The Code ( Shalin/Cpt Calestorm log )

[Shalin 0]

The following Ensign Shalin/Captain Calestorm log is a continuation of their conversation in the 11.14.11 Sim...

 

Calestorm eyed her junior officer, one eyebrow up. “Ensign, I know you were following your own code, I can respect that. But you went AWOL during a covert mission. What was your intention, exactly?”

 

Shan stood straight - not defiantly, but hopefully respectfully. “My intention was to secure the Flemming, await the return of the Commander, and deliver her and any crew members with her to the Imperious as quickly and as safely as possible.” He paused for a moment, then decided to continue. “I was concerned that the shuttle would not be secure when she returned, would not be there, that something might happen to it during the return flight, or that the Commander - given that she was not in a sound frame of mind when last observed - might consider further rash actions."

 

The eyebrow went down as Calestorm’s expression turned into a frown.

 

“Ma’am, I was aware that I might have encountered Orion patrols, or that the shuttle would be compromised, or discovered while I was there, or shot at during retreat. I considered all these possibilities and considered ways of overcoming them. This included the fact that, while the Commander is no doubt an infinitely better fighter pilot than I am, I do not believe there is anyone in Starfleet that can out-fly me in a shuttle.”

 

The captain hopped down off the little wall mount counter and moved to stand in front of a utility sink, her back to Shalin; she placed both hands on either side and observed the ensign though the mirror set above the sink.

 

“Ensign Shalin, you aren’t recon, yet you still went on your own to secure the shuttle. You aren’t security, yet took it upon yourself to act as a guard. As for the Commanders state of mind, you had no way of truly knowing her mind unless you have a psychology degree I don’t know about or you’ve suddenly developed empathic abilities.”

 

Cale turned, crossed her arms across her chest and leaned a hip against the sink. “The expert shuttle pilot I’ll grant you that...that’s the only thing I’ll grant you.”

 

“Commander Wesley went AWOL. You followed as the second AWOL officer within 12 hours. We were neck deep in covert operations, and here I have a determined Commander bent on rescue and an Ensign equally determined to act as a retrieval operative!”

 

 

Her temper snapped, her voice raising slightly on the last words. Crash lurched away from her perch, walking the few short steps to get within Shalin’s personal space.

 

“Ah’ve worked as a retrieval officer Ensign, have you? No, you have not!”

 

“Fact, we deployed on a covert mission. Fact, you were assigned as a transport pilot where needed and at the bridge Helm. Fact, you went AWOL as an unsanctioned retrieval operative....”

 

“Livin’ by a code of honor is fine, but it can get you just as dead depending on your decisions. I gettin’ through to you Death Wish?”

 

Shan stood quietly, backing away slightly to make sure he didn’t seem defiant. It wouldn’t do any good to share the scuttlebutt that had been going around after the Commander’s exit. It wouldn’t do any good to note the fact that, as happens so often in Starfleet, he only did what he did because he was the only one set to do it. It was true - he wasn’t qualified and he very easily could’ve gotten himself killed.

 

It was a curious thing; perhaps the moniker wasn’t so wrong after all. It wasn’t that Shan particularly wanted to die, but the thought of death was never something that crossed his mind in dangerous situations. Perhaps there was something wrong with him, or perhaps not. At the moment there were only two things that were certain. First: it was a very good thing that Shan didn’t sign up for the Marines or any other ‘line of fire’ service … he would’ve been dead a long, long time ago if he did. Second: there clearly was only one way to answer the Captain.

 

Shan cast his eyes downward, a look of utter contrite humility on his face. “Yes, Ma’am.”

 

One hand on a hip, Crash did a palm to forehead gesture, scrubbing her free hand across her eyes. Two post-mission disciplinary debriefs and a Captain’s Mast in a 72 hour period? First the Commander, then Granger, now Shalin? All the result of one covert operation?

 

Karma was a you-know-what, and she was getting it paid back in spades.

 

She shouldn’t have done all those flybys; shouldn’t have mooned then-Lieutenant Coyote. Shouldn’t have dog napped Admiral Archer’s beagle, Dartanian; shouldn’t have flown the (illegally painted) pink camouflage A-10 ‘Hog on that stealth training run; shouldn’t have started that one brawl with the 3rd Recon. Shouldn’t have...

 

Wait a minute! Ensign McGivers had started that fight with the 3rd! Calestorm had been busy liberating the Tribbles...never mind...

 

Yeah, Payback in Spades. Crash needed a drink and a smoke and some damn fine ‘cuddle time’ with Captain Mitros. And not necessarily in that order...

 

Figuratively yanking back her temper, the middle aged CO sighed and glanced at the young officer, running a hand through her now short silver-white hair. Like her mother, she carried the family hair gene for going completely gray early.

 

“Ensign Shalin, it’s not so much you making a decision. We’re Border Patrol, and I don’t need or want any geeks on my crew who can’t think for themselves or don’t have what it takes. But you need to learn the difference between where angels fear to tread and making an AWOL move that could get you killed.”

 

Shan remained silent. Within his mind there was no difference - he was on Border Patrol. It all was dangerous - whether at the helm, flying shuttles, or on an away mission. At any time for one reason or another he could get killed; that was just the way things were. The metal hornet invasion was proof of that: dozens of crew members were casualties, and they were mostly people in positions which should have been some of the safest in Starfleet.

 

It was the one thing that set Shan apart from the humans, and many other beings, around him - he was Argelian. As peaceful and charitable as it was, Argelian culture gave no thought to death. It was what awaited everyone eventually, but it was easy enough to avoid. Murder, violence, and even accidental death were all but unheard of, and was inevitably the result of outside influences.

 

Still, Shan did his best to be attentive to the Captain. Although he couldn’t grasp the importance of what she was trying to share, he didn’t wish to be rude.

 

“Now, your disciplinary duties. Since you seem so eager to be adventurous, I’m signing you up for a thirty hour Starfleet webinar course so you can learn to do it right.” She paused for a reaction, eyeing the ensign.

 

Shan did his best not to break out in a cold sweat. There was one particular problem with learning how to do something in Starfleet - people would actually expect you to do it. Going AWOL to retrieve the Commander … no stress there. He’d do his best and that would have to suffice. It would be no big deal to fail: it wasn’t like anyone was expecting him to be there in the first place, much less be an asset. But to be trained; then he would actually be assigned the tasks he simply attempted, and he would be part of the plan - other people would actually be depending on him.

 

He shivered involuntarily at the thought.

 

“The content covers procedures for shuttle pilots assigned to retrieval ops missions. It’s a senior cadet level course, but it’ll give you an idea of what RetOps does. I expect regular updates on your progress.”

 

“Doc cleared you for light duty and for now, you’ll be updating software on the shuttle systems. Once you’re back to full duty, I expect you at the Helm. In addition, for the second shift, you’ll be assisting the maintenance crews cleaning for a month.”

 

Shan straightened himself. “Yes Ma’am.” He was used to clean-up detail; he had been on it often enough in the academy. Shan was a unique headache for his academy instructors; he was intelligent, capable, and quite obedient. He also had a gift for finding unusual ways to screw up without intending to. He was constantly on the discipline roster - not for disobedience but rather in a continuous effort to drill into his head the seriousness of the situations he would be in, and a desperate attempt to give him an ounce of focus.

 

Perhaps this time would be different.