Lieutenant Commander Tatash: Doing The Rounds

[Theo Whittaker]

((USS Columbia - Main Shuttlebay))

 

::Was it possible to be stalked by an inanimate object? Did it's complex computer circuits feel some sort of wanton affection for the Gorn that couldn't keep it away? No matter how far he seemed to run, he always ended up back inside the giant squashed bug that is the Columbia. 

 

Any soreness he felt about it was more in jest then truth, he just hated to admit that he loved this ship in return. It wasn't the fastest, nor the prettiest. It wasn't as smart as some of the new dedicated science ships, and it wasn't as powerful as a the massive star cruisers being pumped out by the shipyards. It was old, it was clunky, and even the new carpet couldn't hide the aged architecture and nearly retro design behind them.

 

Old fashioned would be the term, just like the Gorn that once more patrolled it's halls. Even now he could feel his legs ready to stride back down those corridors without so much of a second thought for navigation, muscle memory that had not been lost despite his time on the starbase, and the Avandar before that.::

 

Whittaker: To Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker, Stardate 239509.10. You are hereby requested and required to take command of the U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 as of this stardate. Signed, Admiral Vivian Hauke, Starfleet Command. ::beat:: Computer, transfer all command authorisation codes to myself. Voice authorisation: Whittaker Delta Five.

 

::Tatash watched, and waited, as the ship sucked in this new information, mulling it over in those processing engines::

 

Computer: Transfer complete. U.S.S. Columbia N.C.C.-85279 now under the command of Captain Theo Michelangelo Whittaker.

 

Pandorn: Captain on deck!!! ::smiles at his CO::

 

::Without thought he snapped to attention. Some habits are impossible to break, clanking his heels on the deckplate::

 

Any: ?

 

Whittaker:Well, there you have it people. Our new ship. We have an exciting opportunity ahead of us. This is a storied vessel with a lot of history behind her. Let make sure that we do her all proud and that the history books never forget our names.

 

G’Renn: Time to add another chapter to this ship’s history.

 

Any: ?

 

Whittaker: ::with a smile, he brought the ceremony to its logical conclusion.:: Dismissed.

 

Tatash: Walk and talk, people.::he growled::  Last thing you want is a cargo shuttle landing on your head.

 

::He delivered it with a light, good humored tone. Already he could see more running lights hovering outside the large force-field protecting them from vacuum, there was apparently still a lot of supplies and crew to get on board, more then just using the transporters would allow.

 

People broke into their own teams, each of them looking genuinely excited to be on board the illustrious vessel, although he held himself back a little making sure the landing pads were clear of personnel before moving to the side of the door, his yellow eyes watching the next couple of vehicles touch down safely before heading out of the main door himself.

 

The corridors smelt new at least, the carpet freshly laid and plush enough that his massive boots sunk into its surface. The new paneling giving what used to be brightly lit beige a more naval tone yet still capturing some essence of regalia. It was a facelift and a half, but still he knew the layout despite it's visually pleasing upgrade. That was reassuring, the thought that they would have rearranged any of the key area's was practically heresy.

 

He nodded to people as he slowly walked past, the same inspection route he'd taken hundreds of time, the same predictable set of events that a security chief undertook before each voyage. First he would make sure they had their teeth, then he'd make sure the ship had hers.

 

His first stop was towards the deep heart of the ship, located near the brig for obvious reasons (which, without any prisoners in, was a pointless trip).::

 

Computer: Authorization Required.

 

Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three.

 

::The door opened with an obedient hiss, the weapons locker of the Columbia laying itself bare. Racks of weapons, not as many as the massive QM on Starbase 118 and certainly none of the heavy weapons the corps used.

 

The key difference here was everything here was so very new. Compression rifles, standard phase rifles, armor, grenades, everything pristine almost in it's packaging. The room smelt of lubricant and polish, the tang of energy cells fully charged, the faint hum of the security fields keeping the weapons in check unless authorized to fall. 

 

But most importantly, there wasn't an empty space. He threw a brief glance down to the PADD he'd been clutching since arrival, then looked back up at the numbers above each rack. All present and correct.

 

Good.

 

His next stop was a few further decks up, after leaving the armory locked behind him. The doorway here was larger, a lot more solid. More designed to keep anything inside from exploding outwards.::

 

Computer: Authorization Required.

 

::He wished silently the damned thing would just remember him::

 

Tatash: Tatash, Alpha One Nine Eight Three.

 

::This door clunked open with a loud whine, revealing the racks upon racks of ominous looking black oblongs. Again, no gaps in the housing and every mount seemed to have one of the large torpedo's nestled snugly inside it. Again, the entire room was new. Gone was the old fashioned slip n slide style of loading that needed several people to operate. This was newer, faster and deadlier.

 

He tapped a claw on the small console at the end of the mechanical spool, the entire housing shifting with a steady clunk as each shelf was rotated to bear its deadly charge if required.::

 

Tatash: Computer, how many torpedo's are on board?

 

Computer: One hundred and eighty.

 

::The perfect number, If anything this was starting to get a little boring.::

 

Tatash: =/\= Tatash to Pandorn

 

Pandorn: =/\= ?

 

Tatash: =/\= You have a full magazine down here. Loading system functional. 

 

Pandorn: =/\= ?

 

Tatash: =/\= You're welcome. Out.

 

::It would be up to Tactical to make sure the phasers were operational, there was so many arrays dotted all round the ship that a visual inspection of each would take hours, if not days of work. Torpedo's he could count, complex engineering work, not so much his forte

 

Again he strode out, his routine swinging him back towards the brig, this time into his own security office. Small, compact. Barely room for a desk and a couple of chairs on the other side along with the usual readouts of the ship. Already someone had put the box containing his handful of desk ornaments considerately down for him on the [...] wood surface.

 

For a brief second he felt himself almost pulled back in time, had he been standing in this same place sometime, wondering how he would cope with the duty suddenly thrust on him as a head of department? When did that anxiety become replaced with the quiet confidence of slipping on a comfortable old glove?

 

Still, his mistake back then had been spending too much time in this room. It had been that which had stunted him developing friendships, leaving him moping around for the first few missions. A mistake that he had no intention of repeating as he moved back to the turbolift::

 

Tatash: Bridge.

 

::The machine whirred upwards at a breakneck pace, he was almost convinced he'd left his stomach down where he'd embarked by the time he'd been practically vomited out onto the bridge.

 

He blinked a few times, now -this- was a new set up. Gone was the sweeping arcs, the aged design of Starfleets optimistic classic design replaced with the more genuinely navyesque modern decor. But still everything hummed with machinery, beeping and whirring like a tinkerers toybox.

 

It was, if anything, overwhelmingly complicated.::

 

Tatash: This is a bit much.

 

Any: ?

 

::He hadn't really been aware he'd said it out loud, gesturing with his hand to the controls so polished that the overhead lights gleamed off them::

 

Tatash: I mean, look at it. It's all so -new-!

 

Any: ?

 

---

 

Lt. Commander Tatash

Acting Chief of Security

USS Columbia

C239108T10

[Theo Whittaker]

Another submission from myself! @Tatash manages to make even the simplest of tasks an engaging and thoughtful read! This is some fantastic writing! Bravo!