Pursuing The Truth

[John Randall 0]

OFFICIAL LOG

LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL

USS CHALLENGER

 

(Personal Log Stardate 11307.05)

 

John and Ensign Redhawk rematerialized aboard Challenger; the two

men stepped off the dais, Randall nodding at the transporter chief. They

exited the room, and, as they were walking toward the turbolift, John

glanced at Redhawk. "That should be the end of your involvement with

me, ensign," he said. "Feel free to resume your normal duties." "Aye, sir,"

said Redhawk as they boarded the turbolift. "Deck 3," snapped Randall,

and the lift sped off.

 

John arrived at his deck, and the lift sped off again with Redhawk still inside.

The lieutenant made his way down the corridor to his cabin; the doors

swooshed open at his approach, and he went inside. He stripped off his

clothes, and went to the head to take a shower. Some 20 minutes later, he

exited the shower, toweled off, and went to put on a new set of civilian

clothes.

 

He left the cabin, and went along the corridor to the turbolift. Stepping inside,

he said, "Deck 7," and the lift whisked him away. It arrived a few moments later;

he exited the lift, and went along the corridor to the doors of Sickbay. They

opened as he approached, and he went in, looking around. Seeing no one

immediately, he said, "Anyone here?" Dr. Gretchen Hanson, the chief medical

officer of the Challenger, peeked her head out a nearby door. "Here, Lieutenant,"

she said. John nodded, gave a small smile, and headed to where she was.

 

Hanson regarded him as he came in. "What can I do for you, John?" she

asked brightly. "I'd like you to remove this tracking device, Doctor," he said,

referring to the device implanted by Hanson at the order of Challenger's first

officer, Commander Erica Rinax. "Or do you need an order from the XO to do

that?" asked Randall. Hanson frowned. "Let me see if I can contact her, John,"

she said, and walked out of the room, heading for her computer station.

 

She punched her 'comm button. "Sickbay to bridge," she said. She waited a few

moments, but got no answer. She tried again, and got the same result. She

thought for a few seconds, then got up, and headed back to the room where John

sat patiently. "Are you done with whatever you were doing that required you to

have this?" she asked. Randall nodded. "Well, I can't get ahold of anyone on the

bridge," she frowned, "so I guess it's up to me. You say you're finished, so I'm

taking you at your word, all right?" "I wouldn't have told you that if I wasn't,

Gretchen," replied John, and the doctor smiled. "I believe you," she said. "Let

me get my instruments, and I'll be right back."

 

She gathered what she needed, and went back into the room where John already

had the sleeve of his tunic rolled up. She loaded a hypospray, and sprayed a local

anesthetic to his arm. She waited a few seconds, during which time she loaded

another hypo, fitting an instrument to it. She then took the tool she had just

fashioned, and, with very little cutting, extracted the tracking device from Randall's

upper arm. She picked up another tool, and began waving it back and forth along

the slight wound. A few moments later, she finished, and applied a dressing and

bandage to the area. "Keep the dressing on for about 12 hours, John," she said.

"That should be ample time for the skin to be knitting together well. You're good

to go, Lieutenant."

 

Randall nodded, carefully rolled the sleeve back down over the bandage, and smiled

at the doctor. "Thank you, Gretchen," he said. "Enjoy the rest of our leave." She

smiled, and gave a little wave as he left. John left sickbay, and walked along the

corridor to the turbolift. "Deck 3," he said as he entered, and the lift sped off. A few

moments later, the lift arrived, and he stepped out. He made his way along the

corridor to his cabin. He went in, put on a light jacket, and left the cabin, going back

to the turbolift. "Deck 10," he said as he entered, and the lift took him there.

 

He exited the lift, and made his way down the corridor to the door of the transporter

room. He went in, and handed a PADD to the ensign who was stationed there. The

ensign nodded, inputted the coordinates form the display on the PADD, and looked

up at John, nodding. "Energize," said Randall, and he shimmered out of existence.

 

He reappeared on a sidewalk next to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco,

California, USA, Earth. He looked for a second, then entered through the glass door.

He went through the weapons detector, which pronounced him clean, and went

to study the manifest of the offices which was displayed on a nearby wall. He

located the name he was looking for, and looked around, spotting a turbolift

nearby. He walked over to it, and stepped inside. "3rd floor," he said, and the

lift sped off.

 

He arrived, and exited the lift; he made his way down a hallway, and came to a

desk where a receptionist sat. He walked up to the desk. "Excuse me," he said,

and the attractive young brunette, slightly startled, recovered coolly. "Yes?"

she said helpfully. John smiled. "My name is Lieutenant John Randall of the

starship Challenger, and I would like to speak with Admiral Hastings, please."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked. "No, I do not," the engineer replied.

"You can tell him that Admiral Jason Baldwin sent me, if you like." At that, the

receptionist's eyes widened slightly, and she said, "Just a moment, please."

 

She quickly punched a button on her monitor, and John heard a man's voice

say, "Yes?" "Sir, I have a Lieutenant John Randall here to see you," she said.

"Randall?" said the voice, clearly startled. "Yes, sir," she said. "Tell him to

come in, please," said the voice. "Yes, sir,"she said, and looked up at John,

smiling. Randall nodded his thanks, and strode toward the door which bore

the name: Admiral Chuck Hastings, Starfleet Intelligence. He entered, and

a man with graying brown hair stood up from behind a desk. The man looked at

John with some amazement, and shook his head.

 

"Yes, you're Marcus Randall's son, all right," the admiral said. "There's no

mistaking that. Sit down, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?" He waved to a

nearby chair, and John walked over to it, sitting down. "Thank you for seeing

me, sir," he said. Hastings waved a hand in dismissal. "Jason contacted me,

and said you would probably be stopping by. I just had no idea you looked so

much like your father," he said, shaking his head again. "I take it you know

about what happened to Marcus," he said, looking Randall directly in the eyes.

 

John nodded. "Yes, sir, I met Commander Alex Taylor, and he told me the story,"

said the Challenger engineer. "Alex told me you might be able to fill in some more

of the gaps, and that's why I'm here, sir." The admiral nodded. "Lieutenant, I'll be

frank with you; I've looked forward to, and dreaded this day at the same time. Now,

you're here, and I'm really not sure where to begin." "How about the beginning, sir?"

said Randall. "Every mission has a starting point."

 

Hastings looked at him. "You're right, Lieutenant," he smiled. "Okay, let's take it

from the top, then." John sat forward in his chair, anxiously awaiting what the

admiral knew.

 

 

END LOG