Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 9: Long Distance Runaround
Scene 11: Late Start
9.11
Late Start
“Sakura, please bring the U.S.S. Arizona into our shuttlebay. The Puppy is faster and can run longer. Since we don’t have room for both of them, the Puppy will have to follow us.”
As the dean of ship, currently at the ops station on the starboard bow side of the triangular bridge was communicating with Lt. Cmdr. Clark aboard the re-purposed and repainted cargo transport to negotiate docking, Captain Skip Howard turned his command throne toward the port bow side: “Ensign Tribe, plot an intercept course for the U.S.S. Mako, warp 6.”
Each of the three walls of the triangular bridge was a viewer. Each work station facing one of these wall-sized monitors had two chairs. It was rare for any of the three work stations to have both chairs occupied. But at this moment, piloting and navigation functions had been separated for greater efficiency. United States Marine Lieutenant Jim Whitesand was seated at the pilot station.
Star Fleet Ensign Susan Tribe, a half-Danish member of the Igluilik Inuit from so far north in Canada that her home was within sight of Greenland, after entering the course into the navigation station, turned back toward Captain Howard: “Course plotted. It won’t be a straight shot, sir. We will need to divert around a trinary system.”
“The Arizona is docked,” Dean Sakura Nakamura Holland reported. “Lieutenant Commander Gregg Clark is requesting permission to helm the Puppy.”
“He has one minute to transport over,” Howard responded. “Hail him when he gets there.”
Less than 30 seconds later, the U.S.S. Mako’s 2nd officer appeared on screen from the helm of the U.S.S Puppy: “Beagle, this is the U.S.S. Puppy, Gregg Clark commanding.”
At that moment, Major Janet Carter returned to the bridge. Howard turned toward her: “Major, please arrange for a security detail to beam over to the Puppy. Five minutes.”
“Aye sir,” Carter responded and took the seat next to Sakura, who, turned toward Captain Howard again.
“Skip, I’d like to send Falok over to the Puppy.”
“Send Dr. Rossell along as well to keep him company,” Howard replied. He drummed his glossy, black fingernails restlessly on the arm of his command throne.
A minute later, Major Carter reported, “Lieutenant Pushkin and his team are aboard the Puppy.”
Moments later, Sakura Nakamura Holland reported, “Falok and Doctor Rossell are now aboard.”
Howard stood up and addressed the Mako’s science officer: “Gregg, you’ll have to catch up best you can. I prefer to get you there fully functional. We’re going to leave you behind. Don’t exceed the Puppy’s engineering tolerances unless we start calling for help.”
“Understood, Captain Howard. Good hunting.” Lt. Cmdr. Clark’s image on the screen was replaced by an external view that included the U.S.S. Puppy, silhouetted against the gargantuan space station of the frost giants.
“Lieutenant Whitesand, engage at warp 6 and bring us up to 7.5 nice and easy,” Howard commanded. “Ensign Tribe, at best speed, what is our projected intercept with Mako?”
“47 hours, 38 minutes, Captain,” Tribe replied.
“Sakura, you have the helm and command authorization for the next 40 hours.” Howard stepped toward the rear exit to the bridge.
Dean Sakura Nakamura Holland met him halfway and put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about a thing, Skip. I’ll let you know when we get close.”
Howard put his hand over hers and squeezed lightly. “Thank you.” He moved quickly, just short of running from the bridge as the dean of ship took the command throne.
“Now responding to warp 7.5,” came the report from the helm.
“Steady as she goes, Mr. Whitesand,” Sakura replied.
9.11