Star Trek: Bendross

Episode 04: This is Not a Charade

(Summer, 2072)

By

Jay P. Hailey

And

The Bendross Players

 

About a month into training Hamilton was trying to remember a half listened to lecture about which variety of Mojave Desert flora was actually edible.

He picked a piece of sagebrush and chewed a small piece of it thoughtfully.

Sergeant Blume stomped over to him "Goddamit Ashby! Were you even listening to the simple, straight forward lecture I gave you yesterday?"

Ashby came to attention. He fought to keep his face scrunching up at the bitter taste of sagebrush. "Yes, Sergeant!"

"Then what did I tell you about eating the goddamed sagebrush!?"

Ashby thought fiercely but could not remember. Truth to tell he hadn't been paying a lot of attention to most of the lectures. This was just a hideout until the heat died down. "Ummm, Not to?"

"Then WHY do you have SAGEBRUSH in your MOUTH?!?! Ashby, I'm getting the feeling that you're not really committed to your new life on your new planet! I am getting the feeling that you're going to wind up watching your fellow colonists DIE while you stand around with your thumb up your ASS! Now if you don't like that picture, I'd advise you to pull your thumb out and get with the program! Now drop and give me twenty!" Sergeant Blume raged.

Hamilton's shoulders seemed to whine of their own accord. He'd been giving Blume a lot of pushups for the last month. Ashby looked Blume in the eye. He made his decision. He spit the sagebrush out of his mouth. "I quit." Then he walked quickly over to the truck that brought the erstwhile colonists out to the desert and sat down in the shade.

Blume stared after Ashby for a moment. Usually people were desperate to get off planet. He'd never had anyone quit his program before. Blume was not lying when he said he'd thought Ashby uncommitted to the goal. Perhaps it was best for all the rest of the colonists that Ashby quit after all. Blume shook his head and moved off to help another trainee find something edible in the desert.

Ashby sat and rested. Off in the distance he saw Stephanie Jon Dou. Formerly a highly paid plastic surgeon to the stars, Jon Dou upgraded her qualifications to emergency, trauma and battlefield medicine and had spent lavishly bribing her way into the colony mission. She waved a cheeky little wave at Hamilton, grinning.

Hamilton waved back using his middle finger. Jon Dou hadn't really liked him since he'd come on to her two weeks ago. Ashby didn't smell anything like enough money to excite Jon Dou and she let him know it. Since then they'd had a less than professional relationship.

Michelle Gibbons joined Hamilton in the shade of the truck. She was a biologist, botanist, ecologist and about seven other different things having to do with life sciences. She was one of the few people in Hamilton's squad who'd actually earned her way aboard the colony mission. She seemed plain at first glance, but Hamilton had come on to her, too. Also with absolutely no success.

"Aren't you supposed to be scrounging for edible plants?" Hamilton asked.

"I know more about flora of this desert that Sergeant Blume does. He missed two of the potentially edible plants that grow here." Michelle said. "Hamilton, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Hamilton did not intend to tell her the truth anyway.

"Why are you here? Everyone else, no matter how they got in, wants to be here badly. Everyone is almost desperate to get off world and make a new life. You're obviously not. You're treating this like it's some sort of game." It was the most Hamilton had ever heard Michelle say.

"I don't know why I'm here, frankly." Hamilton told Michelle the truth, and surprised himself. "I'm betting it's some huge mistake. And I will set it straight as soon as we get back to base."

Michelle nodded. "Maybe that's for the best." She got up and wandered off to continue the exercise.

-*-

The truck rumbled into the base. As soon as it came to a halt Hamilton was off and heading or the main administration offices. He walked into the air-conditioned trailer and stood in front of a receptionist's desk.

"Can I help you?" She asked, popping her gum. Kelli had heard it all. Tales of abuse, neglect and woe. Some people thought that colonization was some sort of road trip, all beer and skittles. Kelli thought that most of the colonists were idiots for wanting to abandon civilization for outer space and little green men anyway, but they were doubly stupid for expecting to be treated nicely about it. Being a consummate professional receptionist, Kelli let them know this in carefully vague enough terms so that anyone who complained looked twice the useless whiner they were to begin with. Kelli turned her derisive gaze to Hamilton.

"May I speak to the Commandant? There's been a mistake." Hamilton smiled at Kelli and carefully thought of flowers; expensive meals in four star restaurants; shows of some kind and midnight limousine rides to walk barefoot in the sand of the beach. He though of making passionate love to Kelli, and making her all breathless and sweaty. Hamilton tried to communicate all these things in his expression and body language.

Kelli sniffed disdainfully. "The who, Sir?"

"The commandant? The guy in charge of this place?" Hamilton was confused. What else does one call the commander of a base?

"Oh. That will be Mr. Whitebear. Let me see if he's available." Kelli relished the chance to make Ashby wait for at least 40 minutes. She tapped some keys and spoke into her headset. "Mr. Whitebear? A Mr..."

"Ashby." Hamilton replied.

"Ashby would like to see you." Kelli had played this routine into a dead mike before, but Mr. Whitebear caught her.

The voice from the other side spoke for a few moments. "Yes sir." Kelli said. "Go right in."

Hamilton entered the office that took up the back half of the trailer. It was a pretty standard office setup, bigger than necessary and furnished a bit more elegantly than an office built into a trailer really needed to be.

Paul Whitebear was a tall, rawboned Native American man with big callused hands. He gestured Hamilton to a seat. "What can I help you with today, Mr. Ashby."

"There's been a mistake." Hamilton said. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. It was more uncomfortable to face directly than he thought it would be. Would there be a fine? Might he be arrested for trespassing? "I don't think I'm supposed to be here."

Whitebear nodded "Umm hmmm. Go on."

"That's just it. I didn't sign up for any of this. I didn't mean to come here." Hamilton said. "I guess you mistook me for someone else."

Whitebear nodded again. "Mr. Ashby, do you recall how you came to be here."

Ashby opened his mouth and realized that he didn't know what he was going to say. His first instinct had been to cover his blackout with a plausible sounding story. Just before launching into his cock and bull story, Hamilton realized that Whitebear might just know more than he did about the event. "Uhhh..... No."

Whitebear stood up. "There's some one I'd like you to speak with." He turned on a viewscreen and punched in a number code. The electronic ring filled the office until the screen lit up to show a man's face.

The man was well coifed, and his face had a burnished look that came from expensive spas and skin care products. His whole demeanor yelled "I am richer and meaner than you."

Hamilton unwillingly found himself believing this.

"Paul. What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Ashby has come in to quit our project." Whitebear gestured to Hamilton.

"Is that true, Mr. Ashby?" The face said.

"Well, sir. You see I'm pretty sure there has been a mistake...." Hamilton said hesitantly.

"I hope you're not going back on our deal."

"Deal?" Hamilton looked confused., "no, no, no. I don't go back on my deals it's just that-"

"Good. Now I expect you to keep your secrets until you're ready to ship out. Nevertheless, remember, all copies of the file are to be given to us or destroyed before the Bendross III leaves orbit. Once you're on your way, there will be no turning back. Your end of the bargain will be paid. We expect you to treat us as fairly. Am I clear?" The face said.

"Uh... crystal." Hamilton said. "So you're giving me a slot on the outbound ship in exchange for our little secret?"

"That *is* what you asked for, isn't it, Mr. Ashby?"

Hamilton blinked once but managed to regain control of himself. "Yes, yes of course. You've been more than fair. Thank you."

"If that will be all?" The Face said. He looked busy.

"Oh no. I'm fine." Hamilton had a hard time not grinning.

"Then I'm signing off." The Face hit a button and the screen blinked out.

"So this idea of quitting..." Paul Whitebear said.

"No Sir! I don't want to quit!" Hamilton leaped up. He had to stop himself from saluting.

"Okay then if there's nothing else..." Whitebear gestured to the door.

Hamilton left the trailer and stood for a moment stunned. Some how he'd done it. He'd scored a big enough pay off to be worth a million-dollar seat on a colonizer. This was no mistake. He was on his way.

His giddy mood was soured by one cloud in the middle of his silver lining. Hamilton had absolutely no idea what he'd stolen from the Bendross Corporation, nor any idea where, if anywhere he'd stashed it.

Hamilton was certain that if the Bendross people were able to confirm that all copies of... whatever it was were confirmed recaptured or destroyed, he'd wind up in the desert *under* a sagebrush.

He'd have to start making Cuckoos eggs to try and bluff the Bendross people with.

With a start Hamilton stopped and berated himself. He'd damned well better start paying more attention in training classes. This wasn't faking it until the heat died down. This mission was for real, so long as he had something the Bendross Corporation wanted.

 

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Trek. I claim original characters and situations in this story for me.