Seconds To Spare

Posted on Thu Mar 19th, 2009 @ 1:50pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell & Lieutenant Commander Wesley Kemmer

1,029 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: In The Dark
Location: Mess Hall, Deck 2
Timeline: Current

:ON:

With the away-mission dispatched and now landed safely on the surface of Citadel Prime, Commander Lane took the short walk from the Bridge to the Mess Hall one deck beneath it.

On the way through the snaking corridors, the Trill pondered the notion of the optimistic aspects of commanding a smaller vessel. Compared to that of the Galaxy he was accustomed to, he could sometimes sense every shake and vibration that the Archimedes made. This is what was so strange-seeming about the momentary system-wide power failure earlier that day. The thought of something awry plagued him stronger still since his conversation with Commander Arkham, but he could not yet place his finger upon the source.

The searing pain in Kemmer’s right leg just would not let up, despite the vexium already in his system. He’d already had to leave the “bustling� Intelligence offices for his quarters because he just couldn’t concentrate on doing his job. He limped into his quarters and went straight for the bed and dropped onto it in an almost clumsy backward dive; “Computer, lights down low� he commanded as he shut his eyes just as the lights dimmed, the blue hue by the lights near the head of the bed taking over the illumination of his quarters, and tried to block out the pain.

As Lane entered the quiet mess hall, the majority of the tables were vacant. An ensign on the far side nodded a respectful greeting. Lane simply returned the nod. The counter had a clutch of flasks containing Larkin's Harmony beverage. The CO took one and poured out a cupful to retire to a table on his own. As he did so, he tapped the cool casing of his com badge to its responsive twitter.

=A= Lane to Kemmer. =A=

The chirp and call to his own com badge insignia rousing his attention, Kemmer barely opened his eyes to acknowledge his commanding officer, “Kemmer, go ahead.�

=A= Could you meet me in the mess hall, Commander? =A=

He closed his eyes tight and inaudibly sighed before he answered, “On my way�. It was a shorter, and better response than what he had wanted to say, something that would go along the lines of ‘When I feel like a spot of lunch on the bow with you, I’ll be sure the jump at the chance, but right now I’m in a little too much pain to be gallivanting around the decks of this ship no matter how small it is’, and closed the channel.

Kemmer sat up and helped his legs round and off the side of the bed, the increased amount of drugs in his system helping a little more than before with the agony in his leg, and uneasily stood. “Computer, lights� he said as he started off for the replicator and the shelf beside it, ordered another glass of water and took another of the small vexium capsules; one of the few drugs in the Federation Starfleet that still had to be taken orally, to continue to help with the pain while he was away, and headed out his quarters and headed to the mess hall.

The mess hall was relatively dead when he arrived, the doors opened and he looked inside. Trying his hardest not to limp across the floor to the captain, he took up a seat and sat down opposite, “You wanted to see me?�

"Yes, Mr. Kemmer, I did. Can I offer you a drink at all?" the Trill asked, squinting at the Intelligence Officer as he did so. "Um, are you all right, Commander? You seem to have developed a slight limp. I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn't suffer from an old track injury myself that still plagues me from time to time. I recognise that pain anywhere."

Wes inwardly chastised himself for not being a bit more discreet with his physical appearance and condition, but there was obviously nothing he could do about it right now. “I’m fine, on both counts, thank you.� A pause came about after this with Lane wondering whether or not to take Mister Kemmer’s response at face value. Hating these types of silences, Kemmer spoke again, “it’s a bit of an old injury in itself� he lied, purely on the fact that it was a fairly recent injury and why his job was now confined to a desk.

"Well, I advise that you see Doctor Mabren about it, if it troubles you still. But, I don’t want to pry in your own medical affairs, it's just a suggestion. However, the reason I asked you here, Kemmer, is that with Commander Arkham on the surface, and my Second Officer position going begging, I was wondering how you felt about assuming the role. Your background in Intelligence and ranking make you the ideal candidate; not least your own experience before the Arch. I need a second head, so to speak. And you're the perfect man for the job."

Such a compliment was not often bestowed upon him. Kemmer loved his job and the fact that he was good at it, at least when he could do it, but ‘perfect’? No. He could never describe himself as being perfect. His ambition for command was also rather non-existent; being thirdly responsible for the whole ship was something that he was not too thrilled at the prospect of taking it on, and he was somewhat taken aback by the offer. His mind brought him back to the present where Lane was waiting for a response, any response from him. “I’d love to� he said flatly with a feint hint of a smile.

"If you would rather not, Mr. Kemmer?" Lane asked, in a similar tone.

Kemmer jumped on the defensive line with that, “No, I’d love a new challenge. I’ve been doing Intelligence for twelve years now; I think it’s time to stretch my legs so to speak.�

"Good, then. Then it's settled" Lane replied, and extended his hand out to congratulate him. "Congratulations."

:OFF:


Commander Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer

AND

Lieutenant Commander Wesley Kemmer
Chief Intelligence Officer

 

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