The Brig? What?

Posted on Thu Sep 15th, 2016 @ 4:38am by
Edited on on Thu Sep 15th, 2016 @ 4:50am

Mission: Mission 2 - Contagion
Location: Deck 7 - Engineering
Timeline: MD: -4 1125 hours
1728 words - 3.5 OF Standard Post Measure

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Fwoop. Fwoop. Fwoop. The noise echoed throughout the mostly empty engineering space three times with rhythm and regularity. Originating in a corner, it bounced off successive bulkheads until anyone standing anywhere in engineering would have been able to hear it. And then, with an impressive display of both light and sound, the distinctive roaring whoosh of an ignited plasma torch filled the space. Crouched over the device was Dr. Olsam Mott, ship's physician. Neither an engineer nor someone who should be anywhere near a plasma torch, he seemed undeterred by his lack of experience with such a powerfully destructive device as he affixed his protective eyewear and picked up the torch.

In front of him, the apparent object of his theft was one of the very few (perhaps the only) industrial-grade replicators on the entire ship. Through the protective eyewear, he began assessing the situation to determine where to make the fewest cuts to damage the unit the least before he ripped it out of the wall and carted it off to Sickbay. He wasn't an engineering genius by any stretch, but he figured the computer could walk him through repairing any damaged waveguides and replacing the useless replicator in Sickbay with this working unit.

Bradon had been in his office working on his reports - the neverending lifeblood of space travel, those reports seemed to be - when he heard the noise of a plasma torch being ignited. Knowing there was no work that needed to be done right now that involved needing that sort of heat, he rushed out of his office to see what was going on.

Rounding a corner, he saw a Bolian with the aforementioned plasma torch in hand, standing in front of the industrial replicators he had repaired to use to help ease the strain of acquiring the parts he needed to keep the Rose running.

He strode over to the plasma torch's main power unit and flipped a switch, powering the torch down.

"JUST WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Bradon yelled in his best officer's voice, which was very loud indeed.

Olsam was about to inspect the faulty plasma torch when the booming voice interrupted him, causing him to start and nearly lose his balance. The plasma torch dropped to the floor, landing at such an angle that it continue to clang and clatter far after slipping out of the Bolian's pudgy hand. Someone had been shouting at him, but, when he looked up, no one was there. Until he remembered to remove the protective eyewear, at least; afterward, he noticed the middle-aged human male glowering at him.

"Oh, hello. I was just borrowing this replicator for Sickbay," Olsam announced in a tone that implied that was something one actually did. "Did you know all the replicators are broken? This ship is in terrible shape."

"Really?" Bradon responded sarcastically. "I am just the Chief Engineer. Why would I know such things? Of course I know most of the replicators on this ship are broken!"

He stooped to pick up the end of the torch, then hung it on its stand and rolled it away from the Bolian.

"Chief Engineer Gordon," Bradon said, identifying himself to the Bolian. "And who may you be? And what made you think you could just come into Engineering and steal my equipment?" He stopped to glower at the stranger. "Your answer better be good, or the next stop for you is the brig!"

The Bolian stood up from his crouching position, but he took a long time to answer. Perhaps, even, a full minute. If his answer was all that stood between him and the brig, then he supposed it should be a very good one.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Olsam Mott. Although, I'm on sabbatical, so... Do you keep your rank when you're on sabbatical? If you're not on a Starfleet ship, does it even matter?" Olsam said, clearly wondering to himself. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, you can call me Dr. Olsam or just Olsam. Meaning, only my name. Not Just Olsam. I'm the new doctor. I'm not sure what's happened to the other one, but Captain Gregnol said I'm to be the new one." He began rocking on his heels, feeling nervous about the length of his answer but, nonetheless, compelled to blather on. "I was trying to replicate some medicines. Because we don't really have any. But the replicator doesn't work. And the computer said there were two of them in engineering, so... I just thought, why does one department need two when the other departments don't have even the one? I was going to return it!"

"You were... going to return it." Bradon paused for a second, looking at the Bolian. "And how were you going to do that when you were about to burn through the main power coupling for the unit?" he asked, gesturing toward the spot where the Doc was about to burn through the wall. "That would have taken out most of this wall, the replicator, and you along with it."

"Oh, really? No, that's not right... See?" Olsam said, holding up the schematic he'd downloaded. Only then did he spot his error. He flipped it around 180 degrees then looked at it again, even held it up against the wall to get a better view. "Oh, yes, I see, you're right. Well, that's embarrassing, huh?"

He helped the Bolian up from his position near the replicator. "Come on, Doc, let's go talk in my office. Perhaps I can help you with what you need. Perhaps I can help you with your medical supply needs."

"That would be wonderful," Olsam said, trailing along behind the engineer. Without waiting, he began to list off his considerable needs. "I'll be needing at least 100 vials each of anesthezine, asinolyathin, chloromydride, dermaline gel, hyronalin, lectrazine, leporazine, melorazine, metorapan, trianoline, and vasokin. I need seventeen new Mark IV biobeds, complete with isotropic restraints, of course. All the subdermal probes are fifty years out of date, so those need to be replaced, along with the neurocortical monitors, dermal regenerators, protodynoplasers, and cortical inhibitors. And we don't even have any thrombic modulators if you can believe it. As if we're living in 2323 instead of 2393."

Bradon let the doc talk as he led him over to his office, even getting the Bolian to sit down in the chair across his desk as he walked over to the replicator and tapped in his favorite. The unit hummed for a moment as a large mug of coffee filled its space.

"Can I get you anything, Doc?" he asked as he looked over at the Bolian.

"Bolian Bubble Pop Number 23," Olsam said cheerily, sitting up straight in the chair in preparation for receiving the fizzy favorite.

"There you go," Bradon said as he placed the drink in front of the doc.

"Now, regarding the items you've requested, you do realize that those cost latinum that we don't have right now. This isn't Starfleet. We can't just ring the nearest supply depot and dash off an order and expect it to be filled." Bradon settled down in his own chair, took a sip of his coffee, then set it down.

"Now some of these items I can help you with. Like the biobeds. I can rig a couple of those up for you, I believe. But seventeen? Come on, doc! Our crew isn't much bigger than that. Why seventeen?"

"That's how many fits efficiently in the space we have in Sickbay," Olsam said matter-of-factly. "What if you all fall ill with a hemorrhagic fever at the same time? What if we run into a freighter where everyone has plasma burns? I need bed-space for trauma-triage and emergency situations. Am I supposed to put them on the floor? Incidentally, the floor is filthy." He leaned forward slightly, looking at the PADD on Bradon's desk and wondering if he was going to add that item to the growing list. "We need new carpeting. I can forward you some designs that I think might be of therapeutic value."

"Tell you what, Doc," Bradon responded after a moment, "here's what you do. Go through your department and make a list of everything that you would like to have in your department if this was a perfect universe. Then pair that down to what you could have if this was a Starfleet vessel. Then pair that down even further to what you could have if you had to pay for it yourself. Finally, prioritize your list from the most critical "gotta have" down."

He gave the Mott a direct look. "No more scavenging equipment on your own. We clear on that?"

Olsam's eyes cut to the side, giving him an untrustworthy look. "Yes, from this point forward. Okay." He shifted in the chair. "But I get to keep the stuff I've already got."

"Now that depends on what you have already stolen, now doesn't it? Cough it up. What have you already grabbed on your little adventure?" Bradon replied, his voice lowered as he showed his displeasure of the Bolian's last statement.

"A burned out EPS power stabilizer from an old Class F shuttlecraft, two bottles of Saurian brandy, one case of self-sealing stembolts, two meters of ODN conduit, a type-1 hand phaser with missing power cell, one Mark II interphasic scanner, a pulsatel lockseal, two pattern enhancers, three emergency hand actuators, and a reverse-ratcheting routing planer," Olsam said, rattling it all off like a shopping list.

"I tell you what, Doc. Let's go down to Medical and we'll discuss what my folks can do to get your department as close to how you want it set up as we can. We can also have a look at the stuff you picked up to make sure it's in top working order. What do you say?" Brandon was genuinely interested in what the Doc was saying about Medical. That was one place that he kept in top order. Well, behind Engineering anyway.

He stood up from behind his desk. "What do you say?"

"Well... All right. But I'm keeping the brandy no matter what," Olsam said, adding, "for medical purposes."

OFF:

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Dr. Olsam Mott
Hapless Traveller
SS Mary Rose

Bradon Gordon
Chief Engineer
SS Mary Rose

 

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