I originally wrote a similar piece as a First Person story, and it was going to be the first chapter in a much bigger tale. But that met with less than stellar review. My 1st person writing skills are poor. Now I've rewritten it as a vignette that glimpses back into the life of Captain/Commodore Chevis Ford. I've added some detail and Berman-ized (ie:fudged/rewrote to suit me) some earlier details to make them flow better with my more current stuff. Real technical folk will see the differences if they look.
Either way, I hope these are enjoyed. There won't be any time order in the way I present these. The next may well be 5 years prior or 30 later. We'll see.
But, untill then...
Star Trek
Back In The Day
When Ford Met Surrak
Ensign Chevis Ford could not ease the irritation provided by his stiff, itchy new collar. The uniform tunic was new and freshly starched. It would look stunning for that first day as an officer on a new ship. But it was proving to be hell on his thick neck.
‘Really,’ he thought to himself as he came about the final turn in the corridor that would take him to the docking wing of this starbase’s interior bay. ‘I wish I’d washed this damn thing before boarding. If I’m not careful, the skipper’s gonna think I’m some kind of stim junkie.’ He stretched at the collar of the offensive gold garment yet again.
The final leg of the trip from the upper space dock section to the docking stem deep within it was finally drawing to an end before his new, polished boots. The boots hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as the collar. His feet were tolerant. His neck wasn’t. Though, given the sheer size of these new, mushroom-shaped space docks, he was beginning to wonder if his feet weren’t going to be hurting just for all the miles he’d put on them. ‘They need better lift service to this area!’
Ford was no virgin to Fleet service. Born in 2237, he’d joined the Federation Starfleet at the age of seventeen. That had been back in ’54. It was June 1, 2265 today. Some enlisted and officers had already served complete tenures by now and left the service. He was just now becoming an officer. He’d served in the enlisted ranks from Crewman 2nd Class on up to Chief Petty Officer. Last year, though, he’d gained his captain’s eye aboard the USS Daniels. Morgan’s words still rang in his ears as he neared the final right turn that would take him to the airlock section where his new post awaited.
‘You’re going to be an officer if I have to drag you to the Academy myself, Ford. Someone has to get out there and show these younger ensigns how we really do things!’ His old Skipper had told him. ‘You’ve got too much talent and potential to waste on this tub.’
For eleven years, Ford had served on the USS Jack Daniels, and had been proud to man a ship named for his the oldest brand of American Whiskey still on the market. He’d seen and done a lot of things already. But at the age of twenty-eight, he felt too damned old to be wearing a tunic with no braids on the sleeve. He felt like he was back at the bottom of the food chain…
‘Morgan and the Commandant both told me that I’d see Lieutenant (SG) after my first year providing I get good marks from this Sharp person.’ He admonished himself.
Chevis knew he had no reason to feel poorly about his situation. Few people got the opportunity to attend the Academy and make officer. Fewer still got to join the officer ranks without being accepted by the Academy. He had made it based on his skills and service history alone. Morgan had pulled strings with his friends at the Academy, where Morgan himself had taught frigate-based tactics. Ford had been brought in for an abbreviated officer’s training school, attending the necessary classes with fresh faced kids who were ten or twelve years his junior. He’d gotten decent marks in the academic areas, excellent grades in the actual operations testing. He had the edge on his peers there. He’d already served with all the equipment they were testing on. As a result, his graduating class had done so with a higher grade point average in those areas.
He’d been very proud to walk with that graduating class as an ensign.
Ford slowed at the final junction, a ninety-degree right turn that would cross before the ship that would be his home for the coming months and years. She was a Constitution-Class heavy cruiser, thirteenth of her class and among the last that would mimic the original versions in their design. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he turned the last corner that would bring him within sight of an awesome vessel.
He opened his eyes.
Four huge panels of transparent aluminum made for a wide, tall observation area looking out into the docking module beyond. Just outside was the wide, massive stretch of the upper saucer section of the USS Endeavour. The docking tube was recessed below the level of the embarkation deck, designed to give Starfleet crew a grand view of the ships they were about to board. The angle made the ship seem as though she were almost touching the bulkhead beneath the window frame and as a result made the ship just that much more of a delight to behold.
The saucer swelled at the center of the expanse of grey-white hull, towering high above Ford’s vantage like a far away mountain. The bridge module and superstructure rested atop and at the center of it all, its lights and sensor dome shining brightly. Behind were the two, cylindrical warp engines. Over a hundred meters in length, they were larger than most ships. Huge Bussard hydrogen scoops capped them off on the ends facing Ford. They were inactive, dull and dark. When the ship made her way out of this dock they would be alive with an internal fire, swirling with their own energies.
At his portside angle, the new ensign could just make out the giant black lettering that spelled out Endeavour and the ship’s registry number: 1895. She bore a number as high as the new Miranda-Class cruisers that were on the R&D drawing boards.
Endeavour was quite a ship to behold, and at 265 meters long, she was twice the size of the Okinawa-Class frigate Ford had served aboard for more than a decade. Many of her details were the same. Same smooth engine nacelles. Same general saucer and impulse assembly. Similar secondary engine hull and protruding deflector dish. The smaller frigates had not had such long nacelle struts or a dorsal neck connecting the saucer to the secondary hull. Ford fell in love with this new ship from the moment he first opened his eyes upon her.
Only after a long minute of looking at her did Chevis note that he was not alone near the gangway. Another ensign in a blue duty tunic stood ramrod straight, eyeing the ship out the viewports. He was Vulcan, but not tall. He bore a bowl cut style of black hair and had a round face from what Ford could see at this angle. Compared to the beard and long braid that Chevis sported, this officer was much cleaner cut and spiffy looking. ‘So much for looking my best before the skipper when I board. Compared to this guy, I’ll look like a Redneck.’
Ford sidled up alongside this man, and continued looking out with approval at the giant, sleeping vessel before them. The Vulcan seemed in a very contemplative mood and did not openly take note of the other ensign. They stood in silence and gazed at their futures.
“A starship is a beauteous thing,” The Vulcan officer said suddenly. He had not taken his dark eyes from the ship they viewed. “Full of grace and potential.”
Ford looked over to the blue clad man. He wore the same emblazoned sextant insignia, the symbol that stood for this ship. Ford wore one as well on his command gold shirt. This man’s insignia held the spheroid marking of a member of the science department, just as he might have supposed.
“Yeah. I’m never left wanting when I lay eyes on a new ship.” He replied.
The Vulcan looked over to him, then.
“You speak as one who has served on more than one ship.”
“Just one other…” Ford admitted. “But I’ve seen plenty of ‘em in the last ten years.”
The stranger’s left eyebrow inclined to a steep angle. With his sharp ears and already arched brows, he looked truly devious. “Ten years? Are you not an ensign?”
“I am. Now… Was an enlisted man for a decade, then nearly forced to go officer.”
The Vulcan’s other brow shot up to join the first, then they both lowered to more normal altitudes. His head cocked to the side almost as a puppy dog’s might. “A…maverick officer, then?”
“Yeah…though they generally don’t start applying that term till you get higher up.”
“I am Surrak D’clavata’clail’aaus.” The ensign told him, offering a hand forward in a very human gesture. From the few Vulcanians Ford had met, he knew they usually did not indulge in unnecessary tactile contact. He took the man’s hand and shook it.
“Chevis Ford. My friends call me Chevy.”
“Like the American motor car?”
“Yup. All three names, damn it! I thought Vulcans didn’t have last names.”
“We do, but do not generally employ them before members of less patient species. They are indicative of family lineage and ancient stature. Luckily, my own family designation is somewhat short.”
Ford had to look twice, but he was almost sure that Surrak was smiling as he said all this. Could it be? He had always heard his people did not smile. They were supposed to have complete emotional control. Some adhered that Vulcan’s didn’t even have them. But this man was indeed hiding a small smirk.
‘I’m well known for my eternal frown,’ Ford thought, ‘But this guy could teach me a thing or two about a poker face!’
Chevy knew right off he had met someone he was going to get to know quite well. He watched as the slim young Vulcan picked up his black, fleet issue duffel and turned toward the gangway hatch. They both set off, boarding their new ship, their new home, for the first time.
END.
Topic: New Vignette Series: Back in The Day #1 (Read 2050 times)