I Need a Piece of Pie

Posted on Sat Oct 12th, 2024 @ 2:06pm by Lieutenant Commander Wayne Eastwood & Lieutenant Mitchell 'Mitch' Skennerton & Petty Officer 1st Class Rheda Jones
Edited on on Sat Oct 12th, 2024 @ 2:18pm

2,417 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Boys of Summer
Location: Tactical Department, Santiago Bay, Sagan Prime
Timeline: Mission Day 1

ON:

"Where the hell is my packet of pens Rheda!" yelled Mitchell Skennerton as he rubbed his forehead looking at his notepad at the scribbled note about referring the tactical department to draw up scenarios. Where the base was attacked by a multiple-strike force and how the base's automated defence system would devise the right protocol to protect assets on the base.

"Here Lieutenant," spoke Petty Officer Rheda Jones as she walked in her well-fitted uniform not leaving much of an imagination for Skennerton as he didn't mind the eye candy although it was just eye candy. Handing over the packet of pens Rheda sighed and smiled, "I don't know why you use these ancient devices?"

"What a pen and paper?" smirked Skennerton as he wrote down what he wanted to remember to take it to his CO, "You meaning to tell me that you never wrote anything down?"

"Yes I have but it's not what I am trying to say," said Rheda as she stood to stiff to attention thinking she was in trouble, "I just mean like you have the Starfleet computer system and you choose this method like isn't it taxing to one's hands?"

"True, although sometimes I don't think Starfleet needs to know every thought I have," spoke Skennerton, pushing his glasses from the bridge of his nose up to his face. He walked over to his wall safe and punched in his combination, opening it. "Simply put, my ideas and strategies are sometimes orthodox at best, and with my past. Somebody within Starfleet could use these ideas against me."

"Is everything okay, Lieutenant?" Rheda asked, tilting her head to the side, and placing a hand on her hip. "You seem a bit tense. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Skennerton's frown deepened. "Oh, don't give me that Betazoid mind-reading crap. You know I don't like it." He paused for a moment, then continued, "I'll be fine. Can you please give me the numbers we talked about this morning? I need to know how many turrets we lost during the incursion, and how the recovery is going. I need this information before my meeting with Commander Eastwood."

Rheda spoke in a stern tone, "Lieutenant, I don't appreciate being talked to like that. I was just finishing up the last few entries when you called out about the pens." She paused briefly before continuing, "Let's keep this professional, shall we? Cause I always know what you are thinking. Especially about my tight pants."

"Right, that's good," spoke Skennerton as he walked back over to his desk, sat down, and opened his computer terminal.

"Anything else Sir?" asked Rheda turning to face the Lieutenant.

Skennerton tapped his command screen on his desk. Not bothering to look up at the Petty Officer. "I'll call upon you when your services are needed," he stated curtly.

"Actually, there's an intercom," Rheda retorted sharply as she strode out of the room, her tone indicating her annoyance at Skennerton's dismissive remark.

"What did you say?" Skennerton snapped, realizing the full implications of Rheda's words. But before he could get a response from her, she had already stormed out of the room. With a sigh, he returned to his work, feeling frustrated and annoyed.

***

Eastwood's gaze hardened as he glared at the mound of PADDs on his desk, the weight of the tasks ahead overwhelming him. With an exasperated sigh, he swiftly cleared the entire stack, relocating it to a nearby table. The endeavour to bring the new weapon suite online for the Sagan Class Starships had proven to be a relentless challenge. Yet, amidst the intensity, it served as a welcome diversion, momentarily shifting his focus away from thoughts of Bryanna.

"Computer, could you please play some 20th-century music?" asked Eastwood, pausing to think about his request.

"What type of music would you like me to play?" the computer responded.

"How about playing Van Morrison's playlist and starting with 'Into the Mystic'? I'm in the mood for it," replied Eastwood as he looked around his desk, shifting charts until he found the silver tin containing his emergency packet of Weatherly Smooths.

"In my Van Morrison playlist, I have 'Into the Mystic' by the 'Blues Poet' himself. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" asked the room's computer.

"Can you turn off the smoke detectors in this room?" asked Eastwood as he placed a Weatherly Smooth into his mouth and lit it, addressing the room's computer.

"Sir, turning off the smoke detectors is against Starfleet Code 13-4A. Are you sure you want to proceed with this action?" responded the Computer, its voice calm and measured.

"Computer, turn them off. Use override code Eastwood-Zero-Alpha-Bravo-Omega," retorted Wayne as he took a drag and leaned back in his seat. Into the Mystic had finished playing and The Healing Games had started. Blowing smoke rings into the air, he propped his feet up on his desk and periodically tapped the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray resting on his chest. He expected to hear a soft, stern voice reprimanding him for using his desk as a makeshift ottoman.

"Sir, why does it smell like a dive bar in here?" asked an unfamiliar voice, its tone laced with surprise and disapproval.

Wayne kicked his feet off the desk, accidentally knocking his ashtray onto his tunic and desk. He was taken aback to see his Petty Officer standing in front of him, coughing with a cigarette still in his mouth. He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and disapproval. "Computer, pause the track," he commanded, and the music stopped.

Eastwood squinted through the smoke, trying to discern the figure emerging from the haze. As Rheda materialized, he relaxed and wiped down his tunic with a small smile. "You startled me," he said, crushing out his cigarette in the turned-over ashtray. "What brings you here?"

Rheda held the PADD to her chest and entered Eastwood's office, feeling a flutter of nerves in her stomach. "I'm working on the reports you asked me to do about Skennerton," she said softly, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to compose herself and project an air of professionalism.

Eastwood's expression soured as he gestured to the only available seat in the cramped, paperwork-laden room. "Please, have a seat, Petty Officer," he said, hoping to ease Rheda's nerves. "Now, can you continue? Has he laid a hand on you?" he asked, his voice gentle yet direct as he approached the sensitive topic.

"No, he hasn't," Rheda replied politely as she sat down. "Just that the man is very paranoid. He's been making hard copies of most things and packing up all his belongings into his office safe at night."

"That does sound about right. I can see his location on my PADD, and he doesn't really stray from here to home, maybe stopping at the local bar on the way back to his quarters. He's definitely a workaholic," spoke Eastwood as he handed her a PADD showing Skennerton's Inhibitor Chip working giving out the detailed location and previous locations, "See we know where he is although it's just we need to keep him on the right track, he had some good tactical outcomes during the Dominion War that's why I chose to put him under my care."

As Rheda's eyes scanned the screen, she focused on the marker indicating Skennerton's location. "So, that's the one, right?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

"Correct," Eastwood replied before moving on to the matter that had recently come to his attention. "Petty Officer, I'm about to head out on a mission that's come up suddenly, and I'll be leaving you with the codes for his inhibitor chip. Additionally, I'll have my personal PADD with me so that you can reach me if needed. Do you have any questions?"

"Understood, sir," Rheda replied, her tone respectful but professional. "I'll take care of everything while you're away, and I'll contact you on your PADD if any urgent matters arise."

"Exactly," Eastwood said as he turned off a PADD and handed it over, containing the codes. "It's vital that you protect these and ensure that he never gains access to them. Understood? And if the situation calls for it, you have my authorization to take lethal action. Is that clear?"

"Understood, sir," Rheda replied, her expression serious as she took the PADD from him. "I'll keep these codes secure and won't let them fall into the wrong hands. As for lethal action, I hope it won't come to that, but I'm prepared to do what's necessary."

"I have faith in you, Petty Officer," Eastwood said, his tone reflecting his confidence in Rheda's abilities. "Now McManus?"

"What about him, sir?" Rheda asked, holding the PADD on her lap. "He strikes me as a typical Academy grad - all about having the class ring of 2388, rather than focusing on the job at hand. But he's capable, and he has a youthful energy that I can feel. What's your take on him?"

Eastwood smirked, recalling his initial doubts about having a Betazoid on his staff. But as each day passed, he grew more certain that he had made the right decision. "Hmm, I see a lot of myself at that age," he mused, studying the young ensign before him. She was beautiful, with a slender neck and hair that brought back a bittersweet memory. He shook off the thought and continued, "Ambitious is the word that comes to mind when I think of her. However, I still need a Tactical Officer and he's the best I've got until you complete your OSC exam."

Rheda's face flushed with embarrassment as her commanding officer made the remark, acknowledging the significance of Eastwood's words, especially since she knew he had reservations about having her on his staff. "Thank you, Commander. I anticipate completing my remaining exams in the next few months. With your permission, I would like to pursue part-time studies alongside my responsibilities for you."

With a smile, Eastwood brought his hands together, clasping them in front of himself. "I don't foresee any issues. Simply prepare the relevant paperwork and bring it to me. I'll personally ensure that you have my signature."

"Understood," Rheda replied with a smile, appreciating having a supportive boss like him. "You mentioned something about Ensign McManus?"

"That's right, I was," replied Eastwood as he retrieved another PADD from his desk. "I'm currently working on a mission involving the USS Vigilant and the Planet Galen One. We lack intelligence on the situation. Now, as for Ensign McManus, I'm considering assigning him as the Chief Tactical Officer for this mission. What are your thoughts on that idea?"

"That's intriguing. Well, it's nice of you to ask," Rheda replied, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward with interest. "A mission to Harakoru with the USS Vigilant? That sounds like quite the opportunity, especially for someone like Ensign McManus, a fresh graduate from the academy. It presents a wonderful chance for her to gain valuable hands-on experience and showcase her skills. Assigning her as the Chief Tactical Officer could truly be a significant opportunity for her personal growth and professional development."

"That's what I thought. He's a young officer who needs to gain some mission experience," Eastwood acknowledged, nodding in agreement with his Petty Officer's observations. "Do you happen to know where he is currently stationed?"

"Hmm, I believe he's down at the Orbital Control going over the strategy and tactics with the head of that Department. If you I can send out a communication that he is needed." asked Rheda as she looked at her PADD.

"Yes, please, Petty Officer," Eastwood stated, his tone resolute. "I need to see him as a matter of urgency. Treat it as a top priority, and make it an official order. I'm perplexed as to why he's been dedicating so much time to that department. By the way, could you provide an update on the Vigilant's proximity to docking?"

Rheda giggled at the Lieutenant Commander's comment, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She was well aware of the true reason behind Ensign McManus's frequent visits to that department. It was evident to her that it was all part of
his strategic approach, as she overheard his conversations with Skennerton in his office. It appeared that the young Ensign was, in fact, charming a Lieutenant Junior Grade who held a higher rank than him.

"Why the giggle, Petty Officer?" Eastwood asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he thought back on his previous statement. "Did I say something funny?" he inquired, waiting to hear her response.

"Oh, it's nothing," Rheda replied with a smile, adjusting her uniform slightly. "The USS Vigilant is scheduled to arrive at the dock today, bringing in wounded and casualties. Would you like me to submit a request to meet with the commanding officer? I believe her name is Commander Portillo, but correct me if I'm mistaken."

"You got the name right," Eastwood laughed. "And you even promoted her too! One rank above yours truly."

"Oh?" Rheda smiled, her cheeks turning slightly pink with a hint of embarrassment. "Nevertheless, should I still reach out to her on your behalf?"

"No need, just inform Senior Chief Petty Officer," responded Eastwood. "His name is Rodger Malik, Senior Chief Petty Officer Malik."

"Oh, Rodger! I know him," Rheda blushed, coming to a halt and turning her gaze towards Eastwood. "If I'm not mistaken, you served your tours alongside him, right?"

"Yes, among many other things," Eastwood chuckled. "When you get the chance to relay a message to him, let him know that I'll meet him on the Vigilant."

"Understood, Commander. Anything else I should know, Commander?" asked Rheda, rising from her chair. "May I have permission to leave and take care of this?"

"Certainly, Petty Officer. And if anything comes up, please keep me informed, okay?" Eastwood replied, rising from his seat and stretching before settling back down. "You have direct access to me. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything, alright?"

"Okay," replied Rheda, nodding as she exited the room.

"Now, let's dive back into this Sagan Remembers paperwork," Eastwood declared, lighting up another cigarette. He powered up his console and glanced at Blurforth's latest request. "Doesn't seem like that's going to happen anytime soon," he remarked, with a hint of scepticism, before directing his attention back to the screen.

OFF

 

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