3,423
edits
ORIGINS: USS Hood August 2009: Difference between revisions
From StarFleet Bureau of Information
→by Daniel Belin and Brian V. Mansur
| Line 345: | Line 345: | ||
SD 2260.240 | SD 2260.240 | ||
Scene: Enlisted Mess Hall, USS HOOD | |||
DeSimms loved to blow things up. But honestly ... had he known Gar would get the Captain to make him and his department work double shifts to put B Deck back together ... well DeSimms wished there had been a better way to get rid of the Klingons. There hadn't been, of course, and everyone knew it. To borrow one of Corbett's lines, "They'd needed killin." | |||
So there he was, painting the refurbished enlisted mess hall and feeling more than frustrated that they hadn't done any drilling for what seemed like weeks. The Captain had been by a while ago to ask how they were all doing. DeSimms had replied the way he usually did. | |||
"Doing fine Captain. Just doing what's best for the ship." Steele had laughed heartily at that. DeSimms knew deep down though that he was probably cruising at three quarters impulse for insubordination charges. Wouldn't be the first time or the sixth for that matter. He'd seen too much crap in his life to really care. | |||
While dipping his paint roller in for a fresh coat, he looked around. It seemed that half the red shirts on the ship had pitched in. In the corner of his eye, he watched as that cute lieutenant from Communications came into the room. Powers was it? She'd was followed closely by the blueshirt wearing a cowboy hat. "Ride em cowboy," he thought. Good for him if he was getting any pleasurable company out of this cruise. | |||
Powers giggled at something Corbett said and that was enough to convince DeSimms that it was high time to go find somewhere else to be. On the way out, he bumped into Merrick, who was carrying a PADD. Merrick looked at DeSimms and said, "Lieutenant, just the man I wanted to see. Someone still has to tell these crewmembers that we weren't able to salvage anything from their quarters." | |||
"Sir? You want me to do that?" DeSimms replied. | |||
Merrick nodded. "We'll use briefing room four. You'll be talking to Mister Trout, Mister Benson, and our very own Ensign Cory Campbell." | |||
DeSimms exhaled sharply and grumbled, "No wonder you don't want to do it." | |||
****** | |||
Scene: Briefing Room Four, USS HOOD | |||
DeSimms, Cory Campbell, Merrick, Daniel Trout and Lucille Benson were sitting around the large table in Briefing Room Four. DeSimms waited for several seconds, preparing himself. He thought, "Crap, I'm terrible at public speaking." He decided to get the worst over first, "Mr. Campbell, we apologize, but when security dealt with the Klingons, they..." DeSimms hesitated for a moment, and then continued, "Destroyed your quarters and almost everything in them. We apologize, but you know we operate in a combat zone, and loss of property is a real risk." | |||
"Everything?" Cory fumed, "You little piece of shit, you're not even fit for starship duty you mentally unstable ... ," said Cory in a small spurt of courage. | |||
"That's enough, Ensign," said Merrick. Campbell continued with a slew of insults to DeSimms, and all the 'damn redshirts in security'. Merrick roared, "That's enough, Ensign!" | |||
DeSimms continued, ignoring the still fuming Campbell. He told Daniel Trout that his collection of dirt from all over the galaxy was partially obliterated by Klingon disruptors, and Lucille Benson that her engagement ring from her recently late husband had melted and was now a lump on the floor. She cried so hard that Merrick had to calm her down. | |||
With the bad news delivered, DeSimms and Merrick dismissed the crewmembers. While the others left, Campbell lingered behind. With a petulant grimace, the ensign pointed at DeSimms, "Don't patronize me, Lieutenant. I've been in the star service longer than you and the FO here combined. So don't act like you've seen more crap than me. What you let happen set important projects back months if not years!" | |||
That was it for DeSimms, he stood up knocking over the chair, and yelled at Campbell, "Get the hell out of here Ensign!" | |||
Campbell knew that it was dangerous for him to stay, but as if demons had possessed him he could not resist a parting wisecrack, "I'm so sorry oh King of the Redshirts." | |||
That was the last straw for DeSimms. His arm lunged over the table and punched Campbell right in the nose. Campbell ran out with what looked like tears streaming down his face. Merrick, fighting to keep a poker face, turned to DeSimms. | |||
"You do know that was Campbell right? He's got a Kevlar vest made out of friends in high places." | |||
"Too bad for him he wasn't wearing them over his face," countered DeSimms, flashing a smile that might fit a piranha. | |||
To his credit, Merrick just managed to restrain a grin. "You counting on your Medal of Honor to keep you off the hook? Might work. Might not." | |||
Merrick headed for the door himself. Before leaving he turned back and added, "For the record, consider yourself under house arrest and restricted to quarters. I'll have your letter of reprimand ready to sign in a few hours. Expect to have a visit from Corbett for anger management training, so on and so forth. With any luck, if we make it look like we did all the reasonable steps, we can get you back to duty in a few days. | |||
Finally a smile did cross his face. "Given the seriousness of what you just did, the Captain might have something more creative to do to you than I though." | |||
"Oh? What might that be?" DeSimms said wearily. | |||
"Not sure, but I'm guessing it will involve a lot of alcohol and cigars." | |||
