Doldrums

Posted on 18 Jul 2015 @ 7:40pm by Captain Harvey Geisler

538 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Answers
Location: Geisler's Quarters
Timeline: MD 9 - 0900 hours

With all of the activity abuzz the Black Hawk, somehow the departure of several senior officers brought a degree of silence to the disabled Akira-class vessel. For the first time in months, Harvey had elected not to take his morning tour. After more than twenty years of service to Starfleet, he knew full well that it took a lot of time to implement change. Days and weeks and months would often come and go with little fanfare.

The frustration Harvey now felt was something he hadn't felt since back in his days as a medical researcher. At least then, he mused, he'd been able to at least make some kind of progress.

And yet here he was, a Starfleet captain, unable to do a damn thing. He was no programmer, and with no working helm to fly the ship, what else could he do but demand all attention on getting her flying again. It wasn't just sitting still that bothered him, but knowing they'd been adrift now for five days without the ability to even defend the ship from an external attack was enough to keep his anxiety high.

Subconsciously, he reached up and rubbed his shoulder, a new trait he had gained during this madness. A brief image of his failure at the tennis court brushed his mind. Never before had his age, his inadequacy, his incompetence had shaken him. Was this the fabled mid-life crisis? Never had he felt so useless.

At least there was one thing for which he could be thankful.

He'd wisely made a copy of Carter's yellow isolinear chip. This copy now sat in his desktop terminal with its contents displayed on screen. For the last couple of days, he'd studied the map she had "recreated" hoping to find clues on what to do next. Other than discovering Nestene IX, to which he had sent an Away Team, Harvey found little else of significance. Emily had left so many notations on the map that he'd gotten himself lost within it. Only with a hit to his pride did he finally relinquish a copy of the map to Stellar Cartography in hopes they would have better luck.

Now, he had shifted to Emily's personal log, reviewing years of entries. Days ago when he confronted her, Harvey found himself wanting to believe her.

This log of hers, so far, seemed to corroborate her story.

Either that, or it was such an elaborate ploy years in the making.

Harvey shut off the monitor and leaned back in his chair, instantly rubbing both temples with his forefingers. Turning towards the window after reaching for the mug of coffee on his desk, Harvey studied the yellow nebula that for once was steady.

Progress.

Harvey took a sip of the black liquid, only to quickly expel it from his mouth. His coffee had become cold and bland. Instantly he stood and walked over to the replicator, cycling the unit for a fresh, steaming hot refill. Electing to take a gulp, Harvey returned to his desk and refreshed the monitor.

Until he had something to work with, he could not leave this room. He owed the fallen members of this crew at least that much.

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