Thursday, October 29, 2009

[USS Charon] SD 240910.29 || Joint Duty Log Part I || Amb. Lamont, Diplomat & Ens. Dicari, COPS

Noble Hands Hath No Place on a Flight Deck
Part I

 

=/\= Flight Deck =/\=

 

Ian Lamont found himself today in the Charon’s shuttlebay.  His two hours of daily Engineering service involved cleaning the various shuttlecraft and checking one or two minor systems to familiarize him with the use of something called a  tricorder.  He was to clean the shuttles, run a few simple diagnostics, and report back to some lieutenant in Engineering who would check his work.

 

The tasks seemed incredibly trivial and beneath him, but he continually reminded himself that this was far better than the cold, grey walls of the brig.  While he couldn’t thank the captain for this unenviable punishment, he couldn’t exactly criticize her either.  He could however complain – well at least to himself.

 

An hour of sloshing about soapy water and sponges and he had managed to ‘spiff’ up the existing shuttles.  They seemed clean enough to him.  He highly doubted anyone would be by for a ‘white glove’ inspection so he had foregone scrubbing the shuttle’s underbellies.  There were just some tasks no ambassador should have to perform orders or no orders.  Out of sight, out of mind was his motto for the day.

 

Tossing the dirty water and soiled rags into a corner for someone else to deal with, Lamont stepped into one of the shuttles.  This was possibly the shuttle designated for the captain’s use, but he wasn’t sure.  All the shuttles looked about the same to him.  One seemed just the same as another.  He pulled out the tricorder contraption on his belt and activated it.  He also had with him a padd of instructions which he set about attempting to follow.  “Level 5 diagnostic.  First, activate the shuttle’s maintenance and service menu.”

 

“How did he do that”, he mused staring at the cockpit controls and back at the instructions.

 

“Computer, how does one activate the maintenance and service menu?”

 

“Maintenance and service access menus are activated by…”

 

Lamont listened as the computer droned on about buttons, menus, and systems.  What a bore.  How did the engineers deal with this on a daily basis?  This diagnostic process was a vexing and tedious exercise even for his sharp and well educated mind.  As the computer rambled on, Lamont listened with vague interest leaning against the cockpit controls waiting for the long list of instructions to complete.

 

While he listened his arm slipped against the shiny black control panel.  Lights and buttons blinked around him as the shuttle suddenly rumbled to life.  He could hear the whine of engines engaging and could feel the anti-gravitic effects of what felt like a departure beneath him.  He quickly struggled with the controls searching for an off button.  Unable to find one he tried pressing a few buttons which only seemed to worsen the situation.  Finally, as a cold sweat broke out across his brow, Lamont yelled at the computer.  “Computer!  Disengage all systems.  Uh, emergency shutdown!”

 

Complying with the order, the computer instantly reacted shutting off all systems.  The shuttle, which had risen a few inches into the air suddenly fell hitting the deck with a loud metallic clang.  Lamont fell forward against the controls as the shuttle smacked the deck.

 

He uttered several curses at the computer for being so damned literal in its execution of orders, but quickly regained his composure as indeed the shuttle now appeared to be quite dead.  With a sigh he shook the tricorder as it seemed unable to perform its assigned tasks with the shuttle shutdown.  That meant he had to figure out how to restart the infernal machine again without punching a hole in the ceiling, bay door, or flight operations tower.  How unforgiving these craft seemed to be.  He suddenly had a better appreciation for pilots.  How they operated these craft with all of the systems, buttons, and controls was far beyond his comprehension.

 

Frustrated and now intimidated by the blank control panel, Lamont tried to restart the shuttle’s systems without the shuttle preparing to leave the ship without a flight plan.  He kept telling himself he only had another hour today.  Just another hour.

 

Cyrin had decided to make a quick detour to the Flight Deck to check up on its progress again, especially seeing as he had just fired the Chief Flight Deck Operations Officer, for lack of a better term.  As he walked in he noticed one of the shuttles start to lift off the ground,  looking at the direction of Petty Officer First Class Renalds they both came barreling towards the craft when it suddenly just stopped and fell to the ground.  Both the officers cringed knowing that there had been damage done to the hull and perhaps damage done to the onboard circuitry. 

 

“Renalds who is in that thing?”  Cyrin asked.

 

“Sir I haven’t the foggiest idea.  This shuttle isn’t due for maintenance for several more hours.”  Renalds answered.

 

“Computer identify any unauthorized personnel on the flight deck,” Cyrin instructed.

 

“Ambassador Ian Lamont.” Came the computers reply.

 

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ he thought to himself looking over to Renalds who was giving him the same quizzical look.  “Did you let him in?”  Cyrin asked.

 

“No sir, I just arrived not but ten to fifteen minutes before you did.”  Renalds answered.

 

Punching in his command code, he stepped in the shuttle, “What in the name of four deities do you think you are doing on my flight deck, let alone in my shuttle?”  Cyrin asked the Ambassador, his black eyes reflecting Lamont clearly as if he was looking in a dark pool.

 

“Your flight deck”, Lamont asked rhetorically.  “I wasn’t aware that Starfleet was selling flight decks or its shuttles aboard its Starships to the general public.  At least I didn’t catch a name written anywhere indicating exclusive ownership”, Lamont answered with a heavy dose of attitude.  He was already highly frustrated at the computer’s ridiculously literal execution of commands.  The useless tricorder device in his hands seemed equally as annoying and perplexing.  In addition to his recent problems now he was being yelled at by some junior officer with nothing better to do than yap.   Lamont stood from the cockpit seat to face the officer who was barking at him like a spoiled lapdog on a leash.

 

Cyrin opted not to comment to the ambassador crass comment.  He had dealt with enough people to know that this ‘diplomat’ was trying egg him on.  Cyrin just continued to watch that man.

 

“I am here Ensign under orders from Engineering to perform a diagnostic on this wretched transport.  The computer was most uncooperative given the circumstances.”  Lamont eyed the intense looking male Ensign before him.  The ‘child’ officer seemed to be exhibiting a rather unusual streak of authority given the vast distance in rank between the two men.  Ordinarily he would have expected a much more muted response from a junior officer.  Lamont quickly deduced this was no ordinary ensign.  His tone suggested responsibility for the deck.  He was about to dismiss him as deck personnel, but something stopped him.  The tone of his voice and the conviction swimming within his dark eyes conveyed more.  No, this wasn’t a generic, cookie cutter, ensign.  “Of course”, Lamont suddenly said to himself.  “This officer had to be from the bridge.  Here before him was one of the captain’s loyal terriers.”

“What is your name and position Ensign”, Lamont asked folding his arms.

 

“And this Flight Deck has been closed to all unauthorized personnel.  If you would have done your research, as any self respecting diplomat would do, you would have seen that.  Second you did not follow Starfleet protocol, you should have either A, presented those orders directly to me or B, presented them to the person in charge on the Flight Deck.”  ‘No wonder t’Rehu put him in the brig’ Cyrin thought to himself.   He stared at the diplomat for a few moments, “Do you realize the damage you could and or might have done to this shuttle.  I can almost assure you that there are microfractures all along the hull now as well as issues with the onboard circuitry.  And if you would have asked you would have realized that there were already diagnostics going on with every shuttle here, and you have just set us back at least a few days worth of work to repair this shuttle that had already been cleared for duty! “  He turned his attention to Renalds, “Get a repair team here and have them fix this mess.”

 

“On it sir,”  The Petty Officer responded tapping her commbadge.

 

“As for your final question Ambassador, I am Ensign Cyrin Dicari.  Chief Operations Officer.”  Cyrin stated his position with emphasis.  “I am going to only ask this once, get off this shuttle craft, you are clearly unfit to be performing such simple tasks let alone incompetent in your ability to distinguish between the Maintenance and Service Menu and the Flight Menu.”  Cyrin turned around and began walking off the shuttle, “Ambassador do not make me call security, they have already been here once this week…I am sure they would prefer not to come again.”  He said with his back turned, attempting to anticipate the Ambassadors next move.

 

 Lamont struggled to retain the anger building within him.  Chief Operations Officer!  Rehu was now putting children in charge of the ship?  However surprised, Lamont was far from shocked.  It made perfect sense.  She wanted people in positions of power whom she could control.  She too was playing her games – and playing them well.  He expected nothing less from the Romulan.  If she wasn’t giving it her best effort then their game wouldn’t be worth the effort or the challenge.

 

Lamont put his tricorder back into his belt.  “Ensign Dicari.  The need for security is not required or warranted.  They are certainly not welcomed nor are veiled threats.  True, I am this ship’s Ambassadorial representative however I also carry with me the official Starfleet naval rank of commander.  You would do well to watch your tongue when speaking to a superior officer in tones that might be construed as being insubordinate.

 

I understand that you yourself had someone sent to the brig recently on this very flight deck for just such an offense.  I would advise you ‘not’ to make the same mistake ‘ensign’. 

 

Lamont cracked an ever so slight grin.  “As for this shuttle, it was not my choice nor my desire to be here.  If you wish to place blame on a person for this accident, you should take the matter up with Captain Rehu.  She is the one who assigned me to engineering duties on a daily basis and this is where I was instructed to perform certain tasks today.  If you were not informed of specific engineering tasks assigned that is not my problem.  You should take the matter up with engineering.  I cannot be held accountable for where they tell me to go on a daily basis or for protocols and procedures that are not a part of my specific duties.  I am not an engineer, however our captain has seen it necessary to make me one.  I cannot be responsible for damages to equipment when operating such mechanisms is as you said somewhat beyond my area of expertise, however I am here under her orders.  If you wish to place blame for any damages then discuss the matter with her.

 

“However”. Lamont stated.  “I can appreciate your position and your desire to avoid incidents such as these.  I do apologize for any inconvenience.  This is perhaps the only starship in the fleet who’s diplomatic advisor is tasked with performing engineering duties.  It is not the best match, but I am doing the best that I can given the difficult nature of the assignment.  I will attempt to be more ‘careful’ in the future ensign, but since I am learning you should expect the student to make a few mistakes.”

 

Lamont was about to continue speaking but stopped for a brief moment.  He sensed an opportunity.  Antagonizing the officer would only make its way back to the captain.  Lamont wished to avoid further confrontation with the woman either directly or indirectly.  His rigid, elitist upbringing demanded he put this overzealous pipsqueak on report, but that urge was countered by an unusual feeling he had been attempting to cope with which had manifested itself on Lyrillia.  Perhaps one could call it compassion or friendship, but he was unsure what to make of it.  He did realize ever so poignantly that he needed fewer enemies aboard this ship, not more.  He’d never had many friends, if one call even call them that.  Certainly he didn’t expect that to occur here, at least not immediately, but perhaps he could give such a thing a try. 

 

“Ensign Dicari, I have been tasked with running a level five diagnostic on the shuttles.  Perhaps you could instruct me in the proper procedures for performing the assigned task?  In this way, I can learn from my mistake and it will ensure that I can complete my task today while providing the measure of safety that you require.   Would that be satisfactory?  I do not wish or intend to cause any problems, but I must complete today’s engineering assignment per the captain’s instructions.  I’m sure you can understand how problematic upsetting the captain can become?”

 

=/\=

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Diplomatic Advisor

U.S.S. Charon

 

&

 

=/\=

Ensign Cyrin Dicari

Chief Operations Officer

U.S.S. Charon