by David Smith
“Excuse me Commodore, the Engine Room is in the Secondary Hull, we need to take a turbo-lift to get to it?”
The Commodore came to a dead-stop and Dave very nearly crashed into him. Behind Dave the entourage also came to a dead-stop, each nearly piling into the back of the one in front like some uniformed Newton’s Cradle. As Dave took a step back the Commodore span on his heels and stared at Dave for the first time. He seemed to go very red in the face very suddenly as he blurted out “You impudent pup! Are you suggesting I don’t know my way around a “Constellation” class cruiser??
Dave opened his mouth to suggest that Tiger was a sister of the “Constitution” class, not the “Constellation” class, but the Commodore’s face was now a worrying shade of cerise and thought better of it.
“Never been so bloody insulted!!!! Chamberlain!! Make a note. I’m livid!“
Dave was about to apologise, but the Commodore shot back past him, and Dave turned and chased him back to one of the turbo-lifts they’d passed shortly before, collecting Olga Romanov as they went. As the lift doors opened, the Commodore stepped in and Dave, Chamberlain and Romanov made it too, before the Commodore barked “Engineering!!” and the doors shut, leaving the rest of his entourage behind.
In the lift, the Commodore stood feet apart, hands behind back, cane under arm, with a red, scowling face. Dave stood opposite him and wondered if he should make small talk, or possibly start briefing the Commodore on the ship’s recent adventures. Fortunately the turbo-lifts were nothing if not quick, and before Dave had made his mind up, the lift stopped and the computer's voice confirmed their arrival "Deck 19, Engineering."
The door opened and the Commodore barged past Dave and stomped off towards the door to the Engineering Deck. He passed one of the new Tana relays mounted in a cradle fixed to the bulkhead, and as Dave, trailing a few paces behind him passed the relay, the Commodore came to a dead stop. Dave managed to stop before running into him, and there was a tiny pause before the Commodore span, barged back past Dave and stomped back to the relay. Stopping in his accustomed "at ease" stance a few paces from it he stared at it for a second. "What .... " he paused again and looked from Dave to Romanov " .... is that?"
"That is a Tana power relay, Commodore," Dave answered "You may have read in our status reports..."
"What ....." the Commodore interrupted him " .... is that ........" he nodded in the general direction of the relay " .... doing on a Starfleet ship??"
Romanov tried to put a positive spin on what had been a desperate measure "We have replaced hundreds of power relays with Tana-built units as we were unable to source spares from the Fleet. We believe these units are far more robust than ....... "
"Get it off this ship!!! We don't need alien technology, get rid of it now!" shouted the Commodore, as if the unit offended his delicate sensibilities.
"We're unable to do that Commodore, we've been forced to replace virtually every relay on the ship due to shortages and failures and ......."
The Commodore had already stopped listening and turned again and stormed off to the Engineering Deck, shouting as he went "THAT IS AN ORDER!! GET THAT THING OFF THIS SHIP!!!!"
Commander Chamberlain looked at Dave and Romanov and silently mouthed "Don't worry about it, I'll sort it out" before turning and striding after her superior. Dave and Romanov followed but he was already through the door of engineering before they could catch him.
Not expecting him to visit so soon, the engineering teams were still going about their business and were caught by surprise as he stood in the middle of the deck and shouted "Disgraceful!!! Stand to attention and salute a superior officer, you LAGGARDS!!"
Caught completely unawares, the engineers looked up, saw the gold braid draped across a bad attitude and hastily assembled themselves into line on the main deck and stood to attention.
The Commodore looked on in clear distaste, and said "I've never seen such a slovenly crew or ship! Chamberlain, make a note, I'm disgusted. And insulted! Now where's this damned computer everyone's been banging on about?"
By now Dave and Romanov had joined the Commodore and his adjutant, and Dave addressed the Commodore's enquiry, "This way, please, Commodore."
He lead them to the rear of the deck where the PILOCC's main console was situated, and had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw that PO Park was still being assisted by Ensign ARSE and Crewman Ottershaw.
The Commodore marched up and without preamble asked the three of them "What's wrong with it?"
PO Park looked up nervously at the other two. Billy Ottershaw was twitching and clearly struggling not to say anything, while ARSE's eyes glazed over blue, as he analysed the question and formulated an appropriate response.
Dave and Romanov were both about to answer, when Susan beat them to it: ""IT" is fine, thank you very much" she replied huffily.
The Commodore ignored this and asked the Engineers "Have you tried re-starting it?"
The engineers stoically bit their tongues and Dave put on his most diplomatic smile before saying "I'm probably not as knowledgeable in these matters as you are Commodore......"
Still smarting from being ignored, Susan interrupted: "Au contraire, Commander Hollins, your marks in all computer related subjects at the Academy were exemplary. Commodore B'Stard, on the other hand has failed every course he's ever taken, several times in some instances."
The Commodore's mouth opened to reply, but he clearly struggled to find a way of expressing how monumentally enraged he was, and before anything come out, Crewman Ottershaw finally lost the battle to contain himself: "Nnnnn ..... nuhuhuuh ...... KNOB JOCKEY!!!"
Dave thought the Commodore's eye were about to be forcibly ejected from their sockets, or that perhaps the Commodore's skull might lose the battle against his blood-pressure and just explode.
""WHAT DID YOU SAY??????" he screamed.
Dave tried to intervene, "Please excuse Crewman Ottershaw, Commodore, he's afflicted by severe and incurable Tour......"
Sadly, Billy Ottershaw hadn't finished, "Sssss ...... stu ..... stu ..... STUMPY!!! Stumpy stumpy stumpy FUCK-WIT!!!" With perfect timing the last outburst resulted in the ejection of a considerable amount of spittle, which liberally coated the Commodore's bright red face.
Dave immediately ordered Ottershaw off to Sick-bay, noticing as he did that Commander Chamberlain had tears in her eyes and was clearly struggling to suppress her laughter.
Dave faced the Commodore, and trying very hard to ignore the little globs of spit dangling from his eye-brows and the end of his nose, began to apologise profusely.
The furious Commodore wasn’t listening: "I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO INSULTED!!!! THIS SHIP IS A DISGRACE! AND THAT COMPUTER IS A PIECE OF JUNK!! I WILL MAKE IT MY PERSONAL GOAL IN LIFE TO MAKE SURE I PROVE THAT THIS SHIP, ITS COMPUTER AND ITS CREW ARE NOT FIT TO BE PART OF STARFLEET!!!!
Dave kept trying to smooth things over, but was fighting for a lost cause "Commodore, please accept my sincerest apologies on behalf of the Captain and crew....... "
Unfortunately, Susan, still seething with indignation decided to have her say: "Commander Hollins, it's inadvisable to apologise to a victim of a classic Napoleon Complex ....... "
The Commodore's voice rose to a shriek: "ARE YOU COMPARING ME TO A FRENCH DICTATOR?????
"Why of course not, Commodore!" Susan replied in her most calming, soothing tone. Dave had held his breath when the PILOCC had joined the conversation and was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when the computer continued "Any imbecile knows Napoleon was actually a Corsican! And quite unlike yourself he was a person of some significance who was actually venerated by his subordinates.”
"WHY YOU PIECE OF ...... OF ...... OF ...... RUBBISH!! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW MY ANCESTORS FOUGHT AT WATERLOOO!!!!" he screamed, frothing at the mouth as he did so.
"Really? How magnificent for them! I can't find any such record in your family tree, but then, records rarely cover scuffles on the London Underground. Oh wait, I have found some
thing ....... yes, an ancestor of yours from 19 generations ago was present at the Battle of Waterloo. Private Roderick B'Stard was arrested by the British forces on the night before the battle, when he was caught trying the mount a goat in a local farm-yard. Sadly he missed the battle while still incarcerated."
The Commodore was purple with unbridled rage but said nothing, and span on his heels, still open-mouthed and stormed out of the compartment. Dave went to follow, but Commander Chamberlain held up her hand: "Leave it! Speak to him when he's cooled off. I think the Commodore has finished his inspection now. You might want to stand your crew down." She began laughing loudly as she left the compartment, too.
Well, it could have gone worse, thought Dave. He paused and thought about this some more, eventually deciding that actually, it really couldn’t have gone worse. The Commodore had taken offence at almost everything that had been said to him, and had clearly taken a dim view of the repairs and alterations they’d had to make to get Tiger to Arcturus within Admiral O’Connor’s deadline.
Dave knew that the Commodore had it within his power to make the tests more difficult if he saw fit, and it was ultimately his say-so that confirmed if a ship was fit to join the fleet. He shook his head: how on earth did the pompous idiot get such an important role?
There was no time to worry about such things. Regardless of what the Commodore thought, his sole focus had to be beating whatever test came Tiger’s way. He was glad he had a crew he trusted and could rely on …..
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With Tiger tucked into orbit five klicks astern of Arcturus Station, it wasn’t long before the first of the crew decided to brave the transporter system and take a look around the huge orbital complex.
It was a large city in space, where Starfleet personnel lived, worked and more importantly, played. It sat like a gigantic spinning top in space, drifting lazily over a beautiful blue-green gas giant planet in an orbit just high enough to avoid disturbing the delicate system of rings with which the planet was blessed.
The head of the structure included the main docking and repair facilities, all of which were internal to provide a degree of isolation from the capricious nature of the Arcturus Delta. At the base of this mushroom-dome structure were the majority of the stations storage facilities, while at the very top of the structure, the delicate, filigree spires of communication and scientific equipment reached out into the darkness of space.
Below the dock facility were myriad leisure and accommodation floors arranged in a neat cylindrical body, and at the very bottom of the station, a large globe contained the facilities own warp core which provided power, heating and light for the whole station.
Most of Tiger’s crew had been stuck aboard the ship for years, with only very occasional trips to Hole to relieve the monotony. Sadly, Hole was possibly the least exciting colony in the entire Federation, and more than a few of the colonists had coughed up their hard-earned credits (to Chief Money, of course) in order to use the facilities aboard Tiger as she’d orbited the planet.
Now there were dozens of bars, restaurants and clubs within the reach of Tiger’s crew. There were leisure facilities such as pools and sports grounds, and even a botanical park with rare specimens from Earth. The station had a plethora of shops selling exotic alien goods, but there were even more selling quite mundane wares that had been denied to Tiger’s crew for months or even years. The siren call of the metropolis was heard by dozens of the crew, and they flocked to the station determined to see a little of it before the First Officer restricted their leave and leisure privileges.
In truth, most of the crew never got further than the first bar they came to after stepping out of the station’s Transporter Room, and Dave would later realise that he should really have expected what followed.
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Perhaps predictably, it was Ensign David that sparked things off. He was in the nearest bar to the station’s Transporter Room when a trio of the local engineering staff caught sight of him. They took exception to the fact that he was wearing a dress, or possibly to the fact that he was attracting a lot more female attention than they were.
“Why the hell are you wearing a dress? Are you gay or just stupid?” said one of the burly engineers, bringing a chorus of laughs from his colleagues.
Never one to take such things lying down, Ensign David looked him over, and shouted to the bar at large, "Hey look everyone, I've found the missing link!!" Grinning from ear-to-ear he addressed the station engineer directly: "Actually, I'm wearing it because it looks better on me than it does on your mother, mate!”
“Are you calling my mother ugly??” growled the engineer.
“No, it’s at least possible you got the ugly genes from your father’s side. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m presuming you actually had a father!”
The insult went straight over the lead-ape's head, but his two wing men got the joke and made things worse by laughing.
Lead-ape silenced them with a sideways glance, and snarled at David “Think you’re funny do you??”
“No mate, I just have IQ that needs more than one digit to describe”
“You calling me stupid??”
“If you want me to darling! I suppose it could be a term of endearment, just between the two us.”
“Hey, I’m not gay!”
“I never said you, were, I was still going with “stupid”. There’s probably a village somewhere in desperate need of your services as resident idiot.”
“I don’t get it?”
“And you’re not going to while I’m here because I’m nicer, better-looking and much, much cleverer than you are, mate! Why do you want to indulge in a battle of wits when it’s clearly unarmed combat for you??” grinned a very smug Ensign David.
Unable to find a witty reply, the ape punched him. Ensign David, a lover, not a fighter, went down like a sack of poo.
Unfortunately for the grinning lead-ape, standing just down the bar from Ensign David, PO Winston and Crewman Seamus Donnelly from Chief Money’s “heavy-gang” were enjoying a quiet drink or six.
While neither had understood Ensign David’s retorts any better than the ape, they did understand loyalty to one’s ship-mates, and more objectively, the concept of protecting people that provided the Chief with income.
As Ensign David slumped to the floor, PO Winston took up the sparkling repartee:
“Oi, you. Get this stitched!!”
He head butted lead-ape, detonating his nose in a shower of blood and snot and throwing him backwards into his wing men. Looking at each other, they sprang into the attack, setting on PO Winston from each side. Seamus Donnelly grabbed one, pulled him around and landed a right cross on his jaw, knocking him out cold. Able to concentrate on the other engineer, PO Winston blocked a punch and launched a perfectly timed upper-cut, knocking this man out too.
This scuffle had caught the attention of everyone in the bar, and crewmen from the station flew to their colleagues defence. Winston and Donnelly went through them like a dose of salts.
Winston was a top drawer cruiser-weight boxer, ducking and diving, punching and counter-punching. Donnelly, on the other hand, was the product of generations of Irish-American bare-knuckle fighters, and merely shrugged off punches like they were flies. Even so numbers began to tell, and Winston and Donnelly were delighted when a dozen of ASBeau’s operations team saw the fray and waded into the conflict.
The brawl spread like wild-fire, through the bar and out into the promenade beyond. Other members of Tiger’s crew loyally joined in to support their ship-mates, even though the reason for the battle was already lost.
Bystanders ran for cover as more and more people got dragged into the melee, and before long it had degenerated into a free-for-all, where nobody knew why they were fighting, or who.
As the chaos spilled out on to the promenade, one of the local security team called it in, and before long a squad of Marines had arrived to quell the up-rising. Noting that personnel from Tig
er were involved, the Master-Sergeant had also contacted Chief Belle, and she soon arrived with a half-dozen of her own security team.
Armed with night-sticks and tasers, they showed no mercy, indiscriminately zapping or cudgeling anyone who looked like trouble, and anyone who looked like they were considering trouble. And anyone who got in the way. They worked their way through the promenade, disabling each trouble-maker and cuffing them as they went.
Heading into the bar, they found the place was totally trashed, every glass, every table and every chair smashed to pieces. They bagged more combatants as they fought their way in, overwhelming the more persistent ones with sheer weight of numbers. Finally, at the bar, they found Winston and Donnelly, bloodied and battered but still defiant.
In an epic clash, Chief Belle made a point of going head to head with PO Winston, eventually laying him out with her trade-mark spinning flying kick. A couple of Marines took on Donnelly but retreated when their best punches and repeated heavy blows with their nightsticks seemed to have no effect whatsoever. The Master-Sergeant tasered him, but as he still didn’t go down, Chief Belle, PO Sorenson and another couple of Marines tasered him too, and eventually he collapsed into a twitching, quivering heap on the floor.
With the last insurrectionist subdued, the bar-tender finally raised his head above the bar and pointed the finger of blame at the unconscious lead-ape and equally unconscious Ensign David.
Growling “I should have guessed”, the Chief tasered the unconscious Ensign, just to be fair to the rest of the protagonists.
“Good call!” mused the Master-Sergeant and tasered the lead-ape.
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Dave was called to the Commodores Office about an hour later.
“Explain yourself!” demanded the Commodore.
“I cannot excuse my crew, Commodore, but I will get to the bottom of the incident and punish the offenders.”
