Second's Away

[Chirakis 1]

Second's Away

 

Captain Chirakis stared at the padd before her as Lt Fletcher stood waiting with one arm draped over the easy chair that had been placed on the other side of the desk for the convenience of visitors. His free hand combed his close-cropped hair just before he gave his neck a crack, the sound loud enough to draw Kirel's attention.

 

She fixed him with a stare.

 

"Sorry Cap," he began, quickly straightening to what he considered a respectful posture. "Sorry _Captain_ Chirakis..." he gave an embarrassed cough, "...won't happen again."

 

Her gaze remained a few more seconds before it returned to the padd.

 

With Aegis's Executive Officer, Mr. Roberts, overseeing Revenge's repairs, the captain was left with few who were both knowledgeable of the station's every day schedules and routines and dispensable enough to serve as an assistant who would help her plow through what would have normally been Roberts' daily chores.

 

Considering their present situation with the Rihan renegades and the possibility that the renegades may be more powerful than they first believed, Kirel much preferred having Revenge operational ASAP than having Roberts do paperwork. In his absence, of course, Second Officer SubCommander Jorahl would normally step in. But he was indispensable in both engineering and strategic planning. Next in command was SubCommander tr'Jeth Dabi, who had several Klingon thugs and an impounded ship to deal with. That left Kirel with...

 

Lieutenant Antony "Tony" D. Fletcher.

 

Some said he marched to the beat of a different drummer. Kirel believed he didn't hear the drum at all.

 

Granted, Fletcher was an excellent operations officer. When third watch personnel began to drop and slink away in the wee hours, Fletcher remained just as focused as when the station was under attack. In other words, he was more than competent. But outside that sacred perimeter known as the operations console he transformed to a chauvinistic playboy with a juvenile sense of humor and little sense of propriety. It worked for most of the women on the station. It did not work for Captain Chirakis.

 

"SubCenturion tr'Korjata's quarters are where?" she asked without looking up from the padd.

 

"Oh. Uh... not sure, Boss. Uh... Captain."

 

Another stare.

 

"But... I'll find out. Right now."

 

With a flashed grin and a twist into a sprint he was nearly to the door before she stopped him with a sharp, "Fletcher."

 

You would have thought he had been jerked up by the scruff of his neck as he pivoted to face her. "Yeah, Boss?" He winced. "Captain?"

 

"When you do find out, reassign him to a personal suite in the Federation junior officer's billeting on deck 9 and inform all billeting officers that Rihan Galae personnel assigned to this station will receive the same benefits and privileges as Starfleet personnel."

 

By that time he had returned to her desk. "Yes, Captain." He began to turn toward the door.

 

"And..."

 

He turned back, a little more sober. Not much. Just a little.

 

"...Dr. Pavilion wants an orphanage?"

 

"Yes, Captain. Uh... because of the Rihan displacement, you know, there're a lot of kids running around the station without their parents... and some of them have lost their parents... and, well, there're just a lot of kids on the station. Not that I don't like kids, they just... need..." The chatter stopped at her quizzical expression and he continued apologetically, "I get a lot of chatter during graveyard. You know, I hear things. But I don't pass 'em on, of course. Unless it's necessary. And this is... well... you know... kind of necessary?" A small grimace accompanied his gestures, "B... but I didn't read... the padd... or listen in on any private conversations in medical, Captain, it was just that the..."

 

"Fletcher."

 

It took him a catch breath and a moment to settle down. "Yes, Captain?"

 

"I understand." She gave a sigh. "Tell Dr. Pavilion that the cargo bay is too dangerous for children and given the volume of goods we receive and transfer daily that area is not an option. We will look for a suitable area of the station in which to build a temporary orphanage. She should submit a requisition for items needed in the facility at her earliest convenience."

 

"Yes, Captain."

 

Fletcher remained at semi-attention in front of her desk for some time before realizing her stare had not diminished, nor had her gaze dropped back to the padd.

 

"Will... there be anything else, Captain?"

 

"Please..." she gave a dismissive wave, "do carry on."