2
With the champaign still damp
on his uniform, Captain Jonathan K. Taylor retired to his office
to finish packing his few belongings. He decided to take a shower
and put on a fresh uniform when he arrived at his new home aboard
the Independence. As he packed each item, he carefully
wrapped his things in paper and stowed them in the boxes he had
finagled out of the Supply Chief. Since there weren't many things
to pack the job was done with a minimum of time and effort.
In his twenty year career, Taylor had spent only five years planet
side. Fifteen years in space made it difficult to amass many
personal items so the keepsakes that he allowed himself to hold
on to were very lovingly cared for. Among his small but cherished
treasures, was his first commanding officer's letter of recommendation
that had led to Taylor's posting on an exploration ship. Also
counted in his collection, were the decorations he had received
in the service to Starfleet Command, each medal mounted on a velvet
background and encased in fine Centurian mahogany. However, his
most prized possession, the last item to be packed, was Taylor's
lieutenant's insignia, given to him twenty years before by Captain
Creighton Rogers aboard the U.S.S. Hamilton. Very few
honors in Starfleet ranked as high as a field promotion for exemplary
duty. Wherever Starfleet had posted him, Taylor hung the carefully
mounted insignia on the wall of his cabin. On the Independence,
however, this would hang on the wall in his office. He had debated
with himself whether or not to display his keepsake and had decided
it may be a good way to earn the trust of his junior officers.
Showing them that he, too, was once a lieutenant and was well
familiar with what they must endure.
As the last item was packed, Taylor looked around at his nearly
empty office. It looked like the day he had moved in only a few
months ago. "Good riddance," he said to himself as
he hoisted the last box onto the anti-grav. Taylor ordered the
lights off and walked out the door, anxious to move into his cabin
and office aboard the ship.
*****
Commander Margaret White unpacked her
duffel bag and set about personalizing her cabin. The small room
would be her home for the next five years, so it might as well
reflect some of her tastes. The picture of her late husband,
Ronald, was placed in its customary location on her dresser.
It had been only eight months since his death but even the memory
of his scent remained in her nose. All the plans they had made
had been dashed when his border ship had been attacked by a Romulan
ship.
As she hung the last uniform in the closet, White sat down on
the bed to survey her last hour's work. She did not have a great
many things, only her husband's picture, her letter of commendation
and her silk rose, a gift from Ronald, adorned the Spartan quarters.
Satisfied that she had decorated enough, White left the small
room for her duty station on the bridge. Captain Taylor would
be arriving soon and she wanted the bridge to be in top shape.
*****
Doctor Elizabeth Gibson eyed the computer
stations and diagnostic beds that adorned the walls of sick bay.
She had never been happy with the way Starfleet forced its medical
corps to cram an entire hospital into the belly of a starship,
but the designers of this ship seemed to have spent a bit more
time on the sick bay than other ships on which she had served.
However, sick bay never compared to the full service hospitals
she had encountered at Starfleet Command or Starfleet Academy.
Gibson considered herself a teacher rather than the Chief Medical
Officer of a starship. Although she had recently served as CMO
aboard a Military vessel, the Lincoln, and as Assistant
CMO aboard an Exploration ship, the Baltimore, she was
a bit concerned about her ability to command a medical section
aboard an Enterprise Class ship. Her staff was much larger
than any she had been in charge of before. Fortunately, she did
know someone aboard. Commander Bethany Chase, her friend from
the Baltimore, had been named Chief Engineer for the Independence.
Gibson hoped that Bethany wouldn't be too busy tonight to have
dinner with her. The doctor sat down at her office computer and
sent a message to Bethany's terminal to give her a call when she
got the chance.
*****
Lieutenant David Grace entered the last
command into the Independence's helm control. This vessel
was much larger and more difficult to maneuver than the last ship
he had piloted, the Vasco de Gama, a small Colonial Command
ship. But, after 1100 hours in the simulator, he was confident
and ready to pilot the larger ship anywhere the captain called
for her to go.
Grace looked up to see the First Officer, Commander White, stride
though the turbolift doors and onto the bridge. "Status,
Mr. Grace," she called out as she took charge of the bridge.
"All but fifteen crew members are aboard and they are due
to transport up in thirty minutes. Captain Taylor's shuttle has
docked and he is in his cabin. Helm controls are ready for our
first test fight for the new warp engines when we disembark at
ten hundred hours tomorrow." Grace finished his ship status
report and turned back to the blank viewscreen in front of the
helm/navigation station. Tomorrow it would be filled with stars,
he thought to himself and smiled.
"Very well, Mr. Grace, carry on," said White as she
sat in the center seat. Her first view of the bridge from the
con station was an awe inspiring sight. She repressed the smile
that had flitted about her lips since she walked onto the bridge.
A new ship and a new life. White felt happier than she had in
months.
She couldn't wait to meet her captain. Taylor was something
of a legend in the Exploration Command. His service as the Commanding
Officer aboard his last ship, the Prince Albert, had circulated
through Starfleet Headquarters when he had been assigned there
following the Nonclus Conspiracy flap. His combat experience
was rivaled only by her hero, James Kirk. Taylor, it was rumored,
had fought his way out of grim situations with the Klingons, the
Gorn and the Romulans. His solutions to difficult situations
were supposed to be some of the most inventive in Starfleet.
His command of a large ship of the line was truly past due, thought
White.
*****
"Gabe, have you got the computer
core connected to the junction box?" Commander Bethany Chase
called out to Lt. Commander Gabriel Thompson, the new Chief Science
Officer.
"Almost," came the gruff voice of the CSO from beneath
the Library Computer core controls. The controls had been routed
to Engineering in the new ship design. This was supposed to have
the effect of making the Library Computer faster and more responsive,
although Thompson had trouble believing it. He was as fast as
anyone in calling up data from the computer core. He didn't need
any help.
"Let me know when you have the connection finished so I
can key in the last command to execute the program," Chase
called out.
"Let me remind you, Commander," Thompson said poking
his head out from under the computer core junction, "that
I am the Chief Science Officer and I will key in the final command.
Starfleet can't take that away from me." His dark eyes
flashed a message of intense dislike to Chase and his dark skin
seemed flushed.
"Whatever," Bethany Chase called after Thompson as
he retreated under the core junction. Whether he liked it or
not, she was the Chief Engineer of this ship and she outranked
him, and, damnit, she was going to at least supervise the keying
of the last command. She earned her right to be here and sexist
Science Officer or not, she was staying.
"It's connected," said Thompson standing up. He moved
directly to the computer terminal and began keying in the final
command to bring the Library Computer online. "Done,"
he said with a smirk, turned and left the Engine room.
"Thank God," Chase sighed. He had been in her domain
for far too long.
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