New Chief Science Officer

Posted on Fri Feb 6th, 2009 @ 6:02am by

2,065 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Restricted Independent Operations
Location: Office of the Executive Officer, USS Archimedes
Timeline: Current

It had been a busy day for the two command officers of the USS Archimedes, of that there was no denial or even a speck of doubt; both had been rushing from meeting to meeting since they'd arrived, trying to get everything ready for the ship's first cruise. Arkham especially, being almost two decades the Captain's senior, was particularly beginning to feel her age--her final meeting of the day had ended, and she limped into her office, rubbing her sore hip with a hand that had picked up the slightest bit of a shake.

But there was no dry twist in Lieutenant Commander Arkham's eyes or ears, and between that her keen intellect, queerly romantic and bitter disposition, and utter lack of imagination, she knew she was more than ready for the task ahead of her. Leaning back in her chair a little, she sighed -- Catherine was off for the day with the Captain's daughter and her governess; she'd been experiencing some clicking in her ruined jaw and had been eager to get it fixed, but it looked now like she would need to wait several hours until the three returned. Damn.

Finally picking up a PADD and starting work, Rowena was interrupted by her door chime.

"Goddamn it," Arkham barked at the crewman who entered the room. "Somebody had better be dead, or someone is going to be by the time I'm finished!"

"Commander Arkham," the man said nervously, "You...ah, requested that I notify you when the Chief Science Officer arrived."

Arkham smirked. He was right. Dammit. Arkham had been particularly intrigued by this Kevin Larkin -- she'd read bits and pieces of the reports about him (being Intelligence and rumored Section 31 afforded you a lot of things, including Level 4 Security clearance) and had been relatively eager to meet the man himself.

"Very well, Crewman," Arkham said, wiping her milky, slightless left eye.

Spotting his stare, Arkham said sternly, "I'm sorry, Crewman. Do you see something you like?"

There were many reasons they called old Rowena Arkham "The Arkham Horror", and her face was chief among them. Crumpled skin grafts and long dark scars covered false bone and teeth, framing a filmy and sightless left eye. Gulping, the Crewman said, "N...no, Commander."

"Well then," Arkham snapped. "Didn't anyone teach you that it was impolite to stare?"

"Commander--"

"Get out of my sight," Arkham barked. "Send the Ensign up here to report in. I'm the Executive Officer, and I'll be damned if I make house calls. By the way, Crewman: imagine , if you will, Siberia. Then imagine Siberia on the surface of Pluto. Then put Pluto in a black hole. Then make sure the black hole is the dumping ground of the universal radiation. That's where your going if I don't get my dinner in the next minute or so! Go!"

Arkham chuckled a little as the man left in panic--my this was fun--and returned to her PADD as she awaited the arrival of Ensign Larkin.

Kevin Larkin had found his way to the Archimedes' astrophysics lab. It was something familiar to him, and felt like as good a place to go first on this new ship as any. He was rather impressed at its sophistication. It was true that the Nova class' primary function was scientific research, and Larkin had made a point of studying all of the ship's technical specification's that he could get his hands on, but actually seeing everything in person was an entirely different matter.

The Ensign didn't know what excited him more: the prospect of being the Chief Science Officer on a vessel like the Archimedes, or simply finally being off of Starbase 87. He'd been stuck there for over a year after the tragedy on the USS Dragoon, and had been beginning to wonder if he was ever going to get back on to a starship. It hadn't taken very long for the entire station to know who he was, and all the suspicion and rumors floating about his head did nothing to help his already weak social skills.

"Ensign Larkin?" a hesitant, weak voice came from over the intercomm. "The XO would like to see you in her office, sir."

"Than..." Larkin began, but stopped as soon as he realized that he'd failed to activate his communicator. After clumsily slapping it, "Thank you, I'll head up to see her now."

The CSO chastised himself on his trek to deck 2, 'Meeting with the XO. That's what I should have done first.'

A minute or two later, a stern voice was giving him permission to enter the office. The Ensign stumbled over the first few words out of his mouth, "Good Evening, Commander. Ensign Larkin, reporting for duty."

Arkham smirked as much as her ruined face would allow, and turned up the soft lights in the room--usually Arkham kept the room fairly dark as a way to keep the shock of her ruined face from bothering the crew, but she felt they should all see it for what it was at least once. The fleet had hailed Rowena Arkham as a hero, but all anyone saw was the monstrous visage such heroics had left her with. She waited--she relished in these initial subtle reactions -- it told her as much, often more than words did about a person.

Larkin was a little taken aback by the woman's appearance, but he had never been one to place too much stock in societal conceptualizations of "normal." If a neutron star had been siting on her forehead, this would have elicited a significant reaction from the Ensign. A few tell-tale signs of military service, however, were common among starfleet officers, and unlikely to faze him very much. The Commander's gaze made it clear that she had been looking for a response, and, in the last few moments before the conversation began again, Larkin wondered if his indifference could have actually been a worse response than shock.

Arkham was satisfied by this. He seemed to understand her point--having gotten that across, she dimmed the lights once more--though she had gotten used to the reactions of others, she found, after years of keeping the lights low, her remaining eye had gotten accustomed to it.

"Well, lovely of you to join me, Mr. Larkin," Arkham said, her voice a cold metallic rasp. While she spoke, the crewman from earlier scuttled in, left her dinner on her desk and left almost as quickly as he had arrived, not wanting to end up on the business end of Arkham's legendary temper again. "I trust that the trip from Starbase 87 was a pleasant one?"

"I'm not sure that I would use the word 'pleasant.' It certainly wasn't unpleasant, but one ride one a shuttle is very much the same as another. Hours of emptiness, separated by the tedious docking procedures at each end." Larkin picked up his hands, and placed them parallel with decent distance between them when he said the word 'end.' He'd meant the response to have a dry humor to it, but it hadn't come off that way.

"I trust," Arkham said, her jaw cracking. She would have to spare the man the long winded lecture this time around. "That you have already heard much about me from the other crew, and among other things, you've learned that I don't like to be kept waiting. See to it that it does not happen again, Mr. Larkin, or I'll be using your rank pips as my next tooth fillings. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir, I sincerely apologize for not coming sooner. I get a little absent minded sometimes..." he trailed off. There was an awkward silence, as the Commander stared at him. A few moments later, Larkin felt compelled to add, "It won't happen again."

Arkham settled back in her chair, and offered the Ensign a chair. Settling down and taking a sip from the cup of tea that the Crewman had brought her, she said, "Well, I'm going to make something very clear. If you are unaware of what it was I did before I came here to serve as Executive Officer, I was a high level Fleet Intelligence Officer. As a result, I am privy to a lot of things all of this crew isn't. And you can guess what that means for you."

Larkin felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. At least one of the commanding officers knew about the Dragoon, and he found it hard to imagine that the CO hadn't been informed. "Sir, let me just say..."

Arkham silenced him with a gesture. "I don't want to hear it. I have spoken to Admiral Adama already, he practically sings your praises. That being said, if I see something I don't like I will kick your ass off my ship in ten seconds and forget you forever in the next five. This ship will not end up like the Dragoon while I am her XO. Am I understood?"

Larkin could do nothing but nod his head, and squeak out a, "Yes, sir." He was beginning to feel like he was trapped in some horrible nightmare. The suspicion and lack of trust that he had incurred made him nauseous, although, on the surface, he couldn't really bring himself to blame anyone for mistrusting him. A starfleet vessel is completely destroyed, and only the ship's Assistant Chief Science Officer survives; he is found floating among the debris in a disabled shuttle craft, and claims to have no memory of how the ship was destroyed or how he ended up in that shuttle. It sounded as suspicious as a Klingon reading Emily Dickenson, but it was the truth.

Arkham nodded. "Now, is there anything additional you're going to need, or did you find your labs to your liking?"

It took Larkin a moment to respond. He could only imagine that he looked like he had been shot. "Everything seems in order, Commander," he began slowly. "The tech seems a bit more advanced than what I'm used to, but, if anything, that's a good thing. Will there be anything else, sir?" Larkin wanted desperately to be out of that room.

Arkham shook her head. "No, Ensign. I'm satisfied for now. I'm going to be reporting my information to the CO tomorrow--I thought I owed you the decency of a face-to-face meeting before I did so. But...you seem a trustworthy young man. So I'll do you the courtesy of making a lot of this "Need to Know". But if you ever betray that trust or give me a reason to doubt you, I will not hesitate to return you to Starbase 87 or if the situation dictates, have you drummed out of the fleet entirely. Am I clear?"

"Understood," Larkin paused for a few moments. "...and thank you for trusting me," he shoved as much sincerity into that as he could muster. He had a feeling that the fact that the XO had even allowed him on the ship in the first place was a good sign, and wanted to make sure she knew that he was grateful.

"Good," Arkham rasped. Relenting a little, she said, "I have high hopes for you. Don't disappoint me. You're dismissed, Ensign."

"Good evening, Commander," Larkin bade farewell, and quickly left the office. About a minute later, he found that he'd been mindlessly standing in the hallway since his departure. 'Well, that could have gone worse,' he finally thought to himself, and began to leave. 'It certainly could have gone better, but there is still worse.'

A few feet down the hall was a systems display panel which showed a cross section of the ship. As Larkin passed it, he happened to glance over. What he saw was the familiar deck plan of the USS Dragoon. Red flashing lights showed damage across three major sections. It took a few moments and a few steps farther down the hall for Larkin to fully comprehend what he'd just seen. He whipped back around, and quickly returned to face the panel. There were no red lights; the deck plan now showed the Nova class vessel that it was supposed to. Larkin shivered, and turned to walk away again. "I need to get some sleep."

A Joint-Post by:

Lieutenant Commander Rowena Arkham
Executive Officer
USS Archimedes

and

Ensign Kevin Larkin
Chief Science Officer
USS Archimedes

 

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