Tales of the Cryghton: Who Is Herbert?

[Shalin 0]

The planet was Indira Cygni IV, the place was Starbase 15-b. It was a sub-port of Starbase 15; one where the dregs of Starfleet ended up. It wasn’t that they were criminal in any way … they were just incompetent in one way or another. Not having any justification to dismiss the individuals in question, Starfleet Command had demonstrated considerable wisdom by establishing a location where the underperforming could do the least amount of damage. Lieutenant Shalin rather enjoyed the Cryghton’s stops there, as the locals were for the most part friendly and informal.

 

Having landed the Cryghton without undue damage to the facility, Shan stepped out from the dropping rear cargo hatch to greet Deck Officer Sharkey and Staff Sergeant Sudderland. Both were misfits and failures of training in their own right, which made them people after Shan’s own heart. “Gentlemen … it is so good to see you again.”

 

Sharkey was the first to reply. “Stuff it you cosmic Schmaltz. We gotta get this over with quickly – the Lieutenant’s sniffing about.”

 

Shan nodded. “Quickly it is, then. One case: type-1 phasers, 100 count …”

 

Sharkey grumbled. “Mine!” With that Shan gestured for one of his shipmates to set outside of the ship on the port side.

 

“Three cases food processor stock – 50 kilos each …”

 

“Mine!”

 

“Two cases of mallite fuel rods, 20 count each …”

 

“Woof!” Sergeant Sudderland was not given to normal conversation. Shan had the cases moved outside the ship to starboard.

 

“Three cases Saurian brandy, personal delivery to a Corporal Mortimer Arteen …”

 

“Woof Woof!” ‘Morrie-Arty’ was Sudderland’s mechanic.

 

“Four cases thermal concrete, 100 kilos each …”

 

“Mine … aw crackbiscuits – here comes Hoover.”

 

“And just what’s going on here?” Pencil-thin with a sour expression, the station’s inventory officer stormed his way into the group. Shan groaned inwardly. There was by the book … there was strictly by the book … and then there was Second Lieutenant Henry Bertram Hoover.

 

Shan turned to him with the most pleasant expression he could muster. “Just offloading cargo, Lieutenant.”

 

Hoover scowled. “What did you say, Ensign?”

 

Shan’s smile dropped as his shoulders sagged. “Lieutenant Hoover, sir: Ensign Shalin of the USS Cryghton, offloading cargo for Starbase 15-baker and attached units.”

 

The lieutenant straightened at the reply. “Why was I not informed, and what is this … soldier … doing here?” Hoover sniffed disapprovingly at Sudderland, who promptly looked up at the mention of his name.

 

“Well you see, baby, my boys and I were just passing by when we saw the cargo ship landing and thought to ourselves hey as long as we’re passing by we should stop in shake a few hands make a few friends and pick up our stuff right off the barge rather than making our very good friends and neighbors at the depot have to lug our stuff around when we’re right here to pick it up and haul it away so we turned a corner then drove up the tarmac and parked ourselves right over there where you see our nice clean armored vehicles and so here we are and here I am talking with these nice gentlemen here and we’ll just gather our supplies and then we’ll be on our way.” The sergeant smiled at the lieutenant, apparently none the worse for not having taken a breath during his explanation.

 

Lieutenant Hoover, however, remained unimpressed. “No, Sergeant, you will not be gathering your supplies and going on your way. Starbase procedure specifically states that all cargo is to be offloaded from arriving transports and transferred to the station’s storage centers to be inventoried, after which attached units may requisition materials from station inventory.”

 

Although uncomfortable with the situation, Officer Sharkey wasn’t about to become accused of short-changing the station. “Sir: we’ve documented everything. The 212’s aren’t taking anything that hasn’t been specifically requisitioned for their unit. We’re just saving some time and effort …”

 

“I’m not interested in saving time or effort, Deck Officer! This station has procedures and they will be adhered to!”

 

Shan’s will finally broke. “Oh for crud’s sake – lighten up Herbert!”

 

The lieutenant turned to Shan, his skin growing as red as a port beacon. “What did you say?”

 

Shan was long past caring. “I said lighten up, Herbert! We’re doing this by the book, everything’s covered and documented, nothing’s being lost or smuggled, and every form and file will be submitted properly. We’re just saving a little time by dropping the retentive amount of procedure this station is notorious for. Now do the galaxy a favor and buzz off!”

 

While Shan was far from an imposing figure, Lieutenant Hoover was even less so. Looking about and noting that he had no support around him, he blustered one last time. “You are going on report, Ensign! This little spat of yours is going to cost you dearly!” With that he spun about and stomped away.

 

Sudderland watched as he left, grinning widely. “Herbert … that’s catchy! Herbert … Herbert … Herbert Herbert Herbert!”

 

Sharkey was less than pleased. “That’s great … just great! Are you happy, kid? Now the Lieutenant is going to have all our gizzards and this oddball will be going around for the rest of the day sounding off like an obsessive-compulsive frog!”

 

Shan shrugged it off. “Cap’n O’Neil will listen, nod, and I’ll be on KP for a month. Feh – it was worth it.” He turned back to the manifest in his hand. “Now then … three cases of plexisteel polish, ten tins each …”

 

Sudderland waved his hand. “… Herbert!”