Harrassing the Masses

Posted on Wed Dec 29th, 2010 @ 10:41am by Captain Nathan Cowell MD
Edited on on Wed Dec 29th, 2010 @ 10:59am

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Various
Timeline: Just after 'Different Day, Same Shit'

=Docking Gangway leading to the USS Arizona=

Captain Nathan Cowell shook his head, muttering to himself incoherently about his meeting with the Intelligence Officer he'd just sprung from the brig. While he didn't mind so much tossing around Marsdon's name without the man's knowledge, he wondered to himself if the man he had been given was a bargain at the price. He also wondered just how long it would be before he was visiting the brig once again to fetch him.

Those thoughts pervaded his mind as he grumbled and stormed through the docking gangway and then through the ship's corridors. Thanks to the Arizona's relatively small size, his crew was composed mainly of enlisted individuals. This was not at all a bad thing, Nathan himself had been enlisted back in World War II, which gave him a unique sympathy for his 'working class stiffs'. His crew, however, didn't have the advantage of knowing that when they saw him ambling through the corridors with the dark cloud of deep thinking surrounding him and souring his already grumpy disposition.

"Why don't you just retire?" had been the words of his last First Officer, who he had left behind with the Monitor only a week or so ago. Lisa had been an excellent First Officer; she was punctual, attentive, intuitive, and above all she knew exactly how to take him when he was in a 'mood'.

"I tried that once, they didn't let me get any damn peace and quiet in the three short years I was gone!" he had retorted that last day before his transfer to the Arizona. His comment had not been a false one. Not a week went by before some Admiral or Captain or former First Officer came calling on his comm panel wanting to pick his brain or some other nonsensical garbage. His retirement was more hellish than his career had been, which was the biggest motivator for him to return to service when he was asked to during the Dominion War.

As Doc Cowell relived his last conversation with his former First Officer, he wondered idly who he would be stuck with having to train this time. He'd run the gambit, as far as he knew. From wet behind the ears humans to no nonsense Andorians and Vulcans. He'd even had a Klingon exchange officer once. That man knew how to take shit! A belly laugh and a salute were the order of the day when Cowell was in a pissy mood. None of this 'You're so mean!' or 'I'm going to file a complaint with headquarters' crap.

"I wonder what ever happened to him..." the Captain muttered aloud as he stepped into the turbolift.

"Who sir?" one of the crewmen in the lift asked, with the obvious intention of trying to be helpful.

"A Klingon I once knew. Probably died gloriously in battle by now, that stupid bastard... Doubt you know him, before your time, kid," Doc Cowell remarked, barely looking in the man's direction.

"I apologize, sir. I thought you meant someone aboard," the crewman said softly.

"Don't apologize, it's my fault for talking out loud," the man retorted, waving the notion that the crewman had been in error away. The entire occupancy within the lift stood quietly as it carried them to their various destinations. By the time the lift reached the Bridge, it was just Nathan, alone with his thoughts. When the lift stopped, it deposited him onto the bridge, where he found it just as empty as it had been before he left. The only exception to the vacancy was the figure of a man who looked much the same as a leech ready to latch on to his ass and commence to sucking up a storm.

Before the man even opened his mouth, Nathan raised a hand to silence any incoming introductions, "Let me guess, you're my new Yeoman."

"Indeed you are correct, sir. I am Yeoman Second Class Todd Sweeney, always and forever at your service," the man said with the most pathetically choreographed bow he'd ever seen... and Nathan had watched old 1930's 'B' movies...

"Oh dear lord..." Doc Cowell proclaimed his frustrations aloud, "Could you be a more obvious kiss ass?"

"I don't have any idea what you mean, Captain. I simply aim to please in any and all aspects of my job. I will be at your beck and call twenty four hours a day to attend to anything from the most pressing matters to the most menial. Name it and it shall be taken care of swiftly and with precision," the Yeoman boasted.

Nathan rolled his eyes, "I'm sure you will..."

His sarcasm was lost on its target, who simply beamed at having been acknowledged for his prowess. 'This is going to suck balls through a straw...' Nathan internally bemoaned. the Captain sank into his center chair and gave the matter some thought before formulating a plan. He would be less of a pest, even temporarily, if he were sent on some brainless, pathetic quest for items that could just as easily be replicated.

"Alright, Mister Sweeney, since you profess to be so agile in your resourcefulness, how about you fetch me some authentic Southern style Sweet Tea. None of that replicator shit. I want fresh tea, from the Southern part of the States on Earth with real cane sugar and freshly frozen ice cubes, also not replicated. Can you handle that?" Nathan bid.

"At once, Captain! I shall leave no ship's store unturned for the proper ingredients. Don't go away, I shall return post haste!" the Yeoman declared before rushing off in true toady-like fashion.

The helmsman, whose name Nathan had finally gotten around to learning was Meridith Akron, turned around with a grin to regard his Captain.

"That was no small order you gave him, Captain. Do you think you were a little hard on him? He was only trying to make a good impression," the man had the nerve to say.

"How about you take your ass on down to the Quartermaster and fetch me a hundred feet of flight line," Nathan scowled.

"Sir?" Akron asked meekly.

"You heard me; flight line, one hundred feet long," the Captain repeated impatiently.

The look of abject confusion settled on his face as his brain tried to reconcile the order he'd been given. Nathan knew that look well and didn't give him time to figure out that it was nothing more than a wild goose chase.

"Get that ass in gear, I don't have all day. I have some old gear in my office that got damaged by that piss poor docking of yours and I need to stitch it up. Flight line's all that can be used to do the repairs. And so help me if I can't salvage it, I'll be taking it out of your ass for the next century!" Captain Cowell bellowed.

"Aye sir!" the man said, jumping out of his seat in a fright.

Once he was gone, the Captain's eyes settled on the Ops Officer who's name he still didn't know and asked, "Any objections to that little quest?"

"All due respect, Captain, I think that was about the funniest thing I've seen in my entire career..." the woman said, trying hard to keep from completely losing it.

Nathan sank back in his chair, a contented look washing over his features, "Glad someone around here has a sense of humor..."

The Junior Grade Lieutenant lost it and sank to the floor in tears laughing.