Facing The Past
Posted on Fri Jan 25, 2019 @ 12:03pm by Gunnery Sergeant Hanley Woodard
1,077 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission: Plaga Navis
The officer's lounge was all abuzz with the gossip of Vic Crowe and Dr. Anderson's latest spat. I don't see why he doesn't just screw her and get it over with!! Jim smiled inwardly as he sat down at the bar. The waiter came up and nodded. "What will it be, commander?"
"Saurian brandy highball, prime rib dinner, tender grilled asparagus, and a side of grilled mushrooms and onions." Jim answered.
The waiter nodded and disappeared into the replicator galley. Jim preferred fresh food as opposed to replicated, but the newer replicators were sophisticated enough to fool even a gourmet's palette. The highball he ordered appeared in front of him and he took a sip, feeling the liquor slide to his belly. The waiter reappeared with his food and set it in front of him. "Enjoy, commander."
Jim began to dig in. As he ate, he thought back to a time when he was more than just a Starfleet spook. He started out in the Starfighter Corps and quickly became an expert in the latest Valkyrie, Gryphon, and later Arrow-class attack craft. 33 confirmed kills in battle and a tour as an instructor at Jupiter Station cemented his reputation as a fearless fighter jock.
His prowess in the cockpit was noted by the Intelligence community, and soon they came calling. Jim politely turned them down and was soon in command of a squadron. Getting shot down, then escaping from one of the Dominion's most secure prison/manufacturing facilities earned Jim even more attention from the Intelligence brass who made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Transferring his commission to Intelligence, Jim led NEBULA GOLD, an elite assault team that took on dangerous missions for Starfleet. However, in the end, Jim's memories of the last year of his service were erased and he was returned to regular Intelligence duties.
"Hey, commander!" a gruff voice said.
"Gunny," Jim replied, chewing his steak.
"Heard you were dragged into the fracas. Been awhile, major."
Jim laughed at the use of his old aviator's rank. "I haven't been a major for awhile, gunny."
"Once a Marine, sir," Woodard turned and looked at the newly-returned waiter with annoyance. "Bottle of O'Bannon's Reserve and two glasses." Woodard ordered with a growl.
"At once, sergeant", the waiter replied haughtily.
Jim quickly held up his hand. "Let it go, gentlemen!" he said quickly, hoping to stave off the argument that was about to erupt. "Waiter, bring the gunny an order of steak, rare, fried potatoes and onions with cheese, and a slice of cheesecake."
Woodard beamed at Jim. "You remembered, sir!"
"Hard to forget the favorite meal of one of the best platoon sergeants in the business!" Jim smiled back at the man.
Woodard took a glass and a the bottle of whiskey from the affronted waiter and poured it half full and handed it to Jim, then poured himself one. "to Major David Lorenz, one of the best platoon leaders in the Corps!"
Jim did not offer to affirm the toast, merely drank down the liquor in silence. Woodard simply nodded. "You two still haven't kissed and made up, I take it,"
"Nope, and now Kathy is on the ship, too."
Woodard simply nodded. "She came on board before Victory came to the Delta Quadrant. The Corps gave her a staff-sergeant's rank and made her a hand-to-hand combat instructor. Kind of a shitty thing to do, considering she wanted to leave."
"Starfleet wants all of my old team in the Fleet for some reason." Jim said simply. "Colonel Honensee told me very simply I could either stay in Intelligence or come back to the Corps as an instructor for their SERE school on Mars."
Woodard took a bite. "What is all the mystery? Why did they erase a year's worth of memories from you and your team?"
Jim sat back and regarded Woodard with a serious look. "I was told that the procedure was done to ensure that no one would ever discover what happened. All my former CO would tell me is that my team and I prevented a catastrophe that would have destroyed the Federation had it become public knowledge. To my knowledge, there is no record of me or my team's existence during that last year." Jim took a sip of his brandy, then continued, "I've been in contact with Dave Lorenz, Zack Harrison, Solek, Matt Collins, Kathy, and Darius Shelton. None of them know anything."
"Kinda odd, don't you think? Two members of an elite squad whose memories were erased are now on the same ship? I don't believe in coincidences, major." Woodard calmly ate a bite of his steak, his hawk eyes staring at Jim. "Have you tried digging for the answers yourself?"
"Gunny, it's commander, for now," Jim admonished the NCOIC, shoveling more food into his mouth. "I have looked everywhere in the records, I have even been to Memory Alpha and Beta in person. The data was scrubbed by Admiral O'Connell; not sealed, but scrubbed. No traces of any information, no residual bits, nothing."
"Someone wants that mission to stay buried." Woodard thought for a moment. "Maybe you could talk to the captain and see what she can do."
Jim nodded. I'll run it by the XO first." Jim chewed his food thoughtfully. "I have a bigger problem at the moment. That freighter we spaced sure got around. I gave Commander Hunter a preliminary report when I found that crewman who infected the ship, but it turns out that's just the tip of the iceberg. Victory automatically pulled the ship and crew logs from their computer, but it's a fucking mess! I need analysts for this shit!"
Woodard nodded. "I'll send over a couple of my signals troopers to give you a hand. Cook and Baker are the best I have."
Jim sighed and took a sip of his booze. "My only question is why is this Torrance guy is on board, and what did the captain hope to gain from his presence?" Jim's expression went blank as he began to think. I don't have enough information to make an educated hypothesis. I'm gonna have to talk to this Torrance goon, but not in a cell; and I think Vic can help me with that he mused quietly.
"I'll see you in a bit gunny. I need to speak to the XO."
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