Old Friends, New Favors

Posted on Tue Aug 16th, 2022 @ 7:31pm by Captain Tristan Faust & Lieutenant Commander Marc Kitchner M.D.
Edited on on Sat Dec 7th, 2024 @ 10:59am

1,375 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Mission 1: A Fool’s Errand
Location: Earth: San Francisco, Hook Fish Resturant
Timeline: M1 MD01 (2268.15.05) 1800

The roar of the antique 1966 Pontiac GTO sped through the streets of San Francisco making quite a statement compared to the sea of executive hover cars. Captain Tristan Faust sat behind the massive wheel of the ancient beast. Restoring this three thousand pound piece of American steel had been a side project of his for the past few years. With his time on Earth overseeing the construction of the Midway had finally given him the opportunity to finish it. Unfortunately he would have to put the ancient automobile into storage once again.

The Captain pulled up in front of a shocked valet by the parking structure in the Outer Sunset area of the city. He rolled down the window, took one look at the kid and said, “I’ll park this one thanks,” he said, before roaring up the entrance ramp.

The Hook Fish was a local casual seafood place, which had been around off and on for a few centuries. Tristan always enjoyed coming here, mainly because the prices aligned perfectly with the per diem of a Starfleet Captain, no doubt by design. He was meeting an old family friend for dinner. Hopefully this dinner would yield more than good crab. He fixed the cuffs of his medium grey glen check sport jacket as he walked in through the doors. Most likely the good doctor would already be waiting for him, from past experience.

Marc Kitchener had known the Faust family since before Tristan was born. Tristan's father had attended the same medical school, and they had spent many years in residency together. When Marc received the invitation to dinner he didn't think much of it, he was the kid’s Godfather after all. "Excuse me miss, can I get another beer please?" The pretty little redhead smiled as she picked up his empty glass.

The young Captain approached the table where Marc was sitting, avoiding the waitress, “Good evening Uncle Marc,” Tristan said with a smile as he sat down across from the elder gentleman. “I hope this wasn’t too much of an inconvenience… With you running the surgery department at Walter Reed and all…”

"Thank you." Marc said to the waitress as she put a fresh beer on the table. The young lady smiled and nodded towards Faust. "A gin and tonic for the young man, if you would. Thanks again." Kitchener couldn't help but look at the young woman walking away. "Oh to be your age again Tris." Marc smiled as he took a nip from his glass. "Honestly son, I was in town anyway when I got your invitation. Chis Budzinski, he's the Chief of Medicine at the San Diego Medical Center. Chris asked me to consult on a rather interesting project of his. He's working on a modification to the …. " Kitchener could see the boy's eyes glaze over. "I'll save you the boring details. Anyway I was more than happy to see your invitation. Dinner with you sure beats eating in a transport center coffee shop waiting for a shuttle."

The waitress put down Tristan's drink and two menus. "Take your time gentlemen."

"Or the accompanying egg salad sandwich," Tristan responded with a smirk as he picked up his glass, "Eat up, tonight's on the Captain's expense account… Won't have much time to use the rest of it, with the Midway setting off soon."

Marc chuckled as he pulled his reading glasses out of a shirt pocket and looked over the menu. "You know me too well, the smell of egg salad makes me gag." Just the thought of it made him shiver. A few minutes passed and the waitress returned to the table. "I'll have a bowl of the seafood chowder, and the fish and chips, can I have potato chips instead of fries…"

"Sure thing…" The waitress said, jotting down the order. "And for your friend …"

"Clam Chowder and the King Crab," Tristan responded, "As I said, expense account to use. Even then this will be the last time for fresh seafood in a while."

"I'll be right back guys." The waitress said.

"So the last time I saw your parents, your ma said something about you being given a command. And a Constitution class no less." Marc said as he shifted his weight in the chair.

"I've actually been overseeing the project for six months, the U.S.S. Midway, NCC-1743," Tristan responded, tapping slightly on his glass, "She's a heck of a ship, if I must say… Most advanced systems, labs, computer systems, everything… Rivals a starbase. I suppose it helps having a Commodore for a Dad, but I hope that wasn't the only reason for this assignment."

Marc could see the light in Tristan's eyes as he spoke. It was something he'd wanted since he was in grammar school. "How's your senior staff coming together? If you don't mind my asking."

"Well," Tristan responded with a sigh, "There was an underhanded motive to dinner. We are set to launch and we have most of the key positions except a ship's surgeon. There just aren't available and you know as well as I do we can't leave the dock without one. I'm in a bind, do you know of anyone looking for a deep space assignment?"

"Why do I feel like I just gave somebody a fatal diagnosis?" Marc said just as their food arrived. "Thank you." Marc opened a bottle of vinegar just as he was about to douse his fish. "Please tell me I'm not your last ditch choice, and it just happens that you remembered that I have a reserve officer's commission?" He said as Tristan was breaking up a cracker into his chowder.

"Well, I was mainly coming for recommendations, but if you're volunteering to sign up, I'm not going to turn you down," Tristan responded before picking up his spoon.

Marc didn’t say anything for a few minutes as he worked on his fish. “When do you hoist your anchor?” He popped a chip into his mouth.

“As soon as I can find a Ship’s Surgeon,” Tristan responded before picking up his spoon and dumping it into the porcelain bowl, “This is only a shakedown cruise.”

“Let me think about this for a minute. How’s the rest of the crew? Short handed or skeleton?” Marc added a bit of vinegar to his soup. “That’s better.” He said after taking a spoonful.

“Short handed, only one department head, science officer doubling as executive officer.” Tristan said, reaching for the pepper. “You’ll have a mostly full staff and state of the art equipment, experimental even… Equipment you won’t find outside of Starfleet Medical’s labs.”

Marc took a swallow from his beer, and said with a shallow smile. “You’re just like your old man, you know that.” Tristan’s father George was his best friend in this world. “Do you think you can buy me a few days? Long enough to settle some things here. I need somebody to look after the place at least.”

“Of course, whatever you need… Be relieved to have you,” Tristan responded with a grin, “We need some experience aboard ship. You know I have none.” He chuckled and held up his glass.

“Eh great.” Marc said, raising his glass, and knocked it into his nephews. They continued eating and chatting about everything Tristan could tell him in a place like this. Another couple of hours rolled past when Marc’s watch beeped. “I need to get going, kid. I just have enough time to get to the transport center and catch the last shuttle home. I’ll contact you tomorrow to give you a better idea of when I can be aboard. Okay?

“Works for me,” Tristan responded, downing the rest of his last gin Martini, “Thanks for signing on… I owe you one more.”

Marc just grinned as he got up and grabbed his sweater from a pole next to the table. "Night kid." And just that quick he was headed for the door.

Tristan sat there thinking to himself wondering why this seemed too easy.

--
Captain Tristain Faust - Commanding Officer

Lt. Commander Marc Kitchner, M.D. - Second Officer, Chief Medical Officer

 

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