Concerning Phillips and Flatheads

[Gage Silver 0]

Concerning Phillips and Flatheads

A joint log by Granger and Silver

 

 

A crash resonated ahead in the maintenance conduit that curved along the pressure hull, followed by a muted string of curses. Gripping the magna-screwdriver in his left fist and pressing it into the bulkhead, Gage glowered at the screw as it rolled around on the deck. He tucked the driver into his right hand - the hand confined in the binding Doctor T’aral had applied, his good hand - and swiped the uncooperative screw from the deck with his left. It wasn’t easy trying to manipulate a screw and driver with one hand.

 

Geeze, he couldn’t go on like this for another 24-48 hours. He could barely function with his arm immobilized and with their manpower spread throughout the ship, they didn’t have an engineer or otherwise to spare as an assistant. Doctor’s orders be...well, they could take a hike out an airlock. Dropping the screw and driver into the nearby tool kit, Gage began to furiously unwrap the binding, becoming progressively entangled as he worked.

 

Clanks, crashes, and muttered (or otherwise) profanity carried really well in the Kelvin class’s maintenance conduits, so when Cass heard the noise at the other end she pretty much ignored it. Or tried to. As long as she could. Problem was, the conduit was knee-to-elbow with maintenance personnel in several places, so why’d she key in on this particular crash and burn?

 

Quicksilver.

 

She wrapped up the immediate problem with the SpecOpsNav junction and secured the panel before grabbing her hyperspanner and dodging groups of maintenance personnel to get to the source.

 

“Ensign Silver, sir?” she queried, sidestepping a few tools as she approached. “Something I can...”

 

Okay, so.... not what she expected. Top Gun Quicksilver wrapped up like a mummy, and she must... not... laugh, “... help you with? Sir?”

 

A strangled half chuckle, half snort, escaped anyway.

 

Gage stared at Cass for several, long seconds. “Right,” he quipped in an Australian accent. “You grab its head, mate, I’ll get the tail and we’ll wrestle this snake. But watch out for the teeth, because when it strikes it can be that quick that you’ll be dead in your tracks. Right, mate?”

 

“Right. On three?” Cass eyed the tangled mess, eyes on Gage for the signal.

 

“Crikey, just get over with it, mate.”

 

“You got it,” she said before grabbing one end to give it a yank.

 

The mess of bandage sprung from Gage’s head in a giant poof, landing on top of Cass. Caught off-guard, she recoiled into a passing engineer and nearly lost her balance. A second or two of struggle ballooned into a full-out war: Cass against the monster.

 

“It’s got me, Sir! It’s got me! I’m goin’ down!” The shout annoyed nearby crew enough to egg her on. Cass clutched the mass to her chest, wrestling with it as she sank to the deck. A deep gurgle escaped before she ‘succumbed,’ sprawling flat out.

 

Gage blinked at her. “You really get into that, don’t you,” he smirked.

 

“It takes one, Sir,” she said, returning the smirk. “And hell. Need some’n to keep me from going crazy.” Cass’s grin spread into a laugh as she raised herself up on one elbow. Muffled as it was, it still did more good than any number of rounds at the punching bag. She pulled herself to a sit and tossed the crumpled mass at Silver; hit him right in the numbers.

 

Gage chuckled at her amusement, catching the bandage and stuffing it in a niche near the tool kit. Might need that later...

 

“What’re you still doin’ here?” he asked.

 

“Starin’ at you, sir,” she quipped casually. “Figured you might need some help? Not... that you couldn’t do anything by yourself, but... just in case. Never know.” The laugh threatened to erupt again, but she kept it in check. Barely.

 

“Starin’ helps a lot. Y’know you can go base-side’, right?” Gage reached into the tool kit and retrieved the screw and driver; then working his shoulder a bit he put the screw in its place.

 

Cass eyed him a minute. “Guess you’ve been out of the loop, sir. Whole damn ship’s confined until further orders.” She tossed her head, indicating the crew in their vicinity. “Something we did or didn’t do got ‘em riled. Maybe something to do with the time jump, but that’s just me, thinkin’ again. Gotta stop thinkin’.

 

“Anyway, I thought I might stay and help you with that?” One finger flicked up, pointing in his direction. “Just so the doc doesn’t hog-tie you again for disobeyin’ orders.”

 

Gage could only smirk as Cass just kept going without a foreseeable break. “Not sure how the doc’ll find out; I ain’t plannin’ on goin’ back to sickbay for a long time,” he replied and tightening the screw, he shot Cass a look, facetious but no less of a warning. Snitch on me and you’ll pay.

 

She shot back a Who, me? with feigned offense. “Since that one didn’t work, I guess I need another excuse. How about the ‘if I help you we’ll get the job done and spend the rest of our time drowning our sorrows in the Officer’s Mess’ excuse?”

 

“How come no one ever wants t’ float their fortunes in alcohol?” he quipped.

 

“‘Fortunes don’t float. Paper sinks right to the bottom.” A crooked grin accompanied her shrug. “Then let’s splice the mainbrace ‘n’ call beer thirty.” Her brows shot up. “Better?”

 

“Sounds like drinkin’ with a bunch ‘a’ beered up fishermen,” he replied, honestly not keen on inviting the entire crew or admitting as much.

 

“Beered up fishermen, beered up Navy, beered up Marines. They’re all the same after a few.” She fixed her gaze. A challenge.

 

Gage gave her a double-take. “Okay,” he accepted. “We’ll see if you can still punch straight once you’re good ‘n’ lubered up.”

 

“You’re on. Now hand me that screwdriver.” Hand out, she got to her knees.

 

He gladly passed it over, grinning as he remarked: “All yours, Cass.” He clearly said far less than what he was thinking, neglecting to also mention that he’d finished securing the panel with that final screw.

 

“What’re we screwin’?” she said, turning toward his work, still on hands and knees.

 

Gage stared at Cass for a long thirty seconds or more before he finally burst and bowing his head, he chuckled under his breath. “I can’t talk to you anymore, Cass. I don’t wanna die,” he remarked and continued to chuckle as he turned and distanced himself.

 

His remark caught her off-guard. Was it something she said? Something she did? Something she was do... ing...?

 

In a split second she sat back on her heels. Half-turning, arms crossed, she gave him a sharp look.

 

“Stop staring at my six,” Gage dead-panned without looking back.

 

Cass sat there a moment, silently fuming, before stowing his gear. On the way to the Officer’s Lounge she realized that if she had had an older brother, he’d be it. Damn, he sure knew what buttons to push.