The Matchbook

Posted on May 10, 2016 @ 2:05am by Commander Jacob Crichton & Lieutenant James Barton
Edited on on May 10, 2016 @ 2:06am

Mission: Fortress: Earth

= The Matchbook =

(cont’d from “Holding Out For A Hero”)

LOCATION: USS PHOENIX

SCENE: Science Labs

STARDATE: [2.16] 0509.1940

The work on the modified environment suit that would protect James Barton during his plummet from space had begun in earnest. Jake had asked Ensign Maynell to assist, and they’d commandeered one of the unused science labs down on Deck 16 to use as a workshop. The dropsuit presented a challenging, but not altogether complicated, engineering problem: since the stresses that Barton would face during his descent could be predicted, they already knew exactly what kind of protection he would need, as well as how much of it. Of course, getting all the necessary safety features in place without making the suit too cumbersome to work was no easy task, but it was one that John Maynell was well suited for.

Jake and Maynell stood on opposite sides of a holotable, staring up into the holographic display of a simulation program that Maynell had created. As they watched, a simulated James Barton had become a simulated meteorite, after his simulated heat shield failed to stand up to the simulated stresses of re-entry. The figure was still falling, trailing fire and tiny pieces of his ruined suit behind him, when Jake killed the simulation.

“Dropsuit v.1.08 simulation terminated at three minutes, 19 seconds,” Jake said. “Failure of heat-shielding layers leaves Lt. Barton as a crispy smear. Not to mention ruins someone’s day when what’s left of him crashes through their roof.”

“Maybe it will be Edgerton’s roof,” Maynell suggested with an optimistic shrug.

Jake laughed. “I guess we can always tell Barton to try to aim for the most important looking building if he feels like he’s about to burst into flames.”

Maynell turned his attention back to his workstation and twisted his face up into a frown.

“We need to increase heat shielding,” Maynell said. “Or there’s no way Barton survives the trip.”

“Well, think of it fast,” Jake said. “He’s supposed to be here in five minutes so we can get a body scan, and I’d like to have more to show him than a series of darkly funny snuff films.”

“Let’s try increasing shield layering by 3%,” Maynell said, typing the new specifications into his workstation. “We’ll have to cut some weight… maybe the lateral thrusters?”

Jake shook his head. “Too important. If we don’t give him some kind of ability to aim, he could wind up landing in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.”

“Then we’ll need to cut weight from the parachute deployment system,” Maynell said. “I think I can come up with a more streamlined model.”

Maynell input the commands, then activated the holotable. The display blossomed to life once more, depicting the simulated Barton, with his fresh new dropsuit, beginning his harrowing descent into Earth’s atmosphere.

A few minutes later, the doors to the science labs parted. Jake looked over his shoulder and saw James Barton walk in… just in time to see his simulated doubled slamming into the Earth’s surface with enough force to liquify him, a conclusion the simulation rendered lovingly.

Without breaking stride, Barton pivoted on his heel and headed for the door.

“Lieutenant…” Jake started.

“Nope,” Barton said, and the science lab doors closed, cutting off Jake’s response.

Maynell gave Jake a sheepish look and shrugged. “You can’t even really tell it’s him, with the suit on.”

"I think he figured it out anyway." Jake sighed. “Take five, ensign. I’ll go convince Sasquatch.”

=[/\]=

SCENE: Corridor

Jake rounded the corridor, saw Barton moving up the hallway ahead of him.

“Barton!” Jake called.

“Nope,” Barton repeated, without looking back. Jake jogged after him, eventually catching up and falling in step beside him.

“Sorry you saw that,” Jake said. “I promise, the other 65 times we killed you were much less gruesome.”

"Two centuries of Starfleet engineering behind you, and you still let me bounce 66 times?"

"Oh, no... The first 30 or 40, we burnt you to cinders, so, you know, progress."

Despite himself, the Security Chief slowed. “I can’t tell if you’re shooting for persuasive and screwing it up or trying to be an asshole and nailing it,” Barton said, glancing over at him.

“Usually both.”

"And you're the one people like so much?"

"Well, I'm affable."

“And yet it doesn’t seem to work on me,” Barton shrugged. “Go figure.” He resumed walking.

Jake, undeterred, matched his pace. “Look, I know you’re scared-”

A pair of ensigns passed them in the corridor, one in the middle of nodding a polite greeting at Barton when Crichton spoke. Caught by his gaze, her eyes widened and her posture stiffened awkwardly as she hustled away, her attention now pointedly focused on the intricacies of the carpet in front of her.

Embarassed more for her than himself, Barton watched her go. Only after she and her companion had turned a corner did he level his stare at Crichton. "I’m not scared,” Barton said. “I might have been. But now? Nothing to be scared of, because you just convinced me there’s no way I’m doing this.”

“We’ll get it working,” Jake said. “I've got your back..”

Barton snorted. “Yeah. You’ve got my back. You looking out for me now, Crichton?"

Jake frowned. "Of course, I am. What, you question that?"

"No. I don't. I don't have any questions about you at all, Jake." He turned to lock dangerous eyes on the man walking beside him. "I know exactly what you are."

The engineer blinked in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, you walk around here like you're everybody's best friend. But don't act like you give a shit about me. Maybe you forgot, but I haven't. You couldn’t wait to tell everyone who I am,” Barton said. “You went prying into my personal life and then you sold me out.”

Barton continued forward relentlessly, forcing Jake to match his pace. The flabbergasted engineer suddenly wanted to stop, to think, to get a grasp on events he hadn't had reason to think of in months...but if he did, Barton would disappear and this moment, which felt important, would be lost.

“You're still pissed about *that*? Still? 'Sold you out.' You and my daughter should take turns trying to outdramatize each other. I sold out a *stranger,*” Jake said. “No. To Hell with even that. I exposed a stranger's lies. A stranger who’d made friends with a lot of mutineers.”

Finally, Barton stopped. He didn’t look at Jake, though; he only stared straight ahead.

“No. Not mutineers. They didn't take any oaths. They never promised you anything. They were just people until you came and you blew up their lives on LIMBO. Then you took too many of those people, locked them into too little space, gave them too little food, too little information, too little voice, and too little hope. So I don't know what they were, but they weren't mutineers, and whatever they were, you all turned them into that." Now Barton turned to look at him, and there was both pain and steel in his eyes. "And even still, this *stranger* had already betrayed them to you, even before you made my past the rabbit you pulled out of your little hat. And why'd I do that? To help save this ship. Including you and your daughter, and all your kids, matter of fact.”

Jake couldn't, nor would he let himself be made to, answer for every decision made in the desperate flight from LIMBO. He didn't want to argue about the past, not when the Earth was gripped in a madman's suicidal clutches, and not when he suspected that Barton might make some disquieting, and distracting, points. So his engineer's mind focused on the operative, instead. “You're right. You did us a solid then, and you've busted your ass since. So let me return the favor,” Jake said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“You want to keep me safe,” Barton said. “Help me convince the Captain that when this all goes to Hell, my place is here, at Tactical. He's given his order, he's not gonna listen to me, but maybe he'll hear it from you. Then get someone else to try this insane plan."

“Jim, do you really think I'd let you go out there if I didn't believe we could do it right? Because if you do, and if this is about what happened in the Hyperion Expanse-” Jake started.

Barton sighed, deflating. “It isn’t. I know you had reasons for what you did, and you even stuck up for me to Kane." He looked at Crichton with eyes that...weren't...angry. Then he half-smiled. You could have knocked Jake Crichton over with a feather. "Yeah... I haven’t forgotten that either.”

“So why are you making me jog down corridors while you yell at me?” Jake asked. "Do you realize how tall you are? Slow the hell down."

"Because you pissed me off with 'I got your back,' when we both know you really don't."

"I don't follow. I thought we just-"

Barton gave him a long sidelong glance before interrupting. “You really haven't wondered why I’m the guy Kane nominated for this mission?” Barton asked. “Why not one of Thytos’ jarheads? Why not Kass herself?”

Jake shrugged. “The captain has faith in your ability to-”

Barton rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Jake. The wide-eyed naivete is charming and all, so sweet it gives me cavities, but whatever,” he interrupted, “..but for once, why don’t you stop Pollyanna-ing around this place and take a look at how things really are? I’m on borrowed time. Either we die in this siege, or when it's over I take off this uniform again and I go right back to the brig, right alongside P'trell and Heydrich and all the rest. This idiotic plan is against ten-million to one odds, so Kane’s hedging his bets. If I get smeared across the Sierra Nevadas, he hasn’t lost anything he wasn't gonna be giving up anyway.”

"Look, I'm not saying Kane's going to be singing Kum-bah-yah at his Sweetest Guy of the Year award ceremony, but he's not that cold."

"He is. Kass told me he once told her that she and her people were a weapon. That's how he sees people. For the function they can serve for him. Don't get me wrong, I think Kane's as true-grit Starfleet as anybody, and what he brings to the table might be exactly what it's gonna take to finally burn Edgerton down, but we can still call it what it is: Kane sees the use people serve. Why else do you think he gave me this job in the first place?"

"But you make him sound like he plays chess with people's lives."

"I'd tell you to ask that Drake, or Arthur Embry, or the Calnarians on Byss about that, but I don't think you'd get much by way of response. Don't kid yourself. Kane starts fires that other folks burn in, but I don’t have to let him use me as the matchbook.”

Barton, satisfied that he’d made his point, turned and started storming up the corridor again. Jake moved to follow him again. Barton glanced over, saw that Jake was still keeping pace with him, and rolled his eyes.

“You’re more valuable to Kane planetside,” Jake said. “Edgerton doesn’t have a fleet anymore, if this comes down to a naval battle it’s no contest. But with those satellites all rigged to blow, we lose Earth in the exchange. We don’t need your protection, those people on the planet do. I get you want to keep people safe, but we don't get to say who needs us most. Your place is down there.”

“Spoken like the man who doesn’t have to go,” Barton said, shaking his head. “Give it up, Crichton.”

“No,” Jake said, stepping suddenly into Barton’s path. Barton drew up short, in time to avoid knocking the smaller man down. Jake didn’t flinch. He folded his arms obstinately over his chest and frowned at Barton. “This isn’t a conversation anymore, lieutenant. It’s an order. First from your captain, and now from me.”

“You’re pulling rank?” Barton asked, a humorless smile forming on his lips. “Really?”

“Only when I have to,” Jake said. “If I remember the terms of your agreement with Kane correctly, your choices were to serve as Tactical Officer aboard this ship or cool your heels in the brig until this is all over. You don’t want this mission? We’ll get someone else, and you sit the rest of this out.”

“I know the way to the brig,” Barton said, and prepared to step around Crichton, but Jake grabbed Barton’s arm to keep him from passing. Barton tensed up, his eyes flashing down at Jake.

“Careful,” Barton said, his voice rumbling in a way it hadn't a moment earlier.

“Jim,” Jake said. “You walked away once. If you-”

Barton pulled roughly away from Jake’s grip. He had already stepped around Jake, started to make his way up the corridor again.

“You already know what it's going to be like if you walk out on them again,” Jake said to Barton’s back.

Jim Barton froze. Jake watched him, wondering if the man would turn around, if he'd pissed off the manners enough to take a swing at him, or if he would just continue ahead, on his path to his quarters or the brig or wherever it was he decided to haul himself en route to whatever desolation ultimately awaited him. But Barton didn’t move. Maybe, Crichton thought, maybe it wasn't going to go either of those ways. Jake decided to press his opportunity.

“We need you,” Jake said quietly. “Kane needs you. You may not like him, but he does. That planet needs you. You remember what that’s like, don’t you?”

Barton let out a slow sigh. “Shit.”

Jake watched as the bigger man turned, his expression resigned.

“Okay, Crichton,” he said. “Hell, the rest of you people would probably just screw it up anyway.”

"Undoubtedly," Jake said, gesturing back the way they'd come.

Barton sighed again and turned away from the path he's started down again. Then he turned and lumbered past Jake, who fell in step beside him. "I already don't remember how you talked me into this.

"Well, it's like I said...I'm affable."

Again, Barton's face did that smiling thing. Jake tried not to gawk as they walked together back to the Science Lab.

=[/\]=

A Joint-post by...

Dale I. Rasmussen

~writing for~

Lt. James Prophecy Barton

Sec/Tac USS PHOENIX

And

Shawn Putnam

a.k.a.

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

USS PHOENIX