Random Thoughts and Sensor Boosts

Posted on Sat Jan 6th, 2018 @ 4:17am by Commander Christopher Samuels MDiv, PhD

Mission: S01E02 D-8 With the Devil
Location: USS Musashi | Bridge
Timeline: Shortly after Víðarr: The Silence of a God

Christopher Samuels drummed his long, thin fingers against the armrest of the command chair. His hazel eyes stayed forward, scrutinizing the orbital station as if trying to figure out its secrets. The bridge crew had been giving him updates, making sure that he had the latest information on the station, the away team, and even the captain’s shuttle. Everyone was doing a fine job, and they were doing it without question. He had briefly wondered what the bridge crew’s thoughts were, if they were really protesting the fact that they were here talking to a man who was certifiably insane. He thought back to his own early career, he could scarcely remember being a young junior lieutenant and yet he remembered having negative thoughts about some of the missions that were undertook.

I suppose it wouldn’t be normal if they didn’t have those thoughts, Christopher thought. Chain of command prevented junior crew to speak out openly, but they were always welcome to speak their thoughts in private. Did that stop people from speaking out? No. He saw it all the time and in fact he even saw it in their briefings. It happened, that was humanoid nature in a way. It was hard to hold ones tongue even if it had been pounded into you over and over again not to let that tongue go rogue. He already knew that if he ever got his own command, he would have an open door policy. He knew what it was like to be told to keep his opinions to himself, to not be listened too. He was a scientist, sometimes scientists were needed far more than some command teams wanted to admit… but scientists were needed.

And sometimes a moral compass needed to be calibrated.

When he was on earth, after Fig had failed him in his command test, he had overheard some engineers talking about newer ships that were going to be coming off the line in the next decade or so. He wondered how they could think about such things so far in advance, but yet ships took time to build. The Musashi had already gone through a refit, and the Constitution was going through one as well. Starships needed updating, it was what it was. But what had interested him was hearing that a new type of science vessel was on the drawing board. The question was would he last the next decade to even find out. He had entered Starfleet as an innocent, wide-eyed, first year Academy student, thirty years ago…

Good God, where has the time gone? Thirty years? His gaze swept the bridge and he realized that all of those who were at their stations were either little or not even born yet when he entered the Academy. That was a bit too eye opening for him.

… And since then, so much had changed. Uniforms, technology, EV suits, and even warp drive. Mighty starships like the Constitution-class were pushing warp 8 and 9 in emergencies. That was unheard of thirty years ago. Even starships have changed, the color schemes, the comforts, so much had changed that he had been surprised people could keep up. But Starfleet had to stay ahead of the curve, especially as the Federation began to expand into unknown regions of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. There were always new enemies lurking around the corners, and it seemed like the galaxy was becoming less and less friendly these days. He knew that was a pessimistic way of looking at things, yet the evidence was clear on a lot of it. The Klingons, the Romulans, the Gorn, were of course the more major problems that Starfleet faced yet there were the Vulcans, Andorians, and the Tellarites who would cause minor problems for Starfleet. No one seemed very happy anymore, but then again war did that to people, did it not?

He certainly wasn’t very happy these days.

Christopher found himself frowning at that very lonely, very terrible thought. So much had gone on over the past few days, life changes that threw him off-kilter and yet he kept both feet firmly planted on the ground. He had to, there were no other choices for him at the moment. He needed to be focused just in case Starfleet felt it necessary to give him command of the Musashi after Fig exposed her own secret. Though, in hindsight, a woman who was as fit and as athletic as Fig was wouldn’t be able to hide a baby bump for much longer. Not to mention, not much was known about Klingon physiology. The fact that Fig even conceived meant there was some compatibility, and the fact the fetus was viable meant there was some compatibility as well. It was his duty as XO to stay on top of these things, to make sure Fig was still fit to serve as CO.

Now that was something, wasn’t it?

He sat up a little straighter in the command chair as he let that thought sink in: Christopher had a duty to make sure Fig was still fit to serve as commanding officer. Any other ambitious XO would jump on this, would have figured out someway to file a report away stating the CO was anything other than fit. But Christopher wasn’t like that. Maybe that was a failing of his, but ambition went out the window a long time ago. Sure, he wanted his own command but he wasn’t one to manipulate the system to do it. Integrity and morality still meant something to him. Besides, he and Fig had a long conversation in the chapel; sure she was scared, worried, angry, frustrated, and uncertain, but unfit… no even close. Fig was going through exactly what any other woman in her position was going through, there was nothing unfit about that. No. It just proved that under that tough, ball-busting, chip on the should exterior, was a vulnerable human being.

Christopher smiled. His thoughts had gone deep and dark but yet he still smiled. He smiled because his first impressions of Fig had not really changed but it was amazing how a life-altering event could reveal another layer to the person. A new layer of Donatella Figueroa had been revealed. She was a vulnerable human being and that was why he was smiling. It meant that now he knew his dealings with her would be different. He knew that she would try to be tough around him, but he would know better. Did that give him the upper hand? Maybe. But did he worry about that part, not really. Why would he need the upper hand in anything when dealing with Fig. She was an honest person, she was blunt, but she wasn’t unfair.

He wondered if Starfleet Command would end up questioning him in all of this. There was a strong possibility that he and Doctor Hill would have to give their own thoughts. He did have some concerns concerning Doctor Hill. The man seemed overly dramatic, yet some doctor’s were like that. Dylan certainly had his moments, but then maybe this was just his own perspective on doctors. He had been married to Dylan for twenty years, he also worked with the man, saw him in action, saw how passionate he would get about things. He also fought with the man, not just tiny squabbles, no, this were knock down, drag out type of fights. He imagined that Ezekiel Hill and Dylan Howell were more similar than different and that caused a shudder to go down Christopher’s spine.

Christopher pushed that thought out of his head and shoved it away as far as possible. He didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t want to think about Dylan. He blinked several times and refocused on the forward viewscreen. He had to admit, he was growing quite comfortable sitting in the command chair, yet there was still this draw to go back to the science station and start deciphering the scans that the Musashi had been continually running. He had suppose, in a way, he would always been an office of two worlds, even though he wanted his own command, his love would always be for science.

At that, his eyes eyes went wide and he scrunched his nose as if he smelt something foul.

Damn, she was right! Christopher thought. He let go of an involuntary grunt at the fact Fig had been right, a science or a medical ship would be his best bet for a command. Could he command the Musashi, sure. But would he enjoy it as much as say a science vessel that got to continually explore and seek out new life…

“Sir.”

Silence.

“Commander Samuels?”

Silence.

“Commander Samuels?”

At hearing his name, and the hand on his shoulder, Christopher looked to see the blue-eyed yeoman. “Ah there is my hero and bringer of coffee,” he declared, hoping he would get the young man to blush again. No such luck. But he did receive a small, but shy smile. “What can I do you for?”

“Lieutenant Garcia needs you to sign off on this work request,” the yeoman said, he handed over a PADD for the commander to take a look at.

Christopher took a hold of the PADD and gave a quick glance. He still didn’t know much about Garcia, except the man was taller than anyone else on the Musashi, and that he knew Fig from when the Musashi was getting her refit done at the Tellar shipyards. The work request was something of standard procedure on a starship but it didn’t always need the CO’s attention. This however, did need his attention. “He wants to boost the sensor range? Why?” Christopher questioned, looking up from the information device.

The yeoman was silent for a moment, not sure what to say. Instead he shrugged and followed it up by saying, “I’m not sure, sir? I’m not an engineer, nor am I privy to these types of things.”

“Hmm…” Was Christopher’s response as he looked back down at the PADD. Would he had questioned it if it was a different engineer? Or did he only question it because he was skeptical of Garcia? He decided that he would never be like that, especially if he didn’t really know the person. He took the stylus from PADD and signed off and then handed it back to the yeoman. “Tell him when he gets a chance, I’d like to talk to him.”

The yeoman took the PADD and nodded. “Aye sir,” he replied, and then took his leave.

Christopher watched the yeoman for a moment before turning his attention forward. Speaking of sensors… he looked over his shoulder to see two science officers manning the science station now. A tall, statuesque woman with an auburn bob was standing, and a male who had a bit of a gut when he sat was sitting. “Have the latest sensor readings been analyzed?’ he asked, swinging the chair toward the two science officers.

The woman turned, a smile on her full, pink lips. “The readings are currently being analyzed, we should have the analysis in about ten or so minutes,” she replied. As she spoke, the man who was sitting had looked over his own shoulder at the XO, but didn’t add anything.

“Good work,” Christopher said. At least if he had the sensor report to look at, that will give him at least something to do instead of just staring at the viewscreen. “I’d like to see the report when it comes to you.”

“Aye sir,” the woman said and then turned back to the face the council. She began to speak in a hushed tone to the man, her pointer finger pointing at some data on one of the monitors. Christopher had been curious as to what she was saying, but he was now in the center seat and that was where he had to keep his focus.

Christopher once again started to drum his fingers against the armrest of the command chair causing the relief nav officer’s shoulders to tense in annoyance. Yeah, sorry not sorry, buddy, he thought to himself. This time he stayed focused, his mind staying on track and not thinking about what could or should have been. There was no use in thinking about such things, especially now.

Especially now…