“When a plan comes together…”
- OR -
“Don’t upset Dr. Frankenstein (at least not when he’s sober)”
Undisclosed & Clandestine Location – USS Charon
Several Marines, pilots, and various other crewmen had assembled in a semi-secret maintenance room large enough to hold a dozen personnel and a jewel they had all labored to craft. Before the anxious gathering was a Frankenstein monster assembled from various spare parts, replicated bits, and other smuggled contraband. All that was missing to breathe life into their creation was a final key part which was due to arrive at any moment. Once completed the contraption would generate several liters of hand crafted alcoholic bliss for those involved in the procurement and assembly of the Charon’s own liquor producing still.
It had taken a week of planning, quiet payoffs, assemblage of materials and ingredients, a study in the fine, time honored, art of distillation, and the use of the heavy equipment replicators in main Engineering which posed certain obstacles to make a few, bored officers and enlisted personnel giddy with anticipation. With some luck, a little ingenuity, and help from the computer library they would soon be in possession of the so called Devil’s drink – a commodity item no replicator would manufacture. It was well known that only the Captain and the smug Ambassador had any sizable stocks of fine alcoholic beverages aboard. They were generally off limits to all but a few who were invited to partake.
The great inequity and chasm that separated the have’s from the have not’s was about to close and soon a steady stream of the genuine article would fill the glasses of more than the Charon’s privileged. The anticipation was soon heightened as heads turned at the sound of someone approaching from the access shaft which intersected the maintenance room.
The gold uniform of an engineer appeared yet his expression was far different from those assembled. Instead of a familiar smile or devious smirk his face bore the expression of one consumed by nervous tension.
“He’s here”, someone shouted. The small crowd swarmed the man like ants attacking their prey. The engineer had to fight to keep the excited masses away.
“Did you get it? Where is it?”
There was a long pause before the engineer finally spoke.
“Look all, this has been fun and all. I know a lot of people put in some time on this project, but I’m afraid I can’t get you the final part.”
A collective gasp raced through the crowd like wildfire consuming a dry forest fed by ferocious winds.
“I’m due up for promotion soon. The CEO is suspicious with missing tools and parts. I know he knows something is up. I can’t take this kind of risk anymore. If I were caught it could end up on my record and I can kiss any promotion good bye. It is becoming too hard to smuggle parts out of engineering. I swear he had spies watching the replicators now like hawks.”
Groans filled the room along with a general sense of discontent and resentment.
“I want to help, but I’m not willing to risk my career over this brilliant, but ill-fated scheme. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it”, a voice said cutting through the crowd. Several people stepped back as a lone pilot stepped forward his hands rested lightly on his hips.
“A lot of people put in time and effort for this. They took a few minor risks to reap the rewards and now at the end of the road you’re chickening out. It’s a simple copper coil assembly and Engineering is the only place with the tech to manufacture such a thing. The food dispensers can’t churn one out without some heavy modifications which would likely be noticed and right now you’re the only one with access to the replicators in Engineering.”
“Look, I said I’m sorry. I can’t keep this up. Go find someone else. There’s a dozen junior officers with access to the replicators. Bribe one of them.”
“Sorry pal. We all agreed to keep this a tight little outfit. No friends and no friends of friends. Now all we need is one last part and you ARE going to get it for us. Right everyone!”
A vocal vote of support followed the pilot’s words as the engineer bristled with growing resentment.
“I’m done. Find someone else.” The engineer turned to leave, but was stopped by the pilot’s firm grasp on his shoulder.
“You aren’t leaving. We’re like the seventeen musketeers. All for one and one for all. You are not copping out on us because you’re scared of a little risk.”
The engineer abruptly shook free of the pilot’s grasp. “You pilot’s think you’re all a bunch of bad assess. Go fuck off.”
The pilot’s expression sunk to one of angry frustration as the engineer again turned to leave. “I should have known we couldn’t trust you engineers. Bunch of gold shirted pansies who prefer to stay locked up in engineering with their computers and equipment than share any risks and do any fighting like the rest of us. Go on! We don’t need ya! Go on back to your station where it’s all nice and safe for you. Shit, we should have asked Alice or that other female hologram for help. At least they don’t get cold feet and change their minds at the last minute like a first year cadet who washes out crying because they want their mommy!”
Two seconds later the pilot’s vision was filled with stars and he found himself on the floor with an angry engineer hovering over him.
“You pilots and marines always think you’re the only ones who DO anything around here! If it weren’t for us this ship, the air you breathe, the water you drink, and the shit you flush would all just cease to exist. You may get the glory, but without us you arrogant bastards wouldn’t leave the flight deck! You should be thanking me!”
Lieutenant Leon Athalla leaned forward rubbing his jaw which had just recently been assaulted. Pulling his fingers away he noticed their tips glistened with blood which was seeping from his freshly split lip. A devious smile flashed across the pilot’s face as he slowly pulled himself upwards. At five feet, five inches the lieutenant was not an imposing figure his body being perfectly suited for the tight confines of fighter cockpits. Those that knew the lieutenant well knew not to pick a fight with the pilot.
Athalla spat as he turned to face the enraged Engineer. He sized up the tall, husky engineer who easily out weighed him before firing a punch into the man’s abdomen followed up with a solid uppercut to his jaw. Dancing back, the agile pilot waited for his opponent to counterattack which came in the form up a rush. Unable to dodge the lumbering engineer, Athalla was swept off he feet and rammed into a nearby bulkhead which reverberated with a dull thud in the cramped confines of the maintenance room.
The engineer mercilessly pounded away at the pilot’s midsection as he pinned him against the wall with his size and weight. Unable to break free, Athalla cupped his hands and delivered a powerful blow against the engineer’s ears which had the desired effect of causing pain and disorientation. As the officer staggered back, Athalla quite upset himself landed and powerful blow to the officer’s stomach causing him to double over. A swift knee met the engineer’s face sending the man backwards, but not before Athalla curled his hand into a tight fist and delivered the final blow of the contest.
The engineer fell backwards to the floor gasping and groaning with a broken nose and ringing ears, but none too worse for wear. He’d live.
Athalla wiped the blood trickling from his lip. “Someone get him out of here. And let him know that if he decides to blow the whistle he can be sure his supervisor and the chief engineer will receive a detailed account of all of his recent help.”
As several crew helped the battered engineer up and helped him out yet another younger engineer, bearing the rank of ensign, appeared from out of nowhere carrying a small box.
“Whoa”, the ensign said seeing the bruised and bloodied face of his primary contact. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing much”, Athalla replied. “Just had to take care of a loose end. So? Did you get it”, the pilot asked his voice filled with childlike mischief.
“Of course. It was easy to distract the old man and fake a few replicator requests. Piece of cake.” Opening the box the ensign produced a shiny copper coil. “Here ya are.”
Athalla took the coil, smiled, and handed it back to the ensign. “Kid, you have the honors of installing the last piece. Ladies and gentlemen, at long last, I declare the monster ALIVE!”
A round of clapping and shouting erupted from the small crowd as the ensign set about installing the final component of the still. In several long, agonizing hours, the mechanical wonder would start serving up cups of heavenly nectar given the right care and attention.
An officer approached Athalla and pulled him aside as the crowd swarmed the still to assist in its activation. “You mean to tell me that you knew the coil was on its way when the engineer bailed on us?”
“Of course”, Athalla said with a smile. “First rule of combat tactics, well second or third rule perhaps, always have a Plan B.”
“Then what was that fight all about?”
“Eh? Oh, that. Well I needed some exercise and he needed a good kick in the pants for going yellow.”
The officer shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you pilots.”
“It’s ok”, Athalla replied patting the man on the back. “Greatness is often difficult to comprehend. Try not to let it bother you. In 48 hours or so I will assure you that this entire incident will be quite impossible to recall. If the first batch of rotgut is as good as the master chefs up there claim it will be then I expect none of us will remember our names much less anything else.”
Athalla looked on with quiet satisfaction as the ensign, cheered on by an enthusiastic crowd, worked to install the coil on the still.
“I love it when a plan comes together”, Athalla quietly muttered.
~ FIN ~
Unfortunate Engineer
And
Lt. Leon Athalla
Devious & Clever Pilot Extraordinaire
(apb Tav)
