One Ticket to Paradise
Posted on Fri Sep 9th, 2016 @ 11:49pm by Captain Rueben Gregnol & Dixoho Saa (*)
Mission:
Mission 2 - Contagion
Location: Deck 5 / Deck 1
Timeline: MD-05: 1100 hours
1883 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure
It had taken Lieutenant Commander Olsam Mott approximately nine days to realize that the SS Mary Rose was not heading toward Risa. In fact, if anything, it seemed to be heading away from Risa. Not only was it heading away from Risa, but it wasn't even a cruise liner. The computer identified it as a Constitution-class starship, which Olsam had to further investigate in the starship database to even know what it was. He felt a little embarrassed to discover that it was a Starfleet variant, which, being a member of Starfleet, he probably should have known. But, then again, he was a doctor, not an engineer. What did he know about starship classes? Sovereign was the big one. Galaxy was the round one that came apart. Prometheus was the other one that came apart, except into more pieces. Nova was the little one. Defiant was the even littler one. Luna was the one that went far. Intrepid was the one with the nacelles that flapped like a bird. Miranda was the one where officers were sent to die.
All these facts (and more) he recited to himself as he strolled the corridor on deck five, having left the safety of his stateroom to seek out the captain. It was just as well that he was emerging for the first time since they left Deep Space 7 because he was beginning to run out of food. Prior to departing the station he'd heard a Federation News Network alert about the spread of a particularly nasty virus aboard many cruise liners that affected Bolians of all people, giving them viral gastroenteritis. Having never experience viral gastroenteritis thanks to his advanced and aggressively corrosive digestive system, and, quite frankly, having no desire to do so, he panicked and purchased enough provisions to bring aboard the ship to last him the entire trip to Risa. He reasoned if he could avoid the mess hall and everyone else on the ship then he might, just might, have an opportunity to make it to Risa without any sort of intestinal volatility. (Per usual, he grossly underestimated his own appetite and had gone through two weeks of provisions in nine days.)
And Risa was his intended destination. He'd shared as much with Captain Barton Hawkins when he met him aboard DS7. That seemed to delight the man, and he shared with the Bolian that he was the captain of one of the finest cruiseliners in the sector, which, in turn, delighted the Bolian. Given the holiday rush on Risa, he was, incidentally, one of the only captains to have any space at all aboard his ship for passengers disembarking on that pleasure planet. Olsam Mott, again panicking, agreed to book a ticket from DS7 to Risa aboard the Mary Rose for the exorbitant sum of fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum.
It was only just this morning, curious about their progress and having finished reading all the medical journal articles he'd brought with him, that the doctor thought to check with the computer about their location. The query prompted an argument between himself and the ship's mainframe, the latter of which kept insisting that the ship was bound for some far-distant place called Heg'la Station. Never one for astrometrics (or any other sort of metrics), Olsam had no clue where Heg'la Station was, but, from the starchart, it appeared to be nowhere near any possible route heading to Risa. After checking to make sure he was on the Mary Rose (it wouldn't be the first time he'd accidentally boarded the wrong ship), he decided he'd have to seek out this Captain Hawkins to have a word with him about his navigator's gross incompetence.
The journey was stunted somewhat when the computer refused to carry him all the way to the bridge. Deck One, it had reported in the same haughty tone with which it had informed him of his mistake about the ship's destination, was off limits to passengers and visitors. So, he went as far as the turbolift would take him then popped open a hatch and crawled through the Jeffries tubes the rest of the way, guided by a schematic he'd downloaded from the ship's database onto his personal PADD. Clearly, this Barton fellow had put into place some fairly onerous countermeasures against customer complaints, but Dr. Olsam Mott was not a Bolian to be so easily deterred.
When the hatch on the bridge opened with force approaching explosive decompression, the crew might have been forgiven for thinking the command center was under some sort of attack. But, instead of Nausicaan raiders or Orion pirates, what emerged from the open Jeffries tube was, first, a ridiculous toupee, followed closely by a wheezing Bolian looking very much like he'd just been put through the wringer and then made to run an Andorian marathon. (He might as well have been for all the effort he'd exerted in the bowels of the ship after taking three wrong turns.)
His exit from the hatch was none too graceful, as one might have expected. It was less an exit and more of a forward ooze, a fluid movement from the cramped space of the Jeffries tube down and onto the deck plating of the bridge, where he sprawled on his back and struggled to catch his breath. After half a minute of exaggerated wheezing it seemed his breath may have permanently outpaced him such that he'd never catch it again, so he did his best at croaking out his reason for having interrupted whatever critical operations were ongoing on the bridge:
"I'm looking... For Captain... Hawkins."
Everything was quiet on the Bridge while Rueben went through the PaDD that was balanced on his knee for what he felt was for the hundredth time trying to remember all the Crew and Passengers on-board. He was relieved for once the Bridge was silent as people just worked instead of kept up a running commentary or discussed the previous night’s film. He turned as Dixoho yelped at the sudden movement from below her left knee as she worked away at the Navigation computer making sure that they had the correct course set in on the old girl. The young Trill backed up a little as the hatch opened spilling out its contents. She looked down hearing a strange wheezing noise first that alerted her to the fact that they possibly weren’t in as much trouble as she had assumed at first. The woman looked over the barrier and looked at Rueben as he rose from his seat intent on dealing with the intruder.
“Da… Me as well.” The Russian answered darkly as he strode over to the Bolian offering his hand to him. This had to be another passenger that Barton had swindled that was finally coming looking for the man. It was a sad state of affairs but was far too late for that, no one would be seeing Barton for many years, he was most likely in a penal colony by now.
"Oh." Olsam sounded like a mixture of disappointed and confused; apparently, there was going to be some kind of 'take a number and be seated' sort of arrangement to see the captain. He looked first at the man who'd spoken, then at the young woman to his immediate left. "Hello," he said, smiling widely. He turned back to Rueben. "Are you all looking for him? Did he tell you we were going to Risa, too? To tell you the truth, I don't think we're going there at all. If you can believe it, I'm pretty sure he lied. The nerve of some people!"
The red headed Trill looked the Bolian up and down before she smiled herself. "Hello." She returned the smile not leaving her lips as she took the man in, not at all sure how he made it through the Jeffries tubes in the slightest. She glanced away looking at the Captain who was looking the man over like he was trying to place him or at least judge the truth of his words.
"Of course he did. He always lies." He finally said with a small sigh. "I have some bad news for you then, Barton was arrested before we left the last Starbase. I am sure he is at Starfleet finest penal colony by now." Would that appease the man at the very least or would that leave a bitter taste that he couldn't have words with him.
Mott gasped, the sort of sharp inhalation you might expect when presented with a drastic turn in the story of your favorite holonovel. To match his apparent shock, there was a completely bewildered look on his face. Taken together, it seemed like there could be nothing more earth-shattering to him than the news of Barton Hawkins' arrest.
"You don't say?" Olsam said. "Well... What are we going to do? I paid fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum to get to Risa. I assumed you did, too. So, who's the captain? Better yet, who's the navigator? Because we're not going in the direction of Risa. I'd volunteer, but I'm not a captain. I'm not really a navigator, either. I'm a doctor. Well, sort of. I mean, I am a doctor. You don't just stop being a doctor. Unless you lose your license, then I suppose you're technically not a practicing doctor... Anyway, I'm a practicing doctor on sabbatical, going to Risa. I'm also very hungry, if that matters at all."
Rueben tried to smile a little but it just looked like a grimace as he took in everything the man was saying. It seemed like Barton had messed around one too many people now and the Doctor seemed like a good man to say the least so it might be fair that his karma finally caught him up. Dixoho watched a small smile on her face as she watched the string of emotions go across the Bolian’s face.
“I didn’t pay to come on-board, I volunteered, I was the Executive Officer now I am the Captain. Da it matters to me how about we get you some food Doctor and we can discuss this all.” The Russian offered indicating the Turbolift door and the route that meant he didn’t have to climb back through the Jefferies tube.
Olsam looked over his shoulder at Dixoho, looking for some sign from her that this might be a trick to get him off the bridge. That sort of thing had happened many, many, many times to him before, people trying to slyly get rid of him, particularly when he was filing a formal complaint. And he had every intention of filing a formal complaint.
"You know, I have every intention of filing a formal complaint," Olsam said loudly, voicing his thoughts to the entire bridge on the off chance that he was being shoved off the stage. "But, maybe after a snack."
OFF::
Olsam Mott, M.D.
Hapless Traveler
SS Mary Rose
Rueben Gregnol
Captain
SS Mary Rose
Dixiaho Saa
Chief Navigator
SS Mary Rose
(PNPC Gregnol)
