Breakfast

Posted on Dec 09, 2016 @ 10:49am by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Dec 09, 2016 @ 10:50am

Mission: Aftermath

= Breakfast =

(cont’d from “Progression of Thought”)

LOCATION: San Francisco, EARTH

SCENE: Jake Crichton’s Apartment

STARDATE: [2.16] 12090111

It was too hard to stay in the villa.

Xana had graciously offered her family estate - the home they’d shared together, if only briefly - for Jake’s use while she was away on Vulcan. Jake had told her he’d think about it, and he’d meant it; but upon returning to the house, with its many rooms now quiet, Jake had found none of the warmth he’d remembered there. Each footstep seemed to echo off the walls, making him constantly turn to look, not out of fear but out of some vain hope that Xana had changed her mind and returned with the children… but every time, he’d found nothing but more emptiness.

So, he’d left. He’d gathered up his belongings - several changes of clothes, his uniforms, a few mementos, and the still-deactivated Exocomp he’d recovered from the USS CENTURY over 2 years ago - and left Italy for North America, settling in San Francisco, not far from Starfleet Headquarters. The leave he’d requested after the Siege of Earth was running out, and Jake had every expectation that his commission would be reactivated, and hed’ soon be getting word of his next assignment.

Even with the political fallout from the Federation Council’s decision to expel humanity as a permanent member, Earth remained - for the time being, anyway - the beating heart of Starfleet, and humanity along with it. Jake had proven himself time and again during the Neo-Essentialist crisis - a fact he acknowledged with faint pride, since at the time he’d never really had a choice in the matter, but one that, in Jake’s mind, seemed to guarantee reinstatement. Starfleet had a lot of rebuilding to do after Richard Edgerton, and there was no way they’d turn down help from an officer with Jake’s experience.

But Jake received no orders. No assignment ever came.

=[/\]=

Jake sat at the edge of his bed, his hair pointing out in several directions. He only had one eye open, but with it he checked the position of the sun creeping in between the slats of his window shade and judged the time to be somewhere around 0700. He reached up and scratched at a day’s worth of beard-growth on his cheek, then stood and ambled over to the bathroom. On his way, he passed his desk, upon which sat The Agreement, buried beneath a pile of unrelated PADDs and assorted junk.

Jake didn’t look at the desk, because looking at the desk meant thinking about The Agreement, and that always put him in a bad mood. Buried beneath all those PADDs was the form, waiting for his signature, which would permanently dissolve his marriage to Xana Bonviva. Jake had spent a few days staring at it, then left it on his desk to be gradually buried. He wasn’t ready to sign, even though he’d felt ready on BOLARUS… and thinking about it made him consider his situation, waiting in interminable limbo for new orders from Starfleet, which rather undercut his reason to divorce Xana in the first place.

Jake was halfway through brushing his teeth when there came a chime from his front door. Jake frowned, leaned out of his small bathroom and, from around a mouthful of toothbrush and paste, said, “Who is it?”

No answer, but the door chimed again. Jake rolled his eyes, spat out the toothpaste, then rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed a bathrobe hanging on a nearby hook, and was still tying it closed as he made his way through the living room towards the front door. The door chimed again as Jake approached.

“Yeah, yeah.” He reached out and keyed the control on the monitor beside the door. The screen lit up, showing an uncomfortably close-up view of Alexander Towers. Jake stared at the image for a long moment; then, when Towers rang the chime again, Jake deactivated the screen and opened the door.

Towers stared at him from across the threshold, his expression typically unreadable. “Crichton.”

“Colonel,” Jake said. Then, realizing his mistake, Jake suddenly straightened. “Excuse me, General.”

“At ease,” Towers said. “You’re at home, Jake. No ceremony.”

Jake relaxed a little. “Thank you, sir. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“I’d have thought you’d be busy. Marine Commandant is a pretty big job, so I hear.”

“It is.” Towers glanced around, then back at Jake. “Do I have to stand out here this whole time, or are you going to invite me in?”

Jake stared back at Towers, trying to match the marine’s poker face. After a moment, he stood aside from the door and gestured for Towers to enter. Towers did so, taking in the apartment as he closed the door behind him.

“It isn’t much,” Jake said. He didn’t like how self-conscious he felt, but then, Alexander Towers had always made him feel that way.

“It’s fine,” Towers said, turning to face Jake. He didn’t take any of the available seats, and Jake didn’t offer.

“Kind of a step down from my old digs, huh?”

“Kind of,” Towers repeated. “You know there’s no reason you need to be in San Francisco to wait for orders. Between shuttlecraft and transporters, you’re never far away from HQ.”

“Well, this way I can walk.”

“The old place was feeling a little too empty?”

Jake blinked. “How do you know that?”

“It isn’t an original story,” Towers said. “You think you’re the first person to lose a marriage to the job?”

“You?”

Alex Towers laughed, a rare sight. “No. Never me. But enough others so that I got a pretty good idea how it works. You like the family, but you love the job, that about right?”

Jake didn’t say anything, so Towers continued.

“You love the danger, and you love making a difference. I saw that when I commanded you on GATEWAY, before you married her.”

“I love my wife,” said Jake.

“Sure. You love the job more, though.”

“Seeing as how I let my family fly off to Vulcan so I could live up the road from Starfleet Headquarters, that’s not a very impressive deduction.”

“And that wasn’t a denial.”

Jake sighed, then turned around. He walked into the kitchen, and replicated a glass of orange juice. He made eye-contact with Towers as he did so, pointedly not asking if the marine wanted anything.

“If it’s the job you want, you can have it,” Towers said. “God knows we need the help.”

“Starfleet knows where to find me.” Jake lifted the glass of orange juice to his lips and started to drink.

“They’re reactivating the PHOENIX.”

Jake stopped, mid-gulp. Towers was staring at him, his expression still unreadable. Jake gently lowered the glass to the countertop, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and did his best to sound casual.

“Oh yeah?”

“That’s classified,” Towers said. “I’d threaten you with the stockade if you talk, but I think you know the drill.”

“I know the drill,” Jake nodded. “So, you here to offer me the Chief Engineer job?”

Towers shook his head. “Position’s been filled.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“That’s… who did they get?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Towers shrugged. “Anyway, it doesn’t pertain to our conversation.”

“Doesn’t pertain? I’m the most qualified officer in the goddamn fleet to run that engine room, and I’m getting pretty goddamn sick of proving it--”

“They need an Executive Officer.”

Jake stopped. His mouth fell open.

Towers nodded. “You heard me.”

Jake didn’t say anything for several moments. Absently, he raised the glass to his lips again and quickly drained the remaining juice. Towers watched him without speaking, or even moving. Jake would have bet ten strips of latinum that the marine hadn’t even *blinked* during the interval.

“I don’t have the bridge experience,” Jake said finally.

“We have the reports from your time as fugitives,” Towers said. “Lots of field promotions. Starfleet’s reviewing them on a case-by-case basis, but lot of them are going through; that Gorn officer of yours, Chaucer, for instance… he’s a good find, and he knows his stuff. Command’s decided to honor his field commission.”

Jake smiled. Chaucer had earned that. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“Kane made you second officer. You took a nightwatch on the bridge regularly. It’s not official yet, but being Marine Commandant has some perks. Command will honor it.”

“But nothing ever happened while I had the conn,” said Jake.

“You’ve been running engine rooms since I met you,” Towers said. “You’re a fine officer, and you know how to lead. You think on your feet and you aren’t afraid to make the hard calls. You’re ready for this.”

“Sure, if every problem we run into is a leaking plasma coil, or a rogue AI, or something,” Jake said. “I’m a good engineer, General, I’ll cop to that much, but First Officer? That’s… it isn’t me.”

Towers fixed Jake with a stare that, while not exactly unkind, somehow managed to be withering.”Where’s your wife, Crichton?”

“What?”

“Where’s your wife?”

Jake set his jaw. “That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You know damn well where she is.”

“I do. And you’re here, because you’re waiting to find out where Starfleet needs you next. Well, this is where they need you, Jake. Take it or leave it.”

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. It was too early for something like this.

“Say I’m interested,” he said finally. “What next?”

“There’d be a test.”

Jake lowered his hands and looked at Towers. “A command test? Don’t tell me I have to take the Kobayashi Maru.”

“Starfleet hasn’t run that test in decades,” Towers said. “The ones you get now are much worse.”

“I thought this is where Starfleet needed me.”

“It is,” Towers said. “Starfleet just doesn’t know it yet.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “It’s you. You’re the one who’s been delaying my reassignment.”

Towers’ expression, carved in stone, didn’t change. “Like I said. Perks.”

Without realizing he was doing it, Jake suddenly slammed a fist down on the counter top. Towers didn’t jump at the sudden movement or noise, but Jake was well past being impressed by the General’s unshakable demeanor. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Towers glanced around. “It’s your apartment.”

“What the *fuck* is your problem with me?”

“You’re comfortable,” Towers said. “I hate that.”

“Oh, go to hell. What would you even know about it?”

“Yeah, you can’t have everything you want,” Towers said. “Sorry you have the same problem as everyone else in the galaxy. But you made your choice, you want the job. So do. The Goddamn. Job.”

“*You’re* the one who’s been keeping me from doing it!”

“So you can go back to some engine room?” Tower asked. “No. I’ve read the PHOENIX reports, Crichton. You commandeered Kalenda the Black’s latinum supply on your own initiative on LIMBO, you argued to uphold Starfleet’s first contact protocols during the Amaterasu incident, you had direct involvement in the Borg nano-weapon during the confrontation at ELANDIPOLE… do I need to go on?”

“Yeah, lots of people did a lot of things. We get medals, and maybe a couple libraries named after us, not jobs we haven’t asked for.”

“You have the knowledge and experience to stand up to command staff,” Towers continued. “But you also know when to follow orders. You have the judgement and the principles to be trusted with making the call when the captain isn’t around. And frankly, you represent one of the strongest pro-human argument Starfleet has to offer right now.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh. “Boy, you know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

“Politics have always been politics,” Towers said. “Maybe that’s the argument that ultimately gets you the job. It doesn’t make any of the other things I’ve said any less true.”

“You want me to be a posterboy,” Jake said. “You’re gonna put me on the cover of some catalogue, next to a smiling Benzite in one of them beeping wheelchairs.”

“And when you’re being insubordinate, it’s at least entertaining,” Towers finished.

Jake walked past Towers, and plopped down onto his small couch. Towers didn’t moved, but turned to look at him.

“I’m being serious, Jake,” he said. “You’re ready for this job, and I think you want it.”

“What’s the mission?”

“No word yet,” Towers said. “But the PHOENIX is the most advanced ship in the fleet, probably the whole quadrant. You won’t be doing pro-human publicity appearances, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Sure.”

“Oh hell, Crichton,” Towers said, finally sounding annoyed. “You and I both know you’re going to take the job, and we both know I’m not going to beg you. So why don’t we just cut to the chase and talk about this test you’ll need to pass?”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Now Towers looked relieved, though he did a pretty good job of hiding it. “Good.”

“One thing though,” Jake said, turning to look at the general.

“What?”

“I photograph best from my left side.”

=[/\]=

Shawn Putnam

A.k.a.

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

USS PHOENIX