out on this patrol is to hunt T’Hos down. You’re not one bit damned about Starfleet’s orders or our normal border duties. You have one simple aim: to hunt T’Hos down and bring him to justice.”

“Justice? I was thinking of killing him honestly.”

“Please ... Gregory. Paul shouldn’t be made to suffer for being duped by T’Hos. Before I let him go I got all the information I could from him about T’Hos and the contacts he had for the deal. In doing so I got a great deal of detail on operations T’Hos runs throughout our sector. Aubrellis, Quibilris 9, the Conterbury Stakes, his drop off points in the Wash and approach vectors for the Banks. All valuable clues to help us tracvk down T’Hos and allow you to ... exact your vengeance.”

“In other words Molly, Paul is in deeper than either of us ever thought.”

“No he’s not.”

Don’t be stupid! Of course he is. Otherwise explain why, how he knows so much about T’Hos’ operations. He can’t unless he meets T’Hos at those drop off points. Doubtless he’s got links to T’Hos’ organisation and no doubt to other Fien pirates. He might not be a big league player but he is a player.”

“Gregory please. Don’t go after Paul. Besides, I checked on his progress and he changed his flight plan and has gone fugitive for now. It’ll take us weeks to track him down. But we can’t put Paul and his crew on the fugitive list. We can’t have them run for the rest of their lives. Please don;t do that! Please Gregory.”

“Don’t beg Molly, it doesn’t become you. And appealing to me by use of name is never going to work.”

“Then think of all the second chances you give people. You give people second chances because your own second chance was a cruel twist of fate that robbed you of your family.”

“Don’t psychoanalyse me! You’ll remember I sold the last counsellor.”

“But it’s true. You found Rah in the gutters fleeing the Orion Syndicate and the echelons of the Kzinthi Hegemony. You gave him a berth, a home and a chance to become something. A proud warrior with a noble cause.”

“His was a flea bitten cat who was a useful bodyguard!”

“You took on Dexter, a kid with a troubled past, a record and a tumultuous time at the Academy and moulded him into a security chief. You saved Eddie from his grief, turned him from a drunken layabout and piss poor enlisted and allowed him to become the engineer he is today. You took Becca from an Orion pirate’s slave ship and put her in a uniform and returned her dignity and gave her an honest career, a new family and a chance. As for T’Vel, no-one who knew her condition would let her set foot on a star ship never mind allow her to have the gamma shift command.”

“Yeah, yeah, Molly. Enough of this already.”

“You let me become your trusted right hand, your XO! Me! A disgraced captain, a one time border dog who had managed to claw her way up to become a Captain of a starship in the fleet. And lost it all trying to play God and chance with the Prime Directive and lives. And I lost on both counts!”

“Even now you take on the new kid, Sebastian, even after his trial and his own mother rejecting him. All I ask is that you extend a second chance to Paul. His information allows you to not only go after T’Hos but to take down his organisation too. The Fien pirates are a pit of vipers. Cut down one snake and another quickly replaces it. But with Paul’s information we can clear out the viper pit.”

McGregor met her daring gaze for a long minute. He reached out to take the data PADD extended by Molly with the information garnered from Paul. “If this information holds up, If, I’ll think on it. But my God Molly, Paul is lost to us already. We know now he’s in with the Fien. But worse still, when I act on this information they’ll know someone talked and it won’t take them long to figure it out. Then God help Paul. They’ll do worse than I ever would to him.”

“All I ask is to give him a chance. What Paul does from her on out is entirely his own call. I’m done with him. He caused me to lie and ignore my duties as an officer. He allowed T’Hos to try to kill us. Worse, he broke his promise to me. We’ve been on a long road together over the years but we’re done now.”

“I’ll allow him off. But I’m not giving him the second chance Molly. It’s you I’m giving the second chance to. Taking you as my XO was never about extending a second chance to you. I wanted someone tough enough to make the calls."

"I saw it as a second chance!"

McGregor shook his head angrilly and bitterly disappointed, "You were that person. But ... this,” he wagged the PADD as an accusatory piece of evidence, “this changes that evaluation of you.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way. But remember McGregor that I’m seeing Paul in a new light. I’m also seeing others in a new light. Take this harebrained scheme of yours to entrap T’Hos’ mole on the ship. Entrap them even though you won’t tell Tac or me the identity of the mole and therefore putting the entire ship in danger. That smacks of recklessness. An egotistical jaunt. You’re playing games with the lives of your crew.”

“Just giving the mole a second chance, Molly. Would you sooner I bang them up in the brig for consorting with T’Hos. Only cause that smacks of hypocrisy in light of your plea here.”

They both stood facing one another trying to reach a compromise. After a long moment it was clear they would find none but could choose to ignore the faults and criticisms of the other. A slight nod of her head indicated to the Captain that Molly had decided on the same course of action.

“Adjust our course for the Aubrellis Dwells. We’ll pick up – Cassie – and checks out the leads we have there from Paul on T’Hos.”

“Yes Captain.”

With that, she turned and left for the bridge. McGregor looked down at the shards of glass and cursed the situation. T’Hos had a lot to pay for.

* * *​
 
Still not in the McGregor fan club over here but Cartwright's stock is rising. I love that she had to remind herself that she's the type that doesn't get scared. That's awesome.

And I say it again, a really interesting crew. We learn alot about them here from Molly and I look forward to see even more.

Also, I think McGregor better watch out in regards to his relationship with the XO. There is a real sense of dependence here and I don't think either one of them will work well without the other.
 
* * *

‘By the Cat’s Whiskers’​

... Back on Aubrellis Dwells


“I don’t approve of your past mistakes Templar. But I’ll give you credit for trying to change things around. Far too many cadets signing up to Starfleet are too squeaky clean. They cannot possibly comprehend the dirty underside to most worlds. You have a unique world view if you will and it might just serve you to the better. As I said, your past is your past, my past is my past, and as far as I am concerned, none of it is of immediate concern. What matters is here and now.” He hefted his phaser rifle and beckoned the ensign to follow him.

“And right now we have trouble ahead.”

Sebastian looked in the direction the muzzle of the phaser was pointed. A gang of fearsome bandits approached their position with a menacing intent. A hulking Klingon with a pitted face snarled to the mob and they parted to encircle the security officers. Repeatedly slapping a club into his palm, the Klingon’s mouth split into a horrid grin anticipating the beating he was going to give.

Caleb bowed his head, not in submission but to hood his eyes in shadow. Sebastian took a defensive stance a short distance behind him, warily keeping an eye on the pack that formed a wall around them. He tried to take in the little details of the situation that might lend him a tactical advantage. At the very least, have the foreknowledge of just what a disadvantage they were at.

Looking up at the surrounding slums, Sebastian saw faces hide from behind grimy windows. At one end of the street opening they now found themselves surrounded in the slums butted onto the walls of the higher warren of streets that constituted the centre of the Dwells. These pitiful buildings rose to paltry five stories. Two had balconies and these now filled with a sentry each, their weapons trained on them both.

On the lower sides, the buildings were two stories at the most. These buildings were cobbled together from a vast manner of debris forming the first ranks of the grimy slums that clung like dirt under the nails to the hub of the Dwells. The inhabitants of these slums slinked back into the shadows, the grime and smoke. They saw impending violence and knew there would be recriminations, however it panned out. On Aubrellis, in these situations, it was best to be able to plead ignorance.

Other figures emerged from the shrouds of darkness though. In total, Sebastian counted a total of twenty-two figures of assorted aliens, with assorted weapons, take up positions. ‘Not good odds.’

The Klingon with the split mouth came further forward, stepping in the pitiful spill of light that fell from the tall slum buildings, in which stood Caleb and Sebastian. “I have a message for you that wants delivering.”

Caleb replied in a nonchalant voice, though his body demeanour was anything but nonchalant. Instead, he was coiled and ready to strike. At this stage, Sebastian was still unaware of his chief’s tactics or the degrees to which he might be pushed. It meant he was unable to anticipate his possible moves. That uncertainty played on Sebastian’s mind. The uncertainty brought unpredictability and chaos into the situation. And for Sebastian, that brought him back to his dark days. With certainty, with knowledge, came strength. With uncertainty came weakness.

“And what message might that be Durmok? It hardly needs all of you?”

The Klingon, Durmok, was unimpressed by the steel in Caleb’s voice. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words. T’Hos wanted me to convey in the strongest possible terms to you and your captain that you are not to seek him out.”

“And should we decline to follow his advice.”

Durmok bared his yellowed cracked razor pointed teeth. “It was made very clear to me to make sure you understood the message perfectly. And the way I see it ... I have my own message to give you.”

“Not still bearing a grudge Durmok?”

The tall imposing Klingon rubbed his jaw as he remembered the crow bar Caleb had swung at him with not so long ago on a boarding raid. “Time to settle an old score.”

“All of you against us? Hardly seems fair.”

Durmok chuckled. “I’m not worried about making things fair. Only about making things hurt. Hurt badly at that.”

Suddenly he dashed forwards with the club swinging. Caleb ducked as it passed mere centimetres from his scalp. Sebastian caught the club, pulled on it and then reversed the force pushing it back up into the Klingon’s face as he came on with the club. The sight of the Klingon dropping to his knees followed the satisfying crunch of the club smacking into bone.

Sebastian had to spin at that though to deflect a blow from behind. He did so deftly giving his opponent a swift kick to the sternum as he passed by. Around him, he heard Caleb fire off a number of shots and the sounds of falling bodies. Two significantly louder thuds told Sebastian that Dexter had downed the two point men on the balconies first.

This Sebastian took in, as a scrum of thugs crowded round him bringing him to the ground. Brutal kicks and heavy hits from steel poles rained down upon the ensign even as he brought himself up into a protective ball.

A chorus of hollers surrounded him even as the blows to the head impaired his hearing. A vile chanting relish at the beating they were serving up. He had a vague impression of another fight going on off to one side but he knew too that Dexter would soon be faring no better.

Then there was a still silence as the blows stopped and some slight filtered through to his puffed eyelids as the gang parted slightly to look up to the high rooftops. From whence they all had heard the roar of a lion. Disorientated and uninformed of the planet’s indigenous animals, Sebastian was at a loss as to what creature made the noise.

Sebastian pushed himself up from the dirt amid the stunned silence as the thugs looked to the rooftops and saw silhouetted in the moonlight, the figure of the Kestrel’s Chief of the Boat. With bravado, an injured Dexter called out, “About time Rah!”

But rising himself from the ground, Durmok snarled, “You fools! Finish them off!”

Rah Eyrrs however, roared yet again and like a banshee in the night came screaming down from the roof top and citadel of the town centre’s walls. With claws bared, Rah smashed into a gathering of brutes mauling their chests as he did so. With abandon, he tossed one aside like a ragdoll and stalked forwards for more prey.

“Enough already!”

Again, the melee paused. This time for the commanding voice of Captain Gregory McGregor. He now stood on the rooftops preening himself as he pretended to ignore the fight below. He asked solicitously of Rah, “Did you drop the packages off as I asked Mr. Rah?”

Rah reluctantly broke eye contact with the Klingon to narrow his eyes at McGregor before giving a tiny nod to his head. Sebastian trying to regain his senses recalled that Rah had not beamed down with them. So he wondered where had Rah come from.

McGregor’s voice rang clear from the rooftop. The figure of Stanley came to stand beside his captain. “Very good Mr. Rah a ball of wool for you when we get back to the Kestrel. Now excuse me gentlemen, but am I to presume that you are currently in the employ of one T’Hos Likk?”

Durmok spat blood from his mouth. “You could say that McGregor. Since he has put a bounty on your head, dead or even more dead.”

“You are as witty as you look lovely Durmok. But I must say I am complimented that T’Hos would go to such efforts. However, I know you are on his payroll. I know of the work you do here in the Dwells for him Durmok. Now it is I, who has a message I want you to give to T’Hos. Tell T’Hos that not only am I coming after him, I’m bringing down every one of his crooked enterprises.”

McGregor removed a small device from his pocket as he tossed one end of Stanley’s knitted scarf over his shoulder before using his umbrella to lean on as he displayed the small palm sized device. “Each and every one, from here to the Cardassian borders. The warehouses, which hold the stolen goods.” He depressed a button and a sudden roar echoed throughout the night sky as a giant mushroom of fire gushed into the night sky illuminating the skyline behind McGregor, bathing his silhouette with a murderous red.

Each and every warehouse.” He depressed the button again and a series of further explosions rocked the citadel area of the Dwells and in the area surrounding the slums. Debris and rubble rained down from a nearby explosion as the scene rocked with the destructive force. Screams permeated the night air as thick smoke choked out the moonlight and fiery tongues blossomed throughout the Dwells.

“It includes his brothels,” he depressed the button again and several loud whooshes, followed by screams and shouts of fire, indicated those brothels, “and his illegally licensed space vessels.” Another button was depressed. This time the space port, a series of platforms that protruded high into the sky over the citadel, became a scene of devastation as a series of space craft exploded into ruined burning fragments.

“Tell him, McGregor is coming after him. As for you all ... well by the whisker of a cat you live. But I would imagine that after your failure to protect his interests here tonight, T’Hos is not going to be very pleased with you. So my advice is to find a new rock to hide under. Now scram.”

They did so, all except for Durmok. He hollered up McGregor, even as frantic cries and the rush of people to put out or escapes fierce fires resounded throughout the warrens of the Citadel and the scummy paths of the slums. “You expect me to run to T’Hos? Tell you where he is?”

McGregor put the device back into his pocket, before opening his umbrella and then in a stupefying move stepped off the five storey roof . Then impossibly, his umbrella lifted him under a cushion of air and McGregor seemed to float to the ground.

Sebastian almost fell over, disbelieving his eyes. Durmok too, was suitably impressed and appalled. “Hardly Durmok. You ain’t pretty but you’re not completely suicidal. If you go anywhere near T’Hos, he’ll skin you. I do expect you’ll contact him and plead your excuses and then run for the hills. That is if you wish to escape his wrath. To that end, it might be in your best interests that we do find him. That way, when he’s out of the picture, you don’t need to keep looking over your shoulder.”

Stepping up closer to Durmok, McGregor smirked, “Unless you’d sooner turn over on your old boss and take a room with us onboard the Kestrel? We do a fine B&B service in the brig. The only problem is our guests tend to complain about the cat that we keep. What’s it going to be?”

Durmok said nothing but turned away cursing. A bruised and bleeding Caleb slapped Sebastian on the shoulder as he did. The ensign wanted to ask why they were happy to let him walk away freely but didn’t want to sound like Cutler.

“You never said you had planned this Captain.”

“Not so much a plan as a delicious taste of revenge Tac. Get onto Eddie and tell me to get teams to help put out the fires. Also get one of the geeks to keep an ear out for the call Durmok is going to make to T’Hos. It might help us to pin point a location. Ah ensign, did you enjoy your first visit to the Dwells?”

Sebastian gathered his best composed cocky voice that he could try to muster at this stage. “It was ... memorable captain.”

“Good, good, but we had best be going.” He held the umbrella up again. “It feels like there’s going to be rain.”


* * *​
 
Also just to introduce to you Rah Eyrrs Norr as drawn by SLWatson:

7df26ac32e20cc8983653106bba6bb3062055ec2.jpg


A fantastic piece of art I'm sure you'll all agree and it fits perfectly eith how I imagine the Kestrel's favourite Kzinthi.
 
McGregor looked like a real tough sob here ... until he pulled a Mary Poppins and used his umbrella to float around. :lol: This guy is something else.

Awesome picture. Now this guy is tough alright. I like how his eyes match his uniform. Very cool.
 
Thanks CeJay. Yeah Steff did a fantastic picture. I'm really pleased with the way it turned out.

As for McGregor's tactic - yeah he's slightly miffed that unlike Picard he can't get the manoeuvre named after him because Poppins has it copyrighted! :lol:
 
* * *

‘Trekkie Brekkie – the way to start your day’​

The relentless chiming of his door told Noah exactly who it was at his door. With his mouth frothing with toothpaste he spluttered, “Come in Jex!”

“What’s keeping you?”

He moved out of the en suite and traversed the room to pin on his comm. badge before replying to Jex. “I’m ready now aren’t I? Let’s go get breakfast.”

They set off for the mess hall, currently serving up breakfast canteen style. Unusually, because of a clerical mix up in the refitting of rooms, Cutler had the good fortune to have his own replicator. On the frontier, ensigns were far from such luxury as individual quarters equipped with their own replicators. Officers higher ranking perhaps, but even a few of them graced the mess at mealtimes.

How and ever, because of his friendship with Jex and her personal tastes, Cutler had had little opportunity to make use of it or indeed, of his common room area he shared with his roommate whom he was still to meet. Apparently he was currently off ship on leave from the little Cutler had learned.

“I love trekkie brekkie. I mean more than other crews we have real chances to get know each other and indeed became familiar with ship wide systems because of the floating rota system operated by the Captain.” She said something of the like everyday.

Whether she was truly as optimistic as she made out or whether she was trying to convince Cutler of the merits of the canteen breakfast rather than using his replicator he was not yet so sure.

“Yeah. But it takes a little getting used to. I mean I’ve never much liked the sight of blood but today I have to report to Dr Monroe for a shift.”

“Oh Noah you’re such a pessimist. What are you expecting, a flood of casualties just because you have a shift in the med lab?”

They joined the breakfast queue and gave a number of courteous hellos and good mornings to those they spotted and were quickly getting to know. The ship had a smaller crew contingent but Jex was correct that the floating rota system, whereby in order to allow a day off, a crew member worked a double shift one in their normal post and one in another area of the ship. The area you ended up working depending on whose day off it was.

“So tell us then all about the trip below. I cannot believe you didn’t come and find me after you had returned. I was dying to know what had happened and what was it like.”

“Well ... it was unexpected.” She looked quite unsatisfied as to that answer. “Well it was rather grotty. A real hellhole in many ways. It was wet and mucky and it smelled. Well it was all rather confusing. That place is a warren of cramped streets and bars. And the mission was well unorthodox. The away team didn’t stick together and it was all well like I say quite disconcerting.”

“Whine, whine, whine. Is that all you do? I sometimes wonder how it is that Starfleet churns out such feeble inept clueless saps. If you are the future of the Federation then the Academy should close its doors.”

Jex and Noah turned with their so far empty trays to face an unkempt Vulcan teenager, if Noah guessed correctly, looking rather pissed off playing with the food on his plate.

Squaring her shoulders, Jex asked, “Sorry who are you?”

“Oh the damsel to the rescue. That is lame mate.”

Jex continued to square up to him placing hands on her hips. “Who are you I asked?”

Disdainfully acknowledging her at last he retorted, “I know you did. My ignoring you implied my wish not to talk to you Freckles.”

Although it was rather churlish and a feeble reply at best Jex found herself saying, “You started it.”

She fumed inwardly at herself as the Vulcan turned his attention away from her; obviously, her presence was of no import to him. Instead, he malevolently looked to Cutler.

“What’s the matter cutie pie? Cat got your tongue?”

Deciding it was best not to be involved in any manner with him Cutler opted to give a meagre defence of himself and hoped to coax Jex to move on afterwards, “Hey I never said anything to you.”

From behind them, the friendly tone of Becca Swift told them, “Guys, never mind him. He’s best left to it.”

“What, you want me to yourself Becca? Oh I forgot, I don't tickle your fancy. Nor does any bl...”

Becca shoved her food tray into arm. Her eyes baleful. Then she restored some calm as she told him, “Ronak, leave them alone. They don’t need to be hassled by the likes of you.”

“You’d imagine they ought to be able to put up with the likes of little old me. I mean they have Fien pirates, badass Klingons and cheating Ferengi to contend with. What’s one Vulcan bastard to the mix?”

She placed her palms on his table and leaning into his face, she warned him. “Just leave well enough alone.”

“Oh you’re scary Bex. I better not mess with you.” Becca knew better than to rise to his bait. “What cat got your tongue now? Pathetic.”

“Shut it.”

All of them turned to the voice of Caleb 'Tac' Dexter. Jex and Noah noted that he looked a little tired and worn.

To Ronak, Caleb quietly informed him, “The Captain wants a word with you.”

“I just left the temporary lodgings you threw me into last night. Tell him I’m busy.”

The eyes of Jex and Cutler almost popped out of their heads in astonishment at his insubordination. The behaviour was not unexpected by the reactions of both Becca and Dexter. Appearing nonplussed the security chief stepped forwards to be beside Ronak.

“He didn’t ask if it suited.” With that, Tac hauled the lad up from the table and seat, frog marching him out of the mess to presumably the Captain.

After a moment of astonishment Jex asked, “Who was that?”

“The thorn in the ship’s side.”

Jex pressed on. “Does he serve aboard? I haven’t seen him before today. I know Lt Commander T’Vel only came aboard yesterday, did he too?”

becca was not very forthcoming on details. “Yeah something like that. He doesn’t exactly serve aboard. He’s more of a regular passenger but officially, he does appear on the manifest as yeoman third class Ronak. Look get your breakfast and forget all about him.”

They did so silently but Jex steered Noah towards a quiet corner of the mess hall to sit.

Excitedly Jex quizzed Noah as she dug into her breakfast greedily. “What do you think his story is?”

“I dunno and I don’t think I care to even either.” Noah considered why it was Jex insisted in coming to the crew’s mess hall when they could avail of the officer’s mess instead thereby avoiding that particular incident. He hated himself for the apparent snobbery of that particular thought but he knew all too well that he did not like confrontations.

Jex shook her head despairingly. “Where is your curiosity Noah? There’s nothing wrong with being a little bit curious you know. I mean that guy and the way he talked to us all is a bit much and I can’t imagine the Captain would let someone as unprofessional as that serve aboard.”

Noah thought silently of Lt Commander T’Vel and the predicament in which she was discovered. “I wouldn’t be so sure. The Captain lets fly quite a few of Starfleet regulations and protocols.”

“He’s hardly the first Captain to ever go on away missions.” However, she in turn was thinking about the little she had gleaned from Becca about Templar.

“I don’t mean that!” However, he could not say what he meant for he had promised Commander Cartwright not to mention anything about yesterday. “I just mean in general the ship is rather relaxed in certain regards. Who is to say that such an attitude doesn’t encourage the behaviour of the likes of Ronak?”

“Maybe. Somehow, I doubt it, since it is a border patrol and most such vessels operate differently. Not to mention every ship has its own dynamic. Though it is mega weird for a Vulcan to be so aggressive in manner. I mean Lt Commander T’Vel surely was nothing like him.”

She certainly was not aggressive thought Noah. Nevertheless, he did consider the fact that of the two Vulcans he had met onboard both had seemed uncharacteristically Vulcan. “I didn’t really get much of an opportunity to talk to her.”

“Oh. Well I’ll find out for myself on the bridge. Are you having that egg? Gosh I could really do with some more toast.”

Uninterested in what she was saying he lamely remarked, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! Hint, hint.”

“Oh. You’d like me to get you some more toast.”

“Thanks ever so much Noah. That’s really decent of you.” He let an exasperated and resigned sigh. Begrudgingly he got up from the table and returned to the self-service canteen.

* * *​
 
* * *

‘An Honest Prescription’



Sick Bay, Deck 7


Noah took a step backwards as he was about to enter the sick bay. At the very moment he went to enter Sebastian Templar was in the process of leaving.

“Morning Sebastian.” Cutler gave a warm smile though he felt it wasted on the ensign who so far had deigned to take little heed of Cutler since they had come aboard.

The security officer winced and grunted in response, “Cutler.” He then marched off, but Noah noticed that he too, like Dexter had a worn and weary look about him. His thoughts were broken however by a kind voice.

“Ah Mr Cutler there you are. Welcome to my humble abode.” The doctor stepped towards the ensign with an outstretched hand, tucking several pads under her arm in order to do so.

“Hello Dr Monroe.”

Monroe was not scary like the other senior officers. All right so Stanley wasn’t exactly scary but there was something quite alien about his aloof but eccentric style. However, the ship’s doctor did exude a high degree of professionalism and it seemed only appropriate that she expected the very same from all of her medical staff. So more than anything, Noah was worried about appearing foolish or letting her down in some way.

“You found us then?” He laughed at her presumed joke. The crews’ mess hall was only the floor above. “You’d be surprised how many first timers don’t find the way so easy. Amazing when you consider the sick bay is the one place you would want to know where it is.” She rhymed off in a singsong fashion, “Deck 7 on the starboard side.”

“The sad news is that there’s very little for you to do. Though actually that is very good news. It sadly means little in the way of hands on experience. We just discharged our last patient from last night’s encounter. Mr Sebastian was lucky he didn’t end up with a serious concussion but enough of the high jinxes you guys had on Aubrellis. Come on in.”

She waved him on into the sick bay. As she did, she returned to the statement about their being little to do at present. “With that said, the unexpected does tend to occur unexpectedly. So first, we will begin with a thorough tour of the equipment and medicines and then we will test you on your basic first aid. At the very least when you do a shift in the Sick Bay you train up on your first aid skills and learn more about emergency medicine. The point is not that you will use it during a shift in medical but on an away mission, on the bridge, in a combat situation. You get the idea I am sure.”

“Yes doctor.”

She laughed lightly. “Don’t be so nervous. You are going to make some mistakes I am sure hence my using this shift as training. Better to make the mistakes now rather than when they’ll count.”

Gloomily Cutler pronounced, “I think I’ve made plenty of mistakes that have more than counted already.”

“Try not to focus on that. T’Hos Likk has been a long-standing enemy of the Captain’s. Par the course as a border patrol Captain. You tend to run in to the same ole faces and end up forming enmities that don’t quite occur in your line of work as part of the Fleet.

"The fact he was seeking revenge for his brother’s death means to say he was always going to come after McGregor and the Kestrel. You sadly were caught up in it. But it was the action of T’Hos and his gang of thugs that caused it. He has the blame for what happened.”

Monroe placed a reassuring hand on Noah’s arm, giving it a slight squeeze of sympathy. Noah nodded in return.

“Anyway, we aren’t here for counselling. If you want that ... well your only option might be Gordon’s bar. Come on we have lots to do. We’ll start with a tour of sick bay.”

* * *​

One hour later


“And to what do we owe this pleasure?” Her tone indicated clearly to Noah no such pleasure as she ‘greeted’ whomever had entered the infirmary.

No response was forthcoming and having finished setting away equipment Dr Monroe had been training him in the use of, Noah came out into the main infirmary only to see the surly grimace on the face of Ronak. The yeoman gave a withering look towards Noah before pointedly ignoring the doctor.

The doctor though was paying him no mind, instead taking to stride up to him and turned his face to the light where she viewed closer a graze and a bruise to his right temple and a split lip. “No point asking then how you got this? No doubt there is a long line of volunteers.”

He slapped her hand away. “Look you don’t have to fix it. The Captain only ordered me to report to here. He said nothing about treatment.” Noah knew Vulcans did not particularly like physical contact but that seemed an overreaction and Ronak appeared to take delight in causing pain with the slap.

“No but the Captain knows my Hippocratic Oath states otherwise.”

She walked to a tray of bio scanners and dermal regenerators then walked back to the Vulcan setting the instruments settings as she did. “Come over Noah. Here’s your chance to perform a very simple procedure.”

Both Noah and Ronak baulked at the idea. “I don’t want to be his guinea pig!”

“It is my infirmary and you will do what I say. Both of you.” She thrust the instrument out towards the retreating Noah. He came reluctantly over, checked the settings for himself all the time avoiding eye contact with his first ever patient.

“You’ve a wonderful bedside manner doctor.”

“Cut the smart mouth please Ronak.” To Noah she conversationally intoned as if continuing her previous lesson on the use of various medical instruments. “More often than not it is the patient with the bad bedside manner. Keep going Noah.”

Ronak in a sweet singsong voice chorused, “Oh you’ve got such soft hands Ensign Cutler. So delicate and sensitive. I bet you’re just the tenderest lover.”

Cutler stepped back and lowered the medical instruments. “Ignore him; he just wants to test your reaction.”

“Yeah Cutler, just checking out if you’re a wannabe bum chum.” Ronak gave Cutler a long sneering considered look, licked his upper teeth, and smacked his lips.

Monroe soothingly coaxed Noah to ignore him. It took a considerable effort on Noah’s part to do so but his duty demanded it of him. He tuned into the guidance from the doctor and appreciated her supportive approach. All very different to the abrupt ribald manner of the Captain and the crankiness of the Chief. Even Commander Cartwright who was forthright expected those in her charge to hear something once and know what she was about.

“Ok double check the readings, almost done, a final scan then, there you have it.” Monroe then turned her attention to the lip and bruised jaw. She gently probed the jawbone with her fingers.

“You do have a medical scanner!”

“Yes and years of experience and expertise that allows me to tell if a jaw is broken without recourse to a medical scanner.” She moved his head as if to points of the compass and then satisfied all was well she gave him the all clear before waving another tool over his jaw and lip causing the colour of the bruise to fade somewhat and the lip to heal. “There. All done.”

Ronak turned without a word and walked out of the med lab. His behaviour apparently not shocking to Monroe at all who took it in her stride. “Oh don’t mind that Cutler. You quickly become very use to Ronak otherwise you would find it very tiring.”

“But how can he get away with acting like that?”

“It’s a very special situation.”

“What like Lt Commander T’Vel?” He regretted the slip as soon as he spoke and his face froze in shock.

“Mr Cutler, you’ve been warned about not mentioning a thing. Perhaps you ought to know a little of the facts first.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean. But I don’t know any of the facts.”

“Ok so that much is true.” She studied him closely wondering the best course. Should she inform him or let the matter rest only for the ensign to speculate and perhaps cause distress to T’Vel in letting the cat out of the bag. “Let’s go into my office and we can discuss it privately.”

Across from her desk, Cutler sat anticipating. “Sorry to disappoint you ensign but I’m afraid I cannot just divulge the personal details of Lt Commander T’Vel. Number one as a patient of mine I am ethically obligated to protect her privacy. Number two ship gossip will eventually catch up with you at some stage and you will soon discover the story behind T’Vel.”

“But if the gossips know already then surely you are not breaking any confidence by repeating what they say.” Noah then corrected himself. “I’m sorry doctor. It’s only because the Lt Commander’s behaviour was so strange in light of her being a Vulcan.”

“You make a point. I suppose.” She joined her hands and leaned across the table in resignation. “Nevertheless, the privacy of my patients is of paramount importance and it is a lesson you should learn if you are work shifts in my medical bay. I will not idly gossip even about well-known gossip. It is not befitting of my position as a doctor. What I will tell you is that there are circumstances surrounding T’Vel’s conduct.”

Embarrassed he mumbled his apologies. “No need to fret Mr Ensign. I did probably indicate that I was going to divulge her history. Sorry as I could and would never do that.”

“Oh I guessed as much Doctor. It is just ... well take the Captain and Stanley. Every time someone brings it up in conversation they mention ‘The Event’ but never manage to explain what it is or was.”

Monroe nodded her head. “I dare say that’s annoying. Most people don’t mention it too much for fear of the Captain overhearing. We all have our secrets and hidden parts. None of us like to have those things dissected as part of gossip.”

He sighed in resignation.“I guess not. Just another frustration.”

Steepling her hands, Monroe pushed. “What with? Serving aboard the Kestrel? Or the Border Patrol in general ensign?”

He spoke a little defensively. “I don’t mean offence doctor. It’s just that when I enlisted, I imaged being on a starship exploring the stars.”

“Look Mr Cutler it might not be your dream job but don’t have such a low opinion of the Border Service. Some of us serve it gladly. I actually joined up in order to serve in it.”

“You did? Sorry I didn’t mean to sound so astonished.”

“Simple really. I lived on a border planet these guys were and are a lifeline and protectors. Shall I tell you my history at least? Then perhaps you might appreciate just how important our job is.”

* * *​
 
Okay, I'm getting the feeling that by the end of this story we're going to familiar with every singe crewmember on Kestrel. And they're all going to be characters.

I'm going to guess and say that Mr Charismatic is T'Vel's illegitimate love child. Boy, Vulcans really have some serious baggage on your ship, don't they?
 
Got it in one CeJay!

As for getting to know all the characters ... not quite just the core. Besides the doctor's story might fit with the Ad Astra challenge - just need to write it before the deadline!! Plus it'll make a bit of a reveal re: the captain.

Besides, I have to let you know the characters before I kill 'em off when they finally come toe to toe with T'Hos.

Though is it a little over kill with the character getting to know you bits? I personally enjoy those parts in a story. But I know they can slow the whole thing down.
 
Hi Cejay and any other readers,

Sorry to repeat myself again, but the last segment was lacking a little something for me, and I think it was in part the internal voice of Cutler as it is meant to be explored from his perspective.

In addition, I wanted to add a few details about the layout of the ship as I went along, and the medical bay is a new area to explore.

Therefore, I've rewritten it to include these details and better fit Monroe's story to come. Thanks for bearing with.
 
* * *

‘An Honest Prescription’


Sick Bay, Deck 7

Ensign Noah Cutler could not help but be nervous. Serving on the USS Kestrel only two months out of the Academy, he still felt at a loss onboard the Miranda class vessel. In comparison to the confident, and sometimes even crude or abrasive, members of this cohesive and loyal crew, he was quiet and unsure of himself. Even his closest friend, Leoni Jex a friend from the Academy whom he was lucky enough to share this berth with, was a conjoined Trill who could call upon the experiences of two previous hosts who had served within Starfleet.

Despite his training at the Academy, he felt completely underprepared for duty within the Border Service. His posting had been a surprise and a disappointment. He tried hard to hide that fact, because he already incurred the wrath and low opinion of the Captain. His own desire had been to follow his grandfather into Starfleet, but as he imagined it, Starfleet proper, flying through the stars on a mission of exploration, scientific research and diplomacy.

Serving with the Border Service, the poor cousins of Starfleet, did not match his dreams and ambitions. Though after his first two, very rocky, months Cutler admitted reluctantly that the crew was a good one. Things shipboard were more informal and certainly certain persons, such as Captain McGregor and his Kzinti Chief of the Boat, were quite unorthodox in their demeanour as Starfleet officers and in their approach to duties.

Others, such as the indomitable XO Commander Cartwright, Eddie Gardner the grouchy engineer, and the strange almost emotional Vulcan officer he had ‘collected’ inebriated from her extensive shore leave, were not so much unorthodox but did cause the ensign to be nervous. The CMO to whom he was reporting to now, however, was a different kettle of fish. She was warm, kind and supportive to the new recruits to the ship. Even going so far as to pull some strings to have them on the bridge for when the ship left space dock, knowing it was an important and proud moment for the ensigns.

Nevertheless, he approached the doors of the ship’s Sick Bay with some nervousness. Because of the smaller crew size and the nature of both the Border Service and Captain McGregor’s expectations, all crew were expected to help cover in other department areas to accommodate the duty rota. To that end, a fumbling and careless Cutler was reporting to sickbay for a shift duty in the ship’s medical bay.

The doors parted to bid him enter and overcoming his hesitancy, the ensign entered the sterile compact environs of the sick bay. As a border patrol vessel, the medical bay was an important facility playing a vital part in the ship’s mission brief to render assistance in SAR operations and to offer medical care for injured crew, hurt in the line of duty imposing the rule and law of the Federation on the border.

He took in the stark interior. Clean white panelled walls offered the space an immediate sense of sterile clinical care. He found himself facing a curving wall along which seven empty medical beds fanned out along this curving wall with medical patient status display overhead each. Opposite these on the left hand side, behind a curving desk was a nurse’s station. Before this station, an entrance led into an examination room.

Cutler peeked into it. As to be expected, a large diagnostic table surrounded by walls housing equipment shelves and larger free-standing pieces of equipment and a master patient status display. A muted powered down ambience shrouded everything awaiting any possible emergency use. Even as he hovered on the threshold of the door, the lights and medical sensor computers came to life causing Cutler baulk and step backwards.

“Oh there you there!” This came from a woman in her late forties or early fifties. The brightening lights had attracted the attention of the ship’s CMO who came out from an adjoining door to the examination room. Behind her, Cutler caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the CMO’s office.

Cutler gave a weak welcome in return as he took in the doctor. “Hello Dr. Monroe.” She had a youthful appearance but her eyes held a certain serenity and a wisdom quite intangible. Her blonde straw hair brushed straight back fell behind her shoulders. and she cut a regal profile, standing ramrod straight cradling a number of padds under her arm.

Monroe was not scary like the other senior officers. However, the ship’s doctor did exude a high degree of professionalism and it seemed only appropriate that she expected the very same from all of her medical staff. So more than anything, Noah was worried about appearing foolish or letting her down in some way. Especially in light of the kindness, Monroe had shown him already.

“You found us then?” He laughed at her presumed joke. The crews’ mess hall was only the floor above and he had just finished his breakfast. “You’d be surprised how many first timers don’t find the way so easy. Amazing when you consider the sick bay is the one place you would want to know where it is.” She rhymed off in a singsong fashion, “Deck 7 on the starboard side.”

“The sad news is that there’s very little for you to do. Though in actuality ensign, that is very good news. Albeit it does sadly mean little in the way of hands on experience. We just discharged our last patient from last night’s encounter. Mr Sebastian was lucky he didn’t end up with a serious concussion but enough of the high jinxes you guys had on Aubrellis. Come on in.”

She waved him on into the sick bay. As she did, she returned to the statement about their being little to do at present. “With that said, the unexpected does tend to occur unexpectedly. So first, we will begin with a thorough tour of the equipment and medicines and then we will test you on your basic first aid. At the very least when you do a shift in the Sick Bay you train up on your first aid skills and learn more about emergency medicine. The point is not that you will use it during a shift in medical but on an away mission, on the bridge, in a combat situation. You get the idea I am sure.”

“Yes doctor.”

She laughed lightly. “Don’t be so nervous. You are going to make some mistakes I am sure hence my using this shift as training. Better to make the mistakes now rather than when they’ll count.”

Gloomily Cutler pronounced, “I think I’ve made plenty of mistakes that have more than counted already.”

“Try not to focus on that. T’Hos Likk has been a long-standing enemy of the Captain’s. Par the course as a border patrol Captain. You tend to run in to the same ole faces and end up forming enmities that don’t quite occur in your line of work as part of the Fleet. The fact he was seeking revenge for his brother’s death means to say he was always going to come after McGregor and the Kestrel. You sadly were caught up in it. But it was the action of T’Hos and his gang of thugs that caused it. He has the blame for what happened.”

Monroe placed a reassuring hand on Noah’s arm, giving it a slight squeeze of sympathy. Noah nodded in return.

“Anyway, we aren’t here for counselling. If you want that ... well your only option might be Gordon’s bar seeing as the Captain doesn’t exactly approve of counsellors onboard. Come on we have lots to do. We’ll start with a tour of sick bay.”

He feigned enthusiasm. “OK.”

“This,” she extended an arm to encompass the room in which they currently stood in, “is the main examination room. Through there,” she pointed through the transparent door she had come through, “is my lab and bend your head you can see my office. Returning to this room for the moment though. Major incidents or emergencies tend to be seen in here. Unless of course it’s a crisis and the bay is filled. We’ll go over the equipment shortly but for now we will press on.”

Monroe led the ensign out into the area he originally entered. “This is the infirmary. Most minor injuries and conditions can be handled here on these beds, whether by me, one of the nurses or med techs.” She laid two of the pads down in a rack on the nurses’ station. Before leading him on as she explained a little about the medical status display functions and purposes.

A corridor led off from the infirmary. A seal shut transparent door cut this corridor off until Monroe depressed a button allowing access into a sterile passageway. Off it, a number of pocket doors on the right led into the medical storage. There were also lockers containing cryogenic storage units and emergency equipment lockers lining this side of the wall. The other side of the corridor opened into an operating theatre. Again, a large operating table sat centre of the room surrounded by complex monitors and equipment. The passageway also allowed entrance with a key code to the CMO’s office before you got the length of the operating room.

Looking through the windows at the office, Cutler noted the interior. Shelves with medical journals and pads adorned one whole wall behind the CMO’s wrap around desk. Interspersed were one or two rather small potted ferns, whose leaves spilled over the shelves and books. Surprisingly, a number of old-fashioned photo frames sat atop the desk their backs to the passageway.

“Come on ensign. It’s a tour of the sick bay not my personal life. Come this way through to the intensive care unit. It’s more or less a mirror image of the infirmary with seven beds but with more specialised equipment and the ability to carry out haz-mat operations and decontaminations and create specialised living environments.”

Cutler nodded his head impressed at how an aged vessel like the Kestrel had quite good medical facilities. “Do you have one of those new emergency medical holographic doctors?”

Monroe smiled kindly as she shook her head. “Do you see any holographic projectors?”

Embarrassed at this oversight he blushed red. “Not to worry ensign. You’re fresh from the Academy and it’s all the talk there no doubt. How and ever, so far they’ve only been outfitted on the Intrepid class ships. Though Starfleet Medical is suitably impressed enough to roll it out on all new and refitted ships of the line. However, the Kestrel is far down such a priority list. As a border cutter, all the more so. We tend to get the hand me downs from the Fleet.”

She walked him through to another examination room that mirrored the one in infirmary and led into the chief nurse’s lab and office. As she did, Monroe continued to explain in pleasant tones. “Not to mention the power consumption that an EMH program would take up would sap important power supplies. That would send Eddie over the edge. Plus, the captain would be mightily peeved if steal power he’d want for his shields, phasers or tractor beams. So it’ll be a cold day in hell before he gets one in. Besides, with me around Cutler, why would you need a pesky old collection of photons?”

“That’s true doctor.”

She laid the remaining pads on the chief nurse’s office table. “Of course it is Cutler. This office belongs Nurse CH’shan. You’ll meet him next time. Today is his day off. Anyway, let’s make our way back to the infirmary and refresh your first aid skills and show you how to operate some of these scary looking machines.”

* * *​
 
One hour later

“And to what do we owe this pleasure?” Her tone indicated clearly to Noah no such pleasure as she ‘greeted’ whomever had entered the infirmary.

No response was forthcoming and having finished setting away equipment Dr Monroe had been training him in the use of, Noah came out into the main infirmary only to see the surly grimace on the face of Ronak. The yeoman gave a withering look towards Noah before pointedly ignoring the doctor.

The doctor though was paying him no mind, instead taking to stride up to him and turned his face to the light where she viewed closer a graze and a bruise to his right temple and a split lip. “No point asking then how you got this? No doubt there is a long line of volunteers.”

He slapped her hand away. “Look you don’t have to fix it. The Captain only ordered me to report to here. He said nothing about treatment.”

Noah knew Vulcans did not particularly like physical contact but that seemed an overreaction and Ronak appeared to take delight in causing pain with the slap.

“No but the Captain knows my Hippocratic Oath states otherwise.”

She walked to a tray of bio scanners and dermal regenerators then walked back to the Vulcan setting the instruments settings as she did. “Come over Noah. Here’s your chance to perform a very simple procedure.”

Both Noah and Ronak baulked at the idea. “I don’t want to be his guinea pig!”

“It is my infirmary and you will do what I say. Both of you.” She thrust the instrument out towards the retreating Noah. He came reluctantly over, checked the settings for himself all the time avoiding eye contact with his first ever patient.

“You’ve a wonderful bedside manner doctor.”

“Cut the smart mouth please Ronak.” To Noah she conversationally intoned as if continuing her previous lesson on the use of various medical instruments. “More often than not it is the patient with the bad bedside manner. Keep going Noah.”

Ronak in a sweet singsong voice chorused, “Oh you’ve got such soft hands Ensign Cutler. So delicate and sensitive. I bet you’re just the tenderest lover.”

Cutler stepped back and lowered the medical instruments. “Ignore him; he just wants to test your reaction.”

“Yeah Cutler, just checking out if you’re a wannabe bum chum.” Ronak gave Cutler a long sneering considered look, licked his upper teeth, and smacked his lips.

Monroe soothingly coaxed Noah to ignore him. It took a considerable effort on Noah’s part to do so but his duty demanded it of him. He tuned into the guidance from the doctor and appreciated her supportive approach. All very different to the abrupt ribald manner of the Captain and the crankiness of the Chief. Even Commander Cartwright who was forthright expected those in her charge to hear something once and know what she was about.

“OK double check the readings, almost done, a final scan then, there you have it.” Monroe then turned her attention to the lip and bruised jaw. She gently probed the jawbone with her fingers.

“You do have a medical scanner!”

“Yes and years of experience and expertise that allows me to tell if a jaw is broken without recourse to a medical scanner.” She moved his head as if to points of the compass and then satisfied all was well she gave him the all clear before waving another tool over his jaw and lip causing the colour of the bruise to fade somewhat and the lip to heal. “There. All done.”

Ronak turned without a word and walked out of the med lab. His behaviour apparently not shocking to Monroe at all who took it in her stride. “Oh don’t mind that Cutler. You quickly become very use to Ronak otherwise you would find it very tiring.”

“But how can he get away with acting like that?”

“It’s a very special situation.”

“What like Lt Commander T’Vel?” He regretted the slip as soon as he spoke and his face froze in shock.

“Mr Cutler, you’ve been warned about not mentioning a thing. Perhaps you ought to know a little of the facts first.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean. But I don’t know any of the facts.”

“Ok so that much is true.” She studied him closely wondering the best course. Should she inform him or let the matter rest only for the ensign to speculate and perhaps cause distress to T’Vel in letting the cat out of the bag. “Let’s go into my office and we can discuss it privately.”

Across from her desk, Cutler sat anticipating. “Sorry to disappoint you ensign but I’m afraid I cannot just divulge the personal details of Lt Commander T’Vel. Number one as a patient of mine I am ethically obligated to protect her privacy. Number two ship gossip will eventually catch up with you at some stage and you will soon discover the story behind T’Vel.”

“But if the gossips know already then surely you are not breaking any confidence by repeating what they say.” Noah then corrected himself. “I’m sorry doctor. It’s only because the Lt Commander’s behaviour was so strange in light of her being a Vulcan.”

“You make a point. I suppose.” She joined her hands and leaned across the table in resignation. “Nevertheless, the privacy of my patients is of paramount importance and it is a lesson you should learn if you are work shifts in my medical bay. I will not idly gossip even about well-known gossip. It is not befitting of my position as a doctor. What I will tell you is that there are circumstances surrounding T’Vel’s conduct.”

Embarrassed he mumbled his apologies. “No need to fret Mr Ensign. I did probably indicate that I was going to divulge her history. Sorry as I could and would never do that.”

“Oh I guessed as much Doctor. It is just ... well take the Captain and Stanley. Every time someone brings it up in conversation they mention ‘The Event’ but never manage to explain what it is or was.”

Monroe nodded her head. “I dare say that’s annoying. Most people don’t mention it too much for fear of the Captain overhearing. We all have our secrets and hidden parts. None of us like to have those things dissected as part of gossip.”

He sighed in resignation. “I guess not. Just another frustration.”

Joining her hands to form a steeple, Monroe pushed. “What with? Serving aboard the Kestrel? Or the Border Patrol in general ensign?”

He spoke a little defensively. “I don’t mean offence doctor. It’s just that when I enlisted, I imaged being on a starship exploring the stars.”

She pursed her thin lips. “Look Mr Cutler it might not be your dream job but don’t have such a low opinion of the Border Service. Some of us serve it gladly. I actually joined up in order to serve in it.”

“You did? Sorry I didn’t mean to sound so astonished.”

“Simple really. I lived on a border planet these guys were and are a lifeline and protectors. Shall I tell you my history at least? Then perhaps you might appreciate just how important our job is.” Her thoughts flashed back to the words she had spoken all those weeks ago to on-off lover Jocum.

Their break-up fight had revolved around her absconding to Risa for some fun and how we couldn’t understand why instead of spending the time the Kestrel spent on her refit cooped up on Starbase 49.

“Don’t start that debate again. I told you before; I’m a born and bred frontier girl. I belong out there.” She pointed out the window to the stars beyond and the milling craft.

“Do I need to inform you that Starbase 49 is part of that frontier?”

“Yes I know but I like doing my job.”

“The people here and all who come to us need doctors too. The Starbase could do with a seasoned doctor like you. It seems the starbases and space stations are getting ever younger doctors trying to find experience for their CV and then move on to either a CMO posting on a ship or back to Starfleet Medical Research.”

“Oh so I’m an ageing hack who is better off coming home to roost.”

“Now you know that is not what I meant. But it would be perfect, we could see more of each other perhaps manage a holiday away together instead of hoping our schedules match up.”

“Jocum you’re just sore because I went to Risa and you weren’t able to. You run your own business you should be able to get time off whenever you want. What’s the point of being your own boss?”

Slightly miffed at her curt reply and the reminder of her holiday without him he sourly answered Judith back. “You know full well it doesn’t work that way. Besides you could have stayed here instead of jaunting off to Risa and getting up to all sorts.”

Laughingly she retorted to keep the mood light. “I don’t be getting up to any debauchery.”

“No but if you had stayed we could have.”

“It wouldn’t have been a holiday then. I had four weeks leave, the ship was in the dockyards and I had to seize the opportunity. I was born on the frontier and I didn’t exactly get to see much of the Federation in my youth.”

“Well assignment to a border patrol hardly affords you that opportunity either!”

“No but that was my choice. I wanted to practice medicine on the frontier. It’s easy for you to think that the frontier is simply a bland comment bantered about living and working here at the Starbase. However, for those living on the frontier planets they are out on a limb, isolated or surrounded by hostile neighbours. On those planets, they have to contend with tough conditions, backward economies and backward technologies, and even more backward and for that matter corrupt governments too. When the Kestrel sails into these places, I can open a surgery and deal with people who don’t get any other access to qualified medical care until I return. I can make a difference out there that I couldn’t possibly do here.”

He laid a protective and reassuring hand on hers, “I know that.”

“Well I thought you understood it too. I grew up in those conditions and I know what it is like for those people. I can’t walk away from what I see as an obligation. Not to mention the crew needs me. Nor do I want to walk away from it.”

Pulling his hand away he said, “Yes but you’re not giving us a chance.”

Monroe reached out to grasp his retreating hand but failed to catch him in time. Though hurt she bit back her anger, but aggrieved she pleaded with him in a hurt tone. “Jocum don’t do this.”

“The first thing you need to understand ensign is that I am a frontier girl, born and bred. I grew up not far from our current position. Punthoon 5, the fifth moon orbiting a gas giant in the Condores System.”


* * *​
 
'A Medical History'


Punthoon Lunar 5, Condores System

The dust devil stormed over the parched plains. Its whipping wind harshly scraping the young girl’s face as it passed a small distance away. The sun stood high at its zenith, hammering down the heat that propelled the dust devil and the all encompassing pall over the land as the summer’s day reached the midway in its thirty-eight hours.

Little Judy squeezed her eyes shut as the dry gravel peppered her face but she endured the harshness before the wind abated and the pressing heat swamped her small frame. She tilted her head up so the wind embraced her throat and whistled down the neckline and through the light clothing of her garments. Behind her back, in her small hands, she retained a tight grip on the sheer shawl knitted by grandmamma. Her strawberry blonde hair caught in the wind formed its own vortex as it blew wildly around her tanned freckled face.

Through the tightly shut eyelids, the harsh rays of the sun still penetrated piercing her retinas burning the large sun’s image into the back of her head. The image would take a time to fade and Judy’s father warned her many times of the strength Punthoon’s Sun. The great sun Condores! Condores dominated life on Ponthoon, which was not surprising as an agricultural planet, on the rim of Federation space, dependent upon the rays of the sun and the rains from the mountains. It was a planet of extremes.

This phrase Judy learned from her teacher Ms O’Keefe at the small school in the Yunkers region. Because of the vast distance needed to be covered and the busy life of living on a farm, Judy like many others in her class only attended classes sporadically. On occasion, she would board in the limited dormitory built onto the school to house the few teachers and occasional pupil. On other occasions, Ms O’Keefe would come to the farmstead and instruct Judy and other ‘local’ children.

During one such stay, the teacher had focused on the geography of Ponthoon. From the topographical features, to the geological history of the planet. Ms O’Keefe had done so as she had taken the children out for a walk in the early hours of the morning before the sun became too unbearable as moisture from the night steamed into the sky. During the day, as Condores climbed ever higher in the sky, the plains of Ponthoon Lunar 5 became a furnace. A furnace in which it would be believed that no living thing could live. But, in the cool of the sinking sun, as dusk shrouded the far horizon in bands of gold ebbing outwards vainly holding back the purple shroud of the cold night. The far mountains became basked in shrouds of fog, a refreshing dew of moisture that breathed life into the inhabitants of Ponthoon Lunar 5. As the night skies rolled in, the fog shrank away as if in retreat as the harsh cold of open skies permeated the ground. Then in the approach of dawn storm clouds rolled in. Clouds shaped like anvils, rode in on the fronts. Dark heavy anvils that rang out with massive thunderclaps as the deluge of the dawn began. Rain that hammered the frozen ground. Pelted the farmstead and Judy’s window frames. There was no need for alarm clocks when one lived on Ponthoon Lunar 5.

But farmers eked out a living here. The native species evolved to survive this harsh and unforgiving climate. The pertigee ‘armadillo’ burrowed deep into the earth to build its den so as to escape the cold of the night. And each night it would encase itself in its burrow so as to escape the floods of the dawn deluge. In the fresh moist earth after the deluge, in the steaming morning, its snout poked its way upwards out of the soil to sift and feed on the new hooi roots and fuire worms. The hooi roots were the staple of the pertigee ‘armadillo’ and it became the staple of the farmers who came to Ponthoon in the first colony ships as their grains and crops struggled to grow in the harsh climate, four seasons in one day as her mother called it. The hooi roots if not dug up by the pertigee grew up to five metres producing potato like stores of food, and wheat like stalks. But all of which grew under the surface.

From above Ponthoon lunar 5 might not be recognised as an agricultural planet, for there were no vast tracts of crop fields visibly growing. Instead, one had to look to see the freshly dug surfaces of harvested hooi crops, dark lineated fields with no visible growth on the surface but rows upon rows of seeded hooi furrows. From above the planet looked like a scored dust bowl except for the harsh Polar Regions where even the heat of the great Condores could not beat back the snow and ice.

Small towns grew up around the space ports where the harvested found its way out into the stars to feed alien worlds and sustain the simple hard working farmers of Ponthoon Lunar 5. Administrative hubs that allowed for small businesses to prosper to some small degree. Ponthoon Lunar 5 was a back water, a seemingly unimportant moon, one of five orbiting a gas giant in the Condores System. And yet the planet provided vast stores of food to the frontier worlds and neighbouring factions with its vast tracts of crops. There were few populated areas. Yes, Ponthoon Lunar 5 fed the stars and each day fought a duel with its own burning star. It was just another example of the paradox that was Ponthoon Lunar 5.

Grandmamma sourly called Punthoon a ‘bread basket’ dust bowl. Judy did not understand the resentment in the voice of her grandmamma. Nor did she understand the science behind what Ms O’Keefe had tried to explain about the climate and geological features of Ponthoon Lunar 5.

But enamoured with her teacher, as any little girl is wont to, Judy strove to understand both the science and the resentment in her grandmamma towards the Federation and the planet of Ponthoon Lunar 5. Judy could only muse that grandmamma missed grandpa. Judy could only assume so because she had never met her grandpa as he died mere months after she herself was born.

Of the Federation, Judy knew little. Ponthoon Lunar 5 did not merit attention so long as it continued to furnish other struggling frontier worlds with its bounty. Stories, wild adventurous stories, of a legendary captain named Kirk had featured in the stories her father told before bedtime were the closest Judy ever came to knowing of the Federation. Some on Ponthoon, like her grandmamma resented the absence of the federation. Others like ‘Red’ Joe Gump derided this unknown political entity as a perverse machination to control the minds and souls of its citizens.

Her father and mother though would merely chuckle quietly to one another out of sight of grandmamma when she and ‘Red’ Joe argued over the same laborious when intoxicated with hooi root vodka. Grandmamma arguing how the federation could not care to outfit homes with replicators and bestow the advances to its lowly frontier worlds were people had to patch and repair outmoded technology. ‘Red’ would retort that that was exactly how the Federation kept tabs on people and how it secretly laced all replicated foods with mind controlling drugs. Father would simply retort to both when they pushed him to voice an opinion that replicators would only put him out of business.

Father though had a secret passion for the stars but felt his talents lay in the simple honest hard work of farming. And yet in the late night hours, as the fog retreated and the cold settled, father would sometimes steal out into the old frigid night to look up at the stars. Sometimes he’d be joined by mother, his devoted wife who’d carry out a warm brew and together they would wrap her family heirloom blanket around them both as they hugged one another tightly in a loving embrace before the cold induced them back to the embers of the hearth fire.

Judy could not quite understand these unstated passions and dreams. She wanted to be a teacher. Just like Ms O’Keefe. And she just had to let everyone else know it. Not just occasionally, but each day and on numerous occasions. Either she would inform the person to whom she was addressing just how exactly Ms O’Keefe would do it. Or state how Ms O’Keefe says ... such and such which was in direct agreement with what the original speaker had stated but which held no validity to Judy because it had not sprung forth from the lips of Ms O’Keefe. So young Judy Monroe, was more certain of anything that she was going to grow up to be a teacher, just like Ms O’Keefe, and teach like Ms O’Keefe on Ponthoon Lunar 5.

That was, until the day Judy discovered the Federation, the day the Federation turned its attention to Ponthoon Lunar 5. Turned its attention all too late ... The day they came. The day death stalked her home.

The day she blinked away the image of Condores and watched the dust devil pass into the distance whereupon looking in the direction of the farmstead she saw the shuttle craft descend from high orbit towards her home.

* * *​
 
The thing about the economy (in the 24th century, not ours. Ours is clearly beyond shambles) is that once you have replicators you're no longer in need of anything else really. Especially not farmers. It's a bit frustrating to be honest and Judy's dad makes a decent point. But this is really just a random thought and might not be at all where you are going with this.

I thought this was a nice little interlude to give us a history on the good doctor and where she comes from. I like the cautious, even paranoid attitude some of the border folks have towards the Federation. I think that makes a lot sense.

Of course now I'm also curious to find out about Judy's first experience with the Federation and what made her join Starfleet.

Now, if you're going to do one of these vignettes for each member of the crew, we're going to be here awhile ...

Not necessarily a bad thing though.
 
In my head I have little vignettes for the different crew but I won't put you through it. I think the interlude here is nice and it serves a purpose in that she is going to impart some knowledge and wisdom to our dear little Cutler with his rather negative attitude to the Border Service.

Plus my original intention was to put this together to fit the Ad Astra challenge but RL cuts in. As for the other vignettes in me head, I might post them at a later time individually or the like. As for now I want to tell this tale and see what I do from here.

As I say RL cuts in and work time I'd put in suffers if I put in time doing this so I was considering cutting my losses after this story ends. Only thing is there's a bit to go yet - Captain has yet to play his guitar - we yet to get to the 'Wash' - we've yet to figure out the traitor amidst our ranks - we've yet to find out about the 'Event' - we've yet to go toe to toe with T'Hos.

So a bit to go yet.

As for replicators and that random thought of yours, I think it is fair to say the likes of such technology, as much as it helps people also starves people of a business and an ecomony. Obviously, the ecomonical workings of the Fed is a bit wonky to understand. apparently almost communist in some readings because people don't seek profit etc but then what do they do? How do they fulfil themselves and occupy themselves? Joining Starfleet might just to get away from the boredom in that case. Unless of course they have their own version of the TrekBBS in their time! :lol:

Issues like that and other worldly concerns of the Federation, protecting central core worlds from recurring threats like the Borg, etc, seeking out new life and new civilisations as part of the exploratory arm of Starfleet all put pressures on the Federation and for the Border worlds perhaps fuels resentment as they probably get pushed down the priority list until there's a border skirmish or tactical concern.
 
If you are not already a member then please register an account and join in the discussion!

Sign up / Register


Back
Top