A Journey of a Thousand Miles... (Step One)

Posted on Tue Dec 5th, 2017 @ 5:06pm by Lieutenant Colonel Storr Garlake
Edited on on Thu Dec 7th, 2017 @ 9:50am

1,280 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mission 0: Everybody Has A Story
Location: USS Vindex / Memory Theta
Timeline: MD 1 minus 4

=/\= Four Days Previous, USS Vindex =/\=

In the darkness of his room, Storr's heavy fingers thrummed slowly on the desk, a single message displayed on the LCARS panel. To say that it was an unexpected one would be an understatement and as he continued to mull over its contents, the more understated he felt.

"Computer, patch me through to Earth, SFMC HQ, Fleet Support Staff, Sergeant..." he paused for a moment, reading the signature line. "...Silvek."

Two staccato warbles indicated acknowledgment while the gradually rotating SFMC Globe-and-Anchor graphically confessed that the connection with Earth was taking longer than expected. While the Vindex was in the Gamma Quadrant, communication was usually swift though he mused that the disconcerting nature of his call was the reason to put him on hold. Before he had more time to assign cruel, ulterior motives to the ship's computer and the comm relay station architecture between him and SFMC FSS, a staid and stoic female Vulcan appeared before him.

"How may I assist you, Major Garlake?" She asked, her intonation pressing out the final consonant of his name.

"Right to business...well, I have orders to PCS from the Vindex to the Chennault but I think there's a mistake. I haven't been here for even a year and the most recent personnel NAVORD stated that moves would not be considered until at least 24 months on-station had been completed. That, and the billet requires a Lieutenant Colonel with no one up/down stipulation attached to the UMD" Storr made an obvious glance to his bronze oak leaf adorning his collar before looking back up into the Sergeant's deep brown eyes. "I don't think I'm the right fit."

Being a commander, Storr made it a point to know the ins-and-outs of the personnel system in order to secure the best talent for the 2/5 while at the same time protecting them from (what at least he saw as) petty assignment actions. That, and the Dominion wars had pushed more and more administration work onto everyday Marines as HQ was purged of any able-bodied Marine that could carry a phaser rifle for frontline duty. Of course, as with any good bureaucracy, as soon as field commanders like him had shown they could carry the load of additional "adminiwork", those staff billets were not backfilled as they obviously weren't needed in the first place. The Major silently cursed the beancounters he was sure were buried deep somewhere in a windowless vault, pouring over reams of data as they snickered to themselves about the near-infinite wisdom they had concerning the system, not understanding in any way the actual impact their decisions would have, much like the time it was wasting him in this conversation...

His thoughts about wringing the necks of administrative sycophants were (unfortunately) suddenly broken by Sergeant Silvek.

"Sir, there is no mistake," her voice was deadpan, almost as if she could read his thoughts over the thousands of lightyears between them; he unconsciously shuddered at the thought. As he did so, the Vulcan's eyes flitted to the bottom corner of the screen then back up to Storr. "It seems that your inquiry has generated a secure connection request from Starfleet Command. Patching you through now." Before he even had a chance to register her words, the Marine Sergeant was replaced by two men, one in Starfleet Command red with Rear Admiral pips and the other in Marine hunter green with a Brigadier General star. That escalated quickly, he thought, sitting up straighter and adjusting his already impeccable uniform as his eyes traced the red/yellow crosshatch that bordered the screen to indicate the secure connection.

"Admiral, General," he said, nodding to each in turn. Garlake recognized neither.

"Major Garlake, hello. I'm General Butler and this is Rear Admiral Omolara," he said in a faint southern drawl, looking to his right at the Tellarite before looking back to the screen. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're speaking to us instead of the good Sergeant."

"That would be one of my questions, yes sir," Storr replied.

"To be frank, we...have something of a pickle on our hands and you're just the man that we need for this job."

"No offense, sirs, but I highly doubt that is the case," the MCO retorted with a half smile. He was good...he knew it and it wasn't just a personal hubris, but why two flag officers would reach so low into the TO&E table to tap him was certainly a mystery.

"Major, it's not good to begin a direct-reporting relationship with your superiors by insulting them," BG Butler said with an equal measure of smile. The way that he pronounced "by" like "bah" and dropped the following "g" simply solidified the man's gentlemanly credentials. "Now, we have a particular installation in which we've...lost confidence in both the commander and the current Commandant. We need you to go there, relieve them of command and then await a follow-on Facility Administrator. Your posting to the Chennault will be data masking your new assignment and your duration there will be at the pleasure of the new FA, to whom you will report. Questions?"

The South African pondered for several beats before responding. "Sirs, as I'm sure you're aware, I'm recently wed and to say that I would be excited to accept an assignment away from my bride would be quite the understatement."

Butler waved his hand dismissively at the Marine. "Already done, my boy. Lieutenant Maera Garlake will be joining you there, though after several weeks. Red tape and all that...can't have you both leaving at the same time, it would make people talk. When was the last time you heard the personnel section get a joint spouse assignment right?" Storr's initial tic at the mention of Jaya's maiden name was replaced with an inward chuckle. This man truly knew the system.

"And my Article 15 script is sufficient?" A quick glance at his dust-covered copy of the "Commander's Lawbook for SFMC" reminded him that this was not a subject with which he had a great deal of experience; Storr only hoped that the trip to the installation would be enough time for a thorough review.

The Brigadier General nodded in response. "Violation of UCMJ Article 92."

Thinking for a moment, Major Garlake nodded. Failure to obey orders. Simple enough, and he truly didn't need to know the specifics...he was just the messenger.

"Your travel details, updated personnel records, PCS orders, current VMET, and other miscellaneous information is being forwarded to you now. With that, godspeed."

The MCO didn't let the General finish. "And if they're...uncooperative?" Storr hoped that the question was a ludicrous one but it had sprung to his mind and refused to let go with all the tenacity of a ceti eel.

Brigadier General Butler's cheery demeanor fell slightly, much like sheets of snow sluffing off a roof as the temperature just starts to get above freezing. "Then God be with you." The silence was only for several moments but the Afrikaner's heartbeat thrummed in his ears the entire time. "Oh, and Major...you're out of uniform. Get yourself some new oakleaves before you show." With that, the channel connection abruptly terminated.

Breathing in deeply and exhaling in equal measure, the newly-promoted Vindex MCO looked over his shoulder at the peacefully sleeping Deltan. For a moment he watched her, Jaya's curvaceous form hugged by the sheets and rhythmically rising and falling with her shallow breaths. He felt like a cad waking her but this news met the threshold for violating sleep.

"Honey, we need to talk..."

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