Deck 4 – Computer Core

Pops stood alone in the computer core. Before him was the Isoliner sub-processor, panel H-14. He worked on nearly all aspects of shipbuilding in his years, from weapon systems to warp cores. He knew the structural, power, and data networks like a tenured physician knows their own species’ anatomy, and he knew what was behind this panel. Lifting it off the wall, exposing the array of neatly aligned Isoliner Chips, he traced his finger from the very top of the panel, down 7 rows, across 5 columns.

A green Isoliner Chip was slotted into the port, as it should have been. He hesitated, a deep sigh escaping his lungs as he braced for what he had to do. Reaching out, he pulled the chip from its resting place, setting it down on the ledge before him. His hand then went to the inside of his jacket, to a false pocket sewn in years ago, where he withdrew a luminous gold Isoliner Chip. He closed his eyes and made a silent prayer that one day he hoped his son would understand, before slotting the chip into the open port. He quickly cleaned up, returning the original green chip to his jacket pocket before tapping his comm badge.

“All good down here, son, go ahead and initiate warp core restart.”

Deck 3 – Mess Hall (30 minutes later)

Michael sat at the table, several data PADDs strewn about, with another one in his hand as he read over the Power Transfer Ratio from the successful Warp Core Restart they just attempted. Yet another pre-inspection he was performing before heading out. This was HIS ship now, not anyone else’s. As the commanding officer, the well-being and functionality of the Fox were directly tied to his standing and reputation. He already felt like he had failed once as a C.O.; he was bound and determined not to let that happen again. Before he left for Starbase 47, he wanted to check and double-check every inch of the ship, because once he left the docking bay, it was all on him.

Pops crossed the mess hall from the replicator, a plate of food in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. As he sat next to his son, he set the food down next to him, pushing away some of the PADDs, but like hell he was going to share his coffee. He knew his son was racking his brain over this new responsibility. And where he was one part proud of his son’s professionalism and dedication, he could not help but be equally concerned. Yet he also knew there was only so much his son would accept, as this was something he needed to do on his own; all the elder could do was be there and support him.

“Ya know…you don’t have to do all this by yourself. Part of being a Commanding Officer is delegation.” Pops commented, taking a sip of his coffee.

Michael had noticed the plate of food, one of his childhood favorites, a hollowed bite-sized pastry shell stuffed with tomato sauce, cheese, and Italian sausage. He gathered one up in his hand, “Well, it’s not like the halls are flooded with engineers…” he snarkily replied before popping the bite into his mouth. “I’m already looking at a two-week trek across the damn quadrant; I don’t have time to recruit any officers. And I don’t want to harbor any ill will by poaching Starbase staff.” He continued as he chewed.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Automation has come a long way, and given the small size of the ship, you don’t need many hands, but SOME would be better than nothing. Use the tools at your disposal to your advantage.” Pops explained.

Michael’s head tilted in confusion. Pops held his hand out towards the empty room, raising his eyebrows. Michael could only roll his eyes, waving his own hand out towards the door. Even though the two didn’t speak a word, their non-verbal skills were unmatched, even without Michael’s telepathy. He still wasn’t sure what his father was on about, but he did bring him in for his experience, so it would behoove him to at least hear the old man out.

Pops stood up, finishing his coffee, and cleared his throat. “Computer, Activate Emergency Hospitality Hologram.” Before the two, in the middle of the room, a holographic officer materialized. Dressed in a modernized black uniform, the middle-aged, British-looking male officer with short, brushed blond hair looked back at them. His voice echoed through the room with the same accent as evident in his looks. “Greetings, how may I be of service?”

Michael sat staggered for a moment, his gaze moving from the Hologram before him to his father and back. “Really?”

Pops shrugged his shoulders. “Worked on Voyager for 7 years…”

Michael rolled his eyes once more, taking another bite of his snack.

“I’ve taken the liberty of pulling data from the ship’s computer. Commander Angelus, I presume?” The hologram asked, directed towards Michael.

Michael only nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry, Commander, but it seems the ship’s personnel records are incomplete.” The hologram commented, as if looking at a floating display of information that the others could not see.

“That’s why you’re here. My son needs a Yeoman.” Pops interjected. “A yeoman?” Michael questioned.

“Ahh. Yes, sir, that is correct. The primary programming of hospitality holograms such as myself is to entertain and aid diplomats and high-maintenance foreign dignitaries, but we also function as secure command-level yeomen for flag officers. Would you like me to activate that function?” the hologram explained.

Michael contemplated the situation for a moment. His father was right; left to his own devices, he could easily sit in the docking bay for another week, combing over the ship’s systems. At least with another pair of eyes, they could cut that time down significantly. “Very well.” He confirmed.

“Yes, sir. I have updated the ship’s roster. Oh…” the hologram paused for a moment. “Given that I am the only other listed crewman, the system has defaulted me to executive officer. I hope this is ok?” Michael shrugged nonchalantly, rising from his seat to properly greet his new crewman. “That’s the definition of second in command if there are only two of us. Welcome aboard.”

The two shook hands for a moment while the Yeoman and Pops shared a brief glance. “So, what should I call you?” Michael asked. The question took the hologram by surprise. “I…don’t know sir. I was not given a name. You may call me whatever you like.”

“He looks like an Alfred. Or maybe a Benedict?” Pops snorted.

“Given the nature of the random personality matrix assigned to me at activation, I would tend to agree with the Master Chief’s assessment. Maybe an Archibald?” The hologram suggested.

“Yeah, that’s too much. Let’s shorten it to Archie.” Michael affirmed.

Both Pops and the Hologram, Archie, nodded in approval. “Very well, I will update the personnel roster to reflect my new designation. Now, as my first act as your executive officer, might I suggest activating the rest of the crew to help us tackle the task at hand?” Archie announced.

“The rest of the crew?” Michael inquired.

Both Archie and Pops gave Michael a telling look, which caused him to once again surrender his hands in the air for them to continue. Moving to stand next to Michael, Archie cleared his throat. “Computer, Activate Emergency Hologram Programs; Medical, Engineering, Navigation, Tactical. Assign personality matrix aligning with personnel file: One Five Seven, One One Five”

Pops leaned in, whispering to his son, “I think that’s you.”

Michael scrunched his face, “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock…” he jabbed, giving his father a playful elbow.

Pops chuckled, “Damn, Sherlock would have been a better name for him. Could have gotten him to wear that ridiculous hat.”

Michael did his best to hold in his laughter, only able to shush his father as four new figures materialized in the Mess Hall.

The first was clearly the Medical Hologram. It was a middle-aged Asian-male in a white medical coat and a black and science blue tunic underneath.

The second to fully materialize next to him was a rather inspiring human female. She wore a similar uniform to what Michael had on, but it was cropped with short sleeves, exposing her stomach, and bore operations’ yellow shoulder pads.

The third was another human male, close to Michael’s age in appearance. He had messy brown hair and wore what looked to be a cross between a Starfleet uniform and a bomber flight jacket with golden shoulders.

The last was a large, imposing male human figure with impressive muscle tone. He appeared in a more tactical uniform with a bandolier, red shoulders, and a phaser already strapped to his leg.

“Well, not difficult to tell who’s who…” Michael stated, clearly impressed with the roster of officers. “I tried to keep their framework in line with your own for cohesion,” Archie justified. Michael teetered his head side to side, as if mulling the concept for a moment. “Starfleet is all about diversity, wouldn’t have bothered me either way, but I don’t want to spend too long playing dress up, so let’s keep with how they are now and just get to work.”

“Of course, sir.” Archie bowed, then turned to the other holograms, “Pre-Flight Checks, Inventory and Systems Diagnostics ready by 0700 hours.” Without a word, the holograms nodded and vanished in a blink of holographic static, as if being teleported away to their stations. “Worry not, sir, we can take it from here and have everything ready for your review in the morning. It is, however, late. Would you care to turn in for the night?” Archie asked.

Michael unintentionally yawned at the question. “Well, I guess so…been at it for hours already.”

Pops smiled at his son, “Delegation!” he remarked, as if to say ‘I told you so’, placing his arm around Michael’s shoulder. Michael could only smile at his father’s words. “Fine, Fine…I’ll turn in. But I’ll be back at 0630 to get ready for those reports.” Michael agreed. “Of course, sir. Have a pleasant rest.” Archie acknowledged with a polite smile.

As the two Angelus men left the Mess Hall, Pops looked back at Archie, their eyes locked for a moment, with the elder giving a slight nod of approval. Archie, in turn, returned the nod with his own polite bow, his naturally programmed blue eyes, for a moment flashing a reflection of luminous gold.

[To be Continued]