Feelings of Unease

Posted on Wed Jan 5th, 2011 @ 11:11am by Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Mantell & Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: Immediately Following "Brief Briefing for those to be briefed."

Waiting had never been one of Jack's strong suits. He could usually endure a longer-termed plan, irregularly adhering to the plan's mini-deadlines along the way, and had an uncanny tenacity for weathering an onerous storm of life. Yet the Miran boy found it difficult, if not impossible, to grasp the skills needed to sit still for the single minute it would take his Commanding Officer to enter the Ready Room in which the boy now stood.

The boy paced anxiously from the foot of the couch to the edge of the room's desk, curious as to why he had been instructed to meet the Captain here. Did he go over his time in selecting proper department representatives? Had he not performed properly in his job so far? Perhaps Cowell was informing him that he was to be booted off the ship now, before they got underway. Could his tenure as XO be over so quickly?

Still, Jack felt a morsel of hope in his system. Before the meeting, Cowell had addressed him, for the first time, with display of seriousness. And just now, the boy had been called by his first name. Jack wasn't even aware that he was on a first-name basis with the Captain. Actually, he didn't even know Cowell's first name. It had his imagination running wild concocting scenarios of what might transpire in the next few minutes. For a Starfleet Lieutenant Commander, Jack had a very creative imagination.

Captain Cowell walked in and immediately took note of the boy who he had asked to meet him pacing around the room. It was one thing for him to look like a child, but it was entirely a different and worse thing to have him acting like one even if it was behind closed doors.

"Sit your fidgeting ass down," Nathan barked as he walked fully into the room, "You make me nervous with all that nonsense."

Doc Cowell didn't wait for him to do so, rounding the corner of his desk the elder man sank down and watched for Jack to do the same.

With an immediate task to perform, the boy settled down, slipping into the chair positioned in front of Cowell's desk. A heady sensation rose in his throat, as if his stomach had stayed in place while he sat down. Consciously nervous, Jack folded his hands in his lap and looked up at the captain, trying to apply the mannerisms of his former crew mates who would have approached this situation with such emotionless calm. "Yes, sir? What's this about?"

"Does any of this shit seem wrong to you?" Cowell asked bluntly, referring to their pending mission.

The boy visibly relaxed. So Cowell wasn't trying to have him thrown off the ship, or criticized for his timely performance in assembling the departmental staff. It was as if he could feel his own heartbeat stabilizing. Next to his discord with the captain, the mission conflict seemed pallid in comparison.

Jack gave the question some thought. He had spent much of the mission briefing focusing on the specs of the transport North Star and the data surrounding it, but he got the gist of the problem. So what did seem out of place? As his mind perused the subject, the boy began to talk, drawing up his answer on the fly. "The North Star's frame is rated for warp 7, isn't it?"

Not waiting for a response with the answer he knew already, the Miran continued, "So why was it flying at such a low warp right on the Neutral Zone. Listening Post 14 notes the North Star in her vantage for two whole days. That's either something like warp 4 or one hell of a layover."

"And what's with these supplies? I'm no doctor, but can't you replicate basic medical stuff? It's like this transport just wanted to get caught. Maybe they're secretly delivering supplies to the Romulans instead," Jack speculated. In a wilder spin of imagination, the boy grinned as he added, in a mock-sinister tone, "Or maybe there's some version of the Maquis out here on the R-N-Z that the Federation doesn't want you to know about."

"All good guesses when you look at it from that angle. Here's what worries me though," Cowell said in an even and measured tone, "The transport had no bulk replicator matter at all. The supplies they list are just a cover. I've run my fair share of medicines into areas before and I know a faked list when I see it. The Admiral was kind enough to give me the manifest directly from the Quartermaster's office on the station it came out of. The thing was fake when the Ferengi took it. His fee was meant to keep him quiet and his nose out of a container. I'm betting he never even knew what he had, which makes this all the more puzzling that Starfleet is trying to keep the contents secret from even us. As a doctor, there are only a few things that I know of that would make sense for them to be carrying at this price, in this quantity, with this kind of secrecy. They're either carrying bio-mimetic gels, which is pretty much against every law we have to give that shit to random traders for transport. The second is experimental drugs, which don't tolerate being replicated. Hell, I can name half a dozen medicines we have on the ship right now that can't be replicated, and one or two that can't even be transported. If they were packing this kind of shit, we're in for a world of problems, logistically and chronologically. I'd hate to think this stuff has an expiration date and lives are going to be lost because we have to play detective..."

Jack shook his head, "Well, I'm no Doctor, I'm an Engine-" His statement was cut short by the sudden realization of reality. He coughed out a single chuckle at his own expense. "Well, I guess I'm not an Engineer either, anymore. What I mean is, I don't have a clue about what medicines can be replicated or not. If the list is a fake, I'll take your word for it." Not that the boy had much choice in the matter. It'd be a warm day on Andoria before he willingly ventured into a sickbay for a second opinion.

"Maybe we'll get more answers when we get to the colony. There are only a few kinds of equipment that can process bio-mimetic gels that I know of," the boy stated matter-of-factly. "If that's what it is, we'll probably know it from orbit."

"We need to see to the ship first..." Cowell said pointedly, "If that ship is still out there, we might be on the hunt for the thieves before we even get near that colony. Which brings me to my next item of business... You were once a pilot, were you not?"

Jack nodded quickly, though the distinction was not one he would have made for himself. For a time, it had been a job, though not a passion like Engineering was. So is that was this is now? A job? the small boy wondered to himself. He remained quiet, however, to let Cowell carry on.

"Good, if things get too rough for Mister Akron to handle, I'm going to need you to jump in. Baring us getting a Chief Helmsman with some experience, he's about all we have to work with, and he's about as green as the grass back home... You may not be an engineer or a pilot now, but if things get rough, I want someone who has some time behind him flying the ship. No point in leaving it to the new guy when lives might be lost. We're already riding on the coat tails of the old Enterprise-B with all of our Tuesday arrivals that probably won't get here any time soon..." Cowell lamented, making the obvious referral to the first 'mission' of the aforementioned vessel.

"Sure," the boy nodded, more eagerly this time. Even if he couldn't tinker in the Arizona's Engine Room, it would at least be exciting to fly the ship. It was at least a good deal newer than the Gettysburg had been, and would probably be easier to handle.

"Good... now go make sure everything is squared away before we leave. If anyone else manages to get aboard before we leave, send them my way..." Nathan said dismissively.

"Y'okay," the boy burbled, hopping out of the chair at the same time. Without waiting for a formal dismissal, Jack headed out of the Captain's office. With a smile on his face as he exited the Ready Room, the Miran was certainly happier leaving than he was coming in. Maybe Cowell was starting to warm up to him, or maybe he had just worried too much. If anyone on the bridge was watching closely, they just might notice a skip in Jack's step before he disappeared into a turbolift.