Harrison comes back

Posted on Wed Aug 10th, 2011 @ 9:01am by Major Maxim Kamarov

Mission: In Our Time of Need
Location: Starbase 900

RUNABOUT YELLOWSTONE

Quentin Harrison, formerly of Starfleet sat in the aft compartment of the runabout, wondering what he would do when he got to Starbase 900. A lot of the Berkeley's senior crew had transferred, but Quentin had felt a loyalty to the ship and had elected to remain. Now he was a civilian, mustered out by a debilitating disease that would leave his body wasted. The effects of the disease were exacerbated by transit through the Gateway, so Quentin was stuck in this quadrant for the rest of his life, which was prolly less than a standard year if the doctors on the Berkeley were correct

Harrison had a flask of ale in his hand, not synth ale but the honest-to-God Romulan variety. It was potent enough to give Quentin a spinning head and the big Scot was no longer in the Fleet. Maybe Jack would have something for him to do until he couldn't move anymore. Maybe there was an outside chance of a cure in the Delta Quadrant. Sure, and maybe me gran will come back to life as a Horta! he thought with grim humor.

One thing was for sure, he was still very much in love with Kh'ali, but was sure she had moved on with her life. A quick scan of the base's roster showed her to be the chief diplomat of the base. Quentin laughed out loud whenever he saw that a Klingon woman was in charge of diplomacy. During the long and rocky history of the Empire, a Klingon diplomat was often the guy who accepted the other fellow's surrender. Quentin doubted Kh'ali wanted to endanger any of her assignments with a bark or growl, but she was still Klingon/Scottish.

A wave of nausea hit Quentin and he lowered his head to prevent expectorating all over the deck. It galled him to return to the site where his former comrades were now living and enjoying themselves while he had been mustered out. Quentin took another swig of ale, not caring about anything.

"Mr Harrison, we are coming up on the base. Please sit down while we dock with the base.

"Aye, will do," Quentin mumbled.

The runabout touched down smoothly on the pad and Quentin lurched out of the ship. He was more than a little tipsy, but knew he could make his way to the bar where Jack was before he went to his new home on the base. He wanted his friend to know what had happened to him and maybe see if there might be a way to cure the disease that was ravaging him.

END PART ONE

A post by

LT Quentin Harrison (ret.)
Ex-Chief of Security, USS Berkeley
Now a Drunken Highlander
Starbase 900