A World for Dreams

Chapter Twenty-five

Camaraderie
(Kelby)

The mess hall is packed. I hate getting my lunch when it's so busy, but I didn't have much of a choice today. The Chief had to reschedule our usual morning meeting to 13:00, and I have a full schedule with my team after that, so this is the only chance I'll get to eat until end-of-shift.

He's been doing that a lot lately, rescheduling, I mean, and sometimes he has to cut things short, but we still talk every day, face to face, just like he promised. I've told him I understand how busy he is and that it's all right if he needs to cancel, but he just shook his head and insisted that he was going to make up for how he treated me in the past. When I told him he already had, he just smiled and looked really pleased, but told me he'd be the judge of that. I didn't press him after that because, honestly, I like being able to talk things over with him. It gives me confidence to know he approves of what I'm doing because I know I am on the right track, and it makes me feel safe when he points out my mistakes – which is happening less and less often – because I know he won't let me go so far astray that I hurt myself or anyone else.

I scan the room anxiously for an open table. I know this place is a world away from Enterprise, but I still get nervous when I have to ask if I can join an already-seated group. Even at Utopia Planitia, I more than once had the humiliating experience of being flatly refused and had to slink off to my quarters to dine alone. I much prefer being asked, rather than being the one who is asking, if a seat is taken.

"So there I left him, half bent-over, holding a 30-kilo refrigeration unit…"

I gather Mike Rostov has been hazing the new recruits again. He certainly has developed a reputation for mischief that precedes him. Oddly enough, even the victims of his pranks seem to get quite the laugh out of them, and it seems he uses them as teachable experiences. I have a couple of newbies on my team who have rotated in from the salvage operation, and they had tales to tell for the ones who hadn't been there yet. Every recruit spends two weeks in salvage, two weeks in construction, and two weeks in maintenance and sanitation. I know the Chief wishes he could have twice that time, but the Empire needs maintain a balance between training its engineers and staffing its engine rooms.

I can see both sides of the question. I was thrown out there as cannon fodder halfway through my official training, so these kids are already better prepared than I was when they get here, and then they have the Chief to oversee their final polishing before they're deployed. Every now and then, I feel a little bitter about how I got screwed when I was their age, but I can't be too jealous because it all seems to be working out to my benefit now. I realized very quickly after I got here that being able to talk things over with and learn from Trip Tucker, up close and personal, every day, is the opportunity of a lifetime. I'm incredibly lucky the Chief is the kind of man who can admit his mistake in underestimating me – and forgive mine in undermining him – to give me another chance.

I finally spot an open table, well in the back, half buried in a potted palm, and make a beeline for it. I might still eat alone because it's not a very good place to sit, but at least no one can send me away like some stray come begging.

"Rich! Come join us," Mike calls out to me.

I almost stumble to a stop and look around to find him waving me over to where he, Liz Cutler and Anna Hess are seated near one of the viewports. This is unexpected. An unsolicited invitation. I accept dubiously, but without hesitation.

"Hey, guys," I say as I take the seat beside Liz. "Thanks for asking me."

Anna gives me a smile and a nod, glances at my tray, and says, "Is that banana cream pie? How did I miss that?"

"They were just putting it out as I went through the line," I say. It's a large piece, and she looks like she would really love to have some. I know what the Chief would do.

I cut it in half across the middle. "Here, have some," I offer, holding the plate toward her. "It's more than I need."

Her whole face positively lights up and she gives me the loveliest smile.

"Thanks, Rich!" she says gratefully as she scrapes the half with the crust onto her own plate. I think I just made her day, and it feels good. Really good.

"My pleasure," I tell her, and it truly is. "So, what's up?"

"Oh, I was having a little fun with Mortensen today," Mike says.

"Big blonde kid, built like a brick outhouse?" I ask.

Mike nods and grins. "Yeah, that's the one. Looks like he could bench press an ox."

"I know who you mean," I say. "You're pretty brave to be messing with that one."

"Ah, he's a sweet kid," Mike says. "But he needs to learn not to be so gullible! We're dismantling the Kaiser, and he and I were moving the mini fridge out of the captain's quarters. I had him absolutely convinced that if he dropped it or set it down ever so gently or even breathed on it, the corroded circulation tubes would crumble to dust, releasing the volatile gas, which would burn his skin off, and then blow half the station to kingdom come if he dropped it and the metal sparked when it hit the deck…"

"Michael! You should be ashamed of yourself," Liz chides him gently.

"I was just teasing him a little," he defends himself, "and teaching him a valuable lesson in an environment where it's safe to learn it."

Liz scoffs and says, "It sounds like you frightened and humiliated him."

"And I bought him a beer afterward and made it up to him," Mike says. "And I don't mess with any of my kids unless I know they can take it. If it's any consolation, he reminded me that he's quite a bit bigger than I am and that revenge is a bitch."

"Some of those old reefer units do contain volatile gases," I tell Liz as I reach for the salt and pepper.

Mike winks, bringing me in on the joke, but Anna tells her, "That would be the high efficiency units we use to cool engines. A personal fridge, not so much."

"Either way, he should have known better," I tell Liz, feeling compelled to defend Mike. "It's standard protocol and just good common sense to drain volatile and toxic fluids before moving a unit containing them so as not to risk a spill."

I look to Mike and say, "If you got him on that, then he had it coming."

"Thank you," Mike says expressively. "That's what I'm trying to get these two to understand. I really just wanted to see exactly how strong he is, so I left him standing there…"

Here he mimes the act of holding a 0.12 cubic meter mini-fridge at arm's length, even making his arms tremble a little with the supposed strain as he talks. It's an awkward thing, a little larger than a foot locker and as heavy as an average ten-year-old. I couldn't hold out something like that for very long, and I doubt Mike could; but I bet Mortensen could manage for a while.

"…thinking he literally held all our lives in his hands while I was out in the corridor thundering around looking for the kit I supposedly needed to drain it and screaming for my 1.25 hyperspanner, which I had deliberately left on top of the fridge, right under his nose, and he was too scared holler to tell me it was there."

Anna is grinning and shaking her head. Even Liz is now smiling slightly as Mike pantomimes his story while he's telling it. Once again I am struck by the difference in this place compared to Enterprise. Back then, people were too busy plotting outright sabotage or guarding against it to indulge in any frivolities such as practical jokes.

"Finally, as he lost his grip on the unit, he bellowed like a bull and came charging out of the captain's quarters, yelling, 'Run! Run for your lives! It's gonna blow!'"

Mike's shout gets the attention of about half the people in the mess hall, but, did I mention his reputation? Most of them just shake their heads and go back to eating their meals. Way in the back, I see Mortensen, who's so big he even sits taller than most people, turning bright red, but he's grinning as he throws part of a roll at the face of one of his buddies who seems to be teasing him. He may have been briefly humiliated and momentarily terrified, but I think Mike is right, he took it all in stride and didn't suffer any permanent psychological damage.

"He went barrelling down the corridor heading for the turbolift, right into about twenty people who had realized I was up to something and gathered to watch," Mike continues. "Big as he is, he knocked about half of them down like bowling pins and was almost to the 'lift before he realized that no one else was running."

"When did he realize you would have evacuated the bay before trying to drain the unit?" I ask.

It's another standard protocol, one that's been there all along, but the Chief was the first boss in as long as I've been in the Imperial Fleet to actually enforce it. These new kids have no idea how good they have it with regards to their health and safety now that Commodore Tucker is in charge of the Corps of Engineers.

"I'd say about the time he quit running," Mike says, "because he came back to us grinning and blushing bright red and told me, 'You got me, sir,' and reminded me what they say about revenge."

Looking at Cutler, he adds, "And he was a good sport about it, Liz. I never would have done it if I didn't know he would be. Then we used it to start a long talk with the whole team about protocols and procedures and why they're in place and how to properly handle a situation when they haven't been followed."

Anna chuckles. "I guarantee you he will never try to move another reefer without checking for himself that it's been drained of coolant."

"And if it's not, he won't panic," I add. Looking at Liz, I continue, "That lesson will carry through to anything that contains toxic components. There's a good chance it will save his life one day."

Liz nods thoughtfully and finally concedes, "You might have a point, as long as he wasn't upset by it afterwards."

"I don't think he'd have threatened Mike with payback if he was upset in the way that you mean. To hear my kids talk, I think some of them view it as a rite of initiation or a badge of honor and feel like they've finally been approved once they survive one of his practical jokes," I point out. "So, let me ask you guys something."

"What's up?" Mike asks, leaning in like he's really interested, and I've been here long enough to realize that he is. Sometimes, even the littlest things astonish me when I realize how different they are to what I have known in the past.

"Have any of you noticed the Chief being a little out of sorts in the past few weeks?" I ask.

"How do you mean?" Anna asks.

"I don't know," I say. "Distracted, rushed, kind of cranky, but trying real hard to be polite. Maybe changing plans on you at short notice, and apologizing repeatedly for screwing up your whole day? Not that I mind. I'm grateful for what he's doing for me, but it doesn't seem like him to do something like that."

The three of them share a look then, and I know something is up, because it's not a look of confusion. It's a look that says, 'What the hell do we tell him?'

"It started about a month ago," I press. "Phlox called him out of our morning meeting, and he was pissed off. I saw him later that day, and he wasn't angry anymore, but he was real thoughtful and unusually quiet." Looking at Liz, I continue, "Do you recall anything happening in sickbay that he had to personally take care of that might have upset him?"

She shrugs and looks bewildered, fidgets with the duritanium bracelet around her wrist. She's a lousy actress, but I don't call her on it.

"If I did remember anything, I probably couldn't tell you about it due to patient confidentiality, Rich," she says quietly.

"No, I suppose not," I concede, "but you know, now that I think about it, there was something else a while ago. When I finished my first assignment here, that giant fish tank, he said I did a real job on it, but he sounded unhappy about it. Any of you know what was up with that? I never got to see it in use, so I don't even know what it was for. I thought it might have had something to do with one of Phlox's projects."

I look at Liz again, and she literally squirms in her seat.

"Look, Rich," Anna sighs, and I turn to face her, letting Liz off the hook, "At any given time, there are probably as many as fifty top-secret projects under way on this station. Those who know about them, can't talk about them. Those who don't know, shouldn't speculate. You need to learn not to take it personally when you're left out of the loop on something. It isn't fair of you to pressure Liz with questions about what's going on in sickbay. Even if it isn't secret, it's still confidential."

"Hey, no pressure," I tell them, as sincerely as I can, "and I'm not taking it personally. I'm just, well, a little concerned about the Chief. Something seems to be upsetting him, and it seems to have something to do with Phlox, that's all."

"Rich, the Chief can take care of himself," Mike says. "He wouldn't have got to where he is if he couldn't, and if he does need help, he knows who to ask. The best thing you can do for him is to just keep up the good work and stay out of trouble. Now, you're starting to make friends here. Don't screw it up by pestering people with questions you know they can't answer."

I remember the Chief saying something to me about getting more answers than I want. That was my first day here, when he assigned me to the fish tank project. I nod and look at each of them in turn. I want them to understand that I'm not just being nosy.

"I get what you're saying, Mike, so I won't ask any more questions," I say. "I'll tell you this, though. I think you all know the Chief saved me by forgiving me for that interview and bringing me back here for training. I owe him my life. This place is better than any other post I've been assigned in the Fleet. I owe him a debt of thanks for that, too. Getting to know him these past few months, I've learned to respect him. I know he's a good guy, and I genuinely like him. I want you all to know, if he needs any kind of help at all, I'll do whatever it takes."

The three of them share another look. This one says, 'We'll talk about this later.'

They were nearly finished with their meals when I sat down. Now they have cleaned their plates and I am still working on my salad. Liz checks her chronometer and says something about needing to get back to work. The others follow suit.

As she passes me on her way to the dish return, Anna squeezes my shoulder.

"The Chief really is proud of you, Rich," she says. "We all are. Just…keep doing what you're doing and let the rest take care of itself, okay?"

I nod vaguely and smile faintly.

"And thanks for the pie."

I grin, feeling good right down to my toes to have made her happy so easily. It's good to hear that the people I respect believe in me, but mostly what I'm doing right now is wondering what in the hell they know that I don't.

=/\=

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