=/\= Kinsi, Flight Ops, a couple days ago =/\= Andy brought his duffle up to the Flight Ops office, looking above the main station hangar, and set it down heavily. "Okay, Luke," he said to the Chief Flight Operations Officer, Ens. Skywalker, "I guess this is it." Skywalker tapped a few times on the console in front of him, and turned to Andersen, with whom he'd spent the past few weeks hanging out drinking. "Yep. Your shuttle's leaving in about 20 minutes," he said. "Been nice getting to know you, Andy." Skywalker extended his hand and Andy took it, giving it a firm shake. Andy exhaled heavily. "I still don't know about this assignment," he said. "Well, if it's any consolation, you don't strike me as one of those spooks," said Luke. "Good luck with them." Nodding his thanks, Andy hitched his duffel bag back up on his shoulder, and started making his way down the staircase into the main bay. There he stopped short. What the hell?! Andy couldn't believe his eyes. Standing in a que to board the shuttle Andy was supposed to get on to go to the Chimera was none other than Jack Walsh. Making a quick about-face and climbing the stairs two steps at a time, he made it back to the Flight Ops Office. "Luke, you gotta do me a favor." Skywalker raised his eyebrows in query, and Andy asked him if he could access the Chimera's crew manifest. "Hang on," he answered, and pulled up a connection with the Chimera's Operations Department, requesting a basic level 4 clearance. "Okay, I'm in. What's up?" "Can you see if a LtCmdr Jack Walsh is assigned to the Chimera?" asked Andy tensely. "Walsh," said Luke, tapping away at his console. "Walsh, Walsh, Walsh ... hrm. No LtCmdr Walsh." Andy breathed a sigh of relief. "But there does seem to be a marine Captain there with the same name. Jack Walsh." he tapped a few more times on his panel and nodded. "Yeah. Just transferred ... aaaaannnd ... yes, he's registered on that shuttle down there." He glanced up to Andy, who had his eyes shut, and seemed to be wincing in pain. "You know him?" "What's his position?" said Andy, ignoring the question. "ODA Commander. Special Forces." Oh, god, groaned Andy. This just keeps getting better and better, he thought. First I'm thrown into a special forces team without getting any training first, and now his supervisor, it seems, was going to be Jack Walsh. Andy avoided the guy during their joint tenure on the Archer, but from what he passingly observed, Walsh was a drunk, a womanizer, and had a foul temper a parsec wide. Andy shared the information with Skywalker, while the Ensign continued to monitor incoming and outgoing shuttles. "If you want to get to your ship, Andy," advised Skywalker, "you'd better be moving along. It's due to depart in a couple minutes." Andy sat on his duffel, beside himself, and finally shook his head. He didn't want to deal with this. Not right now. Sure, he wanted the comfort and cleanliness of starship quarters, but frankly, since he didn't technically have to report for another two days, he figured he might make due with the squalor of his small apartment in the station for a little while longer. "Nah. Let it go," he said. "I'm gonna stay here." Skywalker shrugged, and gave the shuttle permission to depart. =/\= Kinsi, The Brewery, the next day =/\= "It did WHAT?" cried Andy, with a surprised laugh. "Pissed on my leg," grumbled Skywalker angrily. "I mean, there's this nice lookin' ensign sitting alone at a table, she's brought her dog in, so I figure I could make a move on her, by getting in good with the pooch." Andy smirked at his friend, and called over to the waitress. "Maggie, another two synthales, please." "I lean over, let him smell me, all that crap," continued Skywalker, "meanwhile the girl looks like she's takin' a nap. So I start pettin' the dog. Dog's nice and relaxed, sniffs me again, wagging its tail. I was just about to start chatting up the girl when the damned mutt raises its leg and just completely lets loose on my shoe!" "Maybe he thought you were a tree?" Skywalker shook his head and accepted the drink from the waitress. Leaning back and taking a sip, he looked at Andy inquisitively. "So when do you think you're going to report in? You said you had until tonight? Andy nodded in agreement. "Suppose I can't put it off any longer," he said, taking a drink. "Well, good luck with them. Maybe you can put in a good word for us for the review." "Review?" Luke looked surprised. "Oh, come on, Andy," said his friend testily. "Why else would an SSF ship be here, doing all this stuff? They're running us ragged with all this testing crap. Requesting private shuttles, wierd novels in the holodeck ... hell, they even nearly caused a collision this morning before going off to do some 'tactical maneuvers.' Hrmph. Tactical maneuvers, my ass." Andy shook his head. "Sorry, chum, I don't know anything about it. I even told you a while ago I didn't even know what my ship or assignment was going to be until about 3 days ago. And what. I've been here 3 weeks?" Andy took a long pull from his synthale. "I don't know why they're here, or why I've been assigned to them. Not greatly looking forward to it though." He shrugged. "But if it's a good word you want, I'm your man." "Thanks." "Sure thing, pal," Andy said standing, and tossing a couple of slips of latinum on the table for Maggie. "Meantime, I'd better get back to my apartment and get ready to ship out. Good knowin' ya." Luke raised his mug in farewell, and leaned back in his chair, idly people-watching others in the small restaurant. Andy made his way to the western arm of the concourse, and turned a corner toward the hall where the turbolifts that would take him to his apartment. Strolling along, daydreaming, he didn't notice the doors to his left open up, nor did he see the tall bajoran emerge, bearing two pieces of glazed earthenware. WHAM! The two men collided, the bajoran lost his grip on both pots, and the pair of men and the pair of clay vessels tumbled onto the hallway floor. The bajoran managed to get enough of a grip under the bowl to cradle its fall, but the other, a pitcher, hit the floor, and broke into a dozen shards and pieces of varying size. "By the prophets," swore the bajoran, grimly looking at the jumble of broken clay pieces. Andy got up and apologized, helping the fellow pick the pieces of the pitcher up and putting them into the bowl. "I'm sorry, I wasn't particularly paying attention to where I was going." Andy regarded the clay-spattered man for a few moments, trying to remember if he'd seen him before. Was he an assistant to Sconda, the terellian artisan? "No, no," said the bajoran. He was quiet, and his jaw adopted a grim set as he looked at the clay shards in the bowl. "I should have been able to avoid you. I suppose I was ... preoccupied." He sighed, both annoyed and resigned to the situation. "Listen," said Andy, looking at the bajoran's clay-spattered clothing, and fishing about for a strip or two of latinum that he had in his belt, "I can pay for that if you need me to -- or do you work for Sconda? I could talk to him ... tell him it wasn't your fault ..." He held out the money. The bajoran shook his head and put up his hand. "That's unnecessary," he said softly. "Thanks, though." His arm wrapped securely around the bowl, and he gripped it tightly as if almost expecting Andy to attempt to knock it out of his grasp and destroy it, too. "Really, I'm very sorry -- isn't there something I -- ?" The man cut Andy off with a serene shake of his head, and assured him that it was an unfortunate accident. Andy himself sighed, at a loss for words, and finally backed away, apologizing in farewell. He made it to the turbolift, got to his quarters, and finished packing. =/\= USS Chimera, 2000 hours, a few hours past the kerfuffle with the Simpson =/\= Andy met with someone from Ops, found his assigned quarters, tossed his duffel on his bed, and took a deep breath, enjoying the comparatively cleaner air of the Chimera, in contrast to the mustiness of the little crackerbox apartment he'd been living in on Kinsi for the past three weeks. Unpacking a few personal items, he walked over to the replicator, and ordered a new uniform in his size. Changing, and muttering to himself about having to report to Jack Walsh, Andy finally slipped on his black boots, and made his way to the ODA Commander's Office. Jack Walsh looked much the way Andy remembered him from the last time he'd seen him on the Archer, perhaps four months ago. He was leaning back in his chair, with his feet up on the corner of his desk, tapping on a large PADD with a stylus. He didn't look up. Andy cleared his throat, and finally announced himself. "Lieutenant Andersen Foster, reporting for duty, sir." Walsh still didn't look up, and continued working on whatever it was he had on his PADD. Bastard, thought Andy. Finally, the ODA Commander looked up and smiled sardonically. "Lieutenant Foster. Welcome aboard." Andy let a few beats pass before he replied. "... Captain," he said allowing a touch of irony to slip through in his tone. Walsh snorted derisively, refusing to let Andy needle him, and stood. "Well, then. As much as I'm sure you were looking forward to playing secret agent with the rest of my trained marines, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." Andy's face fell into confusion. Bad news? What could be worse than being supervised by this maniac? "Colonel Bretam has pulled rank and reassigned you." Andy's eye's bugged with disbelief. Walsh dug around his desk and tossed him a PADD and chuckled, noting Andy's change in body language. "He's put you back in ship's ops as support staff under Cmdr. Birt." Andy was nearly shaking with relief; he couldn't have been happier. No need to talk reason into anyone -- apparently Colonely Bretam had a clear enough mind to recognize the uselessness Andy would have made as an asset to his ODA team. He collected himself enough to bring himself back to attention, and Walsh spoke again. "Go ahead and report to Commander Birt. I believe he's up on the bridge at the moment," said Walsh roughly. Andy acknowledged the directive, and began to step out of the office. "Oh, Lieutenant," said Walsh after him. Andy stopped, and waited patiently. "We're gonna miss you." Walsh's words rang with just a little more than a hint of sarcasm, before he broke into a dark chuckle. "Now get the hell outta my office." Not needing a second invitation, Andy trotted down the hall and into the turbolift. "Bridge," he said. The doors hissed open, and Andy entered the Chimera's nerve center. "Excuse me," he said, "I'm looking for Commander Birt." <<OOC: Good grief, this went a lot longer than I was expecting. Well, it brings me on the ship, though! Time to finally meet some of the rest of you :) Maybe even the mystery bajoran potter.>> Lt. Andersen Foster Operations Officer USS Chimera _________________________________________________________________ FREE pop-up blocking with the new MSN Toolbar – get it now! http://toolbar.msn.click-url.com/go/onm00200415ave/direct/01/