Memories Part III

Posted on Thu Jul 30th, 2015 @ 3:17pm by James Holbridge & Matt Collins

Jim sat in his study, alone with his thoughts. He knew he should have probably gone to see Dr. Swift about his anxiety, but the thought of going to a pshrink was just too much for his fighter pilot ego too handle. Fliers didn’t go to psycho doctors, they flew. But even his own company flight surgeon had grounded him. To add insult to injury, his wife had informed the worthy that if her husband was cleared for flight status the doctor would be terminated from employment. So, Jim sat in his house on Archadia Prime and watched the grass grow, bored out of his mind.

“Yo, boss, you home?” called the young voice of Matthew Collins from the hallway. The young man had made it his personal mission to keep an eye on his employer and friend ever since the accident. Both men pretended that Tricia Holbridge was not behind Collin’s babysitting tactics, but each one knew that it was a lie.

“In here, kid!” Jim called. He reached under his desk to produce to amber-colored bottles.

Matt plunked down in a tall-backed chair and gratefully accepted the offered beer, taking a long drink. “Glad I am here, boss, it’s hotter than an Orion whorehouse out there!”

Jim grinned. “Liar, you wanna watch all them topless Archadian females!”

“Hell, no! Mara would kill me!” Matt laughed. “I came here to learn more about your escape from the Cardassians.”

Jim sighed and took a swallow of the excellent beer. “I figured…..”

DALORATH PRISON CAMP
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS EARLIER

Holbridge lay on his cot, his mind turning over the information he had about the labor camp and it’s routine. Daily labor from 0900-1800, transport to and from the shipyard twice daily in transporter, manned by armed guards. Captain of the guards is Matrim, who is hooked on the hooch Dr. Crane makes. Jim mused in his head. Step one of the operation is increase the potency of the narcotic, get Matrim to allow us greater access to the transporter. Step two would be to get a skeleton crew together and steal a ship; step three would be to make goddamned sure the ship we steal has offensive capability. Jim suddenly grinned.

Darla Crane made her way over to where Jim lay and knelt down beside him. “How is your head?” she asked as she examined him.

“Hurts, but I’ll live,” Jim replied. “Say, how potent is that stuff you have Matrim hooked on?”

“It’s enough to give him a small buzz, why?”

“I want you to make him a batch that will rock his world; Stuff that will keep him and his goons in la-la land long enough for us to hijack the transporter control.”

“Good idea, Jim.” Darla nodded. “One little hitch, the transport chief is Obsidian Order and a tea-totaller. Doesn’t touch any kind of drug or stimulant, not even coffee.”

Jim just shrugged. “We’ll have to take him out then.”

“He is the only one who has the access code to the transporter. Without that code, the prisoner-work crews would rematerialize in outer space.” Darla smiled, rubbing her ample chest. “He does like me, however.”

“Okay, the chief is yours. How long to get enough dope together?”

“Six days.”

“You have forty-eight hours,” Jim replied.

THE PRESENT

Jim sighed and looked at Matt. “Kid, I need you to find my wife. I wanna talk with her about something!”

Matt nodded and left the room, leaving Jim to his thoughts. In memory of Darla Crane! Jim silently toasted his slain friend, wishing he hadn’t told Collins this story. It reopened too many wounds.

______________________
Jim Holbridge
Wandering Down Memory Lane

&

Matt Collins
Under Orders To Get Jim To Talk