Unity – A Talk About Other People's Toys (Backpost) - Part 1
by Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Vincent Tan
Post Details
ON:
The sky was a cold gray this morning.
Despite the advanced weather control systems present on Earth, there were always some unavoidable pockets of insignificant weather that could develop…like this overcast sky for example. The wind swirled through the cold edifices of the tall San Francisco skyline, most of the city quiet, but getting louder as it began to wake up, and people began to go about their daily business
Shuttles began to crisscross through the air, as those who were important enough to warrant their own personal transport instead of being forced to use the mass transport hubs woke up and called for their rides to wherever there was important business to be conducted. One shuttle in particular was of interest.
It cut through the bleak morning air, its sleek shape moving smoothly with the designated traffic patterns in the sky. Suddenly, it broke from the mold, turned over and began a quick descent towards one of the high-rises. As it touched down on the designated shuttle pad, a young Starfleet Officer wearing command red stepped out of the building and straightened his uniform.
Petty Officer First Class Francois Bruse had been the executive yeoman to the Admiral for almost 6 years now. Straight out of the academy and into a desk job. Not the most glamorous of duties, certainly not the most exciting, but there were some perks. For one, he got a much larger room than he would have ever had on a starship. Also, he was learning from one of the most respected Admirals in the fleet, something that would have a large influence when it came time for him to move to a more influential position. That being said, he did enjoy a certain amount of respect and freedom that came from the company he kept.
Yep…he ran errands for the highest echelons of power.
As the shuttle idled down, the ramp lowered and a lone jump suited figure moved down it. The figure moved over quickly to the officer and saluted, “Ensign Montgomery Hawker reporting sir,” Despite the enormous rank difference, the billets ensured that there was no confusion as to who was in charge. Francois looked the man over quickly.
“What happened to our usual pilot? Ensign Fletcher?” He asked with no small amount of suspicion in his voice.
“Called in sick today,” Hawker said with a small amount of confusion in his voice, “Seems like he had a nasty stomach bug…but don’t worry sir, I’m more than qualified for this flight.”
Francois scowled, “I do not doubt your skills, Ensign. Your orders please.”
The officer obediently withdrew a PADD from his jumpsuit and handed it over. Francois ran a check on it and it turned up clean. He had been vetted by Starfleet for this job and found to be perfectly adequate for the job. And just in time too, considering that he could see the Admiral coming up to the door to the shuttle pad with his bodyguard in tow. He handed the PADD back to Ensign Hawker and told him to start the shuttle, while he turned and headed quickly over to the lift.
As the lift doors opened and the Admiral walked out, Francois saluted, and then fell into step behind him, “Good morning sir…full day today, isn’t it?”
"G'day, Francois," the Admiral said with a wave to his assistant. He drew his jacket closer. "I see we shall not be fearing a drought today."
Entering the shuttle, he removed his reading glasses from his jacket pocket and began to read the PADD Francois had given him. "We might have to push those engineers forward or cancel them altogether. I've got a personal errand to run this afternoon... And who's this Mannheim chap?"
Francois snorted, "A boorish Marine who contacted me last night while you were in a meeting sir. Demanded to meet with you as soon as possible. I told him to set up an appointment for next month, but he was very insistent. I ended up telling him that you would meet with him at 'your earliest convenience'...he seemed happy with that at least, for some reason. He cut the transmission off right after that. Didn't even end up with an appointment...Idiot."
The Admiral played with the thought in his head for a moment. A marine named Mannheim who was quite determined to meet him. The name was somehow familiar, but he could not quite place it. "What else do you know about him?"
"Admittedly, there isn't much Admiral," Francois said as he moved towards the main Cabin and the shuttle got ready to lift off, "I looked up his official Service Record afterwards out of curiosity. He is a Colonel in the Marines, CO of a Logistical Regiment. He's had a string of otherwise boring assignments...even during the Dominion War he didn't serve in a frontline capacity, which is odd in and of itself...but otherwise, everything checks out. It just gives me a bad feeling...if you know what I mean."
"Always trust a bad feeling," was the reply from the Admiral, putting two and two together. Whilst a career could be boring, to have *too* boring a history was simply beyond belief. "They will save your life one day. Do you think it's worth trying to call this fellow back?"
Francois was silent for a moment as he entered the somewhat lavishly appointed main cabin and waited for the admiral to take a seat, “It really isn’t my place to say sir.”
The Admiral chuckled. Francois was doing exactly as he would have done in a similar situation. No one wished to be wrong in front of a superior officer and the safest answer to any question was no answer at all. "I'm not asking you to tell me what to do. I'm asking your thoughts on the issue."
“Well…in my opinion sir,” he said with a slight hint of self-importance as he sat down across from the Admiral, “I wouldn’t waste too much time on him. After all, what could possibly be so important that he has to talk to you about? If he really does have legitimate business with you Admiral, I’m sure that he’ll come back to schedule an actual appointment.”
“Or I could just meet with you at your earliest convenience…as your aide said that I could before,” a voice with a deep Southern Terran drawl said. Suddenly, as if he had stepped out of thin air, a man was in the cabin with them. Huge and broad, with chocolate skin, he had a look of age on his face, emphasized due to the fact that one of his eyes was covered up with a metal plate. His uniform was the standard duty uniform of the Marines, but it was sanitized. No insignia or other identifying markers, not even a rank insignia or name tag. He took a step to the side and sat down in the seat next to the Petty Officer, who didn’t even bat an eye.
Francois frowned as he stared at the Admiral’s face which up until a couple of seconds ago had been normal and even slightly jovial. Now it was drawn up in a expression of shock or surprise, directed…at him? No, just to the right of him. He glanced over quickly. Nothing there. He turned back, “Admiral? Are you alright sir? Do you feel ill?”
The man chuckled darkly off to the side and stretched out his arm to wave a gloved hand lazily in front of the younger man’s face a couple of centimeters from his nose, eliciting no reaction “Ah yes…the good Petty Officer here, along with the rest of the crew, has been…encouraged….not to see anything out of the ordinary this morning. So you’re the only one who can see or hear me, Admiral. Now…send him away. Tell him that you want to make a private call, and that you need the cabin to yourself. And please,” he turned slightly so that the Admiral could see the occupied holster on his belt, “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be by trying to alert anybody, Admiral. If you just cooperate, by the time the shuttle arrives at Starfleet Command, I will be gone, and you can carry on with your day."
"Francois," the Admiral said, as evenly as possible, "I'm perfectly alright, not ill at all. I've just remembered that it is my wedding anniversary today. If you excuse me, I'll need to make a very personal call to my wife who will no doubt have prepared quite an ordeal for me as I left her this morning without saying a word. I pray that I can survive it..."
As the Admiral trailed off, Francois, still slightly confused, stood up and said, “Of course sir. Please take your time and remember to call if you need anything. We should be arriving at Starfleet Command in about ten minutes time,” He then stood at attention for a second, then departed.
As the hatch hissed shut behind him, the large man switched seats to the one in front of the Admiral and relaxed, lounging back onto the cushions. He chuckled again before eyeing the Admiral with his one uncovered eye that was a chilling ice-blue.
“Well…we meet at last Admiral…or should I call you, ‘Bushranger’. You can call me…’Odin’”
OFF:
Colonel Chester Mannheim, Played by James Darson
Admiral "Bushranger", played by Vincent Tan
by Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Vincent Tan
Post Details
| Title | A Talk About Other People's Toys (Backpost) - Part 1 | |
| Mission | Unity | |
| Author(s) | Colonel James Darson & Lieutenant Vincent Tan | |
| Posted | Mon Nov 16, 2009 @ 5:16pm | |
| Location | Earth | |
| Timeline | SD13 (Backpost) |
The sky was a cold gray this morning.
Despite the advanced weather control systems present on Earth, there were always some unavoidable pockets of insignificant weather that could develop…like this overcast sky for example. The wind swirled through the cold edifices of the tall San Francisco skyline, most of the city quiet, but getting louder as it began to wake up, and people began to go about their daily business
Shuttles began to crisscross through the air, as those who were important enough to warrant their own personal transport instead of being forced to use the mass transport hubs woke up and called for their rides to wherever there was important business to be conducted. One shuttle in particular was of interest.
It cut through the bleak morning air, its sleek shape moving smoothly with the designated traffic patterns in the sky. Suddenly, it broke from the mold, turned over and began a quick descent towards one of the high-rises. As it touched down on the designated shuttle pad, a young Starfleet Officer wearing command red stepped out of the building and straightened his uniform.
Petty Officer First Class Francois Bruse had been the executive yeoman to the Admiral for almost 6 years now. Straight out of the academy and into a desk job. Not the most glamorous of duties, certainly not the most exciting, but there were some perks. For one, he got a much larger room than he would have ever had on a starship. Also, he was learning from one of the most respected Admirals in the fleet, something that would have a large influence when it came time for him to move to a more influential position. That being said, he did enjoy a certain amount of respect and freedom that came from the company he kept.
Yep…he ran errands for the highest echelons of power.
As the shuttle idled down, the ramp lowered and a lone jump suited figure moved down it. The figure moved over quickly to the officer and saluted, “Ensign Montgomery Hawker reporting sir,” Despite the enormous rank difference, the billets ensured that there was no confusion as to who was in charge. Francois looked the man over quickly.
“What happened to our usual pilot? Ensign Fletcher?” He asked with no small amount of suspicion in his voice.
“Called in sick today,” Hawker said with a small amount of confusion in his voice, “Seems like he had a nasty stomach bug…but don’t worry sir, I’m more than qualified for this flight.”
Francois scowled, “I do not doubt your skills, Ensign. Your orders please.”
The officer obediently withdrew a PADD from his jumpsuit and handed it over. Francois ran a check on it and it turned up clean. He had been vetted by Starfleet for this job and found to be perfectly adequate for the job. And just in time too, considering that he could see the Admiral coming up to the door to the shuttle pad with his bodyguard in tow. He handed the PADD back to Ensign Hawker and told him to start the shuttle, while he turned and headed quickly over to the lift.
As the lift doors opened and the Admiral walked out, Francois saluted, and then fell into step behind him, “Good morning sir…full day today, isn’t it?”
"G'day, Francois," the Admiral said with a wave to his assistant. He drew his jacket closer. "I see we shall not be fearing a drought today."
Entering the shuttle, he removed his reading glasses from his jacket pocket and began to read the PADD Francois had given him. "We might have to push those engineers forward or cancel them altogether. I've got a personal errand to run this afternoon... And who's this Mannheim chap?"
Francois snorted, "A boorish Marine who contacted me last night while you were in a meeting sir. Demanded to meet with you as soon as possible. I told him to set up an appointment for next month, but he was very insistent. I ended up telling him that you would meet with him at 'your earliest convenience'...he seemed happy with that at least, for some reason. He cut the transmission off right after that. Didn't even end up with an appointment...Idiot."
The Admiral played with the thought in his head for a moment. A marine named Mannheim who was quite determined to meet him. The name was somehow familiar, but he could not quite place it. "What else do you know about him?"
"Admittedly, there isn't much Admiral," Francois said as he moved towards the main Cabin and the shuttle got ready to lift off, "I looked up his official Service Record afterwards out of curiosity. He is a Colonel in the Marines, CO of a Logistical Regiment. He's had a string of otherwise boring assignments...even during the Dominion War he didn't serve in a frontline capacity, which is odd in and of itself...but otherwise, everything checks out. It just gives me a bad feeling...if you know what I mean."
"Always trust a bad feeling," was the reply from the Admiral, putting two and two together. Whilst a career could be boring, to have *too* boring a history was simply beyond belief. "They will save your life one day. Do you think it's worth trying to call this fellow back?"
Francois was silent for a moment as he entered the somewhat lavishly appointed main cabin and waited for the admiral to take a seat, “It really isn’t my place to say sir.”
The Admiral chuckled. Francois was doing exactly as he would have done in a similar situation. No one wished to be wrong in front of a superior officer and the safest answer to any question was no answer at all. "I'm not asking you to tell me what to do. I'm asking your thoughts on the issue."
“Well…in my opinion sir,” he said with a slight hint of self-importance as he sat down across from the Admiral, “I wouldn’t waste too much time on him. After all, what could possibly be so important that he has to talk to you about? If he really does have legitimate business with you Admiral, I’m sure that he’ll come back to schedule an actual appointment.”
“Or I could just meet with you at your earliest convenience…as your aide said that I could before,” a voice with a deep Southern Terran drawl said. Suddenly, as if he had stepped out of thin air, a man was in the cabin with them. Huge and broad, with chocolate skin, he had a look of age on his face, emphasized due to the fact that one of his eyes was covered up with a metal plate. His uniform was the standard duty uniform of the Marines, but it was sanitized. No insignia or other identifying markers, not even a rank insignia or name tag. He took a step to the side and sat down in the seat next to the Petty Officer, who didn’t even bat an eye.
Francois frowned as he stared at the Admiral’s face which up until a couple of seconds ago had been normal and even slightly jovial. Now it was drawn up in a expression of shock or surprise, directed…at him? No, just to the right of him. He glanced over quickly. Nothing there. He turned back, “Admiral? Are you alright sir? Do you feel ill?”
The man chuckled darkly off to the side and stretched out his arm to wave a gloved hand lazily in front of the younger man’s face a couple of centimeters from his nose, eliciting no reaction “Ah yes…the good Petty Officer here, along with the rest of the crew, has been…encouraged….not to see anything out of the ordinary this morning. So you’re the only one who can see or hear me, Admiral. Now…send him away. Tell him that you want to make a private call, and that you need the cabin to yourself. And please,” he turned slightly so that the Admiral could see the occupied holster on his belt, “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be by trying to alert anybody, Admiral. If you just cooperate, by the time the shuttle arrives at Starfleet Command, I will be gone, and you can carry on with your day."
"Francois," the Admiral said, as evenly as possible, "I'm perfectly alright, not ill at all. I've just remembered that it is my wedding anniversary today. If you excuse me, I'll need to make a very personal call to my wife who will no doubt have prepared quite an ordeal for me as I left her this morning without saying a word. I pray that I can survive it..."
As the Admiral trailed off, Francois, still slightly confused, stood up and said, “Of course sir. Please take your time and remember to call if you need anything. We should be arriving at Starfleet Command in about ten minutes time,” He then stood at attention for a second, then departed.
As the hatch hissed shut behind him, the large man switched seats to the one in front of the Admiral and relaxed, lounging back onto the cushions. He chuckled again before eyeing the Admiral with his one uncovered eye that was a chilling ice-blue.
“Well…we meet at last Admiral…or should I call you, ‘Bushranger’. You can call me…’Odin’”
OFF:
Colonel Chester Mannheim, Played by James Darson
Admiral "Bushranger", played by Vincent Tan