Down A Man

Posted on Sat Sep 28th, 2024 @ 12:26pm by Captain Tristan Faust & Lieutenant Commander Darrod Hanous
Edited on on Wed Oct 2nd, 2024 @ 12:16am

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Mission 5: The Price of Paradise
Location: Captain's Quarters
Timeline: M5 MD07 (2268.07.30) 2100

There had been little information filtered down to the Engine Room about Ezazzan's leaving the ship, overall. In the time he'd been there, the two greenest members of the crew had come to have a deep respect, and Dar didn't really know how Beta Team would hold up with the loss of their executive officer. Darrod read the farewell from Erahlik, and lifted a bottle from a hidden cabinet.

He walked into the Captain's Quarters, holding a bottle of Tellarite whiskey, and set it down on Tristan's desk. "As soon as we eliminate the Sydicate bastards, Cap'n, will we be going into Gorn space? I want my Ensign back."

The Orion was obviously not sober, but there was respect in him. "I'd bet they're Camboros, sir. They're the real bastards. They play like they're just any old Cartel, but they're really slavers and killers. Not like my brother - he's just an ass who thinks like a Ferengi."

Tristan was taken slightly aback by his blustering visitor but knew better than to argue with an inebriated Orion,"Why don't you have a seat, Commander," Tristan responded calmly, "We will deal with the Orions in due course and as to the Ensign, it was only a temporary assignment anyway and he left the program early due to family commitments. Is Mr. Page not up to snuff running the team by himself?" It was unusual for the Captain of a Constitution to knew every member of the crew but Tristan was good at remembering names and faces. He also took a personal interest in every member of his crew.

Darrod looked at the Captain, his hand waving as he sat down. He was drunk, but like all Engineers, when drunk, his mind went to his ship, rather than anything else. "No, no, I wouldn't trade Page, Solwick, or Lemaire for all the latinum in the Galaxy, sir. Page is running Alpha team excellently, he's damn good at it. Zoya is my Assistant, and she's excellent - when she feels ready, she'll be a starship-type Engineer in her own right. But this ship needs two damage teams, sir, especially as we fight her. Lemaire needs to be on the Bridge, Solwick needs to run either the Engine Room or the Flight Deck, and Page knows every system of every section on the Starboard side of the ship. It's Beta team as needs a leader, sir. We need a man like Ezazzan on the Port Side, who can command a team past a dead body."

"Well I'm not sure who to send your way, especially since we are out of dock," Tristan responded frankly, "Maybe you can convince Mr. Novak to switch professions, kid is built like a tank... Although I like having someone twice my size as a bouncer."

Darrod thought for a moment, picking up the bottle of whisky. He pulled up two shot glasses and poured them both a shot, "If I can manage it, certainly. Maybe Peter can moonlight. Besides, Shinobu would never give a man to me. Dead or alive."

"Well I suppose so," Tristan responded before standing up and walking over to his liquor cabinet, "I may as well join you to make this conversation a little more even." He set the bottle of Liberty Gin down onto the desk and then opened the bottle, "What is it between you two anyway?" He asked

Dar raised an eyebrow. "Between me and Miyake, sir? Gavin Rhodes, Tyler Harwick, Richard Mulaney, Diana Prescott, Iria, and Bahr Th'raalneth. That's what's been between us. The people we lost to the Cartel bastards."

"Well, I happen to know that isn't all of it," Tristan responded before opening the bottle with a sigh. He wasn't sure how much he could say, "She's had a few run ins with members of your race which has left her a tad jaded... Well, more jaded than usual anyway."

Dar gestured at the back of his hand, noting his skin color with a smirk. "I assure you, Captain, she's nowhere near as jaded with the worst members of my species as I am. Frankly speaking, if I could throw every one of those Syndicate bastards out an airlock, I wouldn't hesitate."

The Captain nodded, "You may have a chance at that during this mission, or at least a part of it," he commented, "Our first mission gave some opportunities as well... The Syndicate is no doubt pissed at us for destroying their trading outpost."

Darrod downed the shot, and locked eyes with the Captain. "Don't dare to sugarcoat it, sir, I've read the reports. Euphemism and tolerance is how they keep up their business amid the Federation. Don't give them that wiggle room. It was a slave market. You did a good thing. I promise you, any of those people whom you did not manage to save... their dying breath was spent thanking you for their freedom." The man's expression was grim, and it was obvious that he'd felt that sting before, and was absolutely determined that it was a fate worse than death.

The Engineer in him spoke up more than the Orion. He was proud of this ship, proud of his team and his engines. In many ways, they were peas in a pod. Tristan, being Captain, valued the ship's crew and her mission. Darrod's joys as Engineer were found in the nuts and bolts, the ship herself as more than just a means to an end. His focus was on his team, and keeping the ship at the best condition possible. "I still just don't know how the hell we're going to handle the Port side damage team without Ezazzan. The men respected him, and so did I. I absolutely need Page on Starboard, Solwick on mains, and Lemare on the Bridge. And I need to be on the hop - Shinobu and I can undo the bastard's tricks, and hopefully, we'll save lives."

The Captain nodded, "That's the service unfortunately, people come and go," he said, "Unfortunately there wasn't anyone hanging around Starbase 10 this time that was qualified as a replacement. Sometimes we get lucky, but not today..." He chuckled, "I would give you a hand but I'm afraid most of my experience is with ancient internal combustion engines and other 20th century gizmos."

Darrod chuckled at the Captain's mentions of his experience. "Ah, as long as you have the knack, the rest is semantics. That's why this staff of Engineers is so great, Cap'n. Every one of us has it, and it's what makes this ship one of the finest in Starfleet. And it's why it hurts to lose a good man. I just hope that Erahlik gets a chance to use his skills for the Gorn. When he earns his engine room, that'll be the finest ship in the Hegemony fleet. Admittedly that isn't saying nearly so much - their ships are crates; even their best battleships maneuver like a freighter and rely on heavy armor and shields. But he'll do his best."

The Captain nodded, "Hopefully we avoid a conflict," he commented, "They may be crates but they pack a punch. Although I long for an open fight, not this car and mouse nonsense." He sighed, "I don't know what their game is... Xenoderm is practically worthless except to treat blood worms and it can be synthesized so there really isn't a market for it. I suppose the cargo tug and the escort are worth a few derseks but why not just jettison the cargo and lighten the load?"

Darrod shook his head decisively. "No, Regula's too useful as a base. Nobody goes there because of the bloodworms and the rest of the wildlife. It's a great base if you want to do things with no one around. Plus, Xenoderm can be used to pass other drugs 'harmlessly' into the bloodstream once it's slapped on. It's like an old chemical called DMSO."

"All I can say is I hope we can get a lead on that shipment quickly," Tristan responded before finishing his drink, "New Paradise is losing thousands every day... And it's not an easy way to go... It invests you and uses you as a host to hatch its offspring while at the same time your core temperature heats up until not long after... Giving birth to its offspring your blood boils... At least you can still be saved at that point but you don't have long."

Dar nodded sadly and looked into his drink. "I'm all too aware, Captain. I never got them myself, but one of my friends lost an arm to them, because it just wasn't profitable to heal him. It was easier to just jam a chunk of metal into him and call it a bionic arm. Then they could control his painkillers, so that he had to do whatever he was told" Darrod shook his head bitterly at the memory. "Might have been better for him to die."

"This whole mission feels like we're flying into a trap," Tristan concluded, "What other motivation could there be other than to kill off the population of a Federation colony... I'm starting to wonder if your paranoia is rubbing off on me." He chuckled.

Darrod nodded slightly as he took another mouthful. "Feels like it, yes. The motive is simple, to me: greed. It's either a scam to sell the medicine to the population, or to enslave them, keep everyone just healthy enough to work, and for anyone who resists... they let the bloodworms work. It's cold and heartless, but it's how they think. Maybe I am rubbing off on you - or maybe you've just seen enough of the Pirates to know what's what."

The Captain nodded, "A bit of both I'm sure," he responded, "Although starting my career in the middle of the Four Years War made an impression..." He shook his head, "All this cloak and dagger nonsense... Never had that back then," he added.

Dar shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Sure, but the Klingons usually believe in stand-up fights; unless it's the Crimson Shadow. I heard old Korgath got himself a 'discommendation' - whatever that means. That's not how the Syndicate works. The only half-decent ones are the Compact, but they're still brutal pirate bastards. Facing any part of the Syndicate, you have to be meaner, faster, and more ruthless."

"And always be prepared to be stabbed in the back," the Captain commented, "I wonder if some of this is revenge from our last run in... I'm assuming the Syndicate never forgets..."

Darrod nodded, awkwardly tugging at his sleeve and collar to hide the marks that bound him to his past and the pain he'd suffered. "Not easily, no. So you just have to take everyone who does remember down. Then, it's like it never happened."

The Orion glanced up at the clock and picked up the bottle of whiskey with a shake of his head. He was drunk, sure - but he was an Engineer first, and that meant even at his worst, his attention was on the ship - and they could be certain that if he certified that a system was working when he was drunk, it would be working just as well when he sobered up. "Crud. I need to go check the pressure on the port nacelle intake. It was feathering earlier. Feel like coming along for the ride, Captain?"

"Oh what the hell," Tristan responded as he stood up. He set his glass back down onto the walnut veneered table, "Tonight has been... Interesting so far."

 

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