Memories...In The Corner Of The House
Posted on Thu Apr 14th, 2016 @ 1:55pm by James Holbridge
Edited on on Thu Apr 14th, 2016 @ 1:58pm
Mission:
Further Challenges
Location: UNKNOWN PLANET
BRIDGE
USS SPECTRE
SOMEWHERE IN CARDASSIAN SPACE
Jim sat at the library console looking at some data, making small notes on a padd. Sam Elliott had the conn, while Matt Collins was in the engine room and Amanda Fulton manned the tactical console. Eddie, the ship’s AI, comprised the remainder of the crew, manning other essential and nonessential stations of the automated starship. The Spectre was a heavily modified Prometheus-class vessel designed and built by Holbridge Shipbuilding. Jim had conceptualized a largely automated combat starship, but it was Matt Collins who had designed and built the vessel.
“Approaching Cardassian/Federation border, sir,” Eddie announced.
“Maintain stealth, contact the closest Starfleet asset.” Jim ordered, turning away from his console.”
“Relay Station Eight-Oh-Seven is live, sir,” Fulton called out.
=/\=Unidentified vessel, this is Starfleet…=/\=
“This is Lieutenant James Holbridge, Starfleet Intelligence. The code word is ‘WOLFPACK THREE-THREE-ZERO’”
=/\=Stand by lieutenant,”=/\=
Holbridge started to protest, but a new face suddenly appeared on the ship’s main screen. “This is Commander Garriott, Starbase 417. Been awhile, Jim!”
Jim grinned at the screen. “Yeah. Pat, I got a hot one here. I have a wanted fugitive on board, one Orion Paxx.”
=/\=The Bajorran who sold out his own people?,/i>=/\= Garriott’s face was incredulous. “Outstanding! Take him to Deep Space Nine. I am sure the commodore will want to grill him and then turn him over to the Council Of Ministers.=/\=
Jim nodded his assent. “Spectre out,” He turned his chair to face Elliott. “I am leaving for Dormeil Prime by myself. After you deliver Paxx to the Bajorrans, get back to 900 and send my daughter to my location.”
“What are you planning now?” Sam Elliott asked from the command seat.
Jim sighed. “I’m getting a little tired of always getting into hot situations on every damned outing I take. I need some time to recharge my batteries after this little bout. Plus, I think Boroca may have other assholes out there waiting to issue me an invitation to join his little boy-band. I need to get off the grid for awhile. Set up a secure comms link to the Nest when you get back to 900, okay Sam? I’m leaving you in charge of the shipyards and weapons plant. Amanda will head up Nebula Gold while Matt will be in charge of R+D.”
Sam nodded his head, knowing in his gut Jim was getting weary of conflict ever since he lost his wife. “Take all the time you need, buddy. I’ll keep Command off your back.”
“Thanks,” was all Jim said as he suddenly left the bridge.
GUNABOUT WASHITA
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Jim quickly accelerated away from the Spectre at impulse speed, gaining enough distance to safely go to warp. Checking all of his systems was old-hat for Jim, and he meticulously kept his first prototype combat runabout maintained himself. However, in the past few weeks he had let some of his senior maintenance techs keep the Washita up to specs, and one of his senior men had allowed a junior tech to work on the warp drive injection master program, and no one could have known that the youngster had entered the incorrect intermix ratio for the matter/antimatter reaction. The dilithium crystals required a specific ration lest crystals shatter and the unregulated reaction initiate a warp-core breach.
Jim quietly activated the warp core, and the Washita shot into warp, her dilithium crystals inching closer and closer to a breach as he cruised. Jim rose from the helm and went to the aft cockpit to get some food. “Computer, ETA to Dormeil Prime?”
=/\=Fourteen hours and thirty three minutes,=/\=
“Very well. Wake me in seven hours!” Jim said, not knowing it would be the last order he would ever give to his beloved gunabout’s computer.
UNKNOWN TIME LATER
UNKNOWN LOCATION
The impact of the Washita had been savage enough to fragment her hull, and most of the interior equipment, including Holbridge, had been rudely ejected as the shattered ship tumbled to a stop. Holbridge’s body had landed in a pile of soft leaves, cushioning him somewhat. His leg however, had snapped in three places from the impact and subsequent tumble he took. Holbridge lay in a thicket, clad in only his ragged clothing, his left leg at an odd angle to his body.
Three humans in old-fashioned clothing, stared at Jim in awe and bewilderment, jabbering amongst themselves. One of them touched Jim’s leg, making him moan in pain. “We must help the off-worlder,”he said quietly.
“He is in pain, so we must nurse him back to health,” agreed the tallest one.
“The elders forbade it,” warned the third. “We must not interact with any off-worlders, so saith the law!”
“It is our duty to God to restore this heathen to health.” the first one decreed. “Let’s get busy, a travois won’t build itself.”
TWO HOURS LATER
LOCAL VILLAGE, UNKNOWN PLANET
Jim lway on a pallet ina well-built cabin of logs, unconscious. The cabin was built of heavy logs, the cracks filled with a mud mixture that kept the cabin snug. A fireplace and chimney was built into a wall and a bubbling pot of food hung from a dual chain. A fair-skinned woman with fiery red hair, dressed in a peasant blouse and ankle-length skirt, tended the fire while Jim slept.
A fine state affairs it was whn Da’ come home, draggin the shattered body of some offworld heathen into our humble home, she fumed to herself. Here ye go, Rhona, this man be injured and needs a tender hand to regain his health, himself not even awake to say where he hurts so i dinnae have to strip him and see for\ meslef!
Jim moaned softly, causing Rhona to come over to his pallet. “Are ye hurt?”
“Where…. am…... I?” Jim asked, gasping in pain.
“You're in the village of Loch Uaine. I am Rhona, daughter of Fergus of the Hamilton clan. Who might you be?” Rhona’s words were softer than her thoughts.
“I’m…...My….name is…….Bridge…..Hole……”
Rhona tossed her red curls out of her face. “What kind of name is Bridge Hole? Are you a carpenter?”
Holbridge shook his head. “My last name is…..My God, I don’t know!”
Rhona took a damp cloth and wiped some sweat from Jim’s brow in an attempt to soothe him. “Be still, sir. Ye’ve had quite a bad spill and your leg is broken in three places. Since you can’t remember the name your mother gave you, we’ll just have to make one up for you until you can pull it outta your head. I think the name Bridger suits you, so Bridger you shall be.”
Jim nodded his head in assent. “Whatever you say, lady,”
“My name is Rhona and you would do well to remember it if it’s food or bathin’ you’re wanting from me, or else I’ll leave you to wallow in your own filth!” Rhona’s hands went to her hips as hse glared at Jim sharply.
Bridger sighed. “Yes, ma’am,”
“That’s somewhat better. Now, I’ll be seeing about some medicine for your leg. Get some sleep.”
Bridger, formerly Holbridge, nodded quietly and closed his eyes.
Jim Holbridge aka Bridger
Up The Creek Again
