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Lt. Cmdr. Ben Garcia - Ahoy!


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Returning after a LOA is not an easy task. Doing it in the middle of a mission, even less so. Still, @Furious Angel Benvus Garci has managed to do it smoothly, bringing the good humour and light-hearted spirit that is his trademark and taking the chance to tie up loose ends (or leave breadcrumbs for future developments) for other crewmembers,  turning this in a magnificent SIM, no doubt.

Kudos and praises and, overall, welcome back!



((U.S.S. Solo, en route to the U.S.S. Thor.))


Ben sat back in the pilot’s chair. The rumble through the comet field had been a blast. Now, with the flush of adrenaline settling, Ben yawned. 


The damage report scrolled under his fingertips. The port wing had taken a couple of deep dents. Nothing a ‘pop and paint’ wouldn’t fix. 


Ben thumbed the dimple under his bottom lip.


Garcia: (Aloud to himself) Could make it a little off duty project …


Ben nodded at his own suggestion. It’d be fun and make him feel less guilty about going on a quick jolly through the comet field.


Well. It wasn’t all a fly-boy’s jolly, Ben thought.


In fairness, Ben had collected a log of data for Lovar. The comet field was unique from a botanist’s perspective: the comets were home to a sub-group of Bryophyta known as ‘comet moss’.


Of course, from a pilot’s perspective, the comet field was a chance to thunder along a mini white knuckle flight path. 


Garcia: (Aloud to himself with a cheeky smile.) Quid pro quo.


But that was thirty minutes ago. Now, the last leg of the journey was fair sailing. With the excitement of his little jaunt now waning, Ben programmed the auto-pilot. The Thor was not far away now. Just far enough for a quick cuppa and a kick back. 


Ben clambered to the rear of the shuttle and hunched over the replicator.


Garcia: Cuppa, tad warmer than luke. And a slice of chocolate cake.


The computer chirped in acknowledgment.


Garcia: Pause. Cancel the cake. I’ll have a mince pie. Individual serving. Cold.


The computer waited a beat. Satisfied with the silence, it chirped again in acknowledgement. 


The tea and mince pie appeared through a veil of blue-tinted star shimmer. 


Ben sat down and pulled up the retractable side table. Peeling the foil from the crust of the mince pie, he watched the stars and gasses of space pass by.


He thought now of his sister. Ben had done what he could, which wasn’t much apart from being there. Now, they had to leave it in the hands of time. Until then, the Thor was where Ben needed to be. 


Computer: U.S.S Thor within specified range.


Ben took another mouthful of the mince pie and washed it down with a swig of tea. Mug in hand, Ben climbed back into the pilot’s chair.


Garcia: =/\= Lt. Cmdr. Garcia to the U.S.S Thor. =/\=


Ben waited and the channel expired. Taking a sip of tea, he called again.


Garcia: =/\= Lt. Cmdr. Garcia to the U.S.S Thor. =/\=


Thor: =/\= Response? =/\=


Garcia: =/\= Clocking in for duty ... any room to pull into a shuttle bay? =/\=


Thor: =/\= Response? =/\=




Lieutenant Commander Ben Garcia

Second Officer/HCO

USS Thor NCC-82607

Author ID number: G239102MR0

SB118 News Team


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