And So It Begins ...

[Commodore Moose 0]

June 1, 2154

 

Fitzgerald M. "Bull" Moose stood in the space station's conference room, looking out the large observation window with a deep scowl on his face. He was not a tall man, only 5' 9". But his overly muscled frame made him appear much taller than he was. He had an unlit cigar in his mouth, and his teeth were grinding the tip into a shape that was unrecognizable.

 

Outside the window was another unrecognizable shape; piles of girders and struts that were destined to become the Challenger, NX-05. At the moment though, it was difficult to see how that heap of metal was going to evolve into a warp 5 capable starship. Moose took this frustration out on his cigar.

 

"So, what do you think?" asked Admiral Forrest as he cautiously entered the room. In spite of his rank and authority, he couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by this scowling man.

 

"The Vulcans are right," said Moose, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. "We're insane."

 

"What would you have us do, then?" Asked Forrest a little too defensively. "Should we just sit here and wait for the end to come?" The Admiral was clearly tired of opposition. "Even if Enterprise is successful, and the Xindi never return, we still have the Klingons, the Andorians, and who knows what else to contend with. We've been out in space long enough that everyone knows where we live, it's only a matter of time before someone tries to finish their work. Especially if they realize our only long range starship is months away."

 

"Calm down, Admiral," said Moose confidently and patiently. "I didn't say that it couldn't be done. I just said we were nuts. Hell, sealing 500 people up in a large metal box, and catapulting them at faster than light speeds to somewhere that has no atmosphere, isn't a rational plan under the best of circumstances. But we can't resist. We've done it before and we'll probably continue to do it for a couple of hundred years more until we come to our senses. It's just what we do."

 

Admiral Forrest relaxed, clearly having heard at least part of the answer he was looking for.

 

"But it won't happen with this crew," continued Moose.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Just look at them. They're plodding, lackluster ... there's been no significant progress since yesterday. This crew doesn't believe they can build this ship in time, and that guy you have in charge ... what's his name? Murphy? He hasn't done a thing to fire them up. He's got to go."

 

Forrest sighed. He had worked with Moose for many years, and suddenly remembered that the nickname "Bull" had not been given to him affectionately. Like an animal in a china shop, Moose's presence was felt wherever he went. This was one of the reasons he was considered for a command in space. But Forrest had hoped that Moose wouldn't become so controlling until after the ship had left. "We pulled Commander Murphy off the Columbia project for this assignment. He's the best forman we have and will no doubt run this shipyard someday."

 

Moose laughed loud and hard, not taking any pains to hide his disdain. "The Columbia? That's a reference? If they weren't still two years behind schedule, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

 

"Murphy's not responsible for the structural integrity issues," shouted Forrest. "We've learned a lot from launching Enterprise, and you know it takes longer to retrofit an enhancement than it does to build it into something new."

 

"Yeah, that reads real well on status reports."

 

"There's no one else in the fleet with his experience building warp drives, except for Trip Tucker. And in case you haven't noticed, Tucker isn't available."

 

"Now that's where you're wrong, Admiral. There is someone else with plenty of experience that you're overlooking." Without seeming smug, Moose handed Forrest a data padd. He did not show his amusement as Forrest's face dropped.

 

"Moore? Absolutely not," snapped the Admiral handing the padd back to Moose.

 

"Why not?" asked Moose.

 

"Because he quit. He walked off the NX project."

 

"So what? He's clearly got the experience. In fact, he's the only one with enough experience to build the engines in time. Who cares if he's unpredictable and hard to work with. Admiral, where I come from we have a saying, 'Don't stand between a jerk and his goals.' This kid has something to prove, and if you give him the opportunity to prove it, there's not a person alive who will be able to slow him down. We need that kind of fanaticism if you want me past Uranus by September." Moose set the padd on the conference table and turned towards the starship under construction outside the window. As if to prove his point, small shuttle crafts docked and left, carrying the workers home. "3 pm already?" Moose asked wryly. "My how time flies."

 

Forrest let the comment hang in the air. He knew he had lost this point. He stood by Moose at the window and stared at what there was of the Challenger. This ship was the future of the NX project. Moose was the future of the NX project. The deadline had to be met. Moose was right, they needed fanaticism. "So why are you doing this?" he asked. "What's your goal?"

 

"Staying alive, sir. Simply staying alive." The bluster quickly faded from Moose's voice. "Do you know the average life expectancy for someone in our business who retires? Hell, I'm only 58. I'm not going to sit on a horse on some mountain in Wyoming and watch the clouds pass by when there's a whole universe on top of them waiting to be explored. My retirement was supposed to be our time together, Maggie and I. Ever since she died, I just can't stand the thought of not working. There's nothing to keep me home."

 

"What about the children?"

 

"You know how it is with military kids. They grow up moving around so much. The first chance they get, they bolt and plant roots deeper than a cypress tree. They have their own lives now. They don't need me."

 

A look of loneliness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly extinguished. He picked the data padd up off the table and slapped it into Admiral Forrest's hands. "You, on the other hand, need me very much. And I need a construction foreman who isn't here to win a desk job."

 

He stuck the cigar in his mouth and headed towards the door. He stopped, and spun back towards Forrest. The struts of the Challenger framed the Admiral through the observation window. "Offer that boy a job, Max. And do it quickly, before we get too far behind. I'll get us into space by September. That's my goal."

 

And as Moose stuck the cigar back in his mouth and strode from the room, Admiral Forrest smiled. He had no doubt that Moose would succeed, and he pitied any man who accidentally stepped between Moose and that ship.