Chapter 1
He shook his head in mild disgust, looking at the completely fried power transfer coupling. She had certainly taken a beating in her time but he could see there was still some fight left in her. In the distance ahead, he could hear the lip flapping snarl of defiance of the young stallion in the corral. It was refusing to be tamed as it hastily side stepped and broke away from the trainer under the afternoon sun. Somehow, the scene seemed to echo the non-verbal sentiments of the battle fatigued Federation fighter. He gently padded the skin panel of the wing to ease his mind and console his close friend, "I know girl, they are not going to put you down just yet. I am not going to let them."
He brushed back his loose, shoulder length, graying locks away from his face and continued about his work on the multiple damaged systems. Looking over the diagrams on the PADD, he scratched at the slight, beard forming, stubble on his face, trying to make heads or tails of the schematics. He was no mechanic by any means and he knew it. He had enough background in the basics of ship systems to be dangerous and that was good enough for him. He continued his work with every ounce of care and admiration for his former ship.
A breeze picked up through the doors of the mock hanger as the horses outside whinnied and retreated into the field as the familiar droning hum of a shuttlecraft buzzed overhead. He watched through the rear doors as the small craft slowly descended and landed in a clearing several meters from the barn that was now also a pseudo-'hangar'. Damn… he thought to himself. He gathered up his tools hastily, somewhat organizing them on the utility shelf as he climbed down the ladder in an awkward state.
His right knee did not have the range of motion it once had. One of the many reminders and scars left from his many military engagements, be it Borg, Dominion, or Breen. While being only in his late forties, his lasting aches and pains made him feel twenty years older than he actually was. His build was not as trim as it had been, yet he was far from out of shape.
Grabbing his aged straw cowboy hat off one the sensor pylons on the wing tip, he pulled the bandana from the inside and wiped his brow before he donned his hat casually over his graying crew cut, and wiped his hands on the coveralls. He begrudgingly grabbed the cane leaning against the ladder in his right hand and headed out to meet his unknown, would-be guests with a casual limp that he had become accustomed to.
The environment seal, of the Type-6 shuttlecraft, hissed and the hatch dropped, revealing a distinguished, middle aged human with dark brown hair and well practiced and well rehearsed, casual smile in a Starfleet, red and black uniform. He watched as the unknown figure peered out around the edge of the ship. As he labored around the aft end of the shuttle, the officer called out to the man, "Mr. Bridger… I presume?" The polished tone and apparent British accent became vaguely familiar to him as the he scanned the face of the new arrival. "Victor?" he probed.
"It is good see that you have not forgotten your ol' mates." he cheerily replied.
With a bit of reservation he probed deeper, "What brings you out to these parts? You are a long ways away from Starfleet HQ."
McGinty grinned and slighted a modest chuckle, "My dear Augustus, can old friends not come to call on one another on occasion?"
Bridger raised a curious eyebrow at his remark, "Friends?"
McGinty gave a sly smirk and looked over his shoulder as slender female Deltan form with an ageless alluring beauty stepped around from behind him, dressed in a native Deltan, blue and white casual attire dress. "Hello, Augustus. It has been too long." She crooned ethereally.
Bridger hap-hazardly took off his hat and his hands nervously began to pace around the brim. "Hello, Sabra. Yes, ma'am, it has been long time. It is a pleasure to see you again, as always."
With a modest grin, she nodded to him, "I was completing my emissary duties at the consulate when Victor came to find me and the suggestion was proposed in taking a short leave to see you. I also wish to honor our arrangement to see the horses you talked of, the last we spoke."
"Well, I was honest about that, so I am not about to back out of it." Bridger grinned with a boyish candor to his voice. "I guess I should welcome you to my humble homestead. My home is yours. I am not about to turn away good friends."
McGinty turned again and addressed a young male Andorian cadet as he stood unobtrusively posted at the helm. "Cadet, I will contact you when we are ready to leave. Report to the station in Houston and wait there on stand-by, understood?" The cadet acknowledged as McGinty and Sabra exited the craft and followed Bridger through the barn as the shuttle unceremoniously lifted off and head towards the skies above. McGinty looked upon the fighter with humored amazement. "This is not your old fighter is it?"
"Yeah, the original and very same one." Bridger responded with simple pride. "She had seen a lot of action during the Dominion War and was scheduled to be decommissioned for scrap. By chance, an inventory yeoman tracked me down to confirm and catalog the mission history for posterity's sake. So, I called in few favors and got her off the chopping block."
"And I am sure your reputation having preceded you, had no bearing on the matter?" McGinty jested.
"I guess… probably… but I did not flaunt it. I intend to have her back flying… eventually."
"The shared idea of sentimentality and emotional attachment for inanimate objects amongst humans has always escaped me. It is a powerful bond and asset to be sure, especially in these circumstances." Sabra interjected.
"Here, here!" McGinty exclaimed.
The trio continued on to the corral as the chestnut colored Arabian stallion again taunted his trainer fiercely as his black mane and tail danced around like flames on the breeze. McGinty and Bridger leaned on the railing of the corral as Sabra drew her attention on the animal. "Are they always so aggressive?" she questioned Bridger curiously.
Bridger shrugged, "Sometimes, sometimes not. It is just in their nature and breeding." Sabra eyed the beast intently as she slowly proceeded closer to the area where the trainer was standing. The trainer watched cautiously bearing a warning to be careful. She nodded and began asking the trainer a barrage of questions. Bridger looked to his right to see McGinty facing opposite the corral, taking in the open landscape around him in a sense of wonder and awe.
"You know, mate, I can see why you cared for this place so much. The open vastness, the serine environment, it is all so quaint and tranquil. I am envious of you, my friend. Southampton is not in league with this… um… well, what is it that they call this part of Oklahoma?"
"We call it the Panhandle." Bridger shifted his demeanor to mild respectful humor, "But envious? You? I find that hard to believe. Oh, and I guess congrats are in order, Rear Admiral. I saw you got some new pips."
McGinty looked to Bridger with a gleaming pride in his face. "Ah yes… well, thanks most kindly, mate. It was about time, after all. Starfleet had to give them to someone. Besides, you humbly skirted most promotions."
"And what is that suppose to mean?" Bridger replied solemnly
"Easy, mate. I did not mean to be rude. I was merely suggesting that you could be as decorated as I, if you so choose."
Bridger paused for several moments in contemplation as he concerned himself of the thought of what McGinty was truly implying. "I made my choice. I have not regretted it in the least."
"Aye, that you have."
The two stood in silence former several minutes. Bridger turned his attention back to the corral as McGinty peered at the rolling hills in the distance while Sabra had made her way into the corral. Bridger watched with concern and marvel as the young trainer seemed to be trying to no avail to usher her back out in concern for her safety as she appeared to graciously shrug off his cautioning.
The young stallion paced as Sabra slowly encroached on the steeds' zone. Bridger readied himself to clear the fence but worried that his limited spryness was going to hinder his effectiveness. The young steed furrowed in warning but with each step his aggressive demeanor slowly melted away and subsided. Bridger watched in awe as the young steed pranced about in the corral around her as if in a regal pose.
"Well, who would have thought…?" Bridger said to himself. McGinty chuckled, "It would seem that a Deltan's mere presence can not only change the disposition of the room. Now I have to say they out do music to tame the savage beast."
Awe struck, the trainer stood there with his jaw dropped and stammering in confusion. Bridger made his way past the gate and assured the shaken professional that it was alright. As the young stallion eased up and bowed his head down toward Sabra as she gently stroked the horse's head. Bridger approached with an amazed smirk on his face. Sabra nodded to Bridger with an amused smile. "Such fascinating creatures. So primal in their instincts, yet so sophisticated in their mannerisms. Could you tell me, what is the meaning of his name?"
Bridger laughed quietly, "Hellion? Well… uh… we have a saying that if one were to raise Hell or just cause general chaos, they are called a Hellion. So it fit his personality."
Sabra looked at Bridger questioningly and turned to the stallion as he began to nuzzle against her arm. "I see. How strange… It appears it deceives rather well."
"Yeah, it would seem so."