USS Kestrel - Hunting Grounds
- Thread starter mirandafave
- Start date
Hee hee. Glad McGregor is still making an impression. And thanks to the both of you for continuing to read and review the story. Especially, after the long absence. And thanks to kes7 for kicking my ass in gear and telling me to just write something when I got stuck. Now again, with thanks to kes7 for big time reassurance I hope to bring a little more with our two Vulcans and their less than happy family.
‘The Seed of Discord’
Officers' Quarters, Deck 6
Ronak chuckled as the doors closed after the fleeing Noah Cutler. He crossed his arms, smug and triumphant. T’Vel ensured the doors were closed before looking back at Ronak. At her son. Dipping her head slightly, she lost some of her haughty and aloof presence as she stepped closer to him and into the room. However, at a glance it was clear she would not deign to sit on the simple furniture.
T’Vel remained standing rigid commanding the centre of the room while Ronak propped himself up against the far bulkhead, she bearing a stoic expression, he assuming a nonchalant preening grin. The dichotomy of the situation was not lost on either of them.
A long moment passed with neither one saying a word. Their eyes met as each scrutinised the intent of the other in a silent stand off. T’Vel relented, however, with a small sigh. Ronak arched a mocking eyebrow in amusement at her obvious exasperation. “Quite the faux pas, letting your resolve slip so. You became quite emotional in front of my new little friend. And sighing so now. Tut, tut, have you no control?”
“I tire of this Ronak.”
“Tire? Surely your discipline of mind and body means you shouldn’t show fatigue, especially so early in the morning. Didn’t get much rest last night? Or are you still over exerted from your little stay on Aubrellis?”
“You were also on Aubrellis. Yet you did not seek me out.” Her look bore down on him but Ronak was unmoved. Instead, he swaggered over to the sofa, passing within an inch of her face before he sat down. T’Vel had to restrain herself from his brushing her arm as he passed. The sudden overwhelming of her emotions this induced an involuntary gasp and a step backwards.
“As much as I enjoy the more open, more experimental and fun you, I do find ‘Cassie’ a little over bearing. A guy doesn’t like to be out-partied by his mom, after all. Besides, I don’t like to advertise my Mom the schizoid.”
“That is not an accurate...”
“NO?” He stood suddenly, making T’Vel back pedal quickly. His emotional state would only impair her own too greatly. His hot and angry emotions washed off him, emanating strongly even for a touch telepath such as T’Vel. “Tell me then what would be an accurate, or more acceptable to you, term. I mean here and now you’re the very standard of a Starfleet officer. Only you’re not! You’re not good enough to step aboard a proper Starfleet ship. No scientific explorations for you. No, no, they leave you to fester and rot with this lot. Criminals, lackeys, misfits and malcontents. Oh ... not to mention mentally deranged Vulcans with bastard children.”
He started to pace the small confines of the room, stalking it fiercely. “Tell me mother why do you remain here? Why not live out your life with the abandon of your emotions and be Cassie? Why cling to this false facade?”
T’Vel narrowed her eyes and considered him closely. “Do you wish that it were so?”
“No! I only ask, why do you live this lie?”
“My life is not a lie.”
Ronak snarled angrily, pitching a mug against the bulkhead, narrowly missing T’Vel. The shattering porcelain sliced her cheek as cold tea splattered the wall. T’Vel did not flinch.
“Every Vulcan lives a life that is a lie,” Ronak hissed angrily, “pretending to have no emotions when emotions broil within our souls, hatreds and passions and angers so deep they would scare most Federation species witless. Fires that burn so darkly as to almost scour your very soul. You know it to be true. But you all swan around pretending. With your lofty, haughty moral standards; delivering derision and scorn upon all others for their weaknesses and petty emotional outbursts. Believing yourselves to be so far removed and above it all. Superior and elite, looking down upon the lesser species scrabbling and fighting. Yet secretly you yearn to revel in your emotions. Wish fervently to rage against the world. Curse it and smite the eyes of those who offend. But you cannot accept that. Could not possibly debase yourselves to embrace emotions.”
Coolly she retorted, “You forget that you too are a Vulcan.”
“I don’t live the lie.”
“You presume that since you are unable to control your emotions, discipline your mind, that all Vulcans are alike. It is not so. You are mistaken. Vulcans do not pretend to have no emotions. We learn to control our emotions.”
“We? Ha! There is no ‘we’. Do not include yourself among their number mother, for you are no Vulcan. You cannot control your emotions unless you count the medical injections you take from Dr. Monroe.”
“Your argument is inconsistent. With supposition you claim me to share the lie all Vulcans live, in the next you argue that I am not a Vulcan based on the medicines I use to aid my discipline.”
“If you were a proper Vulcan you would have no need for drugs! You are the biggest liar of the lot. You are a failure, Mother. A washed up hack of a Vulcan. A piss poor imitation. And a lousy mother to boot.”
“Of that last charge, that much is certainly true.” She took a careful step forward. T’Vel wanted to open up to Ronak, and had always wanted to do so, but her mind and heart tended to rebel against her minimal maternal instinct. “I have however, always tried to be a mother to you.”
“No you haven’t. Guilt makes you keep me around and shame makes you want to drive me away.” He stabbed one last damming, vindictive charge against her. “Emotional responses all.”
“My difficulties as a mother are not borne of emotion.”
“On that we can agree on one salient point. You certainly never bore me any love.”
Taking a step forward in protest, T’Vel attempted to argue. “That is not true.”
“Aha ... aha ... remember Vulcans never lie. Of course, we have already established that is not true. We know that is not true, don’t we?” He circled her like an accused standing trial. “Or do you pretend that Admiralty are aware of your full condition and that if so they are happy and content to allow you to be a step away from command of vessel when you cannot even command your own facilities.”
“Captain McGregor knows all too well the extent of my condition.”
“Yes but you know that he aids you in keeping your dirty little secret. You’re as good as the old mad woman in the attic. Only the captain doesn’t have the good sense to keep you locked up in it.”
Her hands clasped behind her back wrung each other tight as she fought to contain her growing anger. Presenting a very model image, T’Vel remained stoic in the face of Ronak’s charges. “It is unfortunate that you view matters in that way.”
“You mean it is unfortunate that I’m pissed at you. Screw you Mom! And if you care so damned much then why don’t you keep that bulldog McGregor off me? You secretly like that he uses me as a punching bag.” He gestured to the bruises on his face. His eyes filled with bilious anger. For a fraction of a second, T’Vel felt her heart beat faster and her eyes narrow, as she took in her son’s hurt.
“That is not true. It is unprofessional of the captain to accost you. However, Ronak, your condition only provokes the Captain in addition to your repeated attempts to rile him. You deliberately seek to make the captain angry.”
He shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”
“Ronak.”
“As for my condition mother, I think it is a little rich for you to comment so. It is a genetic fault.” He glared at her. “The bi-product of your sweaty foul tussle.”
Ronak went sideways as the forceful slap of T’Vel’s hand smacked hard into his cheek. So forceful was her slap he knocked his head against the wall and fell to the floor. T’Vel stepped back, her heart racing and breathing ragged. Her nostrils flared as she tried to temper her anger and breathing. She looked down at the offending hand accusatorily, as if she had had no compunction or control over its actions.
From the floor, Ronak peered upwards sneering. He started to chortle at her. “Somebody better warn the captain, the mad woman in the attic is ready to come out to play. Cutting too close to the truth, was I?”
“You know the pertinent details of your conception Ronak. It was foul, it was sweaty, it was not a tussle and it was no instigation of my part.” She felt an overwhelming urge to kick the insolent child in his gut but refrained from surrendering to her anger again. Shakily she stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “I am ... sorry ... I slapped you. It is merely that that moment of my life is a very difficult memory.”
From the floor, he sneered up at her. “And emotional I bet. Oops, I said the ‘E’ word again. Sorry, yeah right. Somehow, I doubt it. As for my conception Mother, I know you tell everyone you played hard to get but go on admit it to me, you really actually did want it.”
T’Vel ran forwards inflamed again and grabbed Ronak by the throat, hauling him off his feet and smacking him into the bulkhead. Hissing she seethed through clenched teeth, “How. Dare. You?”
Even though he struggled for breath and his feet flayed uselessly midair, Ronak bore her a grim and macabre smile. His eyes went glassy as he started to asphyxiate and pass out, as T’Vel relentlessly strangled his windpipe. She squeezed the life out of life. She had given him life and now she would take it away from him. His frantic kicks started to ebb as his oxygen depleted. His ashen complexion became a sickly cast of green. T’Vel found herself almost foaming at the mouth relishing in the abandon of control and letting her anger have full reign. She saw not just Ronak’s face gasping for breath in front of her but that of his father’s. It’s heinous visage as he bore down on her, pressing his flesh onto her, his mind violating hers .... T’Vel would not permit it, she would kill him! She would choke the life out of her attacker.
At the last second, just as Ronak’s eyes clouded over and closed, T’Vel regained herself. T’Vel saw not her attacker but her son! Appalled and shocked to her core at what she had contemplated, what she had come so close to committing, she released Ronak, dropping him hard to the ground. She stepped back shuddering and collapsed to the ground as her knees buckled. Almost sobbing, she fought for her own breath even as Ronak gulped for air again.
After a time, T’Vel crawled forwards towards Ronak, not trusting to stand on her own two feet. Ronak slowly sat up and edged away from his approaching mother. He rubbed his throat. His voice rasped as he warned, “Stay back, witch.”
With her eyes rather than her voice, T’Vel pleaded hoarsely, “Ronak.”
He used the doorframe to hoist himself up. “I think our breakfast is finished.”
Staggering he walked to the door and slapped the enunciator to open the door and leave it open as he fell out of the room and careened off the bulkheads as he hurriedly raced away from the scene.
T’Vel looked at his retreating form forlornly and then pummelled the floor with her fists. Then she screamed aloud -- a long wailing howl, venting her hurt and frustration. She only stopped when exhaustion made her flop to the floor, panting. She lay there, face down, for a long moment -- eyes open, staring deeply into the carpet.
She absorbed the weave of the fabric, her eyes penetrating ever deeper. She looked at the loop of the weave and discerned the pattern and the loss of pattern at such close proximity. In the pattern and in the colours she sought some order and sought to discover logic.
Logic was her saviour. Logic had saved her from her darkest hours. Logic had brought her back to life. Logic had rescued her from the very depths of a broken and destroyed soul. Logic restored a broken mind. Logic helped her to bear the bastard seed in her womb. Logic helped her to return to Starfleet and don the uniform once more. Logic gave her a purpose again. Logic was desperately failing her now.
Her emotions were raw and coursed through her soul. Even with Ronak now gone from the room, T’Vel felt her control wavering and waning. She wanted to fall into the pit into which her raging emotions beckoned -- into which the voice called, alluring, reassuring, coaxing and chilling. It was not her voice. It was not the voice of logic. It was not the voice of her altered personality, Cassie, even. No, it was ‘her’ voice. ‘She’ sensed how vulnerable T’Vel was. ‘She’ saw the cracks in the emotional veneer that could allow ‘her’ control.
Squeezing her eyes shut T’Vel drew up an image. Her talisman. Her guiding beacon back to logic and to her balance. Tracing an image of Seleya with the Vulcan sun rising behind it. The image that adorned the Vulcan IDIC symbol. The image that T’Vel now called to mind and focused on. It gave her strength. It gave her hope. It called on her to use logic. And that she now tried to demand of herself, to fight and regain her control before T’Vel found herself consumed by the power and mind of ‘that’ woman.
T’Vel losing her control, her emotional base shot, fought for logic, and in grasping for logic opted to use her emotions to fight back. She might lose her emotional control but she would not lose control of herself to that ‘woman’. So she embraced her anger and roared in defiance. Eyes wide and glaring T’Vel hollered defiantly, “You. Will. Not. Break. Me!”
T’Vel stood erect and roared into the empty room, “You will not break me!“ She turned and faced the empty space behind her. More assured and confident she asserted, “You will not break me!” Approaching the highly polished surface of the lounge coffee table she looked down at her own reflection. For a fraction of a second, she could almost swear she saw the reflection sneer back at her. But T’Vel remained defiant. And once more she asserted as she shook her head, “You will not break me. I am in control. I am. Do you hear me?”
The room fell silent after her shouts -- a pregnant quiet that at any moment, one could expect to be broken a voice from beyond. However, no voice came forth and the voice calling within T’Vel’s mind was quelled. For now. T’Vel’s heavy breathing became a method of therapy as she expelled her anger and sought her centre again.
After long moments, it started to return. She pulled on her uniform and straightened herself. She was an officer. A scientist. A Border Patrol officer. And not just any Border Patrol officer but second officer of the Starship Kestrel. And more than this, even though it pained her, she was a Mother.
* * *
Wow, compelling stuff. You did a really great job of capturing T'Vel's Vulcan voice, while making it clear that she's right on the edge and struggling to maintain control (and occasionally failing). And Ronak ... well, he's a piece of work, isn't he? I guess even for Vulcans, it's those closest to us who know how to hurt us the most.
I really feel for T'Vel. She's got a horrible situation on her hands, trying to do her job well while dealing with her own demons and those of her son ... it should be very interesting to see how she handles it as time goes on.
At the same time, I also feel for Ronak, who obviously has some serious mommy issues. He may be a terrible person, but the odds were pretty stacked against him, considering the circumstances of his conception and the bitterness and illness of his mother. It doesn't excuse his behavior, but it does help to make it slightly more understandable.
Fantastic chapter, and quite a contrast to the total hilarity of the last installment.
I really feel for T'Vel. She's got a horrible situation on her hands, trying to do her job well while dealing with her own demons and those of her son ... it should be very interesting to see how she handles it as time goes on.
At the same time, I also feel for Ronak, who obviously has some serious mommy issues. He may be a terrible person, but the odds were pretty stacked against him, considering the circumstances of his conception and the bitterness and illness of his mother. It doesn't excuse his behavior, but it does help to make it slightly more understandable.
Fantastic chapter, and quite a contrast to the total hilarity of the last installment.
Wow, Kestrel can get pretty serious, can't it? This was a heavy but aptly-handed character episode. Vulcans are one of the most difficult characters to write for in Trek fiction, I believe, but you are doing a fantastic job here, taking T'Vel all the way to the brink and then pulling back just in time to avoid complete self-destruction ... at lease for now.
Differently to kes7 I have very little sympathy for Ronak. What a total, insensitive Vulcan brat. I mean you gotta be seriously messed up to talk to your mother like this. Maybe there are some mitigating circumstances here but I'm not seeing them at the moment.
In any case, terrific and compelling segment. Well done.
Differently to kes7 I have very little sympathy for Ronak. What a total, insensitive Vulcan brat. I mean you gotta be seriously messed up to talk to your mother like this. Maybe there are some mitigating circumstances here but I'm not seeing them at the moment.
In any case, terrific and compelling segment. Well done.
Thanks for the reads and reviews kes7 and CeJay. Interesting to note the difference of opinion on Ronak. I guess at some level, deep down, one has to have a tiny bit of sympathy for Ronak but then he goes and does something that makes you want to punch his face. As for underlying problems? Well ... certainly there are some Mommy issues but you'll have to wait and see what else lies behind it all too. One thing is that he does help to make McGregor seem pleasant. Hee hee.
Glad the contrast between the chapters worked kes7 the funny and the more serious. Yes CeJay, Kestrel will stray into some serious before the end of the story but there'll be some fun along the way to boot.
Again, my sincerest thanks for reading and reviewing.
Glad the contrast between the chapters worked kes7 the funny and the more serious. Yes CeJay, Kestrel will stray into some serious before the end of the story but there'll be some fun along the way to boot.
Again, my sincerest thanks for reading and reviewing.
‘A View to Behold’
Mess Hall, Deck 6
“Captain.”
McGregor scoffed two pancakes, syrup and bacon into his gob. He greeted Molly with a hearty and loud, “Morning Molly!” And how is my excellent XO. Care for some eggs? That way, you’d be really egg-cellent!”
Molly stared hard at McGregor. Her straight face a stark contrast to the laughter lines on his, as he resumed chomping on his breakfast. “You know McGregor, you don’t exactly have the best sense of humour. Nor do you have the best sense of table manners.”
He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform. Speaking with a full mouth he declared, “Wha ye mean?”
“Captain, could it possibly be true that your chat with Admiral Faraday this morning was not conducted as professionally as one might expect of another captain?”
“Rear-Admiral!” He held up an admonishing finger to correct her. “A Rear-Admiral, remember Molly.” His emphasis on the rear not lost on Molly who could conclude what had indeed transpired and thus explained the follow up call she had received.
“And what exactly was said during your conversation?”
“Oh, he said something, something, something and wasn’t I a sight to behold. I think he had a point.” He pointed his fork at Molly to underscore his thought.
She sighed and sat in the canteen bench seat opposite the captain. “Do you ever think captain, that once you finish up such a call that I get a follow up call that actually has to deal with the paper work and formalities of the business you are supposed to conduct with the Rear-Admiral?”
“Of course it does.” Molly frowned at that disbelievingly. “Why else do you think I have an XO? Apart form your sparkling company Molly. That and the fact I have someone to play golf with.”
She shook her head. “Well you’ll be happy to know that things are straightened out with Faraday.”
“I sorted them out already!” He shrugged his shoulders, a little affronted.
“Oh don’t you worry captain. Your bravado and brushing the Admiral off is perfectly accepted by him, without my weighing in. He’s happy enough for you to go all Rambo. So long as it doesn’t come back on him. He did his usual song and dance about you being a greater danger to the ship than T’Hos or anything else we should meet. I told him that was hardly news. You’ve always been our greatest liability.”
“I wouldn’t say that. There’s Gunny. He’s a right raving loony. Why on earth I keep him is beyond me.”
“In your words, ‘because he is a right raving loony and we need loonies to run this place’. He’s just another cog in the stellar crew you have assembled.”
McGregor beamed. “Yes, true. He serves a good purpose. By the way, you’ll find he and Rah will be cooking up a few things today.”
“Yes, that’s why I came to you. What exactly have you planned for today?” She leaned in to look McGregor in the eye.
He played innocent as he munched on his breakfast. “Oh just some fun and games. Not to mind Molly. Some milk?”
She pushed the proffered glass away. “No thank you. I get you wanting to keep it secret from the crew. However, you can divulge your plans with me. Or should I say, you are supposed to share your plans with me.”
“Ah, but where would the fun be in that for you Molly? Everyone else gets to be surprised. Why not you too?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like surprises, so you needn’t worry on that front.”
He looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “All right then. I’ll let you know, but walk with me. Everyone else is trying to listen in on us.”
Various persons in the mess hall sat up straight and chairs scraped on the floor as they shifted to not be seen to be eavesdropping. McGregor chuckled and Molly shared it.
“I hope this is something worthwhile.”
He nodded his head fervently. “Oh it is. It’s going to piss T’Hos off no end.”
“I’m not entirely sure that is the approach we should be taking. He’s pretty pissed as is.” Molly cautioned.
“Yup! And the more pissed he gets the more mistakes he makes. Don’t worry Molls, I’ve him figured out.” He bounded up out of his seat and strode purposefully out of the mess hall waving, a piece of bacon in hand, “Tally ho, breakfasteers!”
They chorused back, “Tally ho, Captain!”
“Don’t you just love this crew Molls?” He grinned delightedly as he wolfed down the bacon.
* * *
Starboard Viewing Gallery, Deck 9
Noah had found himself roaming the corridors with time to spare before his shift. He had called on Jex but it seemed she had similarly gotten up early and was not in her room. Noah wondered as to her whereabouts and would have used the computer to discover them, but he felt it was too much like checking up on her and he realised that he already took up so much of her off time. As she had said, he needed to make friends with other people. No doubt, this was some sort of veiled comment that he was taking up too much of her time and she was the one who wanted to make friends and spend time with other people.
If his morning hadn’t started off badly enough, this glum thought depressed him greatly. In fact, it near out right angered him. He stalked the crew corridors in a foul mood. His boyish features scowling and giving Noah the air of being petulant. A few crewmembers on the corridor opted to not say hello as he charged past them. Noah found himself feeling angrier at their submissive manner even as he delighted that no one was talking to him.
Once inside the turbolift he stamped his foot in irritation as it took its time getting to deck nine. He did not know why he headed here, but he found himself clenching his fists and needing some space. He charged into the starboard viewing gallery but came to an abrupt stop.
“Good morning Mr Cutler.”
Noah stepped back startled at Stanley’s friendly welcome. He had not expected to meet anyone in what were affectionately called the ‘knocking bubbles’, otherwise known as the viewing galleries. Startled, Noah looked at the alien creature squatted in front of the glass with the expanse of space surrounding him. At his foot lay a ball of wool, knitting needles and an incomplete scarf.
The surprise Noah displayed came from his being engrossed in his foul mood and his mind clouded with dark thoughts centred on Ronak. Coming here was an attempt to find somewhere to breathe and to clear his thoughts. His thoughts suddenly interrupted, Noah was disturbed at just how intense his anger was. Yes, he had cause to be angry but to feel this pent up about it was unlike him. He was equally disturbed to see that Stanley himself appeared to be in a contemplative mood and he had obviously interrupted him.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to intrude ... Stanley. I hadn’t thought anyone would be here.”
“That is perfectly fine. It is obvious you were expecting no one. I am equally disturbing you.”
“No, no. Not at all.” He shifted uneasily wondering whether he ought best to make a retreat. “You have been released from the medical bay then?”
Stooping to pick up his set aside knitting, Stanley continued, “Dr. Monroe only kept me for observation and to keep the captain content.”
“Uh huh!” Noah wanted to say more but found his throat dry. He felt unsure, no uneasy, around Stanley after his revelation. It worried him no end. Noah feared another ‘vision’ and felt a spectre of death almost hung over Stanley. It seemed strange after his initial impressions of the strange alien had been of a quirky oddity. Now Stanley seemed to be a prophet of death.
“It is a view to behold is it not?” Stanley nodded in the direction of the streaming stars at warp. Noah looked out at the visage. Yes, it really was impressive. He nodded his head in agreement. “Sometimes, I hear the stars sing.”
Noah’s eyes bulged and he blurted, “They sing?”
“Yes.” Stanley stated plainly. “I sense them. I feel the ebb and flow of the galaxy.” Noah shifted uneasily as a lump formed in his throat. Stanley noticed Noah’s discomfiture. “I do not mean to, how is it Captain McGregor puts it? I do not mean to ‘freak you out’ Ensign Noah. Merely I wish to inform you that I appear to have extra-sensory abilities. I cannot elaborate any further than because I do not understand it. Nor does the captain.”
“Haven’t you know, people, Starfleet, or even Dr. Monroe and Lt. Commander T’Vel investigated that? I can’t imagine they would pass up such a study. I don’t mean you are some sort of science experiment but you know it is somewhat unusual.”
“Yes, that is why the captain will not inform Starfleet of my abilities.”
“Sorry, the captain can’t do that.”
“He is the captain.” Stanley shrugged as if that was all to say that was all. “He does not want me to become some sort of Earth rodent.”
“A guinea pig. I guess not.”
“Lt. Commander T’Vel has examined me; however it seems my being the only one of my kind hampers such investigations.”
With sad eyes, Noah declared solemnly. “That must be really ... lonely.”
“It is.”
A long silence passed. Noah sighed deeply, in part relieved that his anger has subsided. He shook his head wondering at where the well of anger had come from. He couldn’t fathom it, then he recalled his quarters when Ronak ...
“You may ask.”
“Sorry?” Noah confused replied to the unexpected interruption to his train of thoughts. “Ask what?”
“Ask me about my visions. It is normally what occurs when one experience me having a vision for the first time. It is only natural to be curious.” Stanley looked at him sincerely. Still Noah was hesitant to ask.
“No thank you. As much as I am curious, to be honest it ... it scares me.” He winced revealing that.
Stanley nodded. “That is perhaps the first time anyone has ever said that. Most are curious and believe it must be a gift. However, it is far from a gift.” Stanley’s eyes became vacant as he stared into nothing, absorbed in his own thoughts. “I see only the pain of things to come, I foresee destruction, I see the shadows and the spectres, I can tell an anguish that awaits a friend, the aches and the traumas of a crewmate, I see the fates of strangers; And I see Death, Death all around, Death come to all.”
Stanley almost stumbled back at the dark foreboding words. A chill went up his spine and the cold of space felt like it had leached into the room. Stanley advanced arms open in apology. “I am sorry Ensign. I did not mean to frighten you.”
“It’s ok. Anyway, I’d best be off. You need your space.”
“It is ok.” He picked up his things and tidied them into a bundle then set them into a small brown satchel. He removed from the front pocket his favourite multicoloured scarf. “I think rather, that I will go for a walk.”
Noah walked a small way with him and as Stanley bid goodbye, tossing his scarf around his neck, “I will see you, Ensign Cutler.”
“Yeah, later Stanley.”
Stanley then stepped up to an emergency airlock, punched in some commands, quickly entered, and sealed the door behind him. Noah stopped startled. Looking through the small window, he saw the inner controls switch from green to red as the compartment decompressed and the outer door opened. And Stanley disappeared out the door.
Noah gasped and then roared. “Oh my God! Stanley!”
He slapped his combadge as he ran back to the viewing gallery to spot Stanley’s body, “Cutler to McGregor! Stanley’s just walked out of the ship!”
“What is it Cutler?” The cry came from behind as McGregor and Cartwright approached from their walk. McGregor rushed up his face frowning.
Noah wagged him frantically into the viewing gallery as he scanned the open space for sight of Stanley. “He just walked out the airlock and tossed himself out into space. One minute he’s packing away an unfinished scarf and the next he just goes for a walk outside, with no EVA suit!”
“What!” McGregor rushed up to the window to stand alongside the frantic Noah.
Noah grabbed the captain’s arm. “Quick, we have to get a transporter lock on him.”
“You say he stepped outside after not getting a scarf finished?”
Cutler, breathing rapidly in panic, stopped confused at the captain’s focus. “Yes sir. He’s out there somewhere.”
“Damn him. He promised me he’d have my scarf finished.” McGregor leant over the railing in front of the expansive window and proceeded to knock hard on it. Rapping the window he called, “Stanley! Where’s my scarf?”
Molly frowning and unperturbed pointed out in a schoolteacher tone. “He can’t hear you Captain. He’s outside, you know, in the vacuum of space. I really do wish he wouldn’t do that when we are at warp.”
“Damn the fool, he might lose my new scarf. Oh, wait a minute. Ensign you never mentioned he had his satchel with him! It’s alright, the scarf is safe.”
Cutler looked at his two commanding officers not comprehending. Molly tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out to a spot along the hull. There Noah could see the blue figure of Stanley, with satchel over his shoulder and scarf wrapped around him, taking a walk along the hull.
“How? He’s not able to breathe ... how? I don’t ...”
McGregor gave him a derisive look. “You don’t seem to understand a lot of things ensign. I’d best meet Stanley on the bridge.” McGregor moved off.
Cutler watched him go and turned to the commander. She patted him on the back as Sebastian Templar came into the gallery to see what the commotion was. Cutler pointed out the window to Sebastian. The security officer merely lifted his chin a little unperturbed at the sight seemingly. “He does that a lot then.”
“Only when he has a lot to think about or when he accompanies the captain.” Molly provided. To Noah she explained, “Stanley can breathe or not breathe as the case might be out in space. We’ve timed him up to thirty minutes but don’t normally allow him to try it out longer than that.”
“But ... but ... but how?”
“There’s a great many things we can’t fathom about our blue-coloured friend out there. That,” she pointed out to Stanley who had turned to look around at the passing stars, “is what we call his party trick and the least of what concerns us about him. See you on the bridge later ensign. You’re going to discover that you are about to have a very interesting day. Likewise Mr Templar. It might just be fun.” She clapped them both on the back and wandered off.
Noah looked at Templar and then out at Stanley. His look incredulous. He couldn’t imagine how it could get any more interesting than seeing this sight.
To Sebastian Noah asked, “You knew about Stanley being able to do – that?”
“Not til yesterday. And trust me, when I say it, it near made me shit my EVA when I did.”
The two looked out at Stanley who was now looking back at them. He raised a hand, waving it at the two ensigns. Noah and Sebastian found themselves waving back absently before realising it and becoming embarrassed. Stanley turned throwing his scarf over his shoulder before disappearing over the rim as he continued on his merry way.
* * *
Miranda Fave, I loved this! Your characterization is awesome, each one has his or her own distinct personality; they feel very real. The whole crew, though, is just desperately in need of some people skills! 
McGregor is hilarious and insane (though he claims a method to his madness!), and I feel terribly sorry for the long-suffering Cartwright. Noah continues his role as the ingenue, and is maybe suffering some aftereffects of his encounter with Ronak? Some kind of emotional transferrence? Or maybe he's just that upset about his roommate being a sociopathic Vulcan. Then there's Stanley, who is always fascinating. But you would think he'd WARN people before pulling that trick! Or that someone would inform him that he NEEDS to warn people about it. I liked the slightly deeper discussion of his visions, too. Still very mysterious, though.
Great stuff, keep up the good work!
McGregor is hilarious and insane (though he claims a method to his madness!), and I feel terribly sorry for the long-suffering Cartwright. Noah continues his role as the ingenue, and is maybe suffering some aftereffects of his encounter with Ronak? Some kind of emotional transferrence? Or maybe he's just that upset about his roommate being a sociopathic Vulcan. Then there's Stanley, who is always fascinating. But you would think he'd WARN people before pulling that trick! Or that someone would inform him that he NEEDS to warn people about it. I liked the slightly deeper discussion of his visions, too. Still very mysterious, though.
Great stuff, keep up the good work!
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Boy, what would McGregor do without Molly as his XO. My guess, he'd be sitting in a prison cell somewhere for conduct unbecoming and half a dozen other offenses.
I like Stanley. He's both your typical strange alien and at the same time remains completley suprising in what he can and apparently will do.
Cutler's reaction to his odd EVA trip was priceless. I suspected that this wasn't some sort of suicide attempt but for the poor young ensign that's probably exactly what that looked like. Is this guy ever going to get a break?
I like Stanley. He's both your typical strange alien and at the same time remains completley suprising in what he can and apparently will do.
Cutler's reaction to his odd EVA trip was priceless. I suspected that this wasn't some sort of suicide attempt but for the poor young ensign that's probably exactly what that looked like. Is this guy ever going to get a break?
Thanks kes7 and CeJay! People skills kes! McGregor's dripping with people skills! Well ... maybe not, thankfully as you say CeJay he has Molly there for him. Though he kinda expects her to watch his back and sort out the paper work and stuff. He definitely would be in bigger messes and troubles without her at his side.
Stan is the man. But he doesn't seem to appreciate how such behaviour could be construed as well crazy and idiotic. Poor Noah did get quite a shock and I'm not letting up on him just yet. Not to mention he has to deal with what may have happened with Ronak. Thanks for reading and commenting. Much appreciated.
Stan is the man. But he doesn't seem to appreciate how such behaviour could be construed as well crazy and idiotic. Poor Noah did get quite a shock and I'm not letting up on him just yet. Not to mention he has to deal with what may have happened with Ronak. Thanks for reading and commenting. Much appreciated.
Ok big apologies to any and all trying to read this. I can't quie believe the delay in between new story posts but real life and a tricky part of the story has meant progress is slow. And McGregor is a perfectionist so he demands what he wants and nothing less.
* * *
‘Below Par’
‘Below Par’
Sebastian and Noah moved away from the window some time after Stanley disappeared over the rim. It was as if they almost expected him to come and pop his head back over the edge. It seemed likely in light of everything. Sebastian set a brisk pace and then realised that Noah was keeping in step with him. He looked at the ensign with a frown. Noah seemed oblivious merely content to be walking alongside Sebastian. What to make of that Templar was not sure. Though he supposed the ensign had gotten quite a shock. He frowned more to himself now as he found himself in the position of taking Noah under his wing. It was not something he contemplated easily.
“Where’s your Trill friend?”
Noah shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Templar cursed inwardly. He didn’t need this kid tagging alongside him. He stopped and talked into the ceiling. “Computer, where is Ensign Leoni Jex?”
Noah balked at this. He had no intention of invading Leoni’s privacy or indeed discovering that she was in the messhall with other friends. His jealousy spiked again and he shook his head of the intense feeling. Surprise replaced it though as the computer replied after a moment, “Ensign Leoni Jex is currently in ship’s flight operation centre, Deck 4.”
“Oh.” Noah registered his surprise.
Templar raised his eyebrows at Noah’s surprise. ‘Where did he think she was anyway?’ “There you go. She must be prepping for a flight or something.” Templar tried to act gun-ho about the matter but it struck him as odd that the ensign would be there. What cause did she have? Then he considered his own summons yesterday...
“What am I doing here Captain?” He asked of McGregor as he looked around at his surrounds. The room was pretty much what one expected of an airlock staging room. Essentially the staging area, situated just off the portside Docking Port 3 on Deck 8, was a changing room in which crewmembers donned environmental suits for space walks. Cages lined the wall with various components to EVA suits. Helmets, boots, gloves, different sized suits, some modified for the female form, others to better fit various alien body shapes.
One environmental suit that caught Sebastian’s eye in particular was one surely modified for the Kzinti cat. His assessment not based solely because of its sheer bulk but because it bore an inscribed tattoo on its white skin, which read ‘Fang’ with a gory blood soaked tooth. This suit hung in its own compartment and had extra carrying space for small munitions and placeholds to carry phaser rifles slung over the back. Sebastian nodded approvingly at the modifications. McGregor smirked as he noticed what the ensign was looking at.
“You should see Commander Cartwright’s suit. It comes with an extra arm so she can still bitch slap in space.” Forgetting himself, Templar snorted.”Ah good. You do have a sense of humour. That bodes well. Come on then.”
The Captain waved Templar over to himself. Stomping his right foot hard on the deck, the white boot locked into placed and self-sealed. Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at the captain almost completely adorned in his EV. His Helmet lay beside him on the bench. The Captain’s handle emblazoned upon the prow of the helmet.
“What? Haven’t you seen an environmental suit before? I mean I have worries about the Academy training. It’s gotten soft since the days of instructors such as Nagumo,” Sebastian frowned at the name unknowing, “and goodness knows it is nowhere near the testing of ‘The Kennel’ but I thought at least they still did space walk training.”
“They do captain.” He indicated the sturdy EV suits. “I thought Border Patrol was the poor cousin. But these suits are cutting edge. I don’t think these particular models are on frontline vessels yet.”
Conceited and proud, McGregor puffed his chest out. “They aren’t.”
“So how comes?”
“Well it is rather simple. Sometimes, just sometimes, in their ingenuity Starfleet use us as the guinea pigs. That said, we, the Border Patrol, do have more cause to use EVs as part of our extensive brief. From SAR operations to SAWRHs, we are the ones who use them the mostest. That and it’s our tech guys who have forged the way in the design of EVs. Once upon a time, we left that sort of detail to the Fleeters and you should have seen some of the condom suits they came up with. Trust a Border Dog to do a job right and to make something practical and durable. Say what you will about Archer and his cohorts, but they sure got the utilitarian design of these things down to a tee.”
Sebastian with little knowledge of the EV design lineage took the captain’s word for it and just nodded. He understood too that the Border Dogs did have greater need for practical and tough EV suits. From search and rescue operation into highly dangerous zones or into vessels venting or void of atmosphere, to raiding parties on vessels they pulled over to search for contraband. “SAWRHs?”
“I like to call it, ‘Going for a Sarah’. Search and Wreak Havoc! A boarding party that expects to meet hostile forces in other words. Lots of fun.” His face lit up mischievously at the prospect and he rubbed his hands together. McGregor picked up and then tossed a helmet to Sebastian. “Get suited and booted ensign.”
“Where are we going captain?”
The captain gave him a disappointed look. “Outside obviously.”
“I got that,” he said looking down at the helmet in his hand, “but why?”
“As I said to Ensign Jex, I fancied some fresh air. I’ve decided to bring you along for the walk. It’ll do you good to stretch your legs ensign.”
Sebastian frowned at the complete lack of explanation. He however knew he had no option but to comply with the captain’s orders. Dutifully he started fitting himself into an EV suit. With a bit of a squeeze he fitted himself in the hard shell of the upper torso and checked the systems of the life support unit mounted on the front of the chest. The LSPU lit up and displayed that it was in good working order. Warnings flashed that gloves, boots and helmet were not yet sealed. Mirroring McGregor, Templar stomped his feet into a pair of mag boots and cleared a jet of propellant to check the propulsion unit. The LSPU flashed green on this front as he then fumbled his way into a pair of gloves. Like the boots, they clicked into place and self-sealed. Hefting the helmet over his head, he looked up to McGregor waiting by the airlock with an eager grin. He pulled the helmet down over his head and squirmed his head into the tight space. He crooked his neck as a physical check that the helmet was secure. A further flash of green lights and text confirmed it electronically.
Within the helmet misted up initially before cool oxygenated air sighed within, cycling the air clean again. The small intermittent sounds of his surrounds became muffled and the static feel of an open comm. link hissed quietly by his ear. Two ambient lights glowed into existence to illuminate his face and bring light to within the fish bowl atop his head. After a moment to allow him to adjust, McGregor’s voice crackled over the comm., “Check your comm. channel. We’re green?”
Sebastian nodded and with a thumbs up voiced, “Green. All systems read clear across the board.” He looked down once more at the display on the LSPU to confirm. A few eternal lights came up on the suit on vital areas. Sebastian was ready, or as ready as one could feel about walking out into the expanse of space. Especially given that, they were to do so on their own and with the ship at warp.
“Good!” McGregor clapped him on the back as he pressed buttons to open the inner airlock door. Before stepping through, he handed a bulky long black bag to Templar. He tapped the side of Sebastian’s helmet and a head’s up display flashed in front of him. “Carry this won’t you ensign.”
He took it begrudgingly, as like McGregor, he strapped a phaser to his hip before entering the airlock. The golden rule never go anywhere without a firearm sacrosanct onboard the border patrol vessel. “What’s in this?” Sebastian queried as he hefted the weight over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry it will be weightless once we get out there. Come on.” He waved him into the airlock before closing the lock. He then keyed in a code before inputting the decompression control commands. A moment later a call came from the bridge, or seemingly just from Lt. Commander T’Vel, who at this stage Sebastian had not yet met. McGregor explained over his comm. to the cool voice of the Vulcan, “Just heading for a bit of fresh air T’Vel. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Surprisingly, the Vulcan offered no rebuke. Their activity seemed without need, was potentially dangerous and therefore made no logical sense. Sebastian could only infer that this type of behaviour was just another ‘norm’ for the captain.
The outer lock doors clunked then. A fraction of a second later a sliver of light played through the tiny gap that a moment later widened as the doors parted. The scene opened up onto the outer hull of the ship, its dull grey enchanted by the warping star streaks, the kaleidoscope of stars and the rainbow spectrum through which the Kestrel currently travelled at high warp.
Despite his training at Starfleet Academy, his years onboard several ships before he was busted down to ensign again, Sebastian had never undertaken an EV on the hull of a ship at warp speeds. At the ‘Kennel’ the additional training crew assigned to the Border Patrol received before taking up their posting they had trained in simulations for such a procedure. It was thought it might be expected as par the course of the unexpected emergency duties of a Border Service vessel. Sebastian had never expected though to undertake such a risky procedure in such an everyday circumstance as the whim of a captain wanting to go for a walk. Nor did he expect to be rendered so breathless by the sheer sight of passing stars and truly understand how they were wrapped in a warp bubble hurtling them through space and time at incomprehensible speeds.
McGregor intruded upon his enchantment. “Cat got your tongue ensign? Remember to breath. The EV systems can only pump oxygen into the suit you need to do the breathing bit yourself.”
“Sorry.” Sebastian winced at the word as it passed his lips. He was caught unaware and he expected the captain to berate him for his daydreaming. Unobtrusively his HUD displayed a scrolling status of his EV suit and its connection to the ship. it signalled the open comm. link to McGregor.
“Not to worry. It is rather beautiful after all. Come on. This way then.” McGregor beckoned as he with practiced ease abandoned the safety of the airlock and bounded out onto the hull of the ship. He stepped out onto the surface of the hull by stepping down and out. McGregor now stood seemingly sideways on the side of the Kestrel. To someone relatively inexperienced to such a procedure, the perception was mind jangling. Hefting the bag McGregor had asked him to carry over his shoulder, Sebastian followed the exit procedure employed by the captain. As he stepped out over the rim of the airlock and up onto the side of the ship Sebastian felt a moment of disorientation as he processed his new horizon. He felt further off balance despite the weightlessness of the bag. McGregor was already walking towards the rim for the upper saucer section.
McGregor’s practiced gait, though cumbersome looking, reminded Sebastian of the footage of the Apollo mission astronauts on the lunar surface, sped McGregor across the hull happily and efficiently. Sebastian’s progress was more hesitant as he recalled his training and took a much more careful approach to traversing upon the hull. Especially once he reached the threshold of the rim and stepped over and down onto the saucer section. Once again, he gained a new perception of his horizon and was thrown further off balance. And what a horizon! Sebastian in awe looked out over the forward prow of the Kestrel’s saucer.
Exhaling heavily at the sight his helmet’s faceplate misted up before compensating. The kaleidoscopic effect was even more awesome as he took in the ship ploughing through the stars. McGregor pressed on and Sebastian turned to match his progress across the ship. Passing the docking assembly the captain forged his path towards the arboretum.
After a short time, Sebastian found his own rhythm and walked across the hull with a greater assurance. He stopped watching his feet and followed McGregor with greater ease. The captain himself skipped along merrily stopping at different stages to allow Sebastian to catch up and placing his hands on his hips. Initially Sebastian figured his own slower pace frustrated the captain but he soon realised that McGregor was taking the opportunity to contemplate the sight of the ship in warp. He surveyed the ship like a king standing looking over his domain. All within the ship was in his control and at his whim and fancy. That in itself was enough to make Sebastian feel afraid. They were at the beckon of a madman who liked nothing better than to go strolling out in space.
They began then to traverse the incline of the saucer section towards the dome of the bridge module. Until now, McGregor was content to allow Templar to revel in the spectacle but now started to quiz the ensign. Sebastian found himself having to recall the captain’s unorthodox tour of the ship’s hull on their first day aboard in order to answer many of the questions.
From up ahead, McGregor congratulated Sebastian as he skipped onwards. They approached the upper level of the ship. Here the ship levelled out and as Sebastian looked down the length of the ship’s rear, he watched the stars retreating away as overhead the fierce comportment of the torpedo pod stood sentry over the Kestrel’s frame. Captain and Ensign stood at the foot of the command module. Sebastian took in his surrounds, above them he looked up at docking port 1 and immediately in front of them, the large expansive window that provided the senior officers’ lounge with such an impressive view. To this window McGregor stepped up and looked in. He gave a little skip and dance at what he saw within. His curiosity piqued at what made the captain dance with glee, not to mention to gain a look into the inner sanctum of the senior officers’ lounge, Sebastian ambled over to look in.
Peering in he saw an elegant and old-fashioned study, with an upper balcony lined with library shelves. The furnishing within was dark wood and brown red leather. Seated within one of the high back leather armchairs he spied Chief of Engineering Eddie Gardner relaxing with a glass of some swill on the table beside him. Likewise an ashtray and a plume of cigar smoke.
“Nosey, nosey. Aha ah. Come along Templar.”
The Captain headed off before stopping again and signalling Sebastian over enthusiastically. As the ensign neared, McGregor pointed downwards. They stood atop the ceiling viewing port of stellar cartography. McGregor stomped on the ‘window’ to gain the attention of the cartographers within. As they looked up, he waved down and shouted futilely, “Tally ho!”
He waved Sebastian onwards. They approached the torpedo pod, which stood directly overhead. McGregor quizzed Templar once again. “Tell me ensign, what are we stood over right now?”
Sebastian notated by rote. “The plasma venting station. It traverses a short power circuit that runs off the horizontal intermix shaft supplying direct power to the warp nacelles.”
“Very good. Almost textbook.“ Finally, they seemed to reach their destination, as McGregor stood rooted to a spot awaiting Sebastian. McGregor was grinning from ear to ear Sebastian noted. He seemed to be completely exhilarated at their little sojourn. He declares as Sebastian sets down the bag, “At last ensign!”
Sebastian surly nature reasserted itself as he responded, “Well I’m here now. What’s this all about?”
McGregor smiled. “That’s what I like about you ensign. Sometimes you forget whom it is you are talking to. We are here...” McGregor spun slowly with his arms up in the air to indicate their surrounds, “to consider your performance and assignment to this crew.”
“What, this is my crew evaluation?”
“Well, you’ve only been with us a short while and soon enough you’ll get to prove your worth. So I’d rather consider this an interview.”
Sebastian frowned. Bad enough that he was busted down to ensign; bad enough that he was left with little option but to work within the Border Service in order to try and make amends for his past. However the prospect that he now had to jump through hoops to even have that opportunity rankled within him, no matter how much he deserved the treatment. Worse still he figured the captain was beyond all that, especially given his chat with his security superior Caleb Dexter on Aubrellis. “Hate to break it to you captain but I’ve already got the job. It can hardly count as an interview.”
“You have a posting onboard ensign. That is all!” McGregor waved a hand dismissively before grinning madly as he countered Sebastian’s charge. “What I choose to do with you however remains to be seen. After all, I could leave you to some rather dirty and menial tasks for the duration of our patrol duty. Or I can decide that what I saw in your records proves to me that I can entrust far more exciting duties and missions for you.”
Folding his arms defensively, Sebastian shrugged. “What does this interview entail?”
McGregor pretended to mull on this by stroking the faceplate of his helmet rather than his bearded chin. “Well, I guess my question would be why did you truly join Starfleet? Not the childhood dreams but the actual ‘why’ of why you finally joined up.”
Stooping down to the black canvas bag, McGregor unzipped it and poked around inside. As he did, he continued to speak. “The real reason of course ensign. By that, I can measure your motivations for joining and your cause for continuing to serve. Basically, aha!” he remarked upon finding what it was he wanted and pulling on it to retrieve it from the bag before continuing, “basically, to see whether you are below par or not?”
McGregor smiled then as stood upright with a golf club in hand. “My trusty five iron! I always hit my best shots with this.”
From out of one of the pockets of the EV suit McGregor pulls out a golf ball and a modified tee. The tee attached itself to the hull magnetically and with care, the Captain placed his golf ball on the tee. “Stand back ensign. I wouldn’t want to hit you in the face with a golf club. Judy’s told me if I injure another ensign that way she’ll break my clubs. And being a frontier girl she means it.”
“Golf! You took me out here so you can practice your swing?”
“Oh my swing doesn’t need practice. It’s perfect!” McGregor stooped over the tee looking acutely bent on his hunches as the bulky suit accented his posture. With a wiggle of his ass, McGregor lined up his shot and swung the club through the vacuum to hit the ball and send it flying. He lifted one leg and raised a hand to the level of his eyes to check the flight of the ball through the ‘air’. Pumping his fist, McGregor exclaimed, “Yes!”
Sebastian coked an eyebrow at the sight. He also questioned the actual success of McGregor’s shot. I’m not sure what it is you were aiming for Captain but I think you missed.”
“Oh trust me. The shot was spot on. A hole in one if I dare say so myself. Hee hee.”
Meantime within the senior officers’ lounge, Eddie Gardner reclining in the leather chair, surrounded by a cloud of cigar smoke, puffed on his cigar happily, as he read the latest FedNet news replicated into the form of an old-fashioned broadsheet newspaper. A dull thunk at the large expansive window that looked out on the rear of the vessel brought him to and he crumpled his paper sitting up alert. “What the ...?”
“So Mr Templar. Ensign. Why?”
Sebastian looked towards the lounge window deciphering the captain’s target. “Why what?”
McGregor lifted his five iron and set it over his shoulder as he turned to face Sebastian. “The why of why you really joined Starfleet.”
They began then to traverse the incline of the saucer section towards the dome of the bridge module. Until now, McGregor was content to allow Templar to revel in the spectacle but now started to quiz the ensign. Sebastian found himself having to recall the captain’s unorthodox tour of the ship’s hull on their first day aboard in order to answer many of the questions.
From up ahead, McGregor congratulated Sebastian as he skipped onwards. They approached the upper level of the ship. Here the ship levelled out and as Sebastian looked down the length of the ship’s rear, he watched the stars retreating away as overhead the fierce comportment of the torpedo pod stood sentry over the Kestrel’s frame. Captain and Ensign stood at the foot of the command module. Sebastian took in his surrounds, above them he looked up at docking port 1 and immediately in front of them, the large expansive window that provided the senior officers’ lounge with such an impressive view. To this window McGregor stepped up and looked in. He gave a little skip and dance at what he saw within. His curiosity piqued at what made the captain dance with glee, not to mention to gain a look into the inner sanctum of the senior officers’ lounge, Sebastian ambled over to look in.
Peering in he saw an elegant and old-fashioned study, with an upper balcony lined with library shelves. The furnishing within was dark wood and brown red leather. Seated within one of the high back leather armchairs he spied Chief of Engineering Eddie Gardner relaxing with a glass of some swill on the table beside him. Likewise an ashtray and a plume of cigar smoke.
“Nosey, nosey. Aha ah. Come along Templar.”
The Captain headed off before stopping again and signalling Sebastian over enthusiastically. As the ensign neared, McGregor pointed downwards. They stood atop the ceiling viewing port of stellar cartography. McGregor stomped on the ‘window’ to gain the attention of the cartographers within. As they looked up, he waved down and shouted futilely, “Tally ho!”
He waved Sebastian onwards. They approached the torpedo pod, which stood directly overhead. McGregor quizzed Templar once again. “Tell me ensign, what are we stood over right now?”
Sebastian notated by rote. “The plasma venting station. It traverses a short power circuit that runs off the horizontal intermix shaft supplying direct power to the warp nacelles.”
“Very good. Almost textbook.“ Finally, they seemed to reach their destination, as McGregor stood rooted to a spot awaiting Sebastian. McGregor was grinning from ear to ear Sebastian noted. He seemed to be completely exhilarated at their little sojourn. He declares as Sebastian sets down the bag, “At last ensign!”
Sebastian surly nature reasserted itself as he responded, “Well I’m here now. What’s this all about?”
McGregor smiled. “That’s what I like about you ensign. Sometimes you forget whom it is you are talking to. We are here...” McGregor spun slowly with his arms up in the air to indicate their surrounds, “to consider your performance and assignment to this crew.”
“What, this is my crew evaluation?”
“Well, you’ve only been with us a short while and soon enough you’ll get to prove your worth. So I’d rather consider this an interview.”
Sebastian frowned. Bad enough that he was busted down to ensign; bad enough that he was left with little option but to work within the Border Service in order to try and make amends for his past. However the prospect that he now had to jump through hoops to even have that opportunity rankled within him, no matter how much he deserved the treatment. Worse still he figured the captain was beyond all that, especially given his chat with his security superior Caleb Dexter on Aubrellis. “Hate to break it to you captain but I’ve already got the job. It can hardly count as an interview.”
“You have a posting onboard ensign. That is all!” McGregor waved a hand dismissively before grinning madly as he countered Sebastian’s charge. “What I choose to do with you however remains to be seen. After all, I could leave you to some rather dirty and menial tasks for the duration of our patrol duty. Or I can decide that what I saw in your records proves to me that I can entrust far more exciting duties and missions for you.”
Folding his arms defensively, Sebastian shrugged. “What does this interview entail?”
McGregor pretended to mull on this by stroking the faceplate of his helmet rather than his bearded chin. “Well, I guess my question would be why did you truly join Starfleet? Not the childhood dreams but the actual ‘why’ of why you finally joined up.”
Stooping down to the black canvas bag, McGregor unzipped it and poked around inside. As he did, he continued to speak. “The real reason of course ensign. By that, I can measure your motivations for joining and your cause for continuing to serve. Basically, aha!” he remarked upon finding what it was he wanted and pulling on it to retrieve it from the bag before continuing, “basically, to see whether you are below par or not?”
McGregor smiled then as stood upright with a golf club in hand. “My trusty five iron! I always hit my best shots with this.”
From out of one of the pockets of the EV suit McGregor pulls out a golf ball and a modified tee. The tee attached itself to the hull magnetically and with care, the Captain placed his golf ball on the tee. “Stand back ensign. I wouldn’t want to hit you in the face with a golf club. Judy’s told me if I injure another ensign that way she’ll break my clubs. And being a frontier girl she means it.”
“Golf! You took me out here so you can practice your swing?”
“Oh my swing doesn’t need practice. It’s perfect!” McGregor stooped over the tee looking acutely bent on his hunches as the bulky suit accented his posture. With a wiggle of his ass, McGregor lined up his shot and swung the club through the vacuum to hit the ball and send it flying. He lifted one leg and raised a hand to the level of his eyes to check the flight of the ball through the ‘air’. Pumping his fist, McGregor exclaimed, “Yes!”
Sebastian coked an eyebrow at the sight. He also questioned the actual success of McGregor’s shot. I’m not sure what it is you were aiming for Captain but I think you missed.”
“Oh trust me. The shot was spot on. A hole in one if I dare say so myself. Hee hee.”
Meantime within the senior officers’ lounge, Eddie Gardner reclining in the leather chair, surrounded by a cloud of cigar smoke, puffed on his cigar happily, as he read the latest FedNet news replicated into the form of an old-fashioned broadsheet newspaper. A dull thunk at the large expansive window that looked out on the rear of the vessel brought him to and he crumpled his paper sitting up alert. “What the ...?”
“So Mr Templar. Ensign. Why?”
Sebastian looked towards the lounge window deciphering the captain’s target. “Why what?”
McGregor lifted his five iron and set it over his shoulder as he turned to face Sebastian. “The why of why you really joined Starfleet.”
* * *
I can never quite decide if McGregor is a crazy genius or just plain crazy. I suppose he's a little (or a lot) of both. But I really liked this chapter for the zany, lighthearted, yet no-BS way in which this captain is reaching out to and assessing his officer.
Another thing I loved was the description of the space walk. Made me feel like a kid again -- wanting to be an astronaut when I grow up so I can see the stars without a big ol' layer of atmosphere and light pollution in between them and me. Hearing my own breath (as long as I remember the breathing bit!) in my EV suit and the sounds of my crewmates on the comm. ... and nothing else. Vacuum. Silence. Awesomeness. You did a great job describing all that.
I do have to say I knew it was golf clubs in that bag the moment he hefted it onto his shoulder in the airlock area -- the title of this chapter sort of gave it away.
But after that, I was totally looking forward to the "golf in space" moment, and you did not disappoint! I was expecting a hole-in-one to the stars, but smacking the window was a fun surprise. Hehe. Funny McGregor.
And of course, that last line, the question he asks Sebastian -- Why, indeed? I hope I don't have to wait long to find out! Great chapter. Keep it up!
Another thing I loved was the description of the space walk. Made me feel like a kid again -- wanting to be an astronaut when I grow up so I can see the stars without a big ol' layer of atmosphere and light pollution in between them and me. Hearing my own breath (as long as I remember the breathing bit!) in my EV suit and the sounds of my crewmates on the comm. ... and nothing else. Vacuum. Silence. Awesomeness. You did a great job describing all that.
I do have to say I knew it was golf clubs in that bag the moment he hefted it onto his shoulder in the airlock area -- the title of this chapter sort of gave it away.
But after that, I was totally looking forward to the "golf in space" moment, and you did not disappoint! I was expecting a hole-in-one to the stars, but smacking the window was a fun surprise. Hehe. Funny McGregor.And of course, that last line, the question he asks Sebastian -- Why, indeed? I hope I don't have to wait long to find out! Great chapter. Keep it up!
I always get a smile reading this story. McGregor could teach Artemus Slayd a thing or two about eccentricity. 
I loved the notion of "going Sarah" - Search and Wreck Havoc - makes perfect sense for a bunch of Border Dogs checking out a potentially hostile ship. And also liked the idea that Starfleet might be willing to test out equipment such as EVA suits on the Border Dogs. (Experimental 'animal' testing in the 24th century? Scandalous!
).
This continues to be a highly entertaining (and humorous) tale! Keep up the great writing!
I loved the notion of "going Sarah" - Search and Wreck Havoc - makes perfect sense for a bunch of Border Dogs checking out a potentially hostile ship. And also liked the idea that Starfleet might be willing to test out equipment such as EVA suits on the Border Dogs. (Experimental 'animal' testing in the 24th century? Scandalous!
).This continues to be a highly entertaining (and humorous) tale! Keep up the great writing!
The more I read this, the more Kestrel makes me think of MASH in Space. And McGregor would unquestionably be Hawkeye Pierce.
I gotta say I love the imagery of McGregor getting in some tee time on the hull and driving golf balls into the great void. That's a classic image right there.
I gotta say I love the imagery of McGregor getting in some tee time on the hull and driving golf balls into the great void. That's a classic image right there.
Hee, hee. Crazy genius might be just too kind to describe his crazy but I am sure McGregor would like to think so, kes. As always thank you for reading and commenting, especially about the space walk. I had wanted to do a scene on the hull from the very start when McGregor took the plebs on his thorough tour of the ship. So this was my chance to do a little of that. And no, you won't have long to wait for the next instalment for once. I should have it up by tonight or tomorrow.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, TLR!! Since you're the master of the Border Dog universe I am immensely pleased you even consent to read this. I can only but imagine what Slayd and McGregor might make of each other. Though it seems McGregor might have putting partner with the Doc!I always get a smile reading this story. McGregor could teach Artemus Slayd a thing or two about eccentricity.
I loved the notion of "going Sarah" - Search and Wreck Havoc - makes perfect sense for a bunch of Border Dogs checking out a potentially hostile ship. And also liked the idea that Starfleet might be willing to test out equipment such as EVA suits on the Border Dogs. (Experimental 'animal' testing in the 24th century? Scandalous!
This continues to be a highly entertaining (and humorous) tale! Keep up the great writing!
Yeah! The idea of going for a Sarah just seemed like so much fun and the very thing McGregor and his cohorts in the Border Dog business might go in for. As to be expected, there will be a chapter down the line aptly named, 'Going For a Sarah'. Thank you for reading. Again, humbled and thrilled.
Hawkeye!
I like that imagery. Now all McGregor needs is a Hotlips to accompany him! And yes once an image of McGregor teeing off on the hull came into my head I but had to write such a scene. Wait till you see him ... nope that would be too much of a spoiler. Thank you again for following CeJay. Delighted and thrilled you guys are following this still.
* * *
‘The Why of Why'
‘The Why of Why'
"The why of why you really joined Starfleet." The question hung in the air, the vacuum of space rather. A heavy pregnant question filled with a minefield of problematic answers. Sebastian did not rush to answer it. McGregor stood placidly awaiting the answer.
Attempting a degree of bravado Sebastian shrugged. "I dunno, the pay, the frequent air miles, the company."
"Hee, hee." McGregor laughed to placate the ensign wagging a finger as he grinned with mirth. "I do like your sense of humour. However, I have asked you a question and I expect a real answer. You hardly think it is the norm for me to conduct personal chats with the newbies now do you? So, why Mr Templar, did you join Starfleet?"
Sebastian turned away fractionally to look out upon the vista of the ship's lines and the passing torrent of stars. He cleared his throat and sighed heavily. McGregor watched like a hawk reading the young man's body language. His discomfiture clear. McGregor cared not but pressed, "Why did you join Starfleet? Why did you lose your path once part of Starfleet? Why did you throw it all away when you had supposedly realised your dreams and the dreams of your family?"
The ensign turned quickly at the mention of his family looking at McGregor sharply. McGregor knew he was striking home and continued. "Your family, with its long history of service in Starfleet adorned with decorated admirals and captains throughout the generations on your Mother and Father's side. You're the product of two brass lineages and yet you tossed away a promising career. You Mr Templar had the makings of a fine officer. The temptation was there to become a Starfleet brat expecting and currying favour because of your familial links. But no, you were not content to become a mere Starfleet brat but an out and out vagrant and malcontent who killed others in the course of his duty. If you resented it all, why join at all? Why not run away and become a space age hippie like your sister? If you did in fact seek to become yet another stellar officer in your family histories, why squander and throw your career away on drugs and risky behaviour? Why Mr Templar did you join Starfleet?"
* * *
"Sebastian."
His mother's voice is cool and even. He looks up from his sandpit and toys. He knows wearing his good suit he really ought not to be kneeling on the grass or have the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He sees her holding his jacket, awaiting his approach and taking the jacket to wear. He expects her voice to be a little angry at his despoiling of his suit, at the very least for her to be disappointed. Yet she is not.
Once again, it hits him. The realisation that grassy knees and ruffled shirts are the least of her concerns on this day. Her own Starfleet dress uniform is crisp and faultless. Her back is ramrod straight and she holds his jacket out unflinching and solid as she awaits his arms to slip into the sleeves.
He sets down his bulldozer and standing dusts off the sand and any superficial mud or grass. Looking down at his hands, he checks they are clean enough before touching the white of his sleeves. He started pulling them down as he walked across the back lawn towards the house filled with many visitors. However, for all the visitors the atmosphere is hushed and conversations and body language stilted. An air of awkwardness permeates, as does an expectation of waiting for something.
Silently and diligently, he slips into the jacket. His mother turns him round to face her and she bends to one knee even though he is getting taller now, in fact almost as tall as Tom Gantry. As his mother bends to one knee, she is careful though to avoid touching the ground lest she spoil her uniform. She affixes his black jacket buttons. She buttons all of his collar buttons and pulls up his black tie. Then she pulls on the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and buttons them too. Standing she brushes the shoulders of his jacket. It, the jacket and the fussing, is making him squirm until her forefinger cups his small chin. He knew the sign and stands still. He stands with arms at parade rest, unmoveable at his sides. His mother nods fractionally, approvingly. She reaches down and grasps his hand.
"Come. Katie's been asking for you." Her tone is flat. Almost uninterested. He looks up at her and sees that she is a million miles away. Sebastian finds himself shepherded through the crowded kitchen. He sees Aunt Imelda talking about ‘Frankie' as a boy. Her sleeves are deep in a sink of suds. Cups and plates sit glistening in the drying rack. The kitchen table is laden with goods one normally isn't allowed to eat. Various cakes, buns, biscuits await distribution. Trays of sandwiches lie covered in clear wrap to stop the fresh bread going hard. On a counter a large thermos steams. The old warhorse has poured out hundreds of steaming kettles of tea and coffee. The fridge is opened to reveal it jammed with all sorts of goodies too. Desserts such as trifles, cream cakes and various pre-cooked meals stored in Tupperware ready to he reheated in a stove.
Yes, Granddad and Grandma Templar's kitchen is something of a throw back. They have a small replicator stowed in the back of the kitchen. Grandma insists on doing real cooking and Granddad insists he cannot eat the replicated crap, for which he is then admonished for profaning in front of the children.
Their neighbours and friends are either of their ilk or know of their definite tastes and so have duly arrived with food and words of sympathy. Father's friends and colleagues are somewhat bemused by it all Sebastian senses. Some, like Kenner, have visited the Templar home before and know to expect this and come prepared themselves. The friends and colleagues of his Mother are less prepared but are equally perturbed by how withdrawn she has become over these last few days.
Sebastian imagines it will be better when the people all go away. Then they will have the house to family only. By family, he means Mum, Katie, Granddad, Grandma and maybe even Uncle Gareth. The others he just wishes away. The endless chatter. The endless offers of ‘tea or coffee?', ‘would you like a sandwich?', ‘you'll have biscuit surely'. The endless ‘I'm so sorry' with the sad and awkward handshakes to the adults and a keening look at himself and Katie. The look that says ‘poor sods, so young, whatever must they be thinking? Whatever will they do?' and of course the eyes have to quickly avert lest they upset the child. Sebastian knew the truth though. These visitors were less worried about upsetting the children than they were of upsetting themselves.
His Mother placed a hand on his back to steer him round a cluster of people and propel him onwards. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, his Mother points upwards. Katie must be hiding in her room with her dolls and with Grandma and Granddad fussing over her. Slumping his shoulders and breathing outwards, petulantly he climbs the wooden stairs.
At the top of the stairs, he sees his own open room. Holo-posters of ships and space scenes adorn the walls. A baseball cap lies beside a glove cupping a ball on his rather bare bookshelf. Unseen is his dirtied baseball bat lying under his bed. His face puckers for a second and tears come to his eyes as he thinks about the last time he played with ... he shakes his head and instead crossly considers that it has been a week since he has been allowed to play with bat and ball outside. There have been too many preparations and too many visitors. It would not be right to pitch a few balls at this time and Granddad is too tired and sad to play at the moment. Once everyone is gone perhaps, he thinks to himself.
Turning the corner, he comes to Katie's room. It is gaudy pink and purple. Dolls litter the shelves and line much of the wall skirting. He pushed the door open wider and enters with his Mother close behind. Sure enough, Katie is atop her bed with Granddad and Grandma at either side, cajoling and vainly trying to comfort her. Granddad looks up and sees Sebastian has entered the room. His face lights up and Sebastian feels cheered in that moment but then he says, "Sebastian! Good boy. Talk to your sister Sebastian. Tell her it's important to go."
Sebastian is crestfallen. Once again, it is all about Katie. Once again, she is the centre of attention. He feels his fists curl up into balls. His shoulders rise and his chin juts out angrily. Mother taps him on the nose like a bold pup. This actually only serves to infuriate him further but he knows he has to control his temper and appear to heed her warning. He releases his hands and drops his shoulders. But his eyes simmer with anger. They burn away the tears that almost came unbidden as he thought of his baseball games and pitches he made with his Dad.
"Why should I?"
Grandma looks up horrified and then quickly angry. "Young man! How dare you speak like that? You know very well why. It is an important day. An important duty. It's ... it's ..." she begins to falter as she pulls a hanky from her black sleeve, "it's your father's funeral. Both of you should be there!"
Sebastian suddenly rages, "Why should we?! Dad's not even there!"
He is grabbed at the shoulders by his Mother. "Sebastian! That's not nice to say."
Grandma declares loudly over his Mother, "How dare you Sebastian? Whatever would your father think?"
"He would think it is ridiculous to stuff the house with people we don't even know and to travel across town for a funeral when there's not even a body!"
Katie begins to wail and crumples into a ball with Granddad removing himself from the argument by concentrating on hushing Katie and rubbing her back. "Look at what you've done now."
"I've done nothing. It's you who wanted this wake! These people here in the house and a funeral that doesn't even have a body because Dad was burned alive by those bastarding Cardassians." Sebastian turns and races out of the room as his Mother tires to refrain him. He runs into his bedroom grabs ball and glove and thunders down the stairs and out the front door.
* * *
Sebastian flexed his heavily padded gloves and tensed at the question and the memories unbidden. He looked up to catch McGregor's appraising eye through the visors of their helmets. McGregor was no fool. He knew Sebastian's record inside and out. He knew the truth of why he had joined up. Why bother then hiding the ugly truth. "You ask me why I ended up joining Starfleet. When I was a boy I would dream of flying among the stars, escaping the dreariness of home and Earth. I dreamt of captaining vessels and become famed and decorated like the heroes of the Federation and like the portraits of family ancestors on my grandparents' walls. I loved to make model starships. I devoured all the technical details and stats. I played soldiers as if I were an Admiral waging a war to defend the Federation."
McGregor added knowingly, "But all that changed one day. That wasn't why you joined Starfleet."
"Alright then, the truth." McGregor shifted to stand the golf club on the hull and lean on it like a crutch as he leaned forwards to hear Sebastian's answer. The answer would determine what he would make of the ensign. Gritting his teeth, Sebastian darkly informed his captain, "I joined up in order that I could some day kill me some Cardassians. Make them pay! Make them die a horrible fiery death like my father."
McGregor nodded sagely. "And when you joined you discovered Starfleet was going to avoid a war with the Cardassians like a plague and deny you the chance to kill any spoonheads."
"That's about the making of it."
"And denied your thirst for revenge you sought other avenues of satisfaction."
Sebastian snarked. "You a psychologist now?" McGregor's assessment was too close to the mark.
"Hardly. I have a habit of getting rid of the loony doctors." He smiled at his own humour. He placed a hand on Templar's shoulder. "However, I hope you understand there's no room on this ship for a vendetta. I've our quota booked up. But if you want to punish bad guys in the stead of Cardassians. Then you're made for the job."
Templar shifted releasing himself from McGregor's hold on his shoulder."Just like that. You accept my desire to kill Cardassians and tell me I'm cut out for a career in the Border Service."
"You have a sense of justice. Rough justice. It'll stand you in good stead for what I require. We'll leave the judgement calls on whom we dispense the justice to, up to me." He shrugged as Templar gave an unconfident response to that decision making process. "Or Molls. Whichever? So long as we get to make things go boom from time to time."
Sebastian shook his head at the assessment. McGregor looked over his shoulder though and waved his club in the air as if in greeting. Templar went to look at who it was coming their way but McGregor caught a grip of him and asked, "So, are you going to channel that anger in the direction I ask of you?"
Half-hearted Sebastian responded."Of course." McGregor did not let up his grip. So Templar answered more genuinely this time. "I will."
"Good, good." McGregor patted him on the arm as he released him. "Ah Stanley, I wondered when you'd come and join us."
Templar turned to look for the mysterious alien that was Stanley. He wondered as he did, whether he too like ‘Fang' had required a specialised suit to fit his lanky frame, long ovoid head and webbed feet and hands. But as he turned, Stanley's bare blue webbed knuckles rapped on his helmet visor. Alarmed by what he saw caused Sebastian to exclaim, "What the ..?" As Sebastian exclaimed he backpedalled in shock. Unaware he caught his foot and tripped over the bag of clubs. He landed softly on the hull, legs and arms sticking up in the air.
Stanley approached in his normal uniform. No EV suit in sight. He bent over the fallen form of Sebastian Templar as McGregor creased himself up laughing. Stanley rapped on the visor of Templar's with his blue bare webbed hand. Stanley's combadge transmitted through the void reading the vibrations from Stanley's vocal processors. "Are you quite alright Mr Templar?"
Sebastian scuffled backwards along the hull retreating from the incongruous sight. "B ... b ... but you ... you've no ..."
Stanley quirked his head sideways at the odd angle he was inclined to do and studied the ensign curiously as if there was something odd about his behaviour and presence rather than his own miraculous space walk.
"Now, now, ensign. Stanley's not the most handsome creature in the world but that's a tad bit of an overreaction. Give him a hand up Stanley. We'd be best getting to the mess in a bit. It is Bountiful Bounty Day after all. Things to do and drink to be had. Not necessarily in that order, might I add. However, I think a little wager on a game of pitch and putt. What say you Mr Templar? A keg on hitting the window again."
"Harassing Eddie again Captain?"
"Golf might be a good walk ruined but wrecking Gardner's head that's a sport!" He smiled broadly wiggling his eyebrows as he set up another tee shot. He took aim and shouted, "FOUR!"
* * *
First of all, Stanley is weird. Which is good, since he's a weird alien. So you're writing him well!
Now that I've got that out of the way ... POOR SEBASTIAN! I know he's a rough character and all that, and one's sad childhood is never a valid excuse for bad behavior, but that flashback broke my heart. You captured that feeling of being a kid and feeling like everyone else's feelings matter more than your own very, very well. That entire sequence was just poignant and real.
As for McGregor ... so he thinks he can use Sebastian's woundedness to his (and the Border Patrol's) advantage? We'll see how that goes, won't we? I think he's playing with fire. But that's how McGregor rolls. Should be interesting to see how it all pans out down the line.
Great chapter, really loved it. Keep them coming!
Now that I've got that out of the way ... POOR SEBASTIAN! I know he's a rough character and all that, and one's sad childhood is never a valid excuse for bad behavior, but that flashback broke my heart. You captured that feeling of being a kid and feeling like everyone else's feelings matter more than your own very, very well. That entire sequence was just poignant and real.
As for McGregor ... so he thinks he can use Sebastian's woundedness to his (and the Border Patrol's) advantage? We'll see how that goes, won't we? I think he's playing with fire. But that's how McGregor rolls. Should be interesting to see how it all pans out down the line.
Great chapter, really loved it. Keep them coming!
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