Harold Stirling continued to fume in futility for several long moments after his officers had departed his office for the recreation center. He hoped they hadn't seen him blush with the stupidity of giving them a "mission of the utmost importance" that only involved visiting an area of the ship which had live concierge service and wait staff and involved talking a computer into working.
"You'll have the ship you need, Harry. It won't be the ship you expect, but it'll be the right ship for the job."
Stirling wanted to beat those words back into The Emperor's lying mouth with a plastic "Commander Keen" lunch box, and strangle him to death with a Christmas Angel Exemplar necktie.
The list of tasks he had to complete today was stupendous, as it always was. There was still damage from the launch and subsequent catastrophes, and then this "pressing" invitation from somewhere on his ship called "Cougar Hill". As captain, he felt it was prerogative to ignore such invitations as spam. However, he DID absolutely need to be cleared for duty, to set a good example for the other officers.
Stirling left his office, saluted his way out of the bridge while catching glimpses of the instruments and the like. On course, most things running smoothly, but without a functional ship's computer a great many stations were operating at double staff to keep up with the calculations, and warp speed maneuver was totally offline. Power usage was at 10 times normal, and this could only be maintained for a certain amount of time before they'd need to stop and let things cool down for a few days. It was, however, a good way to run in the crew and get everyone familiar with how to do this.
Ensign Mukinna was doing a decent job of running the bridge. Good for him, but where in blazes was his first officer. Last known location, medical. Well, since I'm going to be down there...
The ship was alive with activity at all levels. Stirling was joined in the hyper-lift by several filthy engineers, on their way to clean out another clogged ventilation duct.
"Keep up the good work!"
Salutes and cheers were had by all.
He exited the turbolift at the main hangar. May as well get another item checked off on the way.
Lieutenant Commander Faarhi Bri was hard at work for the 16th consecutive hour. Her species' capacity to adapt to harsh circumstances gave her the edge she needed to make hairpin turns at full warp, and to work extremely long hours when needed. Her brash demeanor, on the other hand, wore down her subordinates faster than normal.
As he entered the disaster area of a main hangar, everything stopped and saluted.
"Carry on, carry on. Good work everyone! Carry on!"
Work resumed for the most part, but the LTC moseyed over to meet him.
"Sir, repairs of the main hangar are proceeding as expected. I...I felt that the use of the flak cannons on the transport to disable or destroy those damned Martians was prudent at the time. I should be held responsible for that choice, the men were just doing what I told them."
"Bri, you've been doing a great job for the most part. You got Ranger 3 up and running in record time, you seized control of the hangar from insurgents, and you got Cad squadron out there to meet Rangers 2 and 3 in time to assist them. I've been very happy with your performance, for the most part. What we need to work on...what you need to work on...is..."
"I bitch a lot."
"Yes. You bitch at people. Bitching is NOT 'commanding' people. It's just abusive."
"But they...but I..."
"We still don't know where Wing Commander Spectrum is. We took several dozen casualties during and immediately after cryostasis, Doctor Voracity had a number of casualties during those hours due to a psychic virus, and we aren't even sure if Spectrum made it into cryostasis in the first place. The Endeavor needs YOU to step up and not only continue to do the excellent job you've done so far, but to serve as Wing COMMANDer, not Wing Bitcher. Do you copy, pilot?"
"Loud and clear."
"Carry on, then. What is the status of Ranger 2?"
"It's in pretty bad shape, sir. Decon of the areas containing Zorian crap was, in a word, a disaster. Some of that damage is cosmetic, deck 1 is all ripped up, but they went apeshit in engineering on deck 2, and half the consoles and controls are all disintigrated powder. It's like some kid went through there playing with a rainbow beam. I've never seen such abuse. The worst problem is the nano-fiber mesh. It's is in the spaceframe and armor itself. I don't think we can get it out. It's fucked, sir."
"Why would we want to? Excuse me, I am Artharius, Science Division. I believe we can manipulate the mesh to make Ranger 2 a stealth gunship. Some of my research is into techno-psychic interference, and I think we can coax the weave to not only shield the vessel from sensors, but from low to mid-level psychic investigation. Imagine a gunship of this strength, invisible not only to sensors, but to most clairvoyance as well?"
Stirling and Bri were taken aback by the interruption, particularly from a non flight deck officer, but his claims were interesting at the least.
"How do you plan to do that?"
"Like any physical phenomenon, psychic activity exists in a state of entropy, obeys a series of dynamics, and follows cause and effect. Those fibers, quite fascinating by themselves, will respond to bombardment with Psi waves, Null waves, and other stimuli that the surrounding ship will be autistic to."
"Come again?"
"I...hmm. I forgot that I would be addressing laymen. I CAN MAKE THE PSYCHIC THINGIES DO STUFF."
Stirling felt his face flush, but reacted before Bri let out the litany of abuse she was ready to dispense.
"Give me a written plan, in technical jargon with explanations, by the end of the day. Also, submit to my office any documentation you have of similar or related attempts and research. Finally, consult with the deck officer for proper clearance before entering the hangar, and address your superior officers with the appropriate respect."
Artharius gave a restrained grin and nod of acknowledgement. Perhaps he knew that he had crossed a line with Stirling, more likely he found this sort of interaction to be a repeating pattern that only served to interfere with his work.
"Wing Commander, carry on."
The newly promoted, at least temporarily, Faarhi Bri saluted proudly, and then promptly returned to verbally abusing her subordinates into action. Stirling made a mental note to monitor her performance. She would need a second in command soon, and if she couldn't clean up the language, that person might have to take command of the wing.
Stirling contemplated what he had learned on the flight deck on his way to medical, giving salutes and 'carry on's as needed on the way. Repair was the theme of the day, and he was pleased to see so many different species and so many different personalities coming together to make the ship work, and the mission proceed.
Upon arrival to medical, he didn't have to wait long. A very nice smelling blue skinned nurse ushered him in past an absurd fountain and spa area to an exam room, whereupon the famous Doctor Darius Darr, MD, arrived with little delay. He didn't know if Darr was aware that this was a job interview, and he didn't clue him in if he was unaware.
"Remove your shirt please, sir. We just need to go through your vitals and make sure you came out of Cryosleep with your faculties intact. I'm going to compare these results to your pre-cryo physical. Deep breath please."
The physical proceeded professionally and warmly. Darr still had the training of a physician, and appeared to use little or none of the training he had as a holo-vision actor during the physical. The whole checkup was painless and professional.
"Well Captain, what we have here is a predictable, expected, and typical case of Cryo-sleep atrophy. Your body responded to cryosleep by using the resources at it's disposal, which included both the nutritive medium, and it's own tissues. Put simply, your body got hungry in cryo. You've probably already noticed some muscle weakness, maybe occasional blurred vision, thinning of hair, cracking of the finger nails, maybe you get hungry a lot, but get sick if you eat your fill, that sort of thing. This is really nothing to worry about. You're one of the thousands of cases we have ongoing. Cryo-stasis can be used safely for any period of time from a few weeks to a couple years. You, and the rest of the crew, were in cryo-stasis for much longer than that, actually, much longer than cryo-stasis is safe to use. This is why we had some casualties in cryo-stasis. It's a rough process even on the young and healthy, and it doesn't treat all species the same. I'm going to recommend a nutritive syrup be added to your meal regimen, daily exercise, and I'll clear you for duty. In my years, I've seen most cases of atrophy like this recover faster in the perspective of non-medical therapeutics. Put simply, people that go to spas and get massages, and take time to relax and focus on their bodies and their health, recover from atrophy conditions faster. I'm aware that with your schedule you won't be coming down to us to get a spa day, but we can arrange for someone to provide some of those treatments in your office."
Stirling nodded his understanding of what was told.
"Is my immune system compromised by this? We had a brief encounter with a psychic virus, I'm wondering if I'll be more likely to pick up diseases from other crew members."
"Yes, your immune system is substantially weakened by the atrophy condition. If you'd like, I can prescribe you immune boosters, but I would prefer to handle such infections with supportive care. The reason being, we're on a mission a long way from a resupply, and our medical cornucopia machines only have so much raw materials to work with. We can keep them running for a very long time, but every prescription we fill is one more prescription that we won't be able to fill later. Building up your immunity against the new spectrum of diseases would mean that you are sick more often, for now, but later on you won't require drugs to function. If you go on the drugs and don't ween off of them, you'll always need them. It's your call, but that's my professional opinion."
Stirling thought it over. The whole crew on prescription immune boosters? what would happen when the cornucopia machines ran dry? Everyone would be sick. The crew would need a good example to follow if they were going to work sick.
"I'd like a single prescription of immune boosters, to use in an emergency, but I'll work sick and take supportive measures in the mean time."
"OK then. There is one more thing, but it's a little outside my purview as medical officer."
"Go on."
Here it was coming, an endorsement, a kickback, something. Stirling had been satisfied by the man's professionalism, but his reputation as a member of the glitterati would be hard for him to work past.
"I recommend that you not only accept the invitation to the dinner on Cougar Hill, but that you go 'accompanied.'"
"Why?"
"This is going to be a long journey, with any luck, and the resources and influence present on Cougar Hill are substantial. Sure, for now, you've probably got all the trouble that you need. But those are the people who paid for this mission, or part of it anyway, and some of them brought some toys along to trade with. For example, I live on Cougar Hill, and right now your staff are getting treatment from me while your navy doctor is MIA. I'm not a naval officer, I'm an HV doctor. I think what the powers on Cougar Hill want is a voice in decisions that affect them, and I think you'll find that if you keep that door of diplomacy open that you can get help when you need it. Did you know that some of the people on Cougar Hill brought weapons, resources, personnel, ammunition, raw material, next generation cornucopia machines, and even experimental fighter craft, transports, and gunships, just to use as backing for currency exchange? I brought my medical bag, and some wonders besides. All of these things were quantum encoded to allow their owners' total control of them. They can't just be appropriated. I'm just saying, attend the dinner, meet the powers that be, and see if your legendary powers of diplomacy can't make your life easier."
Stirling listened carefully, and was taken aback by the implied offer to withdraw medical service. He was right, when it came down to it, he was not in fact a naval officer, he was a civilian. Stirling wasn't sure what to think of that. He didn't have to make a decision right this second, and continued to think on it as he dressed.
"Why should I be 'accompanied'? You didn't explain that."
Doctor Darr chuckled.
"Well, the place was named Cougar Hill after General Ron Cougar, a famous Human military officer, but it is an unfortunate name in the end. Many of the aristocracy that came aboard are single, older women, and many of them have their eye on you. Even ones not directly compatible with your species. If you bring a lady officer along, ostensibly as a colleague, they could help fend off those advances, and allow you to focus on the real issues. Don't let the powers that be on Cougar Hill divert your efforts into discussion of theatrical performances and fine dining, and 'well you simply MUST join me for dinner tomorrow, how does 7 sound'? They will try to gain influence over you and the ship and compete with each other, and you are best served by keeping that battle where you are best equipped to win it; in the realm of diplomacy."
Stirling was tempted to file this part of the conversation in the same realm of ridiculousness as the Chief Ignak throw pillow, but something about it rang true. Doctor Darr might be a stronger asset than he seemed at first. Experimental ships? Resources? Backing for currency? Stirling's head spun with the implications. The Galactic Federation seemed to be bottled up inside his ship, power hungry aristocracy and all. It deserved some thought before he dismissed it entirely.
"We're done here. Thank you Doctor Darr."
"Sure. Think about it. I'll have your scripts filled and sent to your quarters. Have a nice day."
Keen wasn't in medical anymore, but as Stirling left the medical section, he spotted a couple lavishly dressed women entering the spa area. One of them waved at him and literally called out "yoo hoo, captain...", he ducked around a corner and made for the next stop on his rounds today; engineering. Hopefully, none of the manipulative aristocrats would be waiting for him there.
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