A.N. Every time I hear this line I laugh. No matter how dire the
situation, no matter how bad the odds are, every time the captain gives the
order, I laugh.
* * * * * * *
The bridge rocked back and forth under the blast of the enemies' weapons. Consoles heated up, and threatened to discharge at any moment, but the brave crewmen who worked them held their positions. The Captain's voice rang out above the confused noise of reports and orders.
"Target phasers. Arm torpedoes." Was the order given.
At his station, the young crewmen winced. He knew what came next. He had heard this order given so many times over the last few months, and every time, he grew just a little more paranoid.
He wondered again what on earth had possessed him to enter Starfleet. He didn't mind the travel, the relative isolation from his family or how difficult it was to maintain relationships. He wasn't overly concerned with the dangers, even though there was a war going on. He didn't mind the food, except for the emergency rations, but no one liked those very much. He even found it hard to sleep during shore leave without the familiar hum of the warp engines to put him to sleep.
But that order made him so very nervous.
Every time it was given, he looked over his shoulder, wondering if at last the end had come. He was surprised no one had commented on it, but he supposed that people expected bridge officers to be nervous during battles.
He knew he was not the first to struggle with such a burden. One of Starfleet's most famous officers had the same problem. But that didn't stop him from becoming commander of the flagship of the fleet.
Maybe it all came down to experience. Maybe by the time he was promoted up to commander, some of his nervousness would have worn off. Such sentiments were all well and good, he supposed, but they didn't help him out now.
A quick glance at the captain's face told him the order was about to be given. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, determined that this time, he would stay facing his post, and not so much as flinch. He set his jaw in determination.
In the reflection of his console, he thought he saw the first officer's face grow slightly more tense than was normal for battle situations. And then he heard the voice of Captain Picard.
"Lieutenant, fire at will."
* * * * * * *
A.N. OK, I promise I will never write another Star Trek fic again.
* * * * * * *
The bridge rocked back and forth under the blast of the enemies' weapons. Consoles heated up, and threatened to discharge at any moment, but the brave crewmen who worked them held their positions. The Captain's voice rang out above the confused noise of reports and orders.
"Target phasers. Arm torpedoes." Was the order given.
At his station, the young crewmen winced. He knew what came next. He had heard this order given so many times over the last few months, and every time, he grew just a little more paranoid.
He wondered again what on earth had possessed him to enter Starfleet. He didn't mind the travel, the relative isolation from his family or how difficult it was to maintain relationships. He wasn't overly concerned with the dangers, even though there was a war going on. He didn't mind the food, except for the emergency rations, but no one liked those very much. He even found it hard to sleep during shore leave without the familiar hum of the warp engines to put him to sleep.
But that order made him so very nervous.
Every time it was given, he looked over his shoulder, wondering if at last the end had come. He was surprised no one had commented on it, but he supposed that people expected bridge officers to be nervous during battles.
He knew he was not the first to struggle with such a burden. One of Starfleet's most famous officers had the same problem. But that didn't stop him from becoming commander of the flagship of the fleet.
Maybe it all came down to experience. Maybe by the time he was promoted up to commander, some of his nervousness would have worn off. Such sentiments were all well and good, he supposed, but they didn't help him out now.
A quick glance at the captain's face told him the order was about to be given. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, determined that this time, he would stay facing his post, and not so much as flinch. He set his jaw in determination.
In the reflection of his console, he thought he saw the first officer's face grow slightly more tense than was normal for battle situations. And then he heard the voice of Captain Picard.
"Lieutenant, fire at will."
* * * * * * *
A.N. OK, I promise I will never write another Star Trek fic again.