Sleepless nights

Posted on Jul 18, 2014 @ 1:17pm by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Jul 18, 2014 @ 1:52pm

Mission: http://thefrpg.com/sim/missions/id/9
Location: USS CENTURY

= Sleepless Nights =
(cont'd from "Blast From The Past")

LOCATION: USS CENTURY

SCENE: Crichton’s Quarters

STARDATE: [2.14] 0712.1353



(TIME INDEX: After “Justice”, before “Blast From The Past”)



The last few days had blurred together, so much that Jake had forgotten what day it was. The CENTURY’s computers had been offline for years, so its internal chronometer was way off. A quick interface with the nearest Starfleet buoy would have set that to rights, but even if the nearest buoy *wasn’t* far enough away that any request would take at least a few days to reach it, Captain Kane had ordered silent-running for the CENTURY. No transmissions, of any kind. No messages, no data requests, no interface with anything connected to the Federation network.



That meant not knowing what day it was, for at least awhile longer. Jake had lost consciousness for a time, but he was pretty sure they’d only been marooned on the K-60 moon for about a day. He tried to remember how long the trip had taken them, doing his best to backtrack the days to arrive at some kind of guess, but there was no hope. Too much had happened to them all, in too short a time. The mystery of the derelict CENTURY, Stonn’s betrayal, the garden moon… and Kane’s order to destroy the DISCOVERY, and all souls still aboard.



Jake hadn’t processed this. He couldn’t, not now. Mutiny or not, Jake would have argued that the neo-essentialists deserved a fair trial. Even Stonn, who’d killed Calvari in cold blood. But the situation had deteriorated, things were moving too fast, and Kane did what he felt he had to do. There would be all the time in the world to second-guess that decision, but that would come later. For now, the only thing on Jake Crichton’s mind was getting home.



Jake entered his newly-assigned quarters, his body so weak from exhaustion that he barely made it to the bed before collapsing. The room was still full of the belongings of its former occupant- pictures, personal effects, even the sheets and pillows on the bed- and if Jake hadn’t been so tired he would have been a little creeped out at the thought of sleeping in a dead man’s bed, surrounded by artifacts of a life cut short. He closed his eyes as his head sank into the pillow, but sleep wouldn’t come. As tired as he was physically, his mind still buzzed with worry.



**Xana must be climbing up the walls,** he thought to himself. He wanted to contact her, to assure her he was okay, but they were too far away for direct communication and Kane would have veto’d the request anyway. All he could do was wait, and hope she wouldn’t be too furious when he finally got back.



Unless…



Jake reached out with his mind. Xana was faint, like an echo of an echo, but she was there. He felt something, a tiny flicker… recognition, perhaps?



No. Something else.



Straining, probing with his mind, Jake felt flashes of something cold. It felt like desperation, terror, and under that, steely resolve. Jake thought it was fear for him, fear that he’d finally gone out on one mission too many… but it didn’t feel quite right. There was something else.



Eyes still closed, Jake had started to drift off, but his the dying embers of his waking mind still played with the question. If Xana wasn’t worried about him, what else could have put in her such a state? What could have scared her so badly that Jake could feel ripples of her fear, all the way out here in the Beta Quadrant? Something… something….



Jake’s eyes snapped open.



**The kids?**



It had to be. Something had happened to the kids. It was the only thing that made sense.



No less exhausted, Jake Crichton sat up. He was still drained, but there would be no sleep for him tonight. A crawling terror had shoved aside his fatigue and settled rudely into his heart, and it had brought with it a feeling of impotence. Without knowing what was wrong, without being there to support his wife and protect his family, there was nothing Jake could do but worry, and that’s exactly what he did until his alarm went off six hours later.



=/\=



SCENE: Main Engineering



Cindy Rochemonte did a double-take when Crichton came in that morning. Jake’s face was pale, and his eyes were puffy with dark circles underneath. He held a thermos of coffee in a shaking hand, and the smile he gave her when he entered was weak.



“Are you okay?” she asked.



“Hey Specs,” he said quietly. “Didn’t sleep last night.”



“I can tell,” Cindy said. “You’ve been through a lot the last few days.”



“You’re the one who died,” he yawned.



“Point,” Cindy said. “Should I call Dr. Reardon? She can give you something to help you sleep.”



“Too much to do,” Jake said, taking a long drink from his thermos. “I’ll be fine. It’s just like when I stayed up all night cramming for a test back at the Academy.”



“Nobody tried to kill you at the Academy,” Cindy countered.



“You didn’t meet some of my professors,” Jake chuckled softly.



“Really, Jake, we can handle things down here,” Cindy said. “You’re no good to anyone if you pass out on your feet.”



“I’m okay, Cindy,” Jake said. “Really.”



Cindy stared at him for a long moment, then decided further argument would be pointless. She sighed and shook her head.



“Fine,” she said. “But I don’t want you on the upper tiers today, okay? Last thing we need is for you to pass out and tip yourself over a railing.”



“Fair enough,” Jake smiled. “So, what’s the news?”



“Power distribution is at about 80%,” Cindy said. “Essential systems are all back online, now we’re picking our way through the non-essential ones.”



“The CENTURY’s been asleep for a long time,” Jake said, then grimaced. “Ugh, I could have chosen a better word than ‘asleep’. Anyway, we’ll never get her back to 100% without a starbase and a full engineering team. Let’s focus on keeping the lights on until we get back home.”



“Of course,” Cindy nodded. “But I think there’s things we can do to make the ride more comfortable.”



“Such as?”



“Replicators are still out throughout the ship,” Cindy said. “There’s enough rations in the ship’s stores to get us the rest of the way home, but they’re all a few years past their freshness date. I thought we might try to restore power to some of them, maybe treat the crew to a hot meal or two. I think they’ve earned it.”



“They have at that,” Jake said, yawning again. “Okay, Specs, get it done.”



“What will you be doing?”



“Kane wants me digging through the CENTURY’s computer,” Jake said. “I don’t think there’ll be much to find, but he wants whatever information about the neo-Essentialists I can dig up.”



“We can pull a few of the engineers to help you with that,” Cindy offered.



“No need,” Jake said. “I’ve got a research assistant already.”



“Who?”



Before Jake could reply, a series of shrill beeps trilled from somewhere above. Jake and Cindy looked up to see the exocomp floating gently down from one of the upper tiers.



“There he is,” Jake smiled. “Good to be home, fella?”



The exocomp chimed again in response.



“I put him to work reactivating as many of his brothers and sister as he could,” Jake explained. “A working team of exocomps will go a long way towards getting this ship back to 100%.”



“The extra hands will certainly be useful,” Cindy said. “Or extra tools. Interface-devices. Whatever.”



“We’ll go with hands,” Jake smiled. “Keep it simple.”



The exocomp landed gently on a console beside Jake. Cindy watched as Jake reached out to pat the machine affectionately on the top of its chassis.



“Me and Shorty here will be in central computer core,” Jake said. “Let me know if anything comes up.”



“Shorty?” Cindy asked, raising an eyebrow.



“I’m trying it out,” Jake shrugged. “Haven’t found a name I like for him yet.”



“He’s got a unit number,” Cindy said.



“That’s what the rank-and-file exocomps get,” Jake said. “The Cockroach here is special.”



Cindy frowned at that name. “I like ‘Shorty’ better.”



“You don’t pick the nickname, the nickname picks you,” Jake said. “Anyway, there’s something different about the exocomp, Specs. I haven’t put my finger on it just yet, but mark my words. He’s not like the rest of them. He’s too clever to just be another floating toaster. Call it engineer’s intuition.”



“If you say so,” Cindy said.



“I do say so,” Jake said. He took another sip from his thermos, then made a face and frowned at it. “Let me know when you get those replicators working, Specs. This coffee tastes like lukewarm shit.”



=====================================================================



Shawn Putnam

a.k.a.

Jake Crichton, Commander

Chief of Engineering

USS CENTURY