Chapter Eight
Captain Portinmire surveyed the Post Battle Preliminary reports with a scowl. After nine successful defenses of Convoy Two Seven Nine, the Dominion had just made its first significant dent in his forces. He'd lost one light cruiser, the Wakizashi; six fighter craft; and two cargo ships, the Shastakovitch and the Lady Byrd. Two more of his light cruisers, the Bodkin and the Dirk were severely damaged, and would have to stay behind for repairs when they reached Starbase 375 in two days. For now, the Dagger was towing the Dirk, and the Bodkin was working without power in it's aft quarter.
Personnel-wise, his squadron might even be worse off. Captain Davista of the Wakizashi had been his division commander for the light cruisers. Davista, if Portinmire was entirely honest, probably wasn't a big loss, but Captain Ganosta of the Dagger was. While the Dagger was fully functional, a power surge on its bridge had caused the loss of her Captain, and the disability by the end of the battle of the remainder of her bridge crew. A very good Lieutenant by the name of Bradstreet had taken over, but he'd need to send someone else over there. Bradstreet was over his head, but could probably serve as a passable Acting First Officer.
Another big loss was all but the most junior member of the Stargazer's Yellow wing. Lieutenant Gordon had placed a note that he was making a proposal to nominate the entire wing for a Medal of Valor. Portinmire made a quick message back, seconding the nomination. On his side PADD, he made a note to write Lieutenant Gordon up for one as well. Not only had he led Purple Wing to the very dangerous close in attack on the Battle Cruiser, but once he'd joined up with Red Wing, he'd led that wing to take on the undamaged Attack Cruiser which had destroyed the Wakizashi.
The Wayfarer's Master had sent a recording of that face off. It was, in a word, impressive. Somehow the entire wing had managed to avoid every single bit of fire from the Attack Cruiser. The aforementioned Attack Cruiser had been incinerated by carefully timed torpedoes from all seven fighters after their phasers had wiped out its shields.
The Squadron had come out ahead at the end of the battle, taking out the Battle Cruiser and all four Attack Cruisers, but they couldn't handle another such attack. Since this convoy had left Starbase 48, it had been hit nine times with more forces every time. Portinmire hoped there wouldn't be a tenth.
Finished with the doom and gloom for a while, Portinmire paused to consider his options. He had three command-qualified full Commanders in the squadron, one of which was already commanding the Sacagawea and the other two were both on his ship. He could spare Luciani to help his squadron.
...
As Fighter Commander on the Stargazer, it was Jay's job to write the letters when fighter pilots died in the line of duty. The Captain would also write a short one as well, but his had to cover the bulk of the points. It was a job that Jay had not been prepared for, at first. Fighter Pilots were lost all too often for him not to get good at it, though. That fact did trouble him. Since the beginning of the war, the Stargazer's Fighter Pilots' losses were always below the Fleet Average, though, and Jay intended to keep them that way.
He hated writing the letters. This time he'd lost all but one member of Yellow Wing. He'd never lost that much in one battle. It was also the first time he'd lost one of his Wing Commanders in battle. Blue Wing's first Wing Commander had been transferred to the Victory as her Fighter Commander, and until today that had been the only way he'd lost them. He'd left Lieutenant junior grade Akabayshi's until the last. It was quickly turning out to be the longest. Akabayshi had been the first Wing Commander he had met.
Ichiro Akabayshi had been shorter than even Marrissa. While short stature seemed to be common among fighter pilots, he had been the shortest. His wing, he called them the Kami. They were a cautious wing, one that Jay had worried would lack the fire when the battle came. They had not. Yellow Wing never seemed to let it all out in training. Jay had sensed that they were holding something back. In every single test they scored as the average wing on the Stargazer, but Jay could trust Akabayshi's Kami to get things done.
Jay finished the letter, and sent it off to the Captain. Then he headed for Yellow Wing's Quarters. They were only four doors down from Jay's. The door was already sporting six black ribbons of mourning. It opened at Jay's approach.
The common room of Yellow Wing's barracks featured a Shinto Altar at the end. The lone survivor of the wing, Ensign Kasumi Akabayshi, the late Wing Commander's little sister, was kneeling before it. On her right was Green Wing's Commander, Lieutenant junior grade T'Par, and on her left was Black Wing's Commander, Lieutenant junior grade Dukat. They were all kneeling in quiet contemplation, an unusual combination of Vulcan, Human, and Cardassian.
Jay had no real religion, or strong beliefs in meditative practices, but he joined them, finding a place between the Ensign and the Vulcan. Remembering Marrissa and her mother, he did the Sign of the Cross and kneeled down, his hands placed together in prayer like he'd seen Marrissa do.
For almost a quarter hour, he kneeled there, waiting, respecting Kasumi's grief. Then suddenly Kasumi sobbed, the first sound she had made since he'd gotten there. Jay turned towards her, and soon found the grief-stricken Ensign crying in his arms. T'Par placed a comforting hand on the Ensign's shoulder. It took her another quarter hour to cry herself out.
Ensign Akabayshi then pulled herself together. "Sorry, sir," she said, as she pulled herself together.
"It's all right, Kasumi," Jay said. "I expected it, when I came in here. How are you doing?"
"Not good, sir," Akabayshi said. "I was okay until I got out of my fighter, but when I realized that Ichiro wasn't going to meet me..." Akabayshi broken into tears again, and this time turned into Dukat's shoulder.
"T'Par and I found her crying next to her fighter," Dukat said. "We brought her back here, and T'Par suggested some meditation before the altar before she went to bed."
"Very good advice," Jay said. "Ensign, I'm going to give you the next few days off. You come to me when you think you're ready for duty again, okay?" The Ensign nodded. "If you want to talk, my door will be open to you."
"As will mine," T'Par interjected.
"I have put your entire wing up for the Medal of Valor, and Captain Portinmire has endorsed it," Jay said. He knew he was fumbling to say something, anything, to make his pilot feel better. "I know it's not much for losing your brother and your wing mates, but they deserve it at the very least. Now, go get some rest."
"Aye sir," the Ensign said, in a sad tone, almost sobbing.
Jay and Dukat left as T'Par guided her to her room and bed. In silence the two made there way to the Fighter Debriefing Room. Three other Wing Commanders where there. "T'Par will be late," Jay said. "She's taking care of Ensign Akabayshi."
"How is Kasumi?" Kathy Lochard, commanding Red Wing, asked.
"About as well as can be expected," Dukat said. "She and her brother were very close, to the point of sharing a room. T'Par and I found her crying and took her back to Yellow Wing's Quarters. T'Par's putting her to bed right now."
"I must say, Mikor, I didn't expect you, of all people, to be there when I stopped by," Jay said. "Keep surprising me and I might have to put you up for a promotion."
"I live to serve, Lieutenant!" Dukat said, with a snap salute.
"Speaking of promotions, Jay," Douglas Wilder, commanding Blue Wing, said. "I think we should consider a couple. Ensign Akabayshi is one, Ensign Hino the other."
"I'll agree with Akabayshi," Usagi Tsukino, commanding Purple Wing said. "After the rest of Yellow Wing was destroyed, she formed up with my wing. I was very impressed. She may have been Yellow Seven, but she's better than my Purple Two. I admit to bias with Ensign Hino."
"Do you think Hino might be able to do something with Orange Wing?" Jay asked. "Star Fleet has a dozen new pilots waiting at Starbase 375, and we're losing Lieutenant Casbah. He's apparently decided that Security is the way to go."
"Hip, Hip, Hooray," Tsukino said. "But I wouldn't inflict Rae on Orange Wing. Let her take my wing. I'll attempt to get Orange into shape."
"You're volunteering to take on the Casbah Crashers?" Kathy said. "Usagi, I always thought you were crazy, but this takes the cake."
"Someone has to do something with them," Tsukino defended. "We can't seem to get rid of them, so we might as well see if we can get them up to standard."
"Agreed," Jay said. "I'll send you over to Orange, but just for a while. We'll be bulking up a bit at the Starbase. I was informed just a few minutes ago that not only are we going to have all the fighters we lost replaced, but we'll get ten spares. We could let them remain as spares until we need them, but with a dozen newbies arriving, I'm thinking we should do something else."
"Two training wings?" Kathy guessed.
"Not quite. Six of them will go to the new Yellow Wing, and I do think that Ensign Akabayshi deserves a chance to command that, if she feels that she's ready, but not until she tells me she is," Jay said. "Then I want a suggestion for an Ensign to make our eighth Wing Commander. They'll command the other six newbies. Purple will get Ensign Tomoe. Whoever gives me the third new Wing Commander gets Ensign McGeorge."
The table groaned. "Come on, he's a great pilot," Jay said.
"Yes, but he flirts the pants off any female that comes in his range," Wilder said. "I've lost two pilots due to him, and Kathy's lost another. Troy's been that way since the Academy."
"I think Ensign Sinok is our best option for the third, but I wouldn't give him a new wing," Kathy said, as she looked over her PADD. "Maybe transfer T'Par to the new wing, what color are we going to call it anyway?"
"It will be Silver Wing. We have the paint available," Jay said. "I'll get T'Par's opinion. Rooming with a Vulcan wing may be just the thing to cool McGeorge down. Is there anything else on the personnel side?" Everyone indicated no. "Then onto today's battle . . ."
...
Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard was having a fairly good day. She'd done a good job at Fleet Ops, receiving public thanks from Portinmire, and her job showing Sub-Commander Saavik around was over. True, Saavik was still around, Captain Portinmire had convinced the Warbird that had come to pick her up to stay with the convoy until Starbase 375, and Marrissa would still be Saavik's contact in the Squadron. It still was a pretty good day.
That was until she turned the corner and found her way blocked by five of the senior Lieutenants on the Indefatigable. Donner, Nunn, Murdoch, Warwick, and Hernadez were all bigger, older, and each out weighed Marrissa by at least thirty kilograms. She soon found herself standing in the middle of a Cargo Bay.
Lieutenant Donner stood in front of her. "Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, you stand before the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable a dishonorable girl," Donner said, his deep voice growling out each word. "We have tried and convicted you of inability to function under adversity, demonstrable loss of control leading to injurious error, reckless behavior detrimental to the safety of all onboard, and general actions unbecoming an officer. As such we have arranged this little ceremony."
"I have..." Marrissa started to speak before Lieutenant Warwick slapped her so hard she fell down.
"The dishonored are not allowed to speak when being discharged from a ship," Donner said. "Should they do so, they may be hit."
"Some accounts indicate whipping would be a good course," Lieutenant Nunn said. "Be glad I convinced Murdoch to leave his whip behind."
"Yes," Donner said. "You are to remain at attention all through the ceremony. Failure to do so . . . well I think we just covered it. We will depart at the end of the ceremony. You must remain standing at attention until the door closes behind the last of us. Lieutenant Nunn, you drew first."
Lieutenant Nunn stepped over to her. She reached over to her rank pips and ripped them off her. They didn't go easily like they normally did. Instead they ripped off, tearing through her mock turtle neck. Nunn stepped back and threw the pips behind her. Marrissa heard each one of them hit cargo boxes. Ping, ping, ping.
Then it was Lieutenant Hernadez's turn. The woman stepped up and ripped off Marrissa's communicator, taking a portion of her uniform jacket with it. Hernadez dropped the communicator to the floor and smashed it with her heel. Marrissa continued to look straight forward, standing at attention.
Lieutenant Warwick was next. He ripped the rank strips off first her left, and then her right sleeve, leaving tattered and torn ends to the sleeve. The strips were thrown to the ground and ground with Warwick's heel along with the remains of her communicator.
Then it was Lieutenant Murdoch's turn. He opened Marrissa's uniform jacket and then grasp her uniform mock turtleneck. The maroon shirt ripped right along the shoulder and then down the side. He pulled off the indication of a command-qualified officer contemptuously ripping it again before throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. Marrissa's jacket now hung open, revealing her naked breasts. The force of the ripping off of her mock turtleneck had loosened her uniform pants which were starting to slip downwards.
Lieutenant Donner stepped in for one last humiliation, a slap across her face. Marrissa took it with tears flowing down her face. She remained standing at attention, though, even in a tattered uniform and with her pants slipping below her hips.
"Company, attention!" Donner ordered. All five Lieutenants stood in line. "Company, about face!" They turned away from Marrissa towards the door. "Company form ranks." The formed two by two behind Donner. "Forward March!" All five Lieutenants left at a steady pace, their boots beating like a slow drum.
Marrissa was left standing at attention, facing the door. Before her was her smashed communicator, her torn uniform shirt, and the ends of her sleeves. Her uniform jacket was open, off her shoulders, revealing her naked chest. As a sob escaped her redden hand-printed face, her uniform pants slipped down revealing her plain white panties. Tears flowed as she stood there, at attention, unwilling and unable to leave.
...
Captain T'Gwen Washington was on the Indefatigable for a Captain's Conference. Portinmire liked to have one a couple days before the convoy arrived, and after the battle a little reorganization was needed anyway. There were two new commanding officers, and the ships in the convoy had changed as well.
Washington liked the new commanding officers. Commander Parnic of the Warbird Sansanic seemed to be a confident sort, and his Warbird was equal if not better than the Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser they'd just defeated. Commander Luciani was now commanding the Sacagawea, and if he did half as well as he had as Portinmire's First Officer, they'd be in good shape.
Washington had arrived by shuttle, as Commander Luciani's painting was done and ready to take back to the Stargazer. It was bad luck to beam over the official ship's portrait. While Washington may not have believed in bad luck, she wasn't about to disobey the tradition.
She was now looking for Marrissa, as her duty on the Indefatigable was done. Lieutenant Pizarro had piloted her over, and she hoped Marrissa would take her back. Washington had barely passed for her pilot's licence at the Academy.
The computer had told her that Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard was in Cargo Bay Nine. It was an interior bay with no outside access. Washington couldn't think of a reason why she'd be there. Even with that puzzle in her mind, Washington was totally unprepared for what she found when the doors to Cargo Bay Nine opened up.
Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard stood in the middle of the bay, tears streaming down her face. Her uniform jacket was open and torn, revealing her naked breasts. Her uniform pants had slid down to pool around her boots, and before her feet were the remains of her mock turtle and communicator. She was dropping to her knees.
Washington reached Marrissa's side and knelt next to the crying girl, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What happened, Marrissa?"
The tale poured out of Marrissa between sobs. It appeared that due to the actions of the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable, Washington's attempt at boosting Marrissa's self confidence was a complete failure.
"I want to go back to the Stargazer, now!" Marrissa said.
"We will do so as soon as you're attired appropriately again," Washington said, looking down at the remains of Marrissa's uniform mock turtle. "I think we'll have to declare this a total loss," she held up the torn front, "but take off the rest of it and zip up your jacket, and it won't matter."
Marrissa pulled up her pants, then removed her uniform jacket and the remains of her mock turtle. As she tossed the torn remnants she'd been wearing, the cargo bay doors opened, revealing Captain Portinmire. Marrissa immediately came to attention, standing up straight and saluting. Since she hadn't sealed her pants, they dropped down again. Washington turned to catch Portinmire's look as he saw the panty clad Lieutenant Commander salute.
The look on Portinmire's face was one of shock, at first, but it quickly disappeared. "I see we still have a problem with deportment," Portinmire said.
"More like we have some problems with your Lieutenants, Berganmister," Washington said, holding up the ruined mock turtle and crushed communicator. Her own face only showed hints of her deep disgust of the said Lieutenants, with the slightly furrowed brow.
Portinmire approached and took the ruined mock turtle. "It seems they wished to revive the old Marine Dishonorable Discharge Ceremony. Marrissa, at ease," he said, apparently noticing that she was still standing at attention, despite what seemed to be an assault. "Where are your rank pips?"
"They threw them somewhere over there, sir," Marrissa said, pointing to a pile of cargo containers.
"T'Gwen, let's start looking while the Lieutenant Commander dresses," Portinmire said. "There is a replicator over there behind the stack of phaser coil replacements over there, Lieutenant Commander. You should be able to get a replacement uniform from it."
Washington and Portinmire began to look for the rank pips. They didn't appear to be on the floor of the cargo bay. Washington climbed up on top of the pile of cargo containers and found the shiny hollow pip there. Her sharp eyes spotted another wedged between the containers halfway down.
By the time they'd moved the first container, Marrissa had gotten dressed. Washington heard the ping of the pip dropping to the ground. Washington ruthlessly surprised an urge to smile by long habit when Portinmire dropped a container on his foot as he heard that. "Damn!"
Marrissa approached as Portinmire extracted his foot. "Where can I look?" she asked.
"You're not looking anywhere, young lady," Portinmire said. "This is a Captain's duty at the moment. T'Gwen, did you see where it went?"
"It appears to have dropped further down," Washington said. Her left eyebrow rose slightly. "It's caught between two containers again. Perhaps we should try a different method this time."
"Metal rod?" Portinmire said, as Washington looked at some disassembled equipment.
"Just the thing," Washington said, pulling out one. She examined the location of the pip, closely, and made a few calculations. "Hold out your hands, Berganmister. If this works, it should go right into the palm of your hand." She placed the rod under the pip, and made her left hand the fulcrum. Down went the other end, and up went the pip, right into Portinmire's hand. It bounced off and rolled under a cargo container. "You were supposed to catch it."
Portinmire quickly moved the container, discovering the third pip was also under it. "Well, at least it enabled us to find the other one," he said, before approaching Marrissa. "Now, let's get these back where they belong. Raise your chin. These are staying on you this time." He placed them back on Marrissa's uniform, precisely lined up in exactly the prescribed placement. As he stood back from her, a smile flirted across his face.
Washington looked at Marrissa carefully before they departed the cargo bay. Her eyes were still tear-stained, and her face still had two hand prints on it, but now she stood erect and proud again. She marched out of the bay and towards the shuttle bay with a determined pace, easily keeping up with her Captain's longer stride.
T'Gwen Washington left Captain Portinmire behind in the cargo bay. He did not
accompany her and Marrissa as they departed, and she did not envy next task with the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable. Nor, she thought, would anyone envy the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable afterwards.