(...CONTINUED FROM "Love and Duty)
Commander Garek Loran paced impatiently back and forth across the upper Ops deck in the center of the bustling command center. Two and a half out of his allotted three days had passed since Q had made his incredible offer. He'd finished all his family business yesterday, but Kim still had to reveal her decision on the matter. Frankly, the wait was driving him crazy. He wished he could just snap his fingers and make the decision for her, but unless she chose for herself it would be meaningless and a sham.
A crewman sitting on the lower level called up to him. "Commander, we're being hailed by a Yridian transport."
Garek sighed and forced himself to push thoughts of Kim Tycho from his mind. She'd have to decide soon. "On screen," he ordered the crewman.
Immediately, the large viewer on the primary Ops console before him lit with the wrinkled gray visage of the Yridian captain. The alien peered through the viewer and addressed Garek in the typical raspy Yridian voice. <Yridian freighter T'rash requesting permission to dock.>
Garek looked at the ensign manning the console. He was only about five feet tall, and starting to go bald even though he didn't really look that old. Garek searched his memory for the man's name. "Collins," he said, hoping he was right. The ensign turned his head, so Garek figured he'd guessed correctly. "What is the Yridian's cargo?"
The man tapped a few controls and consulted several smaller screens, then turned back to Garek and reported. "Five hundred tons of kelbanite ore, kivas and trillium from Vulcan, and twelve passengers," he said in a thick British accent.
Garek nodded in satisfaction. Nothing out of the ordinary. The kelbanite was probably bound for Morristown, to help bolster their shielding; the kivas and trillium was probably bound for some shopkeeper's establishment on the station itself; and the passengers were bound for who-knows-where. He turned back to the large screen where the Yridian's frightful face impatiently waited, and thumbed the audio pickup. "Permission granted, freighter T'rash. Proceed through spacedock doors to docking bay ninety-four."
<Ninety-four,> the Yridian wheezed, then signed off.
Will this shift never end! lamented Garek.
Docking Bay Ninety-Four....
"Ow! Look out, you!" yelled a young woman's voice -- then quieter, muttered to herself yet still loud enough to be heard in the corridor outside the airlock, "Big clumsy oaf...."
The two lanky guards stationed outside the airlock door, Rutherford and Banks, couldn't help but grin at the ruckus. Some poor unfortunate was getting a dressing down inside the airlock, and they both thanked the Great Bird of the Galaxy that they weren't in there with them. As the airlock finished cycling, their faces quickly hardened back into their standard gargoyle countenances, and by the time the wide doors had slid open, they once again looked like a pair of grim stone golems guarding the entrance to some ancient heathen temple.
The first through the airlock doors was a hulking Lurian -- first not because he was in any particular hurry, but because he was being shoved out by a small animated woman. He was making placating gestures with his hands as he backpedaled, but was unable to get a word in past her verbal blockade. She was kicking him in the shins with all the ferocity of a pack of Klingon targs in a feeding frenzy.
"How does that feel, you big ox?!? You can probably barely feel it through that elephant hide you call skin! But I'm just a poor helpless girl! When you kick me with one of those things--" she seized her victim's forehead and dragged his head down so he could see his own leather-skinned, size-19 feet "--it HURTS!!!" She released the Lurian's face from her vice-like grip only to slap it with the open palm of the same hand.
The poor Lurian didn't stand a chance against this tiny human woman, never mind that he was half again as tall as she was and weighed at least three times as much. Still making mollifying gestures, he made a grab for his suitcase, which was lying just inside the airlock where he'd dropped it.
Once he had his belongings, he made a dash down the corridor and to safety, vowing to himself to never to fly business class on a Yridian freighter ever again.
Security Officer Banks unfroze from stasis and quickly gave chase.
The young woman watched them run, deciding not to give chase. She'd exacted enough penance from the buffoon.
When the Lurian and his police escort had both disappeared around a far corner, the woman relaxed. She shook her head, shaking out her short mane of dark hair, and ran her finger through it to straighten it out again. With a huff, she swiveled on her heal, picked up her own baggage, swiveled again, and strode toward the remaining stone golem in the corridor.
Officer Rutherford held out his hand, and the young woman primly and daintily placed an isolinear chip in his palm. The security officer slipped the ID into his PADD, and his eyes flicked over the device's small screen. "Milano, Ensign Francesca, Starfleet, active reserve."
"Yeah, that's me."
Satisfied, he withdrew the chip and handed it back to the woman, saying, "Thank you, miss."
Milano stuffed the chip back into her pants pocket, hefted her suitcase and entered the Starbase.
The security officer turned to take the next person's ID chip, but checked himself when he saw a group of familiar faces. "Commander Carter! It's good to see you and Banshee Squadron again!"
Lee Carter strode forward and shook Rutherford's hand warmly. "Nice to see you too, Mike." During Banshee Squad's posting on the station last year, he and Tony Banks had often hung out with her team in the local drinking establishments after hours. "Where's Phil?" she asked, suddenly missing the third man in Rutherford's trio.
"Got promoted to Ops duty, the lucky bugger," explained Rutherford. "Lieutenant Gabriel resigned last month, and Phil filled in. The captain liked his work so she gave him Gabriel's old job permanently." Then, he suddenly seemed to notice the way Carter was dressed. He looked her up and down, and took in the rest of her team with a glance. "You're not in uniform. This is an awful long way to come for a vacation...."
"We're here to see a friend."
"Yeah, so where is Kimmie anyway?" grumbled Max Vasser, the squad's XO, from behind Carter. "She said she'd meet us here."
Rutherford shrugged. "I haven't seen her for a few days."
"Scatter-brained as usual," harrumphed Max, although not in a way that would make anyone think she really meant it in a derogatory way. "I guess we'll carry our own bags." She hefted her own small duffel, and motioned behind her to the rest of the team that was still in the airlock. "Come on you slackers! Hop to it!"
The other three Banshee pilots, Sam Beckett, Jo Schmidt and Alex Dalton filed out, not looking too happy, each loaded down with the squad's baggage, looking for all the world like a string of pack mules. Alex, being the newcomer to the group, came up the rear carrying the heaviest load even though she was the smallest member. Sam, ever the sensitive one, came to her rescue and relieved her of half her freight.
"Isn't that too much for you?" asked Alex. Jo quickly elbowed her in the ribs and whispered in her ear. After a moment, Alex said, "Oh yeah. Sorry. I forgot you don't like it when we mention your bionic stuff.... --OOF!!" Jo had punched her in the ribs again.
Max interrupted their shenanigans at this point with her no-nonsense voice. "Let's go you clowns," and herded them out, leaving Carter in peace and quiet.
She turned back to Rutherford and asked, "Kim's quarter's still where they used to be?"
"I wouldn't know, Commander. I'm sure you can find her in the station's directory though. Either that or find Commander Loran. Odds are she won't be far off."
"Yes.... That is what all this is about isn't it?" mused Carter. She threw Rutherford a friendly wave goodbye and headed after her team, in search of Kim Tycho. Ahead of her, she could hear Jo explaining to the unsuspecting Alex, "You've never heard of schplict? You'll love it. I'll even buy the first round. Trust me...."
(TO BE CONTINUED...)