Out With the Bold, In With the New

Posted on 02 Jan 2020 @ 1:10am by Commander Terry Walsh

1,862 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Epilogue
Location: Flight Deck
Timeline: 1 June 2389

The last few months had been indescribable for Terry. He'd had his plate full of repair updates, requisitions for new Gryphons that had been destroyed, crew transfers, and letters. There were always letters after events such as this. There always seemed to be crew transfers after events such as this, too. All of that had taken him out of his office and down to Deck Eleven for few minutes. A walk through the Flight Deck was what would take his mind off of some of it for a while.

The month of May saw a lot of traumatized crew leave the ship. The squadron hadn't escaped that, either. He'd signed off for several pilot transfers; one of which he didn't expect to see back in service again. Poor kid. It also wasn't a surprise that quite a few maintenance personnel had left either. Especially from what he'd read in reports regarding the firefight that took place on the Deck while he was on the Bridge. He shook his head as he walked by a Petty Officer. The brawny Squadron Commander gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder before continuing on.

It was now 1 June 2389 and they were getting extensive repairs and upgrades in orbit of New Bajor. The Command Crew had been given temporary assignments, but Terry plead to be left with his squadron. Back when he was a Starfleet Marine, he never would have left his teams behind. Now, his philosophy had morphed into one that said he would stay back, lead from the front, and show some solidarity to the people he commanded after it was all over. After all, what would they think if they're leader ran off to another assignment while they were stuck with the ship and the memories.

He turned to look out the open bay doors where engineers were busy repairing them. He could see the curvature of the planet and was about to comment on it when an announcement came over. It was Flight Ops notifying the Flight Deck that a shuttle was on initial approach for docking. The engineers that were effecting repairs to the bay doors moved as did the people working directly in the path.

A transmission came over the comm. At first it was musical, almost classical but with the dreadful twist of a chorus singing about madness and woe. Soon, though, a gruff and self-amused voice cut over the background noise. "Black Hawk Control, this is Shipyard Shuttle One requesting a coupled approach right up your middle."

Despite everything that had been going on, Terry chuckled. He had to. He didn't quite get the reference, but it was still a fun and unexpected thing. Lately, the unexpected had not been fun at all. Back up in Flight Deck Control, people were bustling about as the response came out. "Black Hawk Control to Shipyard Shuttle One, coupled approach confirmed. Deck personnel will marshal you to final landing. We're ready for you."

The shuttle pilot let out a whoop before the comms cut out. In seconds, the shuttle breached the protective shields and drifted toward its berth. Roaring thrusters were replaced by the dull hum of the grav-emitters, which gently lowered the shuttle to the flight deck like a baby to a cradle. Once the shuttle powered down, its main hatch popped open.

"Ph'nglui ch'Thulhu fhtagn!" The boisterous voice seemed to belong to a lanky and cocksure Andorian exiting the shuttle. He spotted Terry as the ranking officer on the flight deck and strut toward him. "Devhanodhred ch'Thulhu, friends call me Dhred, and behind the stick I answer to Lovecraft." Once he was close enough to stand eye to eye with Terry, he favored him with a wink and a sunny smile. "You must be the CAG. Bravo Flight Leader, at your service."

Terry smirked as he saw an Andorian exit the shuttle and strut on over to him. He certainly has the walk of a pilot, the Squadron Commander thought to himself. The smirk then turned into a grin. "Well welcome to the team, Bravo Flight Lead. And yeah, that's me, Lieutenant Commander Terry Walsh. Terry to my friends and Rocco when I'm in the seat of one of these beauties," he said, thumbing towards a Gryphon. "Gotta say, it's odd seeing an Andorian with smile and a sunny disposition." He chuckled and added a return wink.

"And I'm the runt of the brood if you'd believe it," Dhred said with a chuckle. "Probably why I followed the path of the starfighter. I learned early on it's not the size of the makra in the fight but the size of the fight in the makra."

"You're about as much of a runt as I am," said Terry. "But you're right about the size of the fight. We have some, well, smaller pilots around here. But they're pretty tough...especially in the cockpit." Terry looked around. "So do you have any belongings that you'd like to stow down here until you can get your quarters assignment?"

Dhred threw his head back and laughed. "Aw, you should see my brothers. Giants, I tell you." Then he cocked his head back toward the shuttle. "I got my gear stowed in the cargo area, but nothing I can't lug by hand. A starfighter pilot can't afford to get weighed down."

"We definitely can't at that," he said. "The pilot quarters on this deck so we can put your gear in the storage room over there," he said, gesturing behind them. "That way it'll be close. I'll give you a hand carrying it." As he turned towards the shuttle, he asked, "So what makes an Andorian join Starfleet's starfighter corp instead of the Imperial Guard?" He expected to have man's file before him soon, but sometimes things were better verbally than dry text.

"Imperial Guard?" Dhred sneered so hard it nearly came out a honk. "Yeah, they're a very impressive honor guard that is really, really into the Andorian anthem, but they don't see much action. I mean, when was the last time Andor was threatened?" The sneer turned to a snicker. "Everybody knows Starfleet is where the action is, and the Corps is the tip of the spear. So, here I am."

"Fair enough," he said, nearing the shuttle. "Well we're glad to have you aboard, that's for sure. I'll get a chance to take look at your file later, but where were you before we got you?"

"Fifth Squadron of the 146th Wing tasked with guarding New Bajor," Dhred chanted proudly like a jarhead Marine. He quickly fell back into his casual tone. "When I heard about how the Black Hawk grabs the quadrant by the horns, though, I was eager to sign on."

"Not a bad assignment and real good group to be with, too," said Terry. "They've had their work cut out for them after everything that's been happening in this sector." He walked onto the shuttle and looked around. "As for grabbing the quadrant by the horns, we sometimes end up getting stuck pretty good. Gored a few times, but we come out of it. Though I can understand wanted to be where the action is. I almost had to take a training job once and then there was the time I was out for a while. Um, which ones are yours?"

"All of two of them," Dhred said, kicking the nearest hard case in the cargo hold. "Like I said, I pack light." He put his hands on his hips and let himself fall serious for a moment. "So, shoot it to me straight, boss. How many in the wing are replacements?"

Terry grabbed the hard case that Dhred had just kicked an lifted it to his shoulder. "Straight as it gets, four of our twenty-one pilots have been replaced for various reasons ranging from KIA to Post Traumatic Stress and mental breakdowns. We also lost a few of our flight deck personnel, too; maintenance people."

"Tezha shax," Dhdred cursed. Numbers like that would be devastating for morale. "Looks like we got our work cut out for us. 'Boys who fly together die together.' Any ideas on how to rebuild the wing's camaraderie?"

The big bald man stepped out of the shuttle with the case. "We really do, at that. But as far as rebuilding the camaraderie, I haven't given that much thought for weeks. I've just been trying to get new pilots, new maintenance team members, a new fighter, new parts, spare parts, replacement took kits...getting the squadron back to mission ready status. But I'd happily entertain any ideas you might have."

Dhred shrugged. "Formation drills, maintenance parties, the usual shit, I guess. Nothing much comes to mind, but maybe once I get the lay of the land a bit I'll figure something out."

He headed towards one of the unused rooms as he replied, "Yeah, the usual would be a good start. Some kind of a party for the maintenance personnel and one for the officers before we leave dock would be good. And I'm sure it won't take you longs to get the lay of the land around here or to meet up with the other pilots. They're a good lot." He nodded toward a Chief Petty Officer that was approaching with purpose and called out. "Don't worry. The replacement Gryphon should be here tomorrow after lunch. You'll be able to get you hands on it then," he said as he closer. "And when you're done, I'll take it out for a test run."

The CPO smiled, "Sounds good, Commander. I'm looking forward to it and I know you are, too. Thanks, Sir."

Terry patted the man on the shoulder as he left and turned his attention back to Dhred. "He's been anxious, to say the least."

"Best to keep them busy, then." His eyes wandered after a comely young petty officer with plaited hair that led the gaze down to her finer assets. "Speaking of which... where's the watering hole around here? I'm feeling a twitch thirsty, if you catch my meaning."

Terry chuckled. "I catch your drift. The ship's lounge is called Talon's," he said. "It's on Deck Eight. You can get a little something to scratch that twitchy thirst there. You can come back after your stuff later. But...I can't guarantee that someone won't write a welcome message or put a 'Hazard' label on them. You know pilots..."

"I'd be genuinely disappointed if someone doesn't." Dhred returned Terry's chuckle and slugged him in the arm. "If you're free, you oughtta' come down and join me. Otherwise I'll catch up with you later."

Terry laughed and slapped the man on the back. "I'll have to take that rain check and get up with you later. In the meantime, welcome aboard." He put the container down and headed back out. It was good to relax for a few minutes. But now it was back to work.

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