Vigilant Neighbours

Posted on Sat Oct 12th, 2024 @ 2:07pm by Lieutenant JG Silon & Senior Chief Petty Officer Rodger Malik & Lieutenant Commander Wayne Eastwood

4,978 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: Boys of Summer
Location: USS Vigilant, Bridge
Timeline: MD1, 0930

ON

The wonderful blue marble of Sagan Prime shone brightly on the viewscreen of the USS Vigilant. It was a welcome sight for the collection of officers and crew aboard the vessel, each looked a little dogged, and just a little beyond it.

"USS Vigilant, welcome home, permission to enter orbit granted. We've kept your docking port warm for you," The orbital control officer said over the coms as the Vigilant slowly pulled into port.

"Well," Malik began, standing from the ops station to check the readouts on the helm officer's station, "I hope I never see the inside of a mining transport again."

"Agreed," Silon, the unusually friendly and bulky Gorn officer, nodded from the tactical station as he placed the ship's defence systems on stand-by. "By the nines! You'd think a crew of a mining transport could keep their ship running. Teaches them for pushing their engines further than they can go."

"Damn right," The helmsman grinned. She directed Malik's attention to her panel once again. "Slowing to 10kph, umbilical docking connection primed and aligned."

"Docking complete," Malik called as an audible metallic clunk on the hull signified the connection between the ship and the docking station. He tapped the shipwide com system and opened a channel to the Vigilant's skeleton crew, "Attention all hands, this is the bridge, secure all areas and initiate shipwide stand-by dock conditions."

Malik went back to the operations station to begin placing the vessel in low power mode when an alert came through on Silon's security panel. "We've got a visitor. Commander Eastwood."

"Eastwood?" Malik enquired, approaching Silon, "The hell is he doing up here?"

"He wants to see us apparently," Silon responded. He gave Malik a wink of his reptilian eyes, "You didn't beat him at cards again, did you?"

"Do you know a better player of Snap?" Malik grinned, playfully slapping Silon on the shoulder. "Hey, I'll go down and meet Eastwood. Can you let Lieutenant Portillo know we're in dock, rouse our fearless leader from her beauty sleep."

"You sure that's wise?" Silon chuckled.

Malik returned the laugh and went to leave the bridge, gesturing to a fellow technician, "Petty Officer T'Shon, can you oversee the shutdown from the ops station."

Walking through the corridors of the small Defiant Class ship, Malik passed the vessel's medical team, who had a few injured passengers walking with them. None looked that worse for wear after their treatment, fortunately. As they disembarked, the Chief noticed Eastwood standing aside for the patients and their carers. Malik followed them off the vessel to greet his superior.

"Commander Eastwood, good to see you," Malik smiled, extending his hand to offer Eastwood a firm handshake.

"Good to see you too, Senior Chief," said Eastwood taking his hand. His gaze lingered on the miners being treated for transport. Turning back to Malik, he tried to keep the smile on his face steady. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted," Malik nodded. He appreciated Eastwood's observation of protocol, treating the crew of the ship as he'd expect to be treated. "You know you don't need to request permission, Commander?"

"I've become a stickler for protocol these days, Senior Chief," Eastwood said with a smile as he walked alongside Malik, who still felt like a mentor to him. "It's something that comes with being in the constant spotlight of Command."

"True," Malik smiled. He gestured towards the corridor that granted access to the Vigilant and began to head further inside the vessel. "So, you've obviously got something you want to discuss?"

"Correct," Eastwood said, pausing to take stock of his surroundings. "It has been a bloody long time, hasn't it? But, yes, is there a place where I can talk to you privately?"

"Yeah, sure," Malik nodded. He led the commander through a few corridors to the Warrant Officer's quarters, which had been unoccupied during the mission. Entering the room, he tapped a couple of commands into the replicator panel and cycled the air, adding a freshener into the mix. "Sorry, bit of a.. smell. Anyway."

"All good, Senior Chief," smiled Eastwood as he pulled out a chair from a table and sat down, pulling out a PADD on the operation he had prepared so far. He added, "How long would it take to prepare the Vigilant to come out of drydock and back into service? I mean, the time needed for loading stores and assembling a fresh crew."

"Supplies are fresh, we could deploy immediately. Wait," Malik stopped. He rubbed his tired eyes and let out a sigh. "You don't intend to send us back out do you? Listen, Eastwood, this crew have been working around the clock for--"

"Let me make it easier for you in that regard, Senior Chief," spoke Eastwood as he put his PADD out on the table in front of him. "Select the crew that 'need' shore leave and then fill the rest from the 'Pool'. This could be a good opportunity for training younger personnel."

"Obviously, I will be requesting that you stay on?" asked Eastwood, hoping his grin would pay off in the long run. "For old times' sake, my dear friend?"

"Only for you, Commander," Malik relented. His shoulders dropped in a mix of frustration and fatigue as he took the PADD and looked it over. "The engineering department will need shore leave, so will medical, security as well.. that leaves... well, three crew members, excluding me."

"Let me assure you, Senior Chief, that at the end of this mission, the Vigilant is getting a well-deserved overhaul. I have personally made sure of that," spoke Eastwood with a confident smile, hoping to lift the Senior Chief's spirits. "As for this operation, I will be leading the vessel, but I'm also taking along a fresh Academy graduate from my department, Dillon McManus. He needs to experience real-world situations, so I've assigned him to Tactical. Medical and Engineering, I trust will be in your capable hands."

"Of course," Malik nodded. He let out a yawn and continued. "You probably won't be needing the current CO, Lieutenant Portillo, then. That leaves Silon and Crewman Cliff Bonanza, who did sweet fuck all as science officer."

"Correct we won't need her even though she is capable," Eastwood affirmed, his gaze shifting to Malik who was studying the manifest. "We'll need Slion on board since he's one of the few who survived the Intelligence Department's overhaul. As for Crewman Cliff Bonanza, we'll transfer him out and find a suitable replacement from the Eversonian."

"Good, good," Malik nodded, almost dismissively. "Listen, what's the hurry? This is a hell of a turnaround, and you seem pretty motivated to get on the road."

"I'll provide a full briefing for the task force once we're underway. However, I must warn you that the intelligence we have is far from perfect," Eastwood said as he rose from his chair. "What I can tell you now is that we're dealing with a former mining planet and a group of anarchists. It's a straightforward infiltration and reconnaissance mission."

"Great," Malik laughed. "So I'm guessing you want the cloak available?"

As he walked towards Malik, Eastwood addressed the issue at hand. "Yes, I've been receiving reports from the current CO, she was saying that the cloaking device has been behaving erratically," he said. "But for the repairs and refits. I've forwarded the list you sent me to the appropriate channels, and once this mission is over, the Vigilant will be at the front of the line. I even made sure to prioritize the holodeck's much-needed security update. After all, we don't want your
Battle of Khe Sanh to come to life again, do we?" He chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

"No, no we don't," Malik laughed in return. "Listen, this ship is going to want some fine-tuning if you're serious about this, Eastwood. I don't know if we can have the sort of turnaround you're after, unless you don't mind a cloaking device that turns itself on and off at random."

"Don't worry, Senior Chief," Eastwood said with a reassuring smile, despite knowing all along that the cloaking device would likely be inoperable. "This just means we have to rely on the old-fashioned way," he added with a smirk, keeping his plan under wraps.

"Sure thing, Commander," Malik nodded. "Fancy getting a bite to eat to catch up? I'm starving."

"I could spare a few moments," Eastwood smiled, his thoughts drifting to when he had last eaten. "How is Chef? Have his meals changed, or have you changed the chef?"

"Ah, jeez, they're still useless. They've resorted to just using the replicator again; it's better, and easier. Only just," Malik grumbled. Leading Eastwood out of the Warrant Officers' quarters and out into the corridor, the non-essential skeleton crew members streaming past in drips and drabs as the docking crew took over. It almost seemed like the Commander and Chief were going against the grain, heading towards the mess hall. "So, everything going well back at the Bay? I don't think I've touched ground for months, we've been that under the pump up here."

"Goodness, to miss out on the fresh meals in the Captain's quarters, especially when he's baking pastries," remarked Eastwood as he manoeuvred around the crew attempting to disembark. "Speaking of the Bay, let's just say I'm now overseeing two departments while also implementing the new weapons package for the Sagan Class. I've had to clean up the mess within the Intelligence Department, which was left in disarray. On top of that, I'm tasked with mentoring a Tactical Staff that's still in the learning phase. By the way, there's an opening in Intelligence if you ever consider switching sides," he smirked, fully aware that Malik would never entertain such an idea.

"You know full well I'd never entertain such an idea," Malik remarked, shouldering his way past a couple of crewman covered in the muck and grease of the cargo ship. "Thankfully we've got that holodeck. I think I'd go crazy without. But Ensign Purvois is up to no good in there, I just know it. You said you were chasing an upgrade?"

"I've submitted the request, but I can't shake the feeling that Commander Tobias believes our Defiant Class ship doesn't come equipped with a holodeck. Nonetheless, I've provided him with the detailed notes you gave me for inspection and approval. I have complete faith that he will give his approval for everything," Eastwood stated, pausing in front of the turbo lift as they awaited its doors to open. "The old girl deserves some tender love and care, considering all she has done for the Fleet."

"Quite right," Malik agreed. Entering the mess hall, the room was dead, everyone was rushing into the city for a good feed on something made by someone who knew what they were doing. In a stained, off-white chef's uniform was the Vigilant's cook, a shady and dirty looking Yridian who'd made his way aboard by insisting the vessel needed a chef. In reality, he'd used the job to squirrel away oodles of replicator credits. "Yog, you old dog, we need some lunch."

"Yog will do what Yog does best," Yog replied in a wheezy, low tone. He raised his arm and tapped the replicator panel and then went to walk off. "Order away."

"Thanks, Yog," Malik nodded. "You heard the man, Eastwood."

"Ah, right," Eastwood mused, contemplating his options. He approached the control panel and pressed the screen, activating the replicator. "I'll have a hot white cup of coffee and a Tomato and Cheese Grilled Sandwich, please." After placing his order, he observed with anticipation as the replicator reconstituted the meal right before his eyes.

Malik followed as Eastwood took his meal. "Black coffee, hot and Protein Supplement 14." In an instant, a steaming coffee and what looked to be a cooked chicken breast appeared in the food slot. They took a seat, Malik not waiting to dig into a long-awaited meal, like a lion to a gazelle. "So, how are the preparations coming for Sagan Remembers?"

"Don't get me started," Eastwood exclaimed as he picked up a sandwich slice with his bare hands. Between bites, he inquired, "Have you ever heard of the NX-01 reenactment group?"

"I haven't," Malik said with a shake of his head. He cut into his meal and took a bite. Through a mouthful of food, in what his mother would've said was a nasty habit, the Chief continued, "Historical group, or?"

"Oh, they're just a reenactment group," scoffed Eastwood, shaking his head as he took a sip of his coffee. "They actually believe it's the year 2151, and their leader fancies himself as a modern-day Jonathan Archer. But let's be real, he's nothing more than an overweight clown in a flight suit. Captain Brandon Bannon of the USS Columbia, not even the Enterprise. It's absurd how much Blurforth insists on involving them. I had to make a decision he vehemently disagrees with. And then there's the old Dragon of Uzi, who's convinced the Dominion War was a hoax. The man is a complete lunatic. To be honest, all of them are."

"I guess anyone who isn't nuts around here is probably busy working," Malik shrugged. "The Columbia is full of odd-bods, though. Ever heard what the XO, Commander T'Popov did?"

"Wasn't that the Vulcan who had Russian heritage?" Eastwood inquired, pausing briefly to take another substantial bite of his sandwich. Once he had swallowed, he resumed the conversation, reflecting, "Hmm, isn't he the one who struggled to comprehend human pride?"

“That’s the one, drove the ship’s last captain crazy with all the talk of pride and insisting he’d dob him into the Vulcan High Command, which didn’t even exist.” Malik said between bites. “So, how are they doing their re-enactments this year?”

Eastwood grimaced as he reflected on his conversation with Captain Brandon. "No, they are not," he admitted with a hint of frustration. "I made it clear that I cannot allow such inclusion, particularly when it pertains to paying tribute to those we've lost at the Bay. It wouldn't be fitting. I can already picture them in their meticulously replicated vintage flight suits, meticulously double-checking their phase pistols, intentionally rendered inoperable without power cells."

Malik nodded. “I get it. You’re right, it’s not in the spirit of what all that stands for. Save it for Federation Day, right?”

"Certainly," Eastwood smiled, savouring his coffee before adding, "I'm relieved I'm not involved in organizing that event."

"I certainly feel like there's less you could get wrong," Malik replied. He took another bite, "You can't be too careful with Sagan Remembers, so many people's friends and family, fresh wounds for many. Nothing to celebrate. You still think about that day, Eastwood?"

"Remember?" Eastwood pondered, his face showing a mix of contemplation and unease. That day, it still haunted him—the relentless onslaught from the Breen blockade, carrying a weapon that could've wiped them all out. "Yeah, I remember some bits. We lost folks on D deck, and their screams over the intercom still echo in my ears. I was there, in the captain's chair, trying to steer us out of that mess. Let's just say sleep hasn't been my best friend since then. what about yourself?"

"Like it was yesterday," Malik said, staring at his meal for a moment. He was eager to move on, though, to similarly morbid topics. "How's your son, anyway?"

"Based on what the doctors have told me, his disease hasn't gotten worse, but unfortunately, there's still no cure," said Eastwood, looking at Malik. "Turns out his mom passed on the genes for this disease, but his grandma has been there for him, showing him lots of love. I try to message him every now and then."

"That's nice, good to hear the little guy is doing okay," Malik smiled. "I guess he's not so small anymore, though."

"No, he's 12 years old now, and he just wishes he could have a regular life," said Eastwood, casually fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup. "He knows he's sick, but he really wants to live longer, you know? It's tough on him."

"Man, it's a tough break," Malik hoped, perhaps in vain to lift the officer's spirits, "Hey, man, it's a new decade, who knows what medical marvels we'll come across."

"Exactly," declared Eastwood as he tried not to think about his son too hard turning the conversation back to the mission. "Now, when it comes to this mission, I'll need an Executive Officer. I have two choices: either the Intelligence Officer I haven't had the chance to meet yet, or I take a bold step and field promote a Senior Chief Petty Officer to the role. I have a feeling you already know which direction I'm leaning, Chief," he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he savoured a sip of his coffee. "So, what do you say, Chief? Are you up for being my trusted Second Chair?"

"You've secured those services before, Commander," Malik grinned, "Sure, it's been a few years, but it sounds like it's time for another rodeo. Just one catch."

"What's the catch, Mister Malik?" chuckled Eastwood, casting a glance at the Chief.

"You give me that briefing here and now, I want to know what we're dragging this ship and its crew into," Malik said. "None of that tiptoe bullshit."

"Well, you'll need to seize the opportunity first," smirked Eastwood, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he contemplated his next move. 'Hmm, perhaps I can exert my authority and issue a direct order,' he mused. Taking a deliberate sip of his coffee, he decided to tantalize the Senior Chief with a tantalizing morsel of information. "Ever heard of Galen One? It's quite an unremarkable planet, you know."

"Yeah, the rogue planet?" Malik nodded. "Site of crime and mining up until about forty years ago. Good spot for some target practice."

"That's exactly my thought. Its capabilities for orbital bombardment are unmatched. This rogue planet, as it currently exists," Eastwood paused momentarily, idly tracing the handle of his nearly empty coffee mug, "has been meticulously stripped, mined, and processed. Every valuable resource has been extracted. Regrettably, there have been reports of insurgents operating on the planet's surface."

"Man, you'd have a mystery on your hands then," Malik said, "No atmosphere, no light, no resources. What could they possibly be doing there? How could they even be doing it?"

"That's right," spoke Eastwood as he rose from the table and made his way back to the replicator, swiftly tapping the screen to request another cup of coffee. After retrieving his fresh brew, he returned to the table and settled back into his seat. "As I mentioned earlier, the Intelligence Department has been severely downsized and is currently undergoing a comprehensive rebuilding process. However, based on my thorough examination of the base computer's records, it appears that once the mining company completed its operations, they were obliged to comply with Federation Law. Consequently, they enlisted the services of terraformers to reshape the planet. Whether this hypothesis holds true or not remains uncertain, as the available records are regrettably incomplete."

"It's usually that way," Malik agreed, sitting back in his seat and folded his arms. "From what I understand, it was only when Starfleet arrived that any sort of process began to be properly observed. I was part of the team that built the base reactor in one of the old mine caverns; when we surveyed the old mine site, we had to go back to the drawing board just to make sure it was safe. These guys were cowboys, I couldn't see them being overly worried about doing anything with an old rogue planet. The damn thing isn't even on a map."

"Fortunately, we've managed to obtain the galactic coordinates. That's one task the former intelligence team successfully accomplished," Eastwood declared, retrieving his PADD and passing it to Malik. "Take a look. It's a straightforward counter-insurgency deployment. There shouldn't be any sinister plot against Starfleet and the Federation. It should be a breeze. Well, at least we hope so."

"Simply solve the mystery of Galen One," Malik nodded. He paused for a moment and harrumphed, his years with Eastwood taught him to know better, "Simple as that. Who else have you recruited for this mission of yours?"

"Well, I've just appointed a Chief Tactical Officer from my staff. Ensign McManus is a recent graduate from the Academy, still relatively inexperienced. Basically, he's wet behind the ears. This mission will provide him with valuable real-world experience, complementing his classroom education," Eastwood explained, glancing at the manifest. "I'm currently awaiting the arrival of a science officer from the Eversonian. It might be as simple as falsifying some transfer orders, using a copy of a Chinese Menu, and requisitioning a vehicle while saying, 'Are you a science officer? Get in.' As for you, you will remain my trusted Number One. However, it might be wise to inform your assistant that they may need to assume the role of chief engineer if the need arises."

"If I can make a recommendation," Malik said, taking a sip of his coffee, "We can bring in Chief Kara from the base. She's worked under me before, she knows the ship. My usual guy has just worked for five days straight off the back of a month-long deployment."

"Absolutely, I have no objections," Eastwood affirmed, taking another sip of his coffee and glancing at the manifest. "Lieutenant Slion is in charge of intelligence, and I anticipate crossing paths with them during the ready room meeting. Although I can't shake the feeling that I might be overlooking someone important."

"Care to elaborate?" Malik asked.

"I have this lingering feeling that I may have forgotten a department, that's all," Eastwood spoke, scrolling through the list before handing it over to the Senior Chief. "Take a look yourself. Do you notice anyone we might be overlooking?"

"If you're unsure what you're walking into, add an extra few nurses who have skills in other areas," Malik suggested, looking at the list, "At worst they can be reassigned."

"Interesting point," mused Eastwood, his gaze fixed on Malik. "Ah, I see your perspective. In the worst-case scenario, science might find practical applications for them."

"Or security or the marine detachment. Perhaps combat medics?" Malik suggested. "Anything that provides us with extra operational capability."

"I believe Lieutenant Spiers and Captain Hunnicuckle have completed their R&R and are available. I will speak to their commanding officer, Major Forsyth. In fact, I'll send him a message right away," stated Eastwood, gesturing to retrieve the PADD that contained the crew manifest.

"You probably also want to make sure that anyone you choose to come with us is trained and confident in an EV Suit. Any entry and extraction will likely need to occur partially outside of any atmosphere. You don't want someone panicking in a hostile environment while you're trying to get the hell out of Dodge," Malik said.

"Well, it appears that we will need a few skilled SOCSs, on the team. I'm confident that Forsyth would be able to provide a couple of strong candidates. Now, before you inquire about my qualifications, I must admit that mine expired a couple of months ago. Regrettably, I haven't had the opportunity to complete the refresher," explained Eastwood, taking another sip of his coffee. "However, I can assure you that McManus possesses the necessary certification. I personally signed off on his course paperwork a few months back. Are there any other crew members you're aware of who may hold this qualification?"

"As an engineer I have to stay current on my EV quals, as does any other member of my team," Malik said, "Most in the tech crew are damn fine technicians, but they're not warfighters. You'd have to ask Silon if he's current, I imagine you'd want him with you. Otherwise all security personnel should be trained."

"Yes, there's so much I don't know about Mister Silon. His file is frustratingly incomplete. It's unclear whether it was intentionally left that way or if the previous administration simply had terrible bookkeeping. I hope it's the latter. However, I agree with you, Chief. He should have this qualification," Eastwood mused, savouring another sip of his divine caffeinated elixir. "Indeed, we can supplement the remaining personnel with personnel from the Security department. Do you still recommend Jameson for the task, or has he moved on?"

"Still around, he was with us a couple of missions ago when we dealt with a stranded shuttle full of Breen, he was great," Malik replied.

"Good. So, we'll have him. How are we doing on munitions and equipment? Should I expedite logistics for anything?" Eastwood inquired. "I heard Freeman now heads that department. That's what people have been saying around the water cooler. Don't you remember? Well, I'm trying to refrain from using explicit language these days, but let's just say that man was quite unhinged."

"Total fucking fruitcake," Malik exclaimed. Yog laughed behind him as the Yridian 'chef' rooted around near the replicator. The Chief continued, "There, I did it for you. Yes, he's turned his ship into a 'logistics runner', obviously that means the Hammersley has all the best equipment. No shipment makes it anywhere complete. We haven't used the weapons systems for a few months, they might need a quick test en route to make sure they're in good shape. Otherwise the routine maintenance is all we need."

"Ha! Well, that's a relief. I won't have to deal with him," chuckled Eastwood, glancing over at Malik. "Remember that mission we had with him? It was more than enough for me. I'm just grateful I was the Tactical Officer on that tour."

"I had to fix the guy's shower, couldn't even tell you what he was doing," Malik said. "He'd clogged the thing with baking flour. Why? We'll never know. Nevertheless, I became the plumber for the day. However, I just had a thought; it's not standard carry for the ship while it's on patrol, but a few titanium-tipped torpedoes could be useful if we need to penetrate Galen's surface. It's a trick the miners used to use out here when ore was too deep in an asteroid."

Trying to suppress thoughts of Freeman and his questionable intentions in the shower block, Eastwood involuntarily shuddered. "Hmm, you were discussing the Titanium Tipped Torpedoes. If we're unable to find a source for them, could we utilize our replicators to manufacture the necessary components and retrofit some of our existing Mark Q-II torpedoes? That's if I can't source them that's all."

"You could replicate the material, the coating would need to be applied manually to the torpedoes. The ordinance guys on the base should be able to do it. They used to be, anyway," Malik said. "If not I can show them how to do it."

Typing the message into his PADD, Eastwood directed it to the base's Ordnance officer. He glanced up at Malik, deep in thought. "I'm trying to remember who the Ordnance officer is. Coxy serves as the Quartermaster for the Marines, so it's not him. Wasn't it McCann or McGuire, formerly from the USS Lawerence?"

"Chief McGuire, yes," Malik replied, he smiled slightly, "He and Coxy, the illusive men who seem to be able to get anything."

While perusing the contact list, Eastwood stumbled upon Chief McGuire's name and wasted no time in sending him a message about the Misslies. Turning back to Malik, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "You won't believe what happened once when I jokingly asked McGuire, with a little assistance from Coxy, to procure some of Bojoran love-making powder for a bachelor party gift. It's truly remarkable, as that stuff is prohibited on numerous Federation planets. Apparently, one of its side effects is that it keeps you in a state of heightened arousal for hours, until you either reach a climax or... well, suffer an embarrassing mishap involving a loss of bowel control. Definitely not a pleasant experience."

"I've seen that stuff in action, man, when I was on the Intrepid," Malik said. "We were doing relief work after the occupation on Bajor. One of my bunkmates used it and got frisky with a crewman. I got woken up one night, and uh, I was on the bottom bunk."

Chuckling at the thought, Eastwood responded to Malik, "Oh, God, Malik, that nearly made me gag. Anyway, McGuire has been informed about the missile request. I can't think of anything else at the moment. The last thing I want is to be unprepared, that's all."

"Unprepared or not, we always seem to make it through," Malik grinned. "This'll be a walk in the park, Commander."

"Let's hope it proves to be as easy as it feels," Eastwood said, acknowledging Malik's point. "Honestly, ever since the Breen attack, I've become more wary of putting people in harm's way. Over the years, I've felt an increased sense of responsibility for the group under my command."

"Sounds like you're getting old, Commander," Malik said. "Happens to the best of us. The names on your manifest stop being names, they become an obligation. An obligation to keep them out of harm's way, and to get them home. It's the sign of maturity as a leader."

"I never really thought of it that way, Chief," Eastwood replied with a smile, his eyes meeting those of his old friend. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to get going. I'll see you here at 21:00 hours for the briefing?"

"You got it," Malik said. The Chief stood and Yog immediately shuffled over to take their used dinnerware. "Now, Commander, if you don't mind me being candid, I need to hit the rack. You're dismissed."

OFF

 

RSS Feed