Surefoot 37: Second Class

He returned the projector. "Her name is Abby. Her mother's name is Claire; we grew up together on the farm collective. She was my friend, my only friend. I love her... emotionally, at least. I thought we could extend that love to the physical level. We had sex... once. It... didn't work out. I mean, it worked, but... I was still trying to confirm what my preferences were." The memories of that drunken fumbling, when he wanted to not only show his love to Claire, but to confirm his sexual orientation once and for all, returned as well. He looked down at his feet in the here and now. "I prefer men, by the way."

Eydiir nodded. "The moonstruck expression you wore while talking with Doctor Masterson was a hint."

He looked up again, paling. Oh God... "He-- He didn't notice, did he?"

"Does it matter? If he did, he wouldn't say anything. So, you were, what, fifteen, sixteen, when you conceived your child? Did it not occur to you to use contraception?"

His face hardened. "We did; it obviously failed. Does it matter? Anyway, I convinced Claire to carry Abby to term and raise her, until I graduate and I'm allowed to have family transported to wherever I'm first posted." He sighed. "Claire doesn't want to come with us. She likes it on Gault; she doesn't see the dangers of living so close to the Klingon border now. And even discounting the threat, it's no place to raise a child, there's no future there--"

"I don't know why you bother."

He looked up. "Excuse me?"

The Capellan shrugged. "You managed to escape your provincial existence, and now you're free, free to do what you want, on your own. Why should you shackle yourself with some worthless little bastard who probably isn't even yours?"

The raw emotion he was already feeling at revealing so much of his past to someone he barely knew, suddenly boiled into anger. He bolted to his feet, jaw clenched as he pointed a shaking finger at her. "You listen to me, lady: I know I never planned to have a child, but she's a part of my life now, and I'm gonna do everything I can for her! I don't care if you're a woman, you say one more word about Abby and I swear I'll deck you! You'd better believe that!"

"I do, Mr. Boone," she conceded mildly, relaxing her posture. "I did not mean what I said. I was merely gauging the sincerity of your story, and your feelings; your laudable -- if somewhat old-fashioned and chauvinist -- response proved yourself. And I do genuinely apologise for angering you."

He calmed down again, composed himself. "Oh, okay. I, uh, I'm sorry for what I said. I hope I didn't, uh, scare you."

She stared at him.

"You weren't in the least bit intimidated by me, were you?"

"No. Have you been back to the planet since you first left?"

"Twice, during the summer breaks; it killed me each time to leave her. I would have taken her back with me each time if cadets were allowed to have dependents on campus, and besides, she has her mother with her, even if they're stuck on a dead-end world." He offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Some Dad I am, huh?"

"You persist in a job that literally sickens you, in an effort to provide a better future for your child. Speaking of which: your extreme reactions cannot continue. You've obviously received coping techniques, but they're not helping. Why haven't you brought this to the attention of your Academy Liaison?"

"I was..." He breathed out. "I was afraid to draw any more attention to myself. If they examined me, thought I was unsuitable--"

"You feared expulsion." She straightened up. "When you are dealing with an injury or an illness, you must focus on the tasks to be done to correct it. The pain and suffering of your patient is a symptom, and you have to remember that the most efficacious way of stopping that pain and suffering is to deal with the cause of it, not by reacting to it. You become a tool, like the autosuture, and the protoplaser and phaser scalpel. Follow me."

"Follow you? Where?"

"I have additional work to perform on Mr. Gentry. You will perform that work under my supervision."

He paled. "I-- I don't know if I can--"

She focused on him, her expression supportive instead of derisive. "Every step you take from now on will lead you closer to that future you want with Abby. Keep that in mind while you struggle with your discomfort. And remember: every success will make you stronger. I promise."

She moved to the door, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she led him out into the rest of Sickbay, and towards the biobed where Gentry lay, covered in a sheet, his damaged skin bathed in a baby-blue sterile field. Peter's heart was quickening. No, no, he was gonna pass out--

"You've been trained in this," Eydiir reminded him calmly, waving back Masterson as she guided Peter to the equipment table. "What is the first step towards the secondary treatment process?"

Peter nodded; she was right, he took in the steps in the classroom, without any problems. He could do this. He could do this. "Fresh scan of the dermal and subdermal damage, then prepare the Type One Anabolic Protoplaser."

"Why Type One?"

He almost questioned why she would ask -- then recognised it as a chance to display his reasoning. "Protocol for plasma burns of the head and torso always recommend Type One, regardless of amount of actual damage--"

"Correct. Proceed, Mr Boone."

"Have we come at a bad time?"

Peter stopped and looked over his shoulder, seeing Captain Hrelle... and Zir. Hrelle noted the injured crewman with concern, but Zir was staring directly at the cadet.

Then Masterson came round to the new arrivals. "Y'all come to my office, I'll fill you in." The doctor nodded and smiled at Peter. "My Assistant Chief Nurse and new Medical Cadet have got this under control. I'm pleased with Mr. Boone's work, Captain, he's gonna do well here."

"Glad to hear it," the Captain replied, nodding at him

"Let's continue, Peter," Eydiir prompted.

"Yes, Nurse," he replied -- though not before seeing the pride in Zir's eyes.

TORI EMOTO'S STORY:

When Tori was ten, she had acquired her father's shaver and proceeded to take it apart. It wasn't the first thing she had disassembled in the house -- her music player, tricorder, walking toy bears and pocket tractor beam had all received the Tori Treatment -- but it had lasted the longest without her getting her hands on it. When she finally did sneak it out of the bathroom and took it apart, she had been confident that she could put it back together again before Dad returned.

She couldn't.

But such was her anger at not restoring the shaver, that when Dad returned and demanded what he was going to do about his face, she responded with, "With a face like yours, you don't need a shaver, you need a cloaking device."

Well, she thought it was funny.

It was a variation on one of her favourite put-downs, something she was as famous for at school as her engineering acumen. It didn't save her from getting grounded for a month and having her tools taken from her. She cried, and, when she was alone and no one could hear, she cursed, using words she had heard from older students and didn't understand, but she suspected that they were bad.

Later on, her Grandfather visited her, comforting her... but also offering her a caveat: "Victoria, everyone loves a Smart Child. No one loves a Smart Mouth."

To Tori, it made no sense at the time. She was brilliant at mechanical things, she should be allowed to say what she wanted. It wasn't until years later, when she joined Starfleet Academy, that she understood the need to curb her tongue, when her mouth almost cost her her place, thanks to an instructor with no sense of humour. But, with the help of an Academy Counselor, she learned to restrain herself. Starfleet wasn't the playground, she constantly reminded herself. There was no place for insults here--

"Good morning, Ensign Yeager," came the gruff male voice from around the corner. "I know you're there, your stink carries far."

The slim blonde woman continued to monitor the readouts on the Structural Integrity Field control station. "Good morning, Chief. So, you can tell I'm here? Nice to know you're good for something."

Standing near one of the Nacelle Status Boards in Main Engineering, Tori ground her teeth in envy. She had heard about Tellarites like Chief Grev, how they complained and berated people not out of malice, but as part of their banter.

They were expected to be insulting!

Once she heard that she would have a Tellarite for a boss, she started preparing her put-downs, awaiting the inevitable.

But it never came. She watched Grev work the banter with his Assistant Chief Engineer Ensign Nancy Yeager and the rest of his staff... and even the other Engineering Cadets. But Tori? He was polite, cordial, considerate.

What had she done wrong?

Grev appeared beside her, the potbellied, porcine-faced Chief Engineer wrinkling his snout at her. "Good morning, Cadet."

"Um, good morning, Sir--"

"It's Chief, not Sir. I work for a living."

"Uh, yes, sorry about that, Chief."

He grunted and moved on. Without an insult.

It wasn't fair!

"Hey, Squab."

Tori turned. Yeager was looking over at her. "Staff meeting."

"Uh, yes, of course."

The on-duty staff were gathered around the Main Status table, with Grev at the head. "Nice of you to join us, Cadet."

She picked up. Was he finally going to include her? "Sorry, Sir, I--"

"It's okay, Ms. Emoto." His beady black eyes moved to each of them in turn. "We had an accident this morning; Mr. Gentry was burned by an overload in the EPS conduit next to the morgue."

That sent a tremor through the half-dozen people around the table. Even Tori, who barely knew the man, felt horrified, if only knowing the dangers of plasma burns. She noticed Yeager reacting discernibly, before she asked, "Will Logan be okay?"

Grev nodded. "So I'm told. But the Captain suspects it may be due to those new processors we received from that private company, Cyberdyne. I'm currently running a diagnostic of the overloaded processor, but the rest of you will be checking the others installed for degradation. If the diagnostic confirms our suspicions, we'll be doing some replacements." The group made a sound, though Tori suspected that it was more over the work ahead of them than anything else. "You'll be moving in pairs, one performing the tasks, the other keeping back and recording, and then alternating on the next task. No one, and I mean no one, will be working on this alone! Your duties have been uploaded to your PADDs."

Everyone started checking, Tori included. She could do this. Diagnostics was her speciality! And she could get Grev's attention finally!

Except... "Sir-- I mean, Chief-- there's nothing on my PADD..."

The Tellarite nodded. "You're still new, I want you here, getting accustomed to Main Engineering."

"Oh." Then she looked at her fellow cadets, Tattakovaky and Yuluron. Well, at least she would have company--

Tattakovaky beamed as he looked at his PADD, nodding. "Deck 4 Battery Compartments and Computer Core? Yes, Chief."

And the Boslic beamed, his bright purple hair swept back and his ridged, creased forehead and cheekbones creasing further with delight as he focused on his own PADD. "Deck 5 Long- and Short-range Sensor Suites? Yes, Chief."

Tori's jaw dropped. But they were new too! What was going on?

"Right, get going. And if any of you snoutless squabs need help finding your way around, feel free to start at my hindquarters. Now get moving."

The others moved off, gathering their required tools at the benches and departing. Tori watched them with an expression she imagined approximated seeing everyone heading off to play in the snow while she stayed in her bedroom, sick.

The Grev fixed his black stare on her. "Come along, Cadet. We'll run some basic diagnostics on the warp core."

And they did, Tori doing very basic tasks around Main Engineering, things that an exocomp could manage. And Grev would gently, patiently instruct her at each task.

It was getting intolerable!

"Cadet?"

She rose and faced Grev. "Yes, Chief?"

The Tellarite's snout twitched. "A thought just crossed my mind: that you could do with a look at the Warp Matrix Flux Capacitor. Why don't you pop up there now while it's quiet and run a Level 2 diagnostic? You can manage that, can't you?"

She almost told him off. Of course she can handle that! She wasn't an idiot! But instead she picked up her kit and replied, "Yes, Chief, I'm on it."

He nodded at her with a smile and turned away.

She ascended to the upper levels, feeling her face burn with frustration as she bent over the capacitor monitor panel. This was- this was- "Computer: Run Level 2 Diagnostic of the Warp Matrix Flux Capacitor."

"Running."

She ground her teeth, muttering, "And while you're at it, tell that ass downstairs to stop treating me like a china cup."

"Please restate your request."

"I'm not talking to you!" she snapped, pacing around the alcove where the monitor panel sat, raising her voice. "You have no idea what you're missing with me, Chief. I'm a powerhouse of banter, you squint-eyed, pot-bellied, knuckle-dragging sausage burp! Waddling down there like a drunk penguin, looking like a Mugato sex doll someone tried to shave before giving up, and smelling like a Klingon's undercarriage!"

She did an imitation of his voice. "'A thought just crossed my mind'. So, a thought crossed your mind, huh, Chief? Must have been a long and lonely journey. I bet you couldn't find your ass without a map and computer assistance... and even then, you'd keep mistaking your face for it. If anyone says you're multi-talented, they mean that you have the ability to offend all our senses at once. Your certification is an apology letter from the Board of Engineers for not finding a way to kill you and make it look like an accident. Those hooves of yours give you all the grace of a Rectyne Monopod with a broken leg--"

"Cadet Emoto!" came Grev's voice from below. "Come down here!"

Tori allowed the diagnostic to continue, rushing down to find herself back in his company... along with Captain Hrelle and Zir, the Captain looking amused, the Squad Leader looking... mortified? What was going on? She focused on Grev. "Chief?"

Grev harrumphed. "Cadet, are you aware that an open channel is maintained in the Flux Capacitor Alcove at all times for safety reasons?"

"Uh... no, Chief." She was certain someone had just aimed a transporter beam into her body and beamed away her heart.

Hrelle still looked amused. "I'll leave you to your work, Chief." He motioned for Zir to follow; the Orion girl shot Tori the nastiest Stink Eye ever as she followed him out.

Wow, so that's what the Goddess of Retribution looks like...

When they were alone, Tori blurted, "Sir! I mean, Chief! I didn't- I didn't mean-"

But Grev strode closer, pointing a hoof at her. "All of that delicious invective I heard was directed... at me! I had no idea you were so adept at banter!" He patted her on the shoulder. "I don't know why they told me otherwise."

Tori shook her head, thoroughly perplexed now. "Uh, Chief, I don't understand-- who are 'they'?

"Your fellow Engineering cadets, Yuluron and Zhou. They said that you were highly sensitive, emotionally delicate, that you had had a bad time at the Academy and..." He paused and nodded in understanding. "And I got played like a Squab, didn't I?"

Tori's jaw dropped, and her disbelief boiled into rage. All this treatment from the Chief was because of them? "That pair of snivelling, slack-jawed, mouth-breathing armpit pustules!" Then she caught herself, flushing deeply. "I'm sorry, Chief, I'm not- I don't usually speak like that--"

"No?" He made a sound. "Shame, that; you have the talent for it."

Then she brightened. "Really, Chief?"

He chuckled.

*

Two hours later, the Engineering crew, including those called back on-duty to complete the checks, were assembled around the Situation Table, as Grev collated their reports, and Tori stood by... hoping she could keep a straight face.

Then she looked at the smug expressions on Tattakovaky and Yuluron's faces. Yeah, she could.

Finally he looked up. "Excellent work! Thank you, and--" He frowned as he stared hard at his PADD. "Oh, the antigravity storage units for the new quantum torpedoes are out of alignment. They'll need a Weight for active counterbalance." He looked up at Yeager. "Ensign Yeager, would you recommend a Short Weight or a Long Weight?"

The young blonde human made a show of considering it, before replying, "A Long Weight's always better, Chief, especially given the circumstances."

The Tellarite nodded. "Yes, yes. But in line with Security Regulations we'll need someone to go to the Bridge and request it in person."

Now Tori spoke up enthusiastically, on cue. "I'll go, Chief!"

Grev shook his head. "No, no, you won't do." He looked to the other two cadets. "Tattakovaky and Yuluron, you two go. Long Weights are better managed by two anyway."

They looked to each other, frowning, before Tattakovaky spoke up, his Russian accent laced with uncertainty. "Uh, Chief, I'm... I'm not familiar with what a 'Long Weight' is."

"You're not?" the Chief responded incredulously, looking around. "Everyone else is! Am I right?"

The group nodded or made sounds of agreement, Tori included.

Grev stared hard at the cadets. "Has your education fallen down somewhere? Perhaps you should return to the Academy and resume full-time studies?"

Yuluron straightened up now, eyes wide. "No, Chief! We- We remember studying about Long Weights!" He looked to Tattakovaky. "Right?"

"Yeah, that's right, Chief! Sorry, it must have just slipped my mind!"

"I see. Fine, then: you two proceed directly to the Bridge, report to the Captain or the First Officer and tell him that Chief Grev has asked that they give you both a Long Weight."

The cadets looked to each other, then nodded back at Grev, Yuluron confirming, "On our way, Chief!"

They even shot Tori another smug look as they departed.

Everyone kept silent until they heard the doors to the corridor slide open, and then shut, before releasing laughs and chuckles. Tori felt her face was gonna crack from grinning, as Grev announced to Yeager, "Well done, Ensign. Thank you for playing along. Glad you remembered when I pulled that one on you."

Yeager smirked. "How could I forget? I was up there for three hours standing in a corner of the Bridge wondering why everyone was snickering at me, before Captain Hrelle finally took pity on me and told me my Long Wait was over."

Grev chuckled, and looked to the others. "Well, if you're off-duty, you're free to return and continue whatever disgusting things you reprobates get up to in your downtime." Then he looked at Tori. "As for you, Cadet, do you think you can get those weak, pudgy sausages you humans call fingers to work on preparing the inspection report for the Captain?"

She almost merely replied in the affirmative -- but instead offered, "Better weak, pudgy sausages than the clunky hammerheads at the ends of your arms, Chief."

Grev cackled happily and motioned her toward his office.

She turned, letting her grin hurt. It was worth it.

URAD KALDRON'S STORY:

Deck 3 Mid -- Security Suite:

Before he had left for Starfleet Academy, Urad Kaldron received a talk from his father. "My son, when you venture out into the Galaxy, you will see yourself how fortunate the Federation is to have accepted us into their midst. They are mostly fragile things. They have pitiful gravity on most of their worlds, and you will crush in your hand what most of them consider sturdy. Even their most fearsome weapons will feel like a warm caress. It is indeed a wonder that they have survived for as long as they have.