Curmudgeon Shuffling

Posted on Mon Dec 27th, 2010 @ 7:30pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Various
Timeline: -1 Month up to Current

=Bridge, USS Monitor, One Month Prior=

Captain Nathan Cowell sat in his center chair, watching with a sense of detachment the crew around him as they worked. He'd known the majority of them for nearly four years, long enough to call them friends, though some of them he could hardly say that about without a sneer or a slight against them. He was honestly getting tired of them, in so much that they had nothing new to share, and many of them would likely stagnate if he or they stayed there much longer.

"Captain," the voice of his First Officer, Commander Lisa Wilson, broke his train of thought, "We have a message from Starfleet Command incoming for you. They say it's rather urgent that you take it."

"What in the Sam Hell could be so urgent? We just left dock yesterday..."

"I'm not sure, all they sent ahead of the message was that it was urgent and it required your immediate attention," Lisa replied.

"Fine..." Doc Cowell grumbled, "Put that garbage through to my console in the office. If they won't tell you why they want me, they pro'ly don't want you hearing it on the main viewer..."

"As you wish," Cmdr. Wilson tried not to giggle at his usage of archaic phrasing.

The Captain shot her a dirty look, knowing full well she was about to laugh. It didn't do anything to stifle the giggles that were threatening to spill out; rather it made it harder for her to contain them. Doc Cowell didn't wait to see whether she would hold it in or not as he trudged grumpily into his Ready Room. The room that he entered was filled with artifacts from old Earth wars, most notably a Civil War era pistol and saber, the blade of which had the moniker 'Major Nathan 'Doc' Cowell' engraved upon it in gold filigree. It was just one of many treasures he'd collected over the years.

Sitting down at his desk, Captain Cowell activated the communication protocols and the image of a Rear Admiral flashed onto the screen.

"Captain, it's been a while," Rear Admiral Jason Marsdon said with a smirk.

"Yeah, about ten minutes... what do you want, kid?" Doc snapped back with a scowl.

The Admiral laughed his ire off; he'd been the man's First Officer back on the Nobel, and even then the two of them had enjoyed a very tenuous but cordial relationship. While Nathan had passed up the chance for Flag Officer status, Marsdon had leaped head first into it, the grey on his head telling Cowell just how unlike what he'd expected life as an Admiral to be.

"Well, Doc, we've recently finished repairs on a boat that, while not a medical frigate like you're used to, should serve to give you some unique opportunities to curmudgeon your way around your new area of operation. You're being transferred to the Neutral Zone area, serving under Commodore Valentine. You'll need to report to the Neutral Zone area as soon as you pick the Arizona up," the Admiral explained.

"Arizona... that was a nice area back in the day... Gone to hell now, but it wasn't bad when I rode through it," Cowell said in a reminiscent manner before addressing an issue the Admiral had failed to, "What about a crew? Don't tell me they aren't going to be in until Tuesday... Never bodes well for anyone..."

Jason didn't miss the obvious reference to the Enterprise-B, which he had heard the story of countless times by a less than sober Doc during his time with the man. Unfortunately, the situation was indeed much the same. This was not going to be a fun conversation...

"I'm afraid it is looking like a Tuesday for the bulk of your crew..." the Admiral said reluctantly.

"That's just horse shit, Jason... You're an Admiral... make some calls and get me some asses to fill some seats!" Doc Cowell growled.

"I've done everything I could... I got you a good portion of the crew, and at least no department is vacant. You just need Senior Officers, and the requests for your crew have already been made. You're just going to beat everyone else to the ship. I'm not sticking you with the same mess Harriman was stuck with when he first set out," Adm. Marsdon assured him.

"I wouldn't trust him with shoveling horse nuggets in a Union Army stable... I can't believe people trusted him with a Flagship..." Cowell grumbled.

"Be that as it may," Jason said, trying hard not to laugh, "If anything happens, we have confidence you'll handle things. Just make your way to Utopia Planetia to pick up the Arizona and drop off the Monitor to her new Captain."

"Yeah..." the old man waved the Admiral off, "I'll take care of it. You just go back to looking older than I really am..."

Doc Cowell terminated the transmission before his former First Officer could say anything in response. With an inward moan of annoyance, Captain Cowell rose from his chair and headed back out the door of his Ready Room where his First Officer was waiting.

"Well?" she asked.

"Start planning the party, I'm being transferred," Cowell said in a huff as he sank back into his chair.

"Before or after you leave?" she asked with a smirk.

"After..."

=Bridge, USS Arizona, Present Day=

Captain Cowell had to get used to the new chair, it felt new along with everything else on the ship. The fact that no other ass had been in his chair was, however, comforting. What wasn't comforting was the lack of senior staff on his bridge. In fact, the only two officers with him were the Helmsman and the Operations Officer; both of them were manning the forward station silently, still not sure how to deal with the grumpy curmudgeon of a Commanding Officer that they had been graced with.

The hum and vibration of the ship changed ever so slightly as the ship dropped out of warp and slid through the vacuum of space as it approached Deep Space 6. The massive Stardock Class station loomed before the Arizona, and although it was impressive to behold, the scale of it had long since lost its luster in the eyes of the El-Aurian Captain.

"Less staring, more steering," the man barked at his Helmsman, whose name he hadn't bothered to learn just yet.

"Aye sir..." the man replied hesitantly.

For an Ensign, he was extremely skittish, or at least that's how Doc Cowell perceived him. Anything the man had said elicited some manner of stutter or hesitation. The Captain understood respecting someone's rank and all, but fearing someone just because they had a nice long row of pips on their collar made about as much sense as a football bat.

Nathan pushed himself out of his chair and headed for his Ready Room, a chamber he had only recently put under heel with his decorative tastes. "Ensign, I'm going to be in my office. Might take a nap or something... come get me if something happens and you feel the urge to piss yourself rather than deal with it yourself."

The helmsman gave the Captain a confused look, which went unseen by Nathan as he disappeared into his office. That nap seemed rather appealing all of a sudden...

=OFF=

Alright people; come one, come all, for the Arizona is in port and she needs some bodies to warm her in this cold abyss we call space!