A Talk With The Brass

[John Randall 0]

OFFICIAL LOG

LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL

USS CHALLENGER

 

(Personal Log Stardate 11307.11)

 

John was sitting in Admiral Chuck Hastings' office at Starfleet HQ in

San Francisco. He had been sent there by Admiral Jason Baldwin to

get even more info about his father and his last mission, which had

ended, John now knew definitely, with his father getting shot by

Romulans.

 

"So, Admiral," he said, "I was sent here by Admiral Jason Baldwin; he

said you would know what was going on immediately when I said that."

The admiral nodded resignedly. "So, you know the truth about your

father, then," he said, and Randall nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'm

just not sure how you fit into all this."

 

"Lieutenant," said Hastings, "against my wishes, your father was handed

that Romulan assignment. I did not want him to go, I had a bad feeling

about that mission from the start. But, the brass back then said we

needed our best operative for that job, and, unfortunately, Marcus was

the best we had. I say 'unfortunately' for him because of the way it turned

out."

 

John nodded. "So, you and Admiral Baldwin were against my father

going on that mission," he said, and the admiral nodded. "And Commander

Alex Taylor was as well; he felt Marcus' cover may have been blown. As

it turned out, he may have been right." John's eyes hardened then as he

looked at Hastings. "I was told by Commander Taylor that a Romulan

posing as a Vulcan betrayed my father," he said.

 

The admiral was clearly uncomfortable that the lieutenant sitting in front

of him knew that. "That's true, Lieutenant," he said defeatedly. "The Romulan,

I'm sorry to say, was never caught nor found." Hastings' voice carried

such a note of defeat in it that John's momentary anger all but vanished.

He said mildly, "I'm sure there was a search, Admiral." Hastings looked at

him, and Randall was sure there was a little gratitude in the admiral's eyes.

 

"And a very extensive one," Hastings agreed. "We never found out how he

got into Federation space, or how he left." The two men stared at each

other a moment, then John gave an exhausted sigh. "I'm sure you did all

you could, sir," he said. "At least now, I know the whole story. I appreciate

you giving me some of your time." With that, he stood, and gave Hastings

the Starfleet salute. The admiral gave a dismissive wave of his hand at the

salute, and instead, stood, and extended his hand across his desk to John,

who grasped it, and shook it firmly.

 

"I just wish I had met you under different circumstances, Lieutenant," said

Hastings. "I still consider it a personal failure that we lost your father. I'm

still conducting my own personal investigation, even after all this time.

Would you like me to keep you updated?" Randall smiled at that, and nodded.

"I would appreciate it very much, sir," he said. Hastings nodded, returning

John's smile. "Done, Lieutenant," he said. "And, just between you and me,

we here at Intel are keeping tabs on your career, being that you're Marcus'

son. You're doing very well for yourself; keep it up."

 

"Thank you, sir," Randall said. "Thank you again for seeing me." "Any time,

Lieutenant," said Hastings. "Warp speed to you." John nodded, smiled again,

and left the office. He gave the receptionist a brief smile as he passed by her

desk; she returned it, and watched him walk to the turbolift. "Lobby," said

John, and the lift sped off.

 

The lift deposited him on the ground floor, and John exited the lift, heading

for the glass doors to the sidewalk outside. He went through the doors,

and took out his communicator. "Challenger; one to beam up," he said;

and, a few seconds later, shimmered out of existence.

 

He rematerialized aboard the ship, nodded to the transporter chief, who

returned it, and strode off the dais to the door of the transporter room.

The door swooshed open as he approached, and he went out into the

corridor, heading for the turbolift. He arrived at the chute, but had to

wait a few moments, as the lift was in use. A few minutes later, the lift

arrived, and John stepped in. "Deck 3," he said, and the lift whisked him

away.

 

He arrived at his destination, and exited the lift; he went along the corridor

to the door of his room, which swished open as he approached. He went in,

deposited his duffel bag on the sofa, and sat down heavily, being really

tired, physically and emotionally. He closed his eyes, his mind starting to

process all the information he had assimilated. He ruminated on what he

had learned about his father, and, suddenly, a renewed hatred for the

Romulans burst open in his mind, and he pounded his fist into the sofa

repeatedly.

 

Angry tears came from his closed eyes involuntarily as he sat there. A few

seconds later, he, for a few seconds, completely lost all control. He sprang

to his feet, and threw his communicator against the wall. It rebounded to

the floor, and he let out a deafening primal scream. He sat back down on the

sofa heavily, then his eyes hardened, and his face became a grim mask. He

made a new vow to himself; he would find the Romulan who had betrayed

his father, even if it took him the rest of his life.

 

A little while later, emotionally spent, he stood up, stripped off his clothes,

and went into the head to take a shower. Before he stepped in, he looked

down at the bandage on his arm where the doctor had removed the tracking

device. He angrily ripped it off, and stepped into the shower. During the

shower, a small trickle of blood seeped from his arm mixing with the water

as it ran into the drain.

 

John was still too angry to notice any of it; he could not get his mind off

of what he had learned about his father. He finished showering a few minutes

later, and exited the shower. As he toweled off, he noticed where the blood

had leaked out of his arm, and growled at it. He went back into the head,

selected a bandage, angrily ripped off the paper containing it, and slapped

it onto his arm.

 

He was suddenly very weary, and knew he had to get some sleep. He told

the computer what time to wake him after he went to the computer

terminal, and pulled up the duty roster. He then tottered into the bedroom,

put on his pajamas, and fell into bed, dropping into a deep sleep.

 

 

END LOG

[Cmdr Rinax 0]

Counselor, oh counselor? Good log John, but we really need to find some ways for you to release that stress. The sofa won't take much more of that pounding.

[John Randall 0]

Lol, that would be appreciated, Commander. :)