Overwatch

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Overwatch
Commander Jami Farrington,
Starfleet Academy School of Medicine
Temporarily Assigned to USS Manticore

 

After a long and somewhat dangerous visit to New Las Vegas and a well earned rest on an isolated asteroid hidden within the asteroid belt, Jami Farrington relaxed in the command chair.  Captain McFly seemed to be recovering well—so well in fact that he had been called to his ready room for a private conversation.  LtCdr Faldek had returned from his previous post and was again the Operations Officer.  Lt Lackey, new to Manticore but well versed in the ship’s handling, had taken Helm until LtCdr Mizu returned.  All was running smoothly… so far…meaning that after serving 15 years aboard Manticore, Jami knew that ship had a mind of her own.  As soon as the crew relaxed, the other shoe would drop.

“Commander Farrington,” came through her com.

She sighed.  “Farrington here. Go ahead.”

“Secure communication from Starfleet Command, ma’am.  Where should I send it?”

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off from the command chair and pointed to LtCdr Faldek to take over.  “Send it to the bridge conference room,” she replied, hoping this would not take long.  Since their departure it seemed that Faldek was bouncing from one place to the other, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Stepping into the conference room, she secured the door, entered her code, and found herself eye to eye with Admiral Gren Dejariov, Commanding Officer of Starfleet Academy’s School of Medicine.

“Jami?” he began with a questioning look as he put his PADD aside.  

“Hello, Admiral.” She forced a smile.

“Hey.  It’s me, Jami.  Forget the ‘Admiral’ and tell me what’s going on. You were supposed to be back by now.”

“Well, Sir… I mean Gren.  It’s a long story, and nothing we expected.  But it is Manticore.”

“And Manticore has a mind of her own.  Of course. I should have known.” After a long pause, he relaxed in his chair. “Let me guess.  You haven’t even begun your observations.”

“No, Gren.  I haven’t.”

“Okay.”  Dejariov said, looking at the ceiling for a moment of thought.  “Where are they sending you?”

Blink.  “Sir?”

“Where… are they sending… the Manticore…and why?”

“No idea, Sir.”

Dejariov slapped a hand on his desk, almost overturning it.  “Damn, I bet I know.  And I’ll bet it’s Jaffee.  Commander, if you find out, let me know and I...will...tan...her...hide.”