Paint and Powder

A Star Trek anthology by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager et al are the property of CBS Television, and creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.

2369

Warspite: "Fresh Meat"

By FreakOTU

Starbase Eight, normally on Perimeter orbit over Neptune's polar circle, had seen a long and storied history; being one of the first 'Mushroom-style' Starbases popularlized by 'Esbee', or Starbase One in close orbit over Earth, the base had seen much of the Federation's growth over decades.

She had been used for resupply, training, mining operations, trade routes and even diplomatic overtures as needed, but her current role, as conflict with the Dominion appeared inevitable, was to train the newest crop of volunteers who decided that Command, Science, or Engineering was not going to be their chosen Service.

Security, encompassing shipboard marines, MACO infantry, and more, were shuttled to her, to learn at the hands, feet, and skills of veteran AIs that had been in the thick of it before.

Within the electronic borderland encompassing the base, the five AIs sat at a table, savouring teas together as they spoke.

Curacoa, the AI that had been transferred into the Starbase at her request, was content to wear the maid-like garb that most Starbase-located AI's seemed to enjoy, though the mid-thigh bandolier of archaic projectile ammunition led credence to her preferred role.

Still, her guests were well-behaved, as three of them were directly under the tutelage of the fourth.

Hardy, Hero, and Foxhound were all currently slotted into Destroyer Hulls, the young Intelligence as curious and as energetic as Puppies, and typically getting into nearly as much trouble; thus why they tended to crowd around the calm figure of their mentor, who, in a display of rare cheek, had pulled a flask from the aether and very liberally spiked her tea with what appeared to be, and smelled like, a very strong whiskey.

It took a lot to drive Warspite to drink, but the current crop of enlistees that had volunteered for training at the Starbase had definitely done a good job of wearing the antediluvian veteran's temper thin.

"I don't know what aggravates me more, the fact that these absolute yobs think they know everything already, or the fact that you had to slam them eight times in six minutes with the safety dampener to prevent absolute shenanigans with the phaser training. At this rate, I'm tempted to pack the whole lot into Fox's torpedo tubes and use them as ammunition, because they're clearly dense enough to be useful as Kinetic impactors."

Foxhound perked up, her gaze rising from the scone she was adding some preserves to. "Wouldn't a mock battle help them instead? As much as I'd like to see the worst offenders launched into a sun, they can't be irredeemable, right? I'd smell it on them otherwise."

Hardy shook her head, neat golden braids bouncing slightly. "Would you trust your hull in the hands of a group of young men and women that clearly think that a hand phaser set to 'vapour' would make a good light show?"

Hero also scoffed, slurring her words through a half-chewed bite of what had once been a pecan tart. "Yeah. I mean, really? I trust Klingons to be fight-happy, Nausiccans to pull a knife without provocation, and Tellarites to argue about everything, but this crop seems like they never heard of spaceflight, much less basic weapons discipline."

"Hero. Remember your etiquette." Warspite's voice cut through the air as it usually did, with an undercurrent of amusement from the young destroyer AIs being, well, young.

"Much like how you had to learn your systems, they too need to learn the systems they will become familiar with. I can forgive some instances of irresponsibility and stupidity, but, if they want to play stupid, I think I'll make some examples."

Curacoa then stepped forward, whispering quietly into Warspite's ear, causing a faint, cruel smile to appear on the Senior member's visage.

"Speaking of the devil, we just found our first volunteer."

The Red Alert Klaxon ran throughout the Barracks at Oh'dark thirty, its familiar siren blare kicking trainees and cadets out of beds and scrambling for clothing; by the time they had assembled at their assigned staging ground, the Alarm had shut off, leaving some four hundred and fifty young men and women staring at the glowering woman that stood in front of them, propping herself up with a particularly mace-shaped cane.

"Trainees. Cadet Anderson has volunteered you for a surprise session in 'how to repel an angry AI' by attempting to hack into Starbase systems and expunge his disciplinary note for his negligent discharge of a hand phaser earlier today. You have access to everything in this staging area to attempt to incapacitate me before I use hand-to-hand techniques to express my displeasure. I will give you five minutes to cobble together crude weapons or otherwise attempt teamwork before I get up off of my rather comfortable seat, and start whacking. Do not bother attempting to leave this area, between my three escorts and Curacoa, every access is magnetically sealed and guarded."

Tapping her fingers against the head of the cane, metal flanges ringing slightly against metallic fingernails, she nodded.

"Time starts now. Medical has been alerted."

Outside the only exit to the staging ground (practically, an empty hangar bay), Hardy stood, fiddling with the sheathed rapier at her hip, fidgeting nervously. "Do you really think that this will help their training?"

Curacoa, content to set up a tea service with medical supplies, smiled. "Warspite has been at this much longer than we have. Giving those Cadets something to focus on as a goal, even as puerile as beating her in hand-to-hand, will focus them and drive them forward. Some will give up. Some will adjust their goal to attaining her approval. Some might just get angry."

Behind Hardy, the sealed door thumped, hard, as something slammed into it with great force, followed by a two-tone ping that both AIs heard. "Ah. One to beam out for medical treatment. Contusion and broken ribs."

Hardy simply shook her head, glancing at the door once again. "I don't care how impossible it might be, but when I grow up, I want to be like her."