Chapter One: Space Ranger

"You are a day and a half late," Silver informed him as he slid into the pilot's seat and powered up the control panel.

Bruce grinned. "Afraid I stood you up for another vessel?" he teased.

"I was concerned you might have run into danger," Silver said as calmly as ever. Her slightly metallic voice never betrayed any emotion, but Bruce felt he had learned to read her pretty well in the years she had been both his ship and his first officer. He always felt he had been especially clever in naming her; both for the legendary silver bullet and for the Lone Ranger's horse in old Earth 2-ds and audios.

"I fell and broke my arm, but the doctor says I'm fine now," he assured her.

"I am glad to hear it. Next time perhaps you could be so kind as to inform me of the cause of the delay."

Bruce patted the control board. "Sorry to worry you, Silvie, but the doc had me a little doped up to be sending messages; even if I'd asked to, they probably would have thought I was delirious or something, asking to send a message to my ship."

The background hum of the ship grew louder for a moment, Silver's equivalent of a snort, and Bruce chuckled. "I know, Silvie-girl; they don't know anything about a ship like you. Come on; let's get out of here and find someone to rescue."

"Command acknowledged," Silver responded, and Bruce fancied he heard the faintest hint of anticipation in her voice.

He asked and received clearance from the spaceport officials, and with his hands on the controls they had soon left the station behind them.

"Which way, Captain?"

Bruce grinned and closed his eyes, stabbing a finger at the star map on his console. "Let's go…thataway. Warp two, and start scanning for SOS signals."

His favorite costume reminiscent of an old Earth cowboy, he liked to think of himself as a kind of space ranger, appearing seemingly from nowhere to aid people in distress, and then disappearing again without giving his name. He and Silver had helped to turn the tide of battles between much larger ships; she was often small enough to go unnoticed on enemy scanners, and if they did see her they usually underestimated her firepower and Bruce's skill at the controls.

He scratched his arm absently, not even realizing what he was doing until Silver questioned him. "Are you all right, Captain?"

"What? Oh, yes; I'm fine. I suppose my arm's still healing; it itches a bit, that's all."

"I do not understand itches."

Bruce grinned. "It's an unpleasant sensation, but not as bad as pain. I'm fine, really."

"I take your word for it," she said grudgingly.

oOo

It was Silver who noticed Bruce's increased fatigue and lack of appetite; the fact that he tended to avoid using his left arm. He shrugged off her concern at first, insisting that the doctor had told him the arm might be sore for a few days; that he was simply too busy to remember to eat; that he dozed off at the controls only because he hadn't slept well the night before.

But when he reached across the control board only to find that his elbow refused to bend at all, he realized with a shock of fear what he had known all along but had been denying even to himself; something was wrong.

He dropped into the seat, white-faced, cradling the arm with his other hand.

"Captain?" Silver queried.

"You — were right, Silver," he gasped. "My arm — it hasn't healed right." He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, dreading what he knew he had to do. He much preferred giving help to asking it, and he hated hospitals more than almost anything else he could think of. "What's the nearest inhabited world?"

"We could make the spaceport in three point seven nine hours at warp eight," Silver suggested.

"I said world, Silver," Bruce reminded her testily. "I'm not going back where they botched up the job in the first place."

"Very well," Silver acquiesced. "Laying in a course for Mallus Seven at warp eight; estimated time of arrival twenty-six hours from now. Why don't you go to your bunk?"

"Just who's the captain here, Silvie?" Bruce asked wryly.

"Lifeforms need rest when their bodies are damaged," Silver pointed out. "I do not need your aid for a straight course; go to bed."

Bruce sighed, getting to his feet. "Yes, Mother Silvie. I'll be reading in my bunk if you need me — though sometimes I wonder if you ever really do."

Silver merely hummed in response, and Bruce grimaced to himself; she wasn't "human" enough to give even a polite denial. Still, as he lay in his bunk with a sigh of relief, carefully favoring his arm, he had to admit it was nice to have someone in control who could keep going indefinitely. Switching on his datapadd, he was soon lost in an Old Earth Western full of cowboys and gunfights and lone Texas Rangers riding in to save the day against incredible odds.

Next chapter coming next week!

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!

Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie