The Actor's Tale
Harry
felt like a sardine. He reflected, while squeezing past another knot of
people,
that the Starflight Museum had always been a popular tourist
attraction, but he’d never seen it this packed before. He
took Jo’s elbow so that they could ooze their way through the
sea
of humanity together. Jo looked just as surprised at the crowd.
“They must be having a special exhibit.”
Harry grimaced. “Their timing
is perfect. They couldn’t schedule their big event next
month?”
Jo poked
him gently in the ribs.
“Oh, I’m sure the museum director deliberately
planned this so that Harry Roberts would be personally
inconvenienced.”
“Well, it sure
is feeling like that. My last chance to visit the old Paige for awhile,
and I spend the majority of the day swimming upstream.”
“Cheer
up, Harry. The crowd should thin out once we get nearer to the Paige.
She hasn’t got the patina of age yet. You know how graffiti
done yesterday is considered
an eyesore, but ancient graffiti is considered valuable?
Give her another hundred years or so and the public will start to
find her truly interesting.”
Harry
just grunted and made his way
forward. They were finally approaching the area where the old Paige
had been berthed. On the past few occasions Harry had stopped by the
area had been relatively quiet, but this time was different. The
place was packed, and more people were continuing to pour in. Harry
and Jo stood stunned and let the crowd carry them toward the old
ship. It took awhile, but the tide finally washed them close enough
to see two docents directing traffic. Harry pulled the nearest one
aside. “Excuse me, Miss. I don’t care very much
about the outside. I just want to take a little stroll around the
inside. Can you get me through the crowd?”
“I’m very sorry, Sir. Due to the
volume of people, we’re only allowing groups of twenty inside
at a time. If you want to tour the inside, you’ll have to
stand in that line.” She pointed to a line that snaked back
and forth on itself into the distance.
Harry
smiled ingratiatingly. “I’m not usually one to cut ahead in
a line, but I’m this
ship’s last captain. I don’t have much time here and I
really would like
to visit the old girl before I leave on my next cruise. Would you see
if you could squeeze me in, please?”
The woman looked him up and down,
noting the civilian clothing. “Do you have any ID on
you?”
“Of course.” Harry
showed her his
Starfleet ID. Jo also displayed her ID. “This is Josephine
d’Avril, the Paige’s Chief Engineer.”
The woman smiled warmly.
“Right this way, Captain Roberts. Commander d’Avril.
I’m
sure we can accommodate you.” She led the way to the access door.
“If you’ll just wait here, you can go in with the next
group.” The woman at the head of the line frowned. “Wait a
minute! My
family and I have been waiting in this line for the past 3 hours! They
should get at the end of the line like everyone else!”
Jo could tell that Harry was
about to tell the woman where to go. She jabbed his ribs again. He
glared at
her, but the brief interruption gave the docent time to take the matter
in hand. “Ma’am, I appreciate your sense of
fairness, but this is Captain Roberts and Commander d’Avril. They
were part
of this ship’s last crew and they’re only here for a
very short time.”
The outraged woman’s
demeanor softened immediately. “Oh, pardon me! Please go right
ahead!” She turned to Harry and Jo, beaming.
“Captain Roberts, I am *so* pleased to meet you! Commander
d’Avril, it is indeed a
privilege to meet you!” She shook hands with both of them.
“You two and the rest of this ship’s crew are *such* an
inspiration!”
Harry and Jo exchanged mystified
glances, but shook her hand. “Thank you. A pleasure meeting
you too.” Further pleasantries were interrupted by the appearance
of the interior docent calling for the next group.
Once inside, Harry relaxed within the
familiar surroundings. His eyes slid over each piece of equipment
with fondness noting once again the changes that had been made to
ensure the safety of curious tourists. He glanced over at Jo. She
was doing the same thing. “Is this is your first time back,
Jo?”
“Yes. The last time I was
aboard
was during her decommissioning ceremony. They’ve made some
changes.”
“They had to. You
don’t want some
member of the public poking the wrong thing and getting bit. All
things considered, they didn’t do a bad job of it.”
Harry
pointed at the center seat. “They even kept my cup holder
like I
asked them to.”
Jo shook her head. “I
suppose they
did, but I keep looking at the changes and thinking I need to fix
them.” She shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I
guess.”
As the tour group moved toward
engineering Harry felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down at a pair
of girls. They looked up at Harry admiringly. “Are you really
Captain Roberts?”
“Yes, I am.”
“OH! This is just a real
honor,
Captain! Our friends will be sooo jealous when we tell them that we
got to meet you! Can we have your autograph, please?”
Harry glanced at Jo who just
shrugged. “Uh, sure. What would
you like me to sign?” The young blonde
held out her PADD. Harry took it and signed his name. He handed it
over to Jo. Jo looked at the girl. “Would you like my
autograph
too?”
“Were you part of the crew
too?”
“I certainly was. I was the
Chief
Engineer.”
“I sure would!” Jo
signed and
handed the PADD back. “Wow! Thanks!” The girl
clutched the
PADD to her as if it was the most precious object in the universe.
Harry turned to the redhead.
“What
about you? What would you like me to sign?”
“Oh I want you to sign
something
more *personal*.” She pulled up her sleeve and offered a bare
arm.
“You want me to sign your
arm?”
“I sure do!”
Harry and Jo signed the arm. The
girl
squealed with delight, grabbed her sister’s hand and both
raced
after the tour group. Harry and Jo followed along more sedately. They
arrived in engineering just in time to hear the girls, still
squealing in dolphin tones, “Grandpa! We just got to meet
Hell
and Back Harry! He signed his autograph! Look!” They looked
back
at the entrance and pointed at Harry.
The older man frowned.
“That’s
not Harry Roberts! Doesn’t look anything like him!”
The rest of the tour group was no
longer paying attention to the docent guiding them. They were
looking at Harry and smiling. Several of them started toward him.
“Captain Roberts!” “Can we get your
autograph!” “You’re
a real hero!” “What a thrill to meet you!”
Harry, smile frozen on his face,
waved
at his admirers. “Sorry folks, even heroes need to use the
head
once in awhile.” He began backing away, pulling at
Jo’s arm and
whispering urgently. “I think it’s time for us to
leave. I
don’t know what’s going on and I’m not
sure I want to. How do
we get out of here without having to deal with the crowd
outside?”
Jo thought for a moment then
headed
back out of engineering and off down the corridor. “I know
where
the museum staff had to have put the emergency exit. We can go out
that way and avoid the crowd altogether.” Harry followed
along. There was no reason to hurry. Neither of them was going to get
lost
in the Paige and they could enjoy the trip in peace. Harry poked his
head into his former quarters and smiled. Much as he wanted to,
there wasn’t time to lay down for a nap.
Harry and Jo took their time, and
their exit from the Paige by way of the museum-installed emergency
exit was, thankfully, unnoticed by anyone else. The joint decision
to have lunch somewhere away from the museum was unanimous. Half an
hour later, they were seated at an unremarkable table in a cozy,
quiet, and just as unremarkable cafe. It should have been a
comfortable luncheon, but the silence between them was deafening. Harry
couldn't help shooting suspicious glances at Jo out of the
corner of his eye, and he was pretty sure he caught Jo doing the same
thing to him. Time stretched on as they chewed their food and waited
like characters in a murder mystery drama waiting for the culprit to
be discovered. It was Jo who finally broke the tension. “All
right, Harry. Give!”
Harry stopped in mid-chew.
“Give
what?”
“Hell and Back Harry? What
was all
that about?”
“Let me know when you find
out.”
Jo leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
“You didn't set all that
up?”
“No, I thought you
did!”
“Not me, Harry! Then who
did?”
Harry threw up his hands.
“Admiral
Mustard did it on the bridge with the
tricorder!”
Jo just blinked at him.
“How about
being serious, Harry?”
“I am serious. Is it any
better a
guess than saying that every single one of those people in that
museum were Starfleet personnel in disguise including the little kid
in the diapers?”
“Sure, he was obviously the
youngest
Ensign in the service. Why not? And while we're at it don't forget
that we've unknowingly had mind altering substances put in our food
so that we're just imagining that we took a trip to the Star Flight
Museum.” Jo sat back shaking her head. “Either this
is the most
elaborate practical joke in the history of jokes, or there's some
simple explanation.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Like...?”
“Like... um....
ah....” Jo's
voice trailed off and Harry could see the mental gears churning
madly. “Well, I'm sure there's got to be one.” Jo
nodded
decisively.
“And we're both going to
laugh when
we find out what it is, right?”
“Yes. Of course. I'm sure
it will
be quite hilarious when we find out.”
Harry rolled his eyes and took
another
bite. “I guess I'd better start practicing my chuckles
now.”
----
The mystery of the strange
afternoon
was quickly forgotten over the next few days as the final
preparations for sending the Paige's descendant on her space tests
were made. It had been over a year since work had begun on her, and
Harry couldn't wait to take her out. The endless rounds of design
and progress meetings, inspections, and consultations was wearing on
his nerves. Once the ship was out of spacedock, he could stop
explaining to the construction engineers for the umpteenth time why
this or that particular unusual design feature had to be there. Like
her predecessor, the Mitchell Paige II had a unique job to do
necessitating some equally unique systems and design.
----
Two days later, Harry found
himself
whistling happily as he approached Starfleet HQ for his final
briefing and orders. The aide in Admiral Rivas' office waved Harry
inside. “The Admiral is expecting you Captain Roberts. Go
right
in.”
Rivas smiled broadly at Harry's
entrance and waved him to a seat. “Have a seat, Captain
Roberts.” She waited until Harry was comfortably settled.
“The Paige is
ready to go tomorrow isn't she?”
“Yes, Sir. It's been a long
time,
but I'm looking forward to running her through her paces.”
“I've got some good news
for you,
Roberts. You're being promoted to Fleet Captain!”
Harry squirmed uncomfortably.
“With
all due respect, Sir, it doesn't take a Fleet Captain to oversee a
ship's space test.”
“No it doesn't. We have
another
assignment for you.”
Harry gritted his teeth.
“Am I
being removed from command of the Paige, Sir?”
“Of course not! This
assignment is
only temporary. You'll rejoin the Paige once it's complete.”
“Ooookay...” For the
life of him,
Harry could not think of another assignment that would take priority
over space tests of a new vessel.
Rivas grinned. “We would
like you
to do a recruiting tour for us, Roberts.”
“Me, Sir? You want me to
convince
civilians to join Starfleet?”
“Not convince, Roberts. We
want you
to be an ambassador for Starfleet. Meet and greet, shake hands, get
young people thinking about the service... that sort of
thing.”
Harry stared at Rivas.
“Have you
read my service record, Sir? I've got some good things on it, but
I've got almost as many bad ones. I'm hardly a by-the-book sort of
person, I can be downright curmudgeonly at times, and it's been noted
that I tend to lack diplomacy. I don't think I'd make a very good
ambassador.”
Rivas took a deep breath and
leaned
forward. “Tell me, Roberts... Have you ever seen Star Trek on
the
Tri-D?”
“On occasion, but not in
the last
year. I've been pretty busy.” Harry flogged his brain without
success to try to make sense of Rivas' departure from the subject of
the recruiting tour.
“As you know, Star Trek
gets its
story lines from Starfleet logs.”
That much, Harry was aware of.
“Yes,
'Star Trek: Tales from the Starfleet Archives'. They take old logs
and rehash them into Tri-D shows. I've seen some, both good and
bad.”
“Well, the producers put
out a new
episode a month ago that was not only good but has caught the
public's imagination. They did an episode on the Paige's last voyage
into the nebula. The response to the story has been
fantastic.”
Harry gasped, “That's why
the old
Paige was swarming with people a few days ago!” He wasn't
about to
mention the 'Hell-and-Back' appellation.
“Exactly! The old Paige has
become
quite the tourist destination. Starfleet has been inundated with
requests to have 'Hell-and-Back' Harry Roberts speak or come to
dinner engagements. The higher ups have decided that they may as
well take advantage of it and try to get some recruiting
done.”
Harry sat stunned. What had
started
out to be a glorious day was turning into a nightmare. It was a full
minute before he could force words out of his mouth. “I
thought
Star Trek only dragged out the old logs.”
“Normally they do, but
apparently
the Paige's story was too good to wait.” Rivas shrugged.
“The
publicity works well for Starfleet. We always need good people, and
if a Tri-D show can get us more of them, we're going to take
advantage of it.” She smiled. “Will you do this for
us, Captain
Roberts?”
Harry struggled with his
emotions. Rivas was right. Starfleet did need
more people. There were never
enough. On the other hand, his baby was about to be born, and he
wouldn't be there to see it. On the third hand, he doubted that many
people would want to be in Starfleet if they knew about the
unpleasant and sometimes downright dangerous aspects. He wanted to
run screaming from the room. He looked up to see Rivas waiting for
his answer. “I'll do it, Sir.”
Rivas looked relieved.
“Thank you,
Captain Roberts. Report to Commander Batak tomorrow morning. He'll
be arranging the recruiting tour.” She stood and offered
Harry her
hand. “Congratulations, Captain!”
Harry waited until he was outside
to
voice his response. “Thanks... I think...”
----
Harry's existence went from one of
rounds of design and technological meetings and inspections to one
consisting of meeting endless hordes of people, telling the same
stories over and over, and answering endless questions. He tried not
to sound bored the fifteenth time he recounted the tale of his first
impression of Starfleet Academy and tried to treat every question put
to him seriously. Harry also stomped flat Batak's attempts to get
him to cut his conversations short in the interest of meeting more
people.
Most people Harry didn't mind.
Some
gushed about how wonderful he and his crew were. Harry learned to
say thank you and promise to pass the compliments along. Some
people, mostly younger, were intensely interested in what Starfleet
and starships were like. Harry tried his best to give them an honest
account. Some of those came starry eyed at the idea and left
disappointed. Batak was constantly reminding him that he was
supposed to be emphasizing the positive.
The people Harry truly disliked
were
the first-class idiots. He had one in front of him now. The man had
asked twice about what he considered to be Starfleet's overly
aggressive stance in the Romulan sector. Harry had already responded
twice with an opinion the man apparently disagreed with. Harry
stared at him when the question was asked a third time.
“Look,
I've already given you my opinion twice. I don't care whether you
agree with me or not. Now, get out of my face before I do something
you'll regret.” As Harry rose slowly to his feet and advanced
with
deliberate steps, the large man apparently decided that he had an
urgent appointment elsewhere.
Harry watched the retreating back
then
turned to find a bit of space. He heard Batak fussing at the crowd
still in line. Harry walked away. He was fuming and felt ready to
kill someone... namely one Commander Batak. Sectaarns were noted for
being fastidiously detail oriented, and Batak was all that and more.
The only thing that made the whole tour tolerable was the regular
reports from the Paige on how the shakedown was going. According to
Regina and Jo, all was well, and the ship was performing better than
anybody had expected. He lit a cigar only to have it snatched from
his hand mid-inhale by Commander Batak. Harry rounded on the man,
“HEY! What do you think you're doing?”
Batak's lavender head plumes
quivered
angrily, and he eyed Harry with disapproval. “Ca'tain
Roberts. For the twenty-seventh time, Fleet Ca'tains do NOT
smoke!”
Harry snatched the cigar back and
blew
a smoke ring in Batak's face. “Well THIS Fleet Captain
DOES!”
Batak puffed up like a
marshmallow. “Can't you at least kee'
the smoking 'rivate? It isn't the image
Starfleet wishes to 'roject. You come from an acting family. How
about doing a little acting?”
“Not on your life! If
people want
to see Harry Roberts, they'll see Harry Roberts... the REAL Harry
Roberts... cigar, warts, and all.” Harry took another drag on
the
cigar. “Nor will I lie to them about what Starfleet life is
like. Sure, Starfleet can be a great adventure, but it can also be
boring
and downright dangerous at times. I understand that Starfleet needs
people, but they need people willing to accept the bad parts with the
good.” Harry poked a finger into Batak's shoulder.
“I'm going
to tell people like it is, and I'm certainly not going to put up with
fools. That last idiot asked the same question three times because
he didn't like the answer I gave him the first two times. If he was
offended because I refused to answer him again, he was MEANT to
be.”
“You could, at least, have
been more
di'lomatic about it!”
Harry growled, “I'm a
starship
captain, not a diplomat. The man was being obnoxious, and I called
him on it. If you want diplomacy, call up the Federation Diplomatic
Corps. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm taking the rest of the
afternoon off.” Harry stalked off leaving Batak puffing and
unpuffing his feathers in outrage.
----
“So how's the new girl working out?”
Harry was in
his latest quarters with his feet up. Jo and Regina
were checking in with him from the new Paige. Both women were
smiling. “She's sweet, Harry! You couldn't ask for a better
successor to the old Paige. She does everything the old girl did,
only better.” Jo's grin was a mile wide.
Regina nodded, “Some minor
issues
have cropped up, but the team has been able to deal with them
quickly.” She looked doubtfully at Harry. “You
probably won't
be able to sleep once you get here.”
“Why not?”
“The new Paige doesn't make
half the
funny sounds the old one did. She's too quiet. You might have to
actually consult the instruments to see what the status of her
systems are instead of listening to see if you can hear the right
noise.”
Harry chuckled then grimaced.
“I'd
rather be there.”
Jo and Regina exchanged glances.
“The
recruiting tour's not going well, Harry?”
“Oh it's going well enough,
but I'm
getting tired of people, and Batak is going to drive me insane. The
other day I told some kid that it was alright to feel scared
sometimes. The Chicken about blew his feathers because I admitted
that I knew what it was like to be in a bad situation and feel
scared.” Harry sighed.
“Chicken?”
“Yeah, Batak is constantly
clucking
at me about one thing or another. Apparently, I don't fit the
'image' of one of Starfleet's Finest and the man is determined to try
to make me fit. I don't know why he just didn't hire the actor that
played me on the Paige's episode of Star Trek and give him a
script.”
“Hmmmm...” Regina was
obviously
thinking. Harry waited while she gathered her thoughts.
“Harry,
why don't you suggest to Batak that they film a recruiting short on
the new Paige? You won't have to deal with crowds of people, you can
say what you feel needs to be said your own way, and you'll be able
to get some work done on the Paige at the same time.”
Jo nodded. “If Starfleet is
wanting
to capitalize on the name Mitchell Paige, letting the public actually
see what she's become would be a big boost to them.”
Harry smiled as a vision of
himself
back in familiar circumstances beckoned to him. “Great
suggestion! I'll see if I can get Batak to agree to do it.”
He signed off the
call and sat back whistling. If he played his cards right, Batak
would jump at the chance.
----
Harry's prediction came true the next
morning. Commander Batak received Harry's suggestion with surprising
eagerness. “An excellent suggestion, Ca'tain! One short can
reach
billions very efficiently.” The head plumes began bobbing
excitedly. “Just think, 'A new Mitchell 'aige... a new future
for
Starfleet! We could even do a tie-in with the Star Trek show!
'erfect!” Was it Harry's imagination or were there overtones
of
relief in Batak's response? It didn't matter, Harry could command
his ship, still do what Starfleet had asked, and finally divest
himself of his feathered shadow. A win-win-win situation if Harry
had ever seen one. It would take a week for the Chicken to arrange
everything for the shoot. Harry intended to spend that week getting
to know his new ship.
----
One week later, Harry was having the
time of his life. Living and working on the new Paige was a treat,
and his crew was eager to show him around. She was a beautiful ship,
sleek and efficient, and far roomier than the old Paige... and
everything was new. There were no salvaged, jury-rigged, or second
hand parts on this ship. The best part of all was that the Mitchell
Paige now had an official classification. Starfleet never had
figured out just what the old Paige's classification was. Many
officers had had many words to describe the old girl... not all of
them complimentary, but she had always been the oddball that was
neither fish nor fowl. U.S.S. Mitchel Paige, NGC-1942-A, was a
Search and Rescue Cruiser thank you very much.
The one thing that Harry had not
expected was the increased size of the crew. A ship four times the
size of the old Paige needed a crew that was four times the size. His
cozy little family of 200 had turned into a crowd of 800 and he
frequently found himself reading name badges. Not to worry... it was
only a matter of time before he learned to recognize everyone by
sight.
“Captain Roberts!” Harry turned
to face the owner of the deep, resonant voice. He certainly did not
recognize the voice, and the face was only vaguely familiar. His
eyes flicked to the man's name badge, 'Deguerre'. Harry took the
proffered hand and shook it firmly while searching for some sign of
the man's rank. The man was several inches taller than Harry and
slender. His uniform was entirely devoid of any rank pips or other
indicators. Sparkling white teeth flashed in a deep chocolate
skinned face and the warm, resonant voice rolled out again filling
the corridor. “How do you do, Captain. I'm Quinn Deguerre.
Commander Batak asked me to come for the short you'll be shooting.
He'll be along shortly. He had some production details he needed to
supervise.”
“Mr. Deguerre, good to meet
you. I
don't know why, but your name seems familiar.”
“I'm an actor, Captain.
Perhaps
you've seen some of my movies. My latest work was playing you in
Start Trek.”
“You're the one they picked
to play
me?” Harry goggled.
Deguerre threw back his head and
laughed. “At the time of production, the public had no idea
what
Harry Roberts really looked like, so they could have cast anyone. I
was the one lucky enough to get the role. If your exploits were half
as exciting as the script, I stand in awe.” Deguerre bowed.
“I have no idea. I still
haven't
seen the episode.”
“I'll arrange a private
viewing for
you. I'd love to get your opinion whether or not I did a good job of
portraying you.”
“Great! I'd really like to
know
what all the fuss is about.” Harry looked Deguerre up and
down. “Would you like a tour of the ship?”
Deguerre nodded eagerly. “I
would
indeed, Captain! I've always been interested in space exploration. I've
not had the opportunity to do any exploring of my own, but I try
to keep up with the latest news from those who do.”
Harry looked around. “I
don't see
Batak yet.”
“Oh, I'm quite sure he'll
be along
eventually. If we start our tour now we can stay ahead of him for
awhile. The man's fussing is enough to drive one to
distraction.”
Harry laughed and clapped
Deguerre on
the shoulder. “Agreed! Why don't we start in Engineering. You
can meet the best Chief Engineer in Starfleet and see what makes this
girl run.”
Harry was surprised to hear Quinn's
voice change as the day and tour wore on. It was still deep and
warm, but the room-filling resonance had disappeared. Curious, Harry
asked, “What happened to your voice?”
They were catching a snack in the
cafeteria and Quinn paused mid-chew, “Excuse me?”
“Your voice isn't the same
one you
had when we first met. What happened?”
“Oh that's my 'actor'
voice. I keep
it in my back pocket and pull it out when I need it.”
“Why did you need it when
you first
met me? You weren't acting then. At least you seemed pretty
genuine.”
Quinn looked rueful. “I
wasn't
acting, Harry. It's just that I've been an actor so long, I'm
instinctively 'on' when I first meet someone now and the 'voice'
kicks in. This is my 'regular' voice. The only acting I'll be doing
while I'm here will be when they shoot the short.” He took
another
bite of his sandwich. “I must say, Harry, that I'm impressed.
This ship and crew are nothing short of amazing. A sly grin crept
onto the dark face. I admit to a certain amount of desire to play
hooky from my acting and arrange to get left behind so that I can
spend more time here.”
“If you can arrange it,
you'd be
welcome, Quinn. You seem pretty knowledgeable for a layperson. I
think you'd make a great addition to the crew with a bit of
specialized training.”
“Ah, dreams.” Quinn
sighed
wistfully then winced as Commander Batak, in all his purple and gold
glory, finally caught up to the pair. “There you two are!
I've
been looking all over for you!” Batak had apparently been
looking
long enough that he was puffed up with annoyance. “Mr.
Deguerre, I
see you have made the acquaintance of Ca'tain Roberts. Very Good! We
can get on with the shoot tomorrow morning.”
“Don't be so hasty,
Commander.” Quinn put his
sandwich down with studied casualness. Harry noted
that the 'voice' was back. “I need more time to study this
ship
and her crew. If I am to do the best job I can, I need the time to
get the feel of the situation. It is not something that can be
rushed. I am sure you would agree that quality is more desirable
than speed?” Quinn paused inquiringly.
“Yes, I do see your point,
Mr.
Deguerre. How long do you feel you will need to absorb the
information.”
“I would say two weeks
should
suffice, Commander. Unless, of course, there is an immovable
deadline?”
“No, there's no hard
deadline.” Batak nodded.
“Take your time, Mr. Deguerre. I want this to be
the best short Starfleet has ever made. I'll inform the 'roduction
crew that the shoot has been 'ost'oned. I have other business to
attend to. I will rejoin you two weeks from now.” He bustled
off,
head plumes bobbing.
Harry managed to hide his grin
until
Batak was out of sight. “Wonderful! Have you worked with
Batak
before?”
Quinn chuckled and put the
'voice'
back in his pocket. “No, I've not worked with Batak before,
but I
have worked with Sectaarns in the past. You can't beat them when it
comes to detailed artistry, but I haven't met one that wasn't a
perfectionist. Some are easier to work with than others. Unfortunately,
Batak doesn't seem to be one of those.”
Harry smiled. “But we won't
have to
worry about that for a while.”
Quinn grinned back. “No we
won't.”
----
Batak had been gone a week when Quinn, Harry, Jo,
and
Regina found themselves sitting in the Paige's theater for a private
screening of the episode of Star Trek that starred the old Mitchell
Paige. The hour-long episode told the story of the Paige's journey
to rescue the Bosworth and chronicled the bittersweet aftermath. The
episode was well-written with good acting and fast-paced action. When
the final credits rolled, Quinn turned to his companions.
“Well, that's what the production team did with the Starfleet
logs. What do you think?”
Jo shrugged. “It's a good
story,
but then I wasn't there. Regina? Harry? You were the ones that
went through the actual event. Your opinions?”
“Well, I recognized about a
third
of what actually happened. The rest sure didn't happen the way the
show makes it out." Regina looked at Harry. “Harry, you didn't
really say, 'Surrender is not an option.' did you? I wasn't with you
the entire time, but it doesn't sound like you.”
Harry shook his head
emphatically. “I
said a lot of things... quite a few of them unrepeatable in polite
company. I know I didn't say *that*!” He glowered at Quinn
who
shrugged. “I'm an actor, Harry. I'm handed a character and a
script. I become the person the production team calls for. Had I
known you beforehand, I would have played you differently.”
Regina and Jo rose to leave.
Regina
was due on the bridge shortly, and Jo had a engineering department
briefing to attend. Quinn was left alone with Harry. “Harry,
can
you tell me something?” Harry nodded and Quinn continued,
“What
is it like to actually be a starship captain?”
Harry paused, obviously deep in
thought. “It can be boring. We spend a lot of time just going
from one place to another. It can be a joy when we deliver a badly
needed cargo to its destination or haul a disabled ship out of harm's
way. It can be a burden when things are in crisis mode. If I had to
sum it up in one word it would be responsibility. No matter what
happens on the ship, the captain is responsible. The final decision
on course of action is always the captain's. Sometimes that decision
costs lives.” Quinn watched Harry's face closely. He could
tell
Harry knew the cost he spoke of personally. “I know more than
a
few captains that had to make such decisions once too often. It
takes them years to come to terms with it... some never do.”
“So how do you go about
making such
decisions?”
“You know the capabilities
of your
ship and crew, you weigh what you know about the situation, then you
calculate what needs to be done to get the best outcome. Sometimes
you have the luxury of time to get the input of others. Sometimes
you have to make the decision immediately without any input. One way
or the other you MUST make a decision. A lot of people try for the
captaincy. Most don't make it because they can't make a decision in
a crisis. They're so afraid of failing that they freeze. Those that
do make captain have learned to accept the consequences of their
decisions... good or bad.”
“What do you do if your
calculations
indicate that there is not likely to be a good outcome no matter
what?”
“You become an
actor.” Harry
laughed. “No matter what you might feel, you put on a
confident
face. If the captain appears confident, the crew will be confident. You
also keep the crew busy doing something... anything...
constructive. In a bad situation, any feeling of control goes a long
way. You keep the crew focused and working toward the desired
outcome. I know of crews that have survived against incredible odds
because they never gave up hope.”
Harry looked at Quinn as if
seeing him
for the first time. “So maybe you can tell me what it's like
to be
an actor? My father is... was... an actor, but he wasn't very
good.”
“Fair enough.” Quinn
nodded. “An actor
must become the character he plays. It's not enough to
know what the character is like. In order to make the audience
believe, you have to wear the character and make them part of
yourself.” Quinn paused for thought. “An actor must
have an
unshakeable sense of self to be able to become another. Two things
happen to those who lack a strong sense of self. They are either
mediocre actors who are unable to adequately portray their character,
or they go mad.” Quinn paused suddenly then continued in a
strangely monotone voice. “I had a friend who went mad. He
got
one role that consumed him so utterly that he could not reconcile the
new personality with his own. On opening night, he gave the best...
and last... performance of his life.” Quinn looked at Harry
with
pained eyes. “It took him years of counseling to recover, but
he
was never the person he was before.” He smiled wanly.
“I guess
acting can be as dangerous as being a starship captain.”
Harry's memory flashed to his
father. “I think I understand
Dad a bit better now. He never did quite
know who he was. I guess I should be grateful that he was simply
mediocre.” Harry smiled. “The last letter I had
from him said
he had started a youth theater and was coaching kids in stagecraft. He
sounded happy.”
“He'll probably do well,
Harry. Many times, a mediocre actor
can become a outstanding director. It
sounds like he may have found his niche.”
“I hope so.” Harry
rose to leave. “Time
for me to hit the sack. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
Quinn knew he
had too much to think about to sleep anytime soon and headed for the
lounge to indulge in some weighty pondering.
----
Days later, Harry was relaxing on the
bridge. Rather, he was relishing in the Paige's oh-so-comfortable
center seat. The first shift was going like clockwork, and it was a
real joy to see and hear the new ship humming along just as she
should. He looked back over his shoulder at their observer and
gestured at the main viewscreen. “Great scenery, isn't
it?” The
Paige was currently in orbit around Starbase 230, and Quinn seemed
dumbstruck at the sight of the station hanging in front of the
curtain of stars. “It is truly a wondrous sight. Thank you
for
allowing me to share it with you.”
“Anytime Quinn. I
think...” Harry's comment was
interrupted by a call from Lieutenant F'dar. “I'm picking up
a distress call, Captain!”
“Put it on speaker.”
“Aye, Sir. Comm channels
are open.” The bridge
speaker came to life. “This is the Royal Sovereign
requesting assistance.”
“Royal Sovereign, this is
the U.S.S.
Mitchell Paige. What is the nature of your emergency?”
“We have lost power.
Repairs are
underway, but we may need a tow. Can you assist?”
“What are your coordinates,
Royal
Sovereign?”
“We are en route from Earth
to
Bolia. Current coordinates are -332.-141.7.”
Harry looked at Quinn.
“Well,
you're about to see the Paige in action, Quinn.” Quinn's
answering
grin spoke volumes. Harry smiled back. “We are on our way
Royal
Sovereign. ETA...”
Harry glanced inquiringly at the
helmsman. “Course plotted, Sir. ETA is ten hours.”
Harry
nodded. “ETA is ten hours, Royal Sovereign. Paige out.”
Harry turned to his crew. “F'dar, advise Starfleet
that we will be assisting the Royal Sovereign. Zaru, take us out of
orbit and make for the Sovereign, best speed possible.”
“Aye, Sir.” The
acknowledgments
came as one, and the Paige headed for open space.
In a bit under ten hours, the Paige
was in sight of the Royal Sovereign. The Paige's main viewscreen
showed a graceful old liner apparently floating at ease. Harry sat
back in his chair. “Royal Sovereign, this is the U.S.S.
Mitchell
Paige. We have you in sight. What is your current situation?”
The ship on the screen blinked
out to
be replaced with a view of the Sovereign's bridge with a dark haired
woman in the center seat. Apparently, the Paige's bridge was also
visible to the Sovereign because the woman smiled broadly.
“Welcome,
Mitchell Paige. I am Captain Haralambos. We currently have the
situation almost under control, but it appears that our warp engines
will not be back on line anytime soon. As we are three days out of
port, we will definitely need a tow.”
Harry nodded at the screen.
“Captain
Roberts here. Do you need assistance? We can beam over some of our
engineers if you think you can use them.”
“Not necessary, thank you.
My
engineers tell me that the warp engines will require service at a
spacedock, but that the impulse engines should be repaired shortly. Can
you stand by, Captain Roberts?”
“Certainly.” Out of
the corner of
his eye, Harry could see Quinn staring intently at the viewscreen.
“Something wrong, Quinn?”
Quinn shook his head and stepped
forward. “If I may, Harry?” At Harry's nod, he
addressed the
screen. “Captain Haralambos, it is good to see you again even
if
the circumstances are less than ideal.”
Captain Haralambos smiled fondly.
“Quinn Deguerre! You are
the last person I would have expected
coming to our rescue.”
“The universe works in
mysterious
ways.”
“It does indeed.”
Quinn turned to Harry.
“Harry, am I
correct in assuming that things are under control and stable for the
time being?”
“As far as I can
see.” Harry
turned to the screen. “Do you agree, Captain
Haralambos?”
“Yes, we are certainly not
in any
kind of emergency mode.”
Quinn continued, “Then
would anyone
object to my beaming over to the Sovereign to catch up with an old
friend?”
Harry shrugged. “Fine with
me. You
can beam back once we're ready to tow.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at the
screen. “Captain Haralambos,
may I come aboard?”
“Of course! I'll meet you
in the
transporter room.”
Since the Paige was likely going to be
on station for several hours, Harry decided to use the time to catch
up on datawork. He was wading through a particularly complicated set
of numbers when he was startled by the ready room intercom. When he
looked back at the data he'd been studying a moment ago, he realized
that he'd lost his place and would have to start over. Harry sighed
and keyed the intercom. “Harry here.”
“Sorry to disturb you,
Harry. I've
got an urgent message from Starfleet.”
“Put it through.” A
moment later,
Harry heard a different voice. “Captain Roberts, this is
Admiral
Gosolv. We have an emergency situation on Science Station 942. They
are currently orbiting a star by the name of Hypatia, and it has
unexpectedly become unstable. They estimate that it will go nova in
36 hours. Radiation will be at lethal levels in 24 hours. You have
23 hours to get there and remove all personnel from the station. That
will leave sufficient time to get to a safe distance from the
star before it begins its nova sequence.”
“We are currently in a
rescue
situation, Admiral. Are there no other ships available?”
“There are none that are
close
enough to assist in time.”
Everything old is new again,
Harry
reflected. “Yes, Sir. This situation is stable for the
moment. Let Station 942 know we're on our way and to be ready to
evacuate
immediately.”
“Acknowledged, Captain.
Gosolv
out.”
Harry keyed the intercom.
“Comm,
put me through to the Royal Sovereign.”
---- Captain Haralambos was the first
thing
Quinn saw when he materialized on the Royal Sovereign. She was
little changed from the last time he'd seen her, although her dark
hair was now touched with grey at the temples, and her face was no
longer that of a carefree young woman. She smiled warmly.
“Mr.
Deguerre, it's good to see you again!”
Quinn returned the smile as he
stepped
off the transporter platform. “I could say the same about
you,
Captain. It has been too long.”
“Welcome to the Royal
Sovereign. Why don't you come with me
and we can catch up while I give you a
tour of the ship.”
“I would love to!”
Quinn offered
her his arm and they headed into the corridor. “So you're a
captain now, Elena! How long have you been running this fine
vessel?”
Elena's eyes twinkled.
“Five years
now, and I've loved every minute of it. The only thing I haven't
loved is the company's upper management. They can be worse than
Ferrengi when it comes to spending credits.” She shrugged.
“Oh
well, I've learned to deal with them. I'm not going to inflict them
on you. So, what would you like to see first?”
Quinn's eyes roamed the richly
decorated corridor. Solid panels alternated with carved ones on the
walls. Niches with beautiful sculptures were placed at regular
intervals. “The decoration is the first thing that caught my
eye... other than you, of course.”
“Flatterer! The sculptures
tell a
story if you look at them in order.”
Quinn touched the nearest statue.
It
had a smooth crystalline structure. “Marble?” Quinn
took a good
guess.
“No, it's zeolite. Not
quite what
one would expect, but the sculptor did an excellent job. There are a
couple hundred of these placed all over the ship.”
“Lovely paneling as well, I
see.” Quinn was looking
at one of the carved panels with interest. The
carving was very deep. In fact, it looked like it went all the way
through the panel and there might be something in a space behind it.
“Are these disguising something?”
Elena laughed. “Yes, the
carved
panels hide emergency supplies and the passive CO2
scrubbers. Floral motifs mean scrubbers. Geometric motifs mean
supplies. Solid
panels with a single circular rosette are the entrances to service
corridors.”
Quinn looked up and down the
corridor. “How do you tell which
service corridor goes where?”
“The crew knows from
memory, but
just inside each corridor is a status panel. You can get information
on the major ship systems as well as information on where the
corridor goes. It's quite ingenious... available to any crew that
needs it but invisible to the passengers.” Elena urged Quinn
on
down the corridor. “Come, there's a lot more to
see.” A moment
later, the nearest comm panel beeped. Frowning, Elena answered,
“Haralambos here.”
“Captain, this is Sandros.
I have
an urgent message from the Mitchell Paige.”
Elena glanced at Quinn who
shrugged. “Put it through to the
intercom, please.” She waited a moment,
then keyed the corridor intercom. “Captain Haralambos
here.”
“Captain, is your situation
stable
for the next 36 hours?” Quinn thought Harry's voice sounded a
little weary but said nothing.
“Yes it is, Captain
Roberts.”
“We need to leave you for a
short
time. We have a science station in need of immediate evacuation. It's a
small crew so the actual evacuation shouldn't take long. We'll be back
as soon as we have them all collected.”
“Very good, Captain.”
“Is Deguerre with
you?”
“Yes, he is.” Elena
motioned
Quinn over to the intercom and stepped aside.
“Deguerre here.”
“Quinn, do you want to beam
back
aboard the Paige or stay on the Sovereign?”
Quinn smiled at Elena. “All
is
under control here, Harry, and the Captain and I have some catching
up to do. If your mission is that urgent, I will just be under foot. I
will be fine here.”
“Fair enough. Enjoy
yourself. We'll be back as soon as we
can. Paige out.”
Quinn smiled. “The Paige is
a very
efficient ship. I'm sure they'll be back before we know it.”
“Now,” he said turning back to Elena,
“you said that there was
quite a bit more of your ship to look at?”
Over the two hours, Elena and Quinn
walked up and down corridors and peeked into magnificently decorated
public spaces. Elena was understandably proud of her charge. Old
the ship might be, but Quinn thought it was the most beautiful one
he'd ever seen. In between the attractions Elena pointed out, the
two talked about what had happened since they'd last met. The
conversation had covered about the first two years when the intercom
inserted itself once again. “Bridge to Captain
Haralambos.” Elena keyed the nearest comm panel.
“Haralambos here.”
“Captain, we are about
ready to test
the repairs.”
“Very good. I'm on my
way.” She
looked at Quinn. “Duty calls, Quinn. If you'll go down this
corridor and take the second left, you'll come to the main dining
room. There's a small lounge area to the right of the entrance. Make
yourself comfortable, and I'll join you once we've finished
testing.”
“Yes, Ma'am!” Quinn
smiled and
gave her his best salute. Elena shooed him off with a grin, and the
two headed in opposite directions.
Quinn followed the directions
he'd
been given and found the promised lounge. The lounge was as
opulently decorated as the dining room beyond with plush chairs,
heavy drapery, and sculpture. A young steward greeted him as he
sank into one of the chairs. “What can I get for you,
Sir?”
It was a bit early for heavy
drinking
Quinn decided. “Sparkling white wine, if you
please,”
“Right away, Sir.”
The crewman
disappeared into the back of the lounge to procure the requested
beverage.
Quinn settled more comfortably
into
his chair to wait. A minute later, the ship shuddered violently and
he was dumped out of, and under, the chair just in time to avoid
being crushed as the contents of the lounge went flying. The
upheaval was accompanied by a tremendous roaring and crashing noise.
When the shuddering, roaring, and crashing finally ceased, Quinn
found himself half buried in debris. The only light was the dim
emergency lights, and the air was thick with dust. Quinn looked
toward the dining room entrance. It was completely filled with
debris. He called out to the crewman that had gone to get his drink.
“Sir, are you all right?” There was no
answer. Quinn
tried his Starfleet comm badge. “This is Deguerre. Can anyone
hear me?” Silence was his only answer.
Quinn picked his way through the
wreckage of the lounge in the direction the young steward had
taken. He found the man lying crumpled against a bulkhead. Quinn
didn't have any medical training, but he could tell the man's neck
was not at a natural angle. He checked for a pulse anyway. There
was none. Quinn stood and swallowed the metallic taste in his mouth.
Fear was a wonderful thing under the right circumstances, but Quinn
recognized it as an enemy in the current situation. A bit deeper
into the lounge was a comm panel. Quinn scrambled over debris to
reach it and keyed it. “This is Deguerre. Can anyone hear
me?” He listened to the silence and tried again.
“Bridge, this is
Deguerre. Do you read me?” Silence again. It was impossible
to
tell whether the intercom was out of order or there was no one to
hear him.
The corridor outside was little
better
than the lounge. Not far from the entrance to the left was a closed
bulkhead and no apparent means of opening it. Quinn
reversed
direction and went back past the lounge. The corridor that he had
originally come down was blocked with rubble and debris. He realized
with a start that if he and Elena had still been standing where they
parted company, they would both be dead. Hopefully, Elena was safe
on the bridge by now.
Quinn swallowed again and forced
himself to think of his current predicament as an act in a play. Right
about now, he should be turning to the next page of the script
and reading his next line... only there was no line. The script was
blank this time. There was nobody to tell him what to do or say. He
was on his own.
----
Quinn's hope was correct. Elena was
on the bridge and functional even if the bridge itself was in
disarray. She had barely managed being dumped from the center seat
by the shuddering ship and was now assisting those around her who
hadn't been so lucky. Elena quickly glanced around the bridge as
she struggled to get Lieutenant Sandros back into his seat. He had a
bad cut above one eye. “All stations, report!”
There was no
response from the dazed crew. “ALL STATIONS,
REPORT!” Elena's
shouted command worked. The bridge crew began to function again as
long-standing discipline asserted itself.
The answers began coming.
“Helm
out.”
“Communications down.”
“Power levels at minimum,
Captain.”
“Life support down.”
Elena didn't
wait to hear more. She slapped the intercom. “Bridge to
Engineering!” She didn't breathe for several seconds until
she
heard the answering voice. “Engineering. This is
Kypros.”
“Mr. Kypros, we are getting
the
message that Life Support is down. What is the situation on your
end?”
“Affirmative. When we
powered up
that last time, there was a surge that blew several systems including
Life Support. The oxygen generators are gone, we're attempting to
get at least one working again.”
Elena thought quickly. One oxygen
generator, combined with the CO2
scrubbers, was
sufficient... barely... to support everyone on the ship for a few
days. It wouldn't be pleasant, but they could survive long enough
for the Paige to return. “Do it! The Paige is due back in 36
hours. Don't worry about the engines, just get as much of Life
Support back up and running as you can.”
“Aye! Engineering
out.”
Elena set the intercom to
broadcast. “Attention all crew and
passengers! This is Captain Haralambos. We have a serious situation at
hand, but we are working to resolve
it. Assistance is on its way. Please remain calm. All section
heads, report to the bridge. That is all.” She cut the
intercom
and took a deep breath. It was time to take her own advice and
remain calm.
Since the main corridor was blocked,
Quinn returned the lounge to see what course of action was possible
there. As he entered, he could hear voices from behind the debris in
the entrance to the dining room. Listening closely, he could hear
several voices clearly with more, less distinct voices, in the
background. From the pitch and cadence of the voices, it seemed that
both men and women were present. More importantly, Quinn could
detect signs of panic in the voices. He called out, “Hello!
Can
you hear me?” The voices fell silent, then answered him all
at
once which resulted in an unintelligible babble. “Please,
don't
all speak at once. I can't make out what you're saying. How are you
faring?” A shrill female voice answered him.
“Please, get us
out of here!”
“Madame, please calm
yourself. First, are any of you
injured?”
“Some. There are two that
are very
bad off. A few are dead!”
“All right. Are any crew
members
present?”
“No, not alive. We can't
get out. The doors are
blocked.
“I'll see what I can do on
this side
to assist you. I know it is difficult, but try to stay calm. Panic
is counterproductive. Do what you can for the injured until I can
reach you.”
“We'll try. Thank
you.” The
woman's voice had lost the shrill brittle timbre. “Are you a
crewman?”
Quinn paused. There were people
alive
on the other side of the rubble pile with no crew available to direct
them. Without direction they were likely to slip back into panic
mode... and that could kill them. It took him only an instant to
make his decision. It was a role he'd played before. He cleared his
throat. “Yes madame, I am. I'll join you as soon as I can
find a
way in.” It didn't take more than a cursory look at the mass
of
debris blocking the dining room to realize that he would never be
able to shift it safely, and Quinn retreated to what was left of the
lounge to take stock.
First step, how long would he
have to
hold down the fort? His chronometer was miraculously still working
and told him that he had 34 hours to go until the Paige returned. The
task was not impossible. Just keep the people calm long enough
and real rescue would be at hand. A thought forced its way into his
mind. What if the Paige met with misfortune along the way and didn't
return? Quinn swallowed the sudden knot in his throat and chased the
thought away. If the Paige never came back there was nothing he
could do about it. He had a plan of action and needed to concentrate
on that.
Second step, he would need to be
suitably attired in order to sell himself as part of the Sovereign's
crew. Quinn's eyes slid to the body of the dead steward. The man
was wearing a jacket that he no longer had a use for. Quinn gently
removed it from the corpse and read the name badge, “Elgrin.” He addressed the body, “If you don't mind
Mr.Elgrin, I
need to borrow your jacket. I will do my best to make you proud of
me.” Quinn frowned. At least some of the people he was trying
to
reach would have met Steward Elgrin and would recognize that he
was an imposter. Quinn ripped the name badge off the jacket. Who
would question a ripped jacket and missing name badge under the
circumstances? His face was recognizable to movie fans but in the
dim light, and as begrimed as he now was with dust and dirt, such
recognition was unlikely. People tended to see what they expected to
see. They expected a crewman, not an actor. He donned the jacket. The
fit was lousy, but he doubted anyone would notice.
Now to find a way into the dining
room
that wasn't blocked. Elena had mentioned service corridors. Quinn
worked his way into the back areas of the lounge to see if he could
locate one. Sure enough, there was a solid panel with a circular
rosette in the center. Now, how does one go about opening the thing? He
searched, in vain, for any sign of a latch. It couldn't be
hidden too well, or the crew would never be able to open it. The
only obvious thing on the panel was the rosette decoration. Could
that be the opening mechanism? As Quinn poked and prodded the
rosette, he felt the outer ring turn slightly. “Ah
hah!” He
grasped the ring firmly, turned it to the right, and waited. A
minute later, he was still waiting. Was the panel jammed or did he
need to do something else? He placed his hand back on the rosette,
and the center depressed slightly. Quinn pushed firmly on the
rosette center and was rewarded when the panel slid a few centimeters
to the right revealing the corridor beyond. He placed his hands on
the panel edge and heaved. The panel slid a bit further and stopped,
but it was now wide enough for him to slide through the opening.
Quinn only had to go a few feet
into
the corridor to find the promised status panel. Even though the
lights were dim, the panel seemed to be fully functional. Quinn
examined it carefully. Oxygen and carbon dioxide levels were in the
green. Power levels showed in the yellow which would explain the low
lighting. There were other indicator bars for systems that he could
not identify. Rather than waste time trying to decipher them, Quinn
looked instead at the diagram of the ship and located his present
position. From what he could see, every bulkhead door was flashing
red, but the door linking his present corridor to the dining room was
still green. Quinn headed quickly in the indicated direction.
---- Twelve hours after leaving the
Royal
Sovereign, the Mitchell Paige came within range of Science Station
942. From all appearances, everything seemed normal. If the star it
was orbiting was in imminent danger of going nova, there was no
outward sign. Harry signaled to Lieutenant F'dar. “Hail the
station, Mr. F'dar.”
“Aye, Sir” F'dar
turned to his
board and then nodded to Harry. “Comm channel open,
Sir.”
“Science Station 942, this
is
Captain Roberts of the U.S.S. Mitchell Paige. Are you ready to
evacuate?”
A breathless voice answered.
“Oh
thank heaven! This is Sandra Grady. I'm team lead here. We're
almost ready to go... just a few more things we need to pack.”
Harry frowned. “How much
more?”
“Oh not too much. We've
only got
half the data and instruments to go.”
“Half the...? How long is
this
going to take you?”
“No more than twelve or
thirteen
more hours.”
Harry shook his head. “You
don't
have twelve or thirteen more hours to pack. You need to be out of
there in eleven hours if we're going to be at a safe distance when
this star starts to go. Leave the damn stuff! Instruments and data
can be replaced. Your lives are more important.”
“You don't understand,
Captain. The
work we've done here is our lives. We can't leave it behind.”
Harry grimaced. “All right,
I'll
send a team over to help, but whatever isn't packed in ten hours
stays. Paige out.” He shook his head and keyed the intercom.
“Bridge to Commander Hammond.”
Regina's voice came back at once.
“Hammond here.”
“Regina, assemble a team of
ten. The station crew has more
stuff to pack and they'll never finish in
time on their own. Get over there and move what they've already
packed to the transporter room. We'll start beaming that aboard
immediately. People who aren't moving stuff can help them pack
whatever else they want to take with them.”
“I'm on it, Harry.”
“Oh, one more thing. They
have ten
hours to pack. It will take an hour to finish beaming everything and
everyone aboard the Paige. Anything not ready to go in ten hours...
leave it.”
“Understood! Hammond
out.”
----
Ten hours following the explosion
aboard the Royal Sovereign, Quinn was working among the passengers
trapped in the ship's dining room. When 'Steward Quinn' had
stepped out of the service corridor, no one had questioned his
identity. He had spent the last few hours moving amongst the
passengers, reassuring them that help was on the way, and seeing to
the comfort of the wounded. He had organized the 50 able-bodied
passengers into teams of ten. He had found some first aid kits in
the corridor. These he handed to one team and assigned them to
assisting the wounded. The other four teams he assigned to clearing
areas of the dining room as best they could so that the lanes they
would use for evacuation would be safe to navigate. He circulated
among the teams assisting as needed and dispensing frequent
encouragement.
Quinn glanced around the room. So
far, so good. Everyone was focused on their tasks with no sign of
panic. He yawned. Stress could be very tiring. Quinn wondered if
he could take a few minutes for a nap. His eyes slid to the nearest
team. Two of them were yawning widely. The stress must be getting
to all of them Quinn decided. More yawns sounded throughout the
room. Odd, Quinn thought. Something in the air perhaps? The
thought sent him racing for the service corridor. He made his way to
the status panel again and checked the indicator bars. The oxygen
indicator was lower, but still in the green. The CO2
indicator was into the yellow. Quinn watched it closely for a
minute. The indicator was moving very slowly toward the red. No
doubt about it, the CO2
levels were rising.
----
Back on the bridge, Elena poked
her
head out from under the comm station. “Anything yet, Mr.
Sandros?”
Sandros ran his hands over the
board
once more, but there was no answer to his fingers. “Nothing,
Captain. Try the next relay.”
Elena ducked back under the
station. She and Sandros had tested and
eliminated half the existing relays as
unworkable. All they needed was one to be able to contact someone
outside the Sovereign. It would be extremely low powered, but at
least they could let someone know what was happening. At least a few
of the internal communications systems were working.
“Engineering to
Bridge!”
Elena marked the relay she was
currently on and acknowledged the call. “Bridge, Haralambos
here. What's happening Mr. Kypros?” She felt exhausted.
“We were able to get one of
the
oxygen generators working, but the CO2
levels are rising.”
“What about the passive
scrubbers? They should be able to
handle the load.”
“Aye, Sir. They should, but
I took
a look at the ones I could readily reach. The chemicals in them are
so old that they're calcified. Assuming all the scrubbers are the
same, they're not scrubbing anything.”
Elena suppressed the urge to
scream in
rage. She knew the head office had found a more 'cost effective'
maintenance company. Standard procedure was to replace the scrubber
chemicals between outbound runs. Apparently, the new company saved
money by cutting corners, and now she and 1,100 passengers and crew
were going to pay the price. Elena forced herself to put her rage
aside. “Mr. Kypros, do what you can to get as many bulkhead
doors
open as possible. Let's get the passengers to the life pods. There's no
reason to launch them, but we can use them for survival
until the Paige returns.”
“Aye, Sir. There's not
enough power
to open them, but I'll get a team out to try to do it
manually.”
“Good. Bridge out.”
Elena yawned
and turned to the helmsman. “Mr. Heran, set a CO2
alarm
for red level plus 10%. Then take the bridge crew and help get the
bulkhead doors open. Get all the passengers you can to the life
pods.”
“Aye, Sir. What about
you?”
“Mr. Sandros and I will
continue
trying to get communications working again and a message out. We'll
join you once we have that done or when the alarm sounds... whichever
happens first.”
“Aye, Sir!”
Within a minute, Elena and
Sandros
were alone on the bridge. She looked at Sandros who nodded back.
“Let's get back to work, Mr. Sandros.”
----
Five hours into the evacuation of
Science Station 942, Harry beamed over to the station to check on
progress. It seems they had moved an entire station full of
containers to the Paige already. Why was the station still full of
stuff? Harry wormed his way down narrow corridors and through
cramped rooms. The old Paige had been crowded, but nothing like
this. He reflected that despite an entire crew of 800 at his
disposal only about a dozen were of any use due to the cramped
quarters. Harry finally found Regina closing a full container in one
of the labs while members of the station crew were packing two
others. He pulled her aside. “How close are you to being
done.”
“We'll make it... barely.
There's
only one problem.”
“What problem?”
“It's Grady. Apparently,
the main
scientific instrument is the station itself. I didn't understand
half of what she was saying, but it appears that she built this
fantastic instrument that they then built a science station around.
They can't remove the device from the station. She wants us to move
the station. She says she won't leave without it.”
“The entire station?”
Harry
couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Regina nodded. “That's
right... the
entire station.”
Harry began calculating the mass
of
the station. Unless he was greatly underestimating the mass, the
Paige should be able to move it. “OK, so we put the tractors
on
the station and haul it out of here. The really delicate stuff still
has to be packed carefully, but it should be doable.”
“I already thought of that.
It's
doable except for one thing. Grady told me that the gravitational
fluxes of the tractors would destroy the thing.”
“So we need to move the
station
without tractor beams? With what? Ropes and chains?”
“That's what I was told,
Harry.”
Harry threw up his hands.
“Keep
working. I'll see if I can talk some sense into Doctor Grady.”
----
Fifteen hours after the explosion
on
the Sovereign, Quinn was still working his teams but had started
rotating them in the name of making sure that everyone got some rest.
He didn't dare tell anyone that it was an attempt to reduce the rate
at which the CO2
was rising. He'd checked the status
panel several times since. The indicator bar was continuing its
inexorable march toward the red. Like all liners, the ship would
have life pods with their own life support systems. Perhaps he could
get the passengers to them. Another check of the status panel showed
that the idea was not an option. Many of the bulkheads were now
green, but those in the area of the dining room were still flashing
red.
Quinn returned to the dining room
to
see what options remained and tried to remember what Elena had told
him about the ship. She had mentioned passive CO2
scrubbers. Why weren't they working? Quinn looked around the dining
room. The teams had made good progress in clearing what would become
evacuation lanes. Sure enough, there were the panels with the floral
carvings in them. Quinn checked the nearest one and was quickly able
to push the panel aside revealing the filters that did the scrubbing.
He had seen pictures of similar filters that had been used in the
old stations when space exploration was still in its infancy. He
pulled the first one out to see it packed with a rock-hard, black
substance. In the pictures, the filters had always been light
colored when new and very dark when used up. The filter in his hand
didn't look capable of filtering anything.
Think Quinn! He yawned for the
umpteenth time and forced his brain to evaluate what resources might
still be available. The old space station crews had always had a
ground crew that they could consult when problems cropped up. Quinn
had only himself and 50 passengers. A ground crew would likely have
advised him to replace the scrubber chemical and wait for rescue, but
replace with what?
Quinn tried to remember what he'd
read
about such things. What had the crews of the space stations used in
their scrubbers? He knew there had been several chemicals. Quinn
closed his eyes and envisioned the page he'd read so long ago just as
he would have envisioned a page of a past script. Calcium oxide was
one chemical... so was activated carbon and zeolite. He checked the
supply areas of the service corridor. No stockpiles of any such
chemicals were in evidence.
Quinn returned to the dining room
and
sat heavily against the remains of one of the once beautiful
sculptures. He looked around the room in a desperate hope that some
inspiration would make itself known. None was forthcoming, so he
watched his teams. Half were still working, and the other half were
resting. He could feel his throat closing with emotion. He had
failed them. These had become his people the moment he had stepped
into his present role, and he had let them down. By the time the
Paige returned, they would be dead from CO2
poisoning.
Quinn picked up a handful of
sculpture
debris and regarded it wistfully The crystalline structure of the
material glittered gently in the dim light, and the words of a long
distant play rose to mind. “The sweet lady of death comes in
a
shroud of crimson and crystal.” What sort of crystal, Quinn
wondered idly. Would it be a shroud of the crystal he now held in
his hand? His mind wandered back to Elena and their conversation
about the ship's sculptures. Ah yes, the sculptor had done the fine
work in zeolite. The thought thumped Quinn in the back of his head.
They were made of zeolite!
Quinn lurched to his feet and
roused
the nearest resting team. “Team Three, I have an urgent
assignment
for you. The air scrubbers are malfunctioning, and we need to fix
them.”
The entire team was on their
feet. “What do we need to do, Sir?”
“Gather as much of the
statue debris
as you can and break it into pea-sized chunks. Use the table linens
to gather the chunks into bundles. We'll empty out the filters and
pack the bundles into the frames. Tell teams one and four to assist
you.”
“Right away!” The
team hurried
off to follow the instructions.
Quinn gathered up teams two and
five
and set them to pulling and emptying every scrubber filter they could
find. He was far from confident that the plan would work, but he
would act as if it were a guaranteed success for their sake.
----
With two hours remaining in the
evacuation of Science Station 942, Harry had made no progress in
getting Doctor Grady to agree to leave without her beloved station. He
supposed that he could always inject her with one of Doc Varta's
sedative hyposprays and carry her off, but it would be far better if
she would come voluntarily. “Doctor Grady, I assure you that
your
life is worth far more than any object in the universe. Please be
reasonable.” Harry was maintaining his pleasant expression
with
great difficulty.
Grady's arms were crossed.
“You're
not a scientist, Captain. You don't understand. This instrument is
my life. I've worked on it for over 20 years. The data contained
within it is irreplaceable.”
Harry took a deep breath, and the
woman took the opportunity to continue. “We've added volumes
to
the knowledge about solar particle emanation and waveforms, not to
mention the other areas of solar study.”
Harry's mind flashed to his
college
class in basic solar studies. He might not be a scientist, but he
might be able to act like one long enough to convince her that he
understood. He smiled his most disarming smile. “We have a
bit of
time. Please, tell me about the latest information you have. I was
always under the impression that the waveform of solar particles was
directly related to the zone of emanation.”
“That is what we had always
thought. However, in observation
of this particular star we have found that
it is not always the case. The alpha and beta-negative particle
waveforms comply with zone logic, but the others do not.”
Grady paused, apparently waiting
for
Harry to ask questions. Harry realized that the woman was rapidly
getting far too afield for his level of expertise. Rather than ask a
question that would betray just how little he knew, Harry nodded and
motioned for her to continue. She did so. “The waveforms of
the
theta-prime particles are especially eccentric in their appearance
and behavior. They almost seem to be anti-zone logic.”
Harry nodded again. “I can
see why
you're so fascinated with this star, Doctor Grady. I am very
impressed.”
Grady suddenly relaxed. “I
didn't
know you were a solar scholar, Captain!”
Good, she was buying it. Harry
remembered the solar class well. He'd passed, but it had been a
struggle. “Captains come from many different backgrounds.
Mine is
in the sciences. I do understand what it's like to have the work and
focus of your life ripped out from under you.” All too well,
Harry
reflected.
“Then you understand why I
can't
leave.”
“May I make a
suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“We can rig the station
with relays
directly to the Paige's databanks. She is a new ship with
state-of-the-art sensors. When the star novas, the station will
transmit all the data it can gather up to the last to us, and you can
sort through it at your leisure. There's never been this class of
star that's gone nova while monitored, has there?”
“No.”
“Then this is the
opportunity of a
lifetime. You said that you've added volumes to the knowledge of
solar study. You will be able to add volumes more with this one
event.” Harry could see Grady's demeanor softening.
“You still
have the plans and knowledge of how to build the instrument. Another
can be built... if not by you, then by others.”
“Well...”
Harry didn't let her finish.
“The
station is a loss. We can't save it. We can save you. You'll be
able to analyze and disseminate the data you've gathered for years to
come. Is it really a job you want to leave to others?”
Grady's eyes widened. “No,
I don't. Now that you say it, I
don't.” She nodded. “Let's rig those
sensors, Captain. I can show you just where to hook them in.”
The station slowly emptied of the
remaining objects and people as the final two hours wore on. Harry
had called in Jo to assist in rigging the promised sensor relays. The
two of them, together with Doctor Grady, had made the last
connection when Harry's comm badge beeped. He straightened his back
as he keyed the badge. “Roberts here.”
“This is Regina. Time to
go,
Harry.”
“Right. Has the station
been double
checked?”
“Already done. We've
confirmed that
the rooms were empty and then sealed them behind us. The only room
we haven't done is the sensor room and the transporter room. All
station personnel have been evacuated except for Doctor
Grady.”
Harry nodded to himself.
“Good job. Get the team back to the
Paige. We'll take care of double checking
the sensor room and transporter room on our way out.”
“On our way. Hammond
out.”
Harry motioned to the women.
“After
you, Ladies. The curtain is going down.”
----
Hours later, the Mitchell Paige
watched from a safe distance in awe as the star named Hypatia gave up
its life in a blaze of glory. The bright star shivered then shrank
in on itself. Minutes passed, and the star was hidden in clouds of
glowing multi-color gas that expanded outward in a beautiful, silent
display. Harry keyed the intercom. “Are you getting the data,
Doctor Grady?”
“The station is no longer
transmitting. It's gone.” Grady's voice sounded choked.
“We
got data right up to the point the shock wave hit.”
“My condolences, Doctor. I
know how
much it meant to you.”
“Thank you, Captain. I take
comfort
in the fact that it did not die in vain. I have a feeling it will
take years to do through all the data we collected in the last
day.”
“I'm glad you'll have those
years to
do it. Bridge out.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He
didn't
have to play solar scholar any longer. “We're done here. Mr.
Zaru, get us back to the Royal Sovereign, best possible
speed.”
“Aye, Sir.” The stars
in the
viewscreen blurred as the Paige jumped to warp speed.
----
Safely ensconced in one of the
Royal
Sovereign's crowded life pods, Captain Haralambos checked the pod
chronometer. The Mitchell Paige should be on her way back by now.
Hopefully, they would pick up the emergency beacon on the way in and
realize that the situation was not as they had left it. “Mr.
Kypros, what is the final tally? Is everyone safe?”
“The last head count was
757.”
“That leaves 347
unaccounted for. How many dead?”
“Unknown, Sir. We counted
several
bodies in each area we were able to open. However, there were three
areas we couldn't reach. The main dining room was cut off as was the
port-side promenade and observation lounge. There is a chance that
anyone alive in the promenade and lounge could make it to nearby life
pods. If they did, I hope they realized we're in the middle of
nowhere and didn't launch them.
“Hopefully, there is some
of the
crew with them to guide them. What about the dining room?”
“If anyone is still alive
in there,
they won't be for long. That area is completely cut off.”
“I see.” Elena turned
away to
compose herself. The owners of the Royal Sovereign had always been
'frugal.' This time, their frugality had turned criminal. If she
survived this ordeal, she would see that the Royal Sovereign's owners
answered for their wanton negligence. She owed it to her lost crew,
passengers, and Quinn.
Twelve hours after leaving
Hypatia,
the Mitchell Paige was back within range of the Royal Sovereign.
“Harry, I'm getting an emergency beacon from the Sovereign!
Very
low powered.”
Harry stared hard at the vessel
in the
viewscreen. “Something's wrong. Helm, take us closer and
circle
around her slowly. I want a better look.”
“Aye, Sir.”
The Sovereign's image began to
grow
larger. There were few lights on her and, as the port side came into
view, Harry could see a blackened, distorted area. “F'dar,
any
word from the Sovereign?”
“No, Sir. I've been trying
to hail
her. No answer except for the beacon.”
“Kendric, scan the
interior. Find
out if there are any life forms in there and their location. Zaru,
scan the area for evidence of other ships. If this is the result of
an attack, the attacker may still be hanging around.”
Long minutes passed as scanners
and
sensors hummed busily and displayed the results to their watchers. Zaru
shook his head. “No other ships in the area, Sir. I doubt
that she was attacked.”
“Good. That's one less
thing to
worry about. Any surviving life forms?”
Kendric's fingers moved over her
board. “I'm reading about 800 lifeforms aboard. Here are
their
locations.” Little blips superimposed themselves over the
Sovereign on the viewscreen.”
“What is the atmosphere
like in
there?”
“One moment.” More
long minutes
passed with more humming. “In the areas of lifeform clusters
along
the perimeter atmosphere is normal. In the rest of the ship...
oxygen levels are low but survivable. Carbon dioxide levels
lethal... except for the area of this lifeform cluster.” The
one
interior cluster blinked briefly. “CO2
levels are
elevated but survivable in that area.”
“That's where we'll
start.” Harry
turned to the comm station. “Any answer yet?”
F'dar was smiling. “Sir!
I've
located Mr. Deguerre's comm badge! It's in that interior
area.”
Harry smiled. “First good
news
we've had this morning. Let's see if his comm badge is attached to a
living person.” He keyed his own comm badge.
“Roberts to
Deguerre. Do you read me?”
Harry held his breath. His reward
came a moment later with Quinn's distinctive voice. “This is
Quinn. I'm glad you were able to make it back.”
“What's the situation
there, Quinn?”
“I've got 58 passengers
trapped in
the main dining room. We have several wounded. We're all out of
breath, but we're still among the living. I don't know about anyone
else.”
“Stand by, Quinn. We're
going to
evacuate your area first. Get everyone around you in a tight group.
We'll lock on to your comm badge and do a mass transport with the
cargo transporter.”
“Acknowledged. I'll signal
when
we're ready.”
“Agreed.” Harry
turned to the
comm station. “Notify the cargo transporter crew to be ready
to
beam over 58 persons on my signal, and tell Doc to get down there
with some of his staff.”
“Aye, Sir.”
----
A few minutes later came the signal
Harry was waiting for. “Mitchell Paige, this is Quinn. We are
ready to beam over.”
Harry was waiting in the cargo
room. He nodded to the transporter
chief. “Energize.” The transporter
pad sparkled and then resolved into a group of people clutching each
other. Once materialization was complete, the group began to break
apart. Several people were gently handed over to Doc and the medical
team who whisked them off to sick bay. A few people just sat on the
transporter pad and cried while others offered comfort.
Harry spotted Quinn's head moving
through the crowd. Quinn was ushering people off the pad with a
smile here and a touch on the shoulder there. One man stopped and
grasped Quinn's hand like a lifeline. “Steward Quinn! I
don't
know how to thank you.” He glanced at his departing fellow
passengers. “My wife and I will never forget what you've
done.”
Quinn smiled warmly. “You
are most
welcome, but most of the work was done by you and the other
passengers.”
“Yes, but you showed us the
way. Thank you.” The
man put his arm around the woman next to him and
guided her out into the corridor.
Harry looked Quinn up and down
critically. “Steward Quinn?”
“It's a very long story,
Harry. I'll tell you about it
later.”
----
Several hours later, all 994 Sovereign
survivors were safely on board the Paige, and the ship was bound for
Starbase 230 at top speed. Harry turned the bridge over to Regina
and made his way to Quinn's quarters. His knock on the door got a
quick response. “Come in.” Quinn was sitting on the
bed and
slipping on a shoe. He looked up at his guest. “Ah, Harry.
I'll
be with you in a moment.”
Harry made himself comfortable in
a
chair. “No rush. You look a lot better than the last time I
saw
you.”
Quinn smiled in answer. “A
shower,
a bit of rest, a fresh set of clothes, and some fresh air go a long
way in improving anyone's appearance.” He slipped on his
second
shoe. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“You can tell me what
happened and
why people were addressing you as steward Quinn.”
“Very well. Elena will be
far more
informative on what happened to cause the emergency, but from my
perspective...” Quinn slipped into storytelling mode, and
Harry
found himself caught up in the moment. Harry would reflect later
that the man was a superb narrator. The tale was told in a
matter-of-fact manner that managed to keep Harry riveted for the
better part of an hour. Quinn finally shrugged. “I didn't
save
those people in the dining room, Harry. They saved themselves. All
I did was give them a bit of direction and encouragement.”
“You did exactly what
needed to be
done, Quinn. Given the circumstances, I don't think I or my crew
could have done any better.”
“That's high praise, Harry,
but
don't forget to give equal credit to my most excellent
advisor.”
“Advisor?”
“Yes, my advisor. Do you
remember
the evening we discussed what it was like to do our respective
jobs?”
“I do.”
“So did I. It was your
advice to
stay confident and keep everyone busy I was following. What can I
say... it worked.”
Harry stretched in his seat.
“Then
we both learned something that evening.”
“Indeed?”
“You told me what it was
like to be
an actor. I never figured on having to use the information on a
rescue mission.”
“So tell me your story,
Harry. What
happened with the science station?”
“Fair enough.” Harry
proceeded to
relate an account of the Paige's evacuation mission while Quinn
listened raptly. “...and that's when we located your comm
badge. You know the rest.” Harry glanced sidelong at Quinn.
“Doctor
Grady wants me to visit her sometime when I have time to go over the
data we collected. I'll have to politely decline the invitation. I'd be
lost in the first five minutes with her.”
Quinn applauded. “Bravo! My
compliments to you. It's a difficult task to convincingly play an
expert to an expert. Well done, Sir!”
----
A week later, the entire bridge
crew
of the U.S.S. Mitchell Paige was being fussed at by Commander Batak
for the final time. “Remember, we want this to look as
genuine as
possible. Just do your jobs, but try to do them as artistically as
possible.” He turned to Quinn who was standing behind the
center
seat. “Action!”
Quinn smiled at the recorder.
“We've
shown you just a glimpse into the world of Starfleet. I hope that
you have learned as much as I have.”
Batak then signaled silently to
Harry as the recorder shifted its focus to the center seat.
“Starfleet is a job like no
other. When you serve in Starfleet,
you will find new challenges around every corner, and you will be
tested to your limits. It's a demanding and sometimes dangerous
life, but you will find rewards... personal rewards... that you can
find nowhere else. If this is the kind of life you think you would
like, contact your local Starfleet recruiting office to discuss
it.”
Batak shouted, “Cut!
Excellent
work, everyone. Thank you for your efforts.” He nodded to
Harry
and Quinn. “Captain. Mr. Deguerre. Thank you. I'll get the
recording to the editors right away.” He gathered up his
production crew and bustled from the bridge. Harry gave a great sigh
of relief. “Finally! Now I can have my bridge back.”
Quinn proffered his hand.
“I must
take my leave as well, Harry. I have a new assignment in a few days.
Thank you for the adventure.”
Harry shook the hand.
“What's the
name of your next movie, Quinn? I may just be able to see it this
time.”
“Starfleet Academy.”
Quinn was
smiling.
“Another episode of Star
Trek?”
"No, Harry. I've decided to earn
the uniform you lent me. I will be attending Starfleet Academy as a
cadet. If I pass, perhaps we will end up serving together somewhere
in the future.”
“I think you'll do well,
Quinn. Good luck to you.”
“And to you,
Captain.” Harry
heard Quinn's voice, fading, as the bridge doors closed behind him.
“Small to greater matters must give way.”
The Actor's Tale -- Susan Stahl, April 2011
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Return to -- Epiphany Trek: The
Stories
The
Above is a work of fiction. All characters are fictional, any
resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright Susan Stahl: April 2011. All rights reserved, re-print only
with permission.
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