Welcome Aboard

Posted on 25 Dec 2017 @ 10:48am by Lieutenant Alexander Webb

727 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Errand of Mercy
Location: USS Redemption
Timeline: ED7: 0145

After being beamed to sickbay, it had taken close to an hour before Webb had been cleared. He felt like the medical staff had ran every imaginable test on him, twice, to make sure he hadn't been exposed to, or fallen under any alien influence.

After getting off the Whitewalker, all Alexander had wanted to do was go to his quarters, and get away from others for just a few hours. After being prodded, poked and scanned for almost an hour, Webb had another surge of hope he'd be able to retire to his quarters. Briefly. Noticing he was about to leave, a pale, blonde woman in medical blue robes detached herself from a consult with a nurse, and moved towards him. "Doctor Webb? Major Afton, Chief Medical. Do you have a moment? I'd like to go over ship procedures regarding any alien artifacts you'll no doubt want to bring aboard at some point." The next 45 minutes had been a review of standard Starfleet protocols as well as supplemental procedures the Major had put in place with the support of the ship's captain, during which Webb had, at least temporarily, forgotten his fatigue. Certainly the meeting could have been much shorter, but it didn't help that Alexander had repeatedly tried to turn the conversation into a discussion about the distorted Native American traditions of the Major's homeworld. Much to the dismay of the Major.

Leaving the Major's office, Alexander's fatigue once again washed over him, and he exited sickbay with thoughts of a soft bed and some soft music from Earth's baroque period. "Lieutenant Webb?" Webb tuned around, to see a security officer, holding a PADD. "Sorry sir. I hope you're not too tired yet. We still need to debrief you, and we'd rather do that sooner rather than later, to make sure everything is still fresh in your mind." Webb silently cursed the officer in multiple alien, and dead earth languages, but nodded and followed him to one of the offices allocated to the ship's security detail. For the next hour, Alexander relayed everything he remembered from the trip aboard the shuttle, but also about the days leading up to now. Often being asked the same questions, worded differently.

Oddly enough, he didn't quite feel like collapsing anymore, when he finally left the security office. He paused for a moment, standing in the hallway, coming to a decision. "Computer, where is the Captain at this moment?" "Captain Ashcart is in his ready room", the computer responded. Knowing he'd have to report in to his new commander eventually, he decided to just get it over with, and entered the nearest turbo lift.

As the doors of the lift opened up to the bridge, Webb just stood there for a few moments. Apparently long enough to draw the attention of a few members of the bridge crew, but not too long to draw suspicion. Glancing at his PADD, he walked over to the Captain's ready room, and pressed the door chime button. "Come", a tired voice said, and Alexander entered the room.
The Captain sat behind his desk as Webb entered, reading some report. Most likely about the Whitewalker incident, he speculated. "Lieutenant Webb, reporting for duty", he said formally. "At ease Lieutenant", the Captain replied, tapping a few controls in his desk. "I see you finished your medical check-up and security debriefing. Excellent. I hope you weren't too inconvenienced, but I'm sure you understand the necessity. I'm sure you have yet to report in with Commander Rhyan, our Chief Science Officer, but I see that you've already spoken with Major Afton. Very good. Well, I won't keep you too long, considering. Thank you for stopping by, and... welcome aboard." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir", Webb mutterd, and exited after a "Dismissed" from the Captain.

He had now, finally, arrived at his new quarters, where his bag already sat waiting for him. The room was small, but sufficient for his needs. "Computer, one cup of chamomile tea, please", he said, and heard the replicator whir as it produced the beverage. "Play Vivaldi's four seasons, please", he requested, sitting down on his bed. A few moments later he wondered why he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He didn't recall lying down. And that was his last though, before slipping into the deep sleep of exhaustion.

 

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