Sir? Is that you?!

Posted on Mon Jan 3rd, 2011 @ 8:36pm by Darek Halsey & Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Mantell & Captain Nathan Cowell MD
Edited on on Tue Jan 4th, 2011 @ 4:57pm

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Bridge, USS Arizona
Timeline: Directly following "Welcome to Kanas."

=Bridge, USS Arizona=

Darek's hand fiddled with the grip of his particle magnum, a weapon that he had carried since the early days of his carrier; something that had come to mark him as him to so many people, no matter the alias. Those who knew him could easily identify him, something that wasn't always a good thing. The parting doors of the turbolift snapped him back from his reminiscing; and with one last run of his hand down his uniform jacket he stepped from the turbolift and approached the what appeared to be unoccupied center chair.

But as he closed on the chair it became apparent that the chair wasn't so deserted. With the all too customary vulcan eyebrow raise, he stepped around the trio of chairs to stand in front of them. "Commander Mantell?!" Darek inquired of the small child sitting quite happily in the chair.

Quiet had been the operative word of the day so far. The bridge had long since been deserted by the remaining crew, leaving it empty but for the small child that perched in his seat. Despite the earlier run-in with the ornery grouch-of-a-man Captain, the boy had thrown caution to the wind and sat decidedly defiant in the command deck's central seat. The Miran youth was used to quiet, his Vulcan former crewmates having impressed on him their taciturn mannerisms. A single constant stood removed from Jack's familiarity with working in silence. Far removed from Main Engineering, the primary bridge was devoid of the comforting hum of the warp core that the boy had known for so long.

It felt impossible to sit still amidst the menacing silence. The boy's legs swung idly against the chair, creating a muffled thud each time they hit. His lips vibrated with the sound of a casual tune. His work was soon forgotten, personnel dossiers and duty schedules becoming meaningless as the Miran gaily capitulated to the musical refrain. So absorbed was he that Jack didn't even notice when the turbolift behind him rumbled into place and spread its doors with a soft hiss. It wasn't until the air was punctuated by a dose of verbiage that the boy, his hum faltering in surprise, noticed a visitor on the bridge addressing him.

Taking a moment to recover from his lapse of attention, the Miran studied the officer standing before him. Towering at the edge of Terran height averages, the man was a hulking specimen of grup. The boy had to crane his neck just to make out the man's chin. Attired in a standard duty uniform, the visitor wore a silver undershirt and stripe on his sleeve, indicative of a solitary department: Intelligence. An entire division purportedly devoted to knowledge, Intelligence, in the small boy's opinion, was a corruption of the word. Though his experience with that particular department, what he knew of Intelligence officers was little he could speak kindly of. As a wise colleague of his had once put it, 'The first duty of every Starfleet officer is the truth. As proclaimed guardians of the truth, Intelligence officers, in reality, only seek to control it and use it for their own nefarious purposes.'

The argument rose fresh in the Miran's mind as he began to open his mouth. Considering his former colleague's assessment, the boy chose his words carefully. "Hello, Commander," he chirped, noting the man's collar insignia. The shock present in the Intelligence Commander's voice had not gone unnoticed. Deciding to proceed in a neutral manner, to avoid another confrontation like with Captain Cowell, Jack inclined his head, inquiring, "Can I help you?"

"Yes Sir..." He forced himself to reply, the man, boy; what ever he was that sat in front of him was no more than a mere child; and then it clicked. The Commander was a Miran, the child race. Till that point he was going to have a problem, but seeing as the Commander was quite few years Dareks senior, it was no longer going to be hard to call the man sir. Then finishing his statement, "Just thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself to the XO or the CO on an official basis if he was here."

The centuries-old youth let out the breath he realized he had been holding. The boy grinned in relief, letting the temporary paranoia he had adopted wash over him. "Well, sure!" Jack cried exuberantly. Throwing his legs forward, the Miran hopped out of the chair, letting his momentum carry him within inches of the man's feet. The maneuver had granted the boy a few extra inches of height, but his neck was still forced to angle sharply upward to facilitate their conversation. Jack thrust out his hand in the common introductory measure, "I'm Lieutenant Commander Jack Mantell. And you're Lieutenant Commander, uh-" The images and names on various personnel dockets flashed through the boy's mind, but he could pin none of them on the tall man in front of him. Finally, he asked, "Well, what is your name?"

Grasping the small offered hand, "Darek Dominico Halsey." He replied giving the Miran's hand a gentle but firm shake. "Pleased to meet you Jack, if that is alright?" He looked down, towards the Miran standing toe to toe with him, wondering if he should kneel down to his level as not to be rude or something like that, but this was the first time he'd ever encountered a Miran. But then again that was what Starfleet was good at, firsts.

The small boy nodded in response to Halsey's query, adding verbal reasoning to his accedence, "Sure, that's fine." He glanced around for effect before leaning in, "Though you should probably stick to 'Commander' around the Captain. If you haven't met him yet, you'll see what I mean." The Miran giggled as he added, "He probably has a stick up his butt." He made a face to accentuate the discomfort of that idea. Actually, that might very well be a valid reason for their superior's cantankerous demeanor.

Jack's face brightened as an indomitable idea overcame him. "Hey, you're the Intelligence officer, right? Maybe you could find out why the Captain's such a cranky crab."

"Yes, I've met our Captain, he was nice enough to spring me from the brig..." Darek replied, "And for as why the old man is such a 'cranky crab' I could find out but, that would be a miss use of my powers and skills..." Darek answered, with a chuckle. He would have done it but, he had the itching feeling that their Captain would know or find out, and have something else to grill his arse for. "Plus no need to give him anything else to grill my rear end for."

As if summoned by the slew of trash being thrown upon his name, Captain Cowell stormed out of his ready room to find not one but two of his officers standing on the bridge. 'Perfect,' the Captain mused to himself as he blustered up to them.

"Glad to see you girls taking a shine to each other. If you're entirely done talking shit and shinola, why don't move this to the Conference Room, but not before you," Doc Cowell said, turning toward his First Officer, "Ensure that all of our senior staff or a department representative for those that aren't currently packing one find their way there as well. You all have five minutes, not a millisecond more or I jump in both your asses and start stomping for polyps."

Talking to Admirals always put him in such happy moods, as anyone on the bridge could gather simply by watching his mood change from curmudgeonly to down right hostile.

The Miran was taken aback. Not by the hostility, but by the tone of Cowell's message. It was the first time that the Captain had spoken to Jack with any modicum of seriousness. The hostility interlaced among the seriousness didn't bother the boy all that much. A glimmer of hope rose inside him, brightening his formerly dampened spirits with respect to his new commanding officer. Perhaps Captain T'Prev had been right about the 'capacity for personal improvement' in taking this job.

Slowly he noticed that the captain was expecting a reply. Nodding his head, Jack responded with the tone in which he had been addressed with, minus the seriousness, a simple, "Yes, sir." It was time to get to work, and if Cowell's deadline was real, his time was quickly running out. Tapping his combadge, the boy spoke clearly for the microtransceiver to pick out his voice, "This is the ship's Executive Officer. All Senior Staff, please report to the Conference Room."

Well, it was a start. Bouncing into the XO's chair, Jack began tapping at his console to satisfy Cowell's final requirement.