Citizen Soldiers
Posted on May 22nd, 2018 by Rodney Quinn and Kathryn Harper

by Rodney Quinn and Kathryn Harper

Atlantis was finally ready for slipstream flight again after spending several days repairing the damage caused by the quantum filament strikes. While the engineering department was hard at work returning the ship to normal operations, the majority of the crew had enjoyed shore leave on an uninhabited planet that had been conveniently nearby. Thoroughly refreshed from a few vacation days spent swimming in that planet’s ocean, Captain Kathryn Harper entered Main Engineering, and made her way to the chief’s office, smiling in reply to the occasional incredulous look at seeing her here, in person. She rang the door chime, knowing that Chief Quinn would be in.

The captain, it seemed, had her chief of engineering pretty well pegged…or she’d just asked the computer where to find him. Either way, her chime was rewarded with a prompt, if somewhat distracted “Come in” before the door slid away to reveal Rodney Quinn seated at his desk, munching occasionally on one half of a BLT on wheat bread, a half empty glass of chilled pineapple juice off to one side. He’d been hitting the coffee a bit hard the past few days, and while he was still a relatively young man, the stomach would eventually begin to complain…but a bit of sugar may be the next best thing! Most of his attention, however, was reserved for the PADD in his off hand. He’d informed the XO that the ship was ready to go, pending the results of a top to bottom diagnostic…but he was intent on watching the progress of that diagnostic like a hawk tracking its prey.

That was, of course, before he did a textbook double-take and shot up in his seat in surprise as he recognized his visitor. It belatedly occurred to him to feel just a bit naked, having draped his grey uniform outer tunic over the back of his chair, leaving him in only the uniform yellow turtleneck. Restraining the urge the grab at his napkin and wipe away any possible crumbs (That was more of an “at ease” thing, was it not?), he instead gestured vaguely to a chair off to the side.

“Captain! Sorry, I wasn’t expecting…well, anyone.”

“No worries, Chief!” Harper answered, smiling broadly as she entered the office to perch on the offered chair’s front edge. “I just wanted to take the time to personally thank you and your team for all of the hard work you have put in over the past few days, in getting us up and running again.”

“Oh!”

“Surprised?” Kate leaned forward with a mirthful grin.

“Well, I, uh…I guess not.”

He was actually a little embarrassed about the reaction, truth be told. He had no reason other than the ingrained military instinct to clench up for fear of losing something at the unheralded arrival of a superior officer. An instinct which, in the case of Kathryn Harper, was asinine on several levels. He’d never known a more approachable officer; hell, he’d once walked right into her Ready Room to announce his irritation with a decision of hers, and she’d reacted with the utmost understanding. And in this specific case, it wasn’t like she had any reason to be unhappy with their work; he’d checked over every step of it too often to have any possible worry on that score. And yet…here he was. The Chief Engineer of a Sovereign Class starship…hot shit, as the folks back home would put it. Acting like a first year cadet caught by a surprise bunk inspection.

“More like I have a reflex to be surprised, I suppose. Sorry, Captain. We’re just really not used to seeing senior staff down here unless something’s seriously wrong. Captain least of all. But thank YOU! I’ll be sure to pass the kind words along. I’d say we were all just doing our jobs, but I’m sure you know the feeling from whenever you took fire out in your Mustang. Atlantis is our baby. A gigantic, three and a half million ton baby, but still our baby, and she was hurt. Everything that followed…just follows, right?”

“It certainly does.” Content with her Chief Engineer’s paternal instincts in watching over their ship, Kate leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, lacing her fingers around her knee, before transitioning into the other reason for her visit. “I would say that you have earned a day off, at least, and I imagine that your staff could use some leave as well.” She gestured at his sandwich before continuing, “Rodney, you are working through lunch while we orbit a veritable—how do you say on Earth—Garden of Sweden, yes? Anyway, we can delay our departure to give our engineers time to relax.”

“Technically, not from Earth, ma’am,” Quinn responded with a grin, though he kept the chuckle to a minimum. That was a bit of a cop out, of course. Any human living anywhere in the Sol system was more than close enough to Earth, in terms of both distance and culture, to share at least some of its ingrained idioms. And while Rodney hadn’t spent as much time around Kate Harper as some on this ship, he was still well aware of her ongoing struggle in that area.

“But yes, I believe they do say something like that. And while I’d be very surprised to hear they had bacon trees anywhere down there, I’m sure it’s lovely. It’s just…well, I guess every really good engineer I ever knew was a workaholic. And this ship deserves a really good engineer. If there’s work to be done – And there’s almost always something to be done. – I can’t think of anyone more responsible for it than me. I don’t know if that’s the proper Starfleet way of looking at it, but that’s how Chief Busard did it, and that’s how I’ve always done it, Captain.”

Pausing with a sigh, he took a thoughtful sip of his pineapple juice.

“Still…I guess it HAS been a long couple of days.”

“I am sure that it has,” Kate quietly empathized, noting with a concerned furrowed brow that Quinn did look rather tired. “But as for the ‘proper Starfleet way’ of looking at it? I cannot say that I have ever properly fit within that idealized mold of a military officer, so maybe it is improper of me to insist that my chief engineer take the time to tend to himself. But, despite not fitting that mold and meandering through my career, somehow here I am in command, so at least part of the way I look at it must be right.”

Harper leaned forward so that her chin was over her finger-laced knee to gently add, “And I see a man that needs a day off, Rodney.”

Quinn was quiet for a few moments after that, deep in thought. Not about Harper’s final assessment, of course. He may have been guilty on occasion of treating himself a bit like a hydrospanner when it came to workload versus personal time, particularly in times of crisis, but even a tool required occasional maintenance. No, Captain Harper was right about him needing a break, and it would soon cross the line into outright negligence to pretend otherwise. And while he enjoyed the holodeck as much as the next man, he’d no doubt be kicking himself if he put if off past the point of having a natural vacation spot at his disposal.

No, it was this sudden discussion about personal styles and the like that gave him pause. It was starting to seem as much like a conversation one might have with a friend as with their commanding officer. Odd that she could walk that line as closely as she did and still be effective. Hoping he wasn’t overstepping himself, he decided he’d risk sharing a little more.

“For what it’s worth, I never said I especially liked the proper Starfleet way. I mostly enrolled at the Academy because, well…my Dad wore the uniform at one time. And back then, during the war…well, let’s face it. Anyone in the uniform was basically a superhero, keeping the bad guys away. But to be honest, there are times I think the only reason I’ve stayed in Starfleet this long is because nobody else has toys as cool to play with. It’s certainly not because I like the military command structure, or fit into it naturally.”

“We do have the best toys, that much is certain,” Kate chuckled with a sweep of her head back toward the windows looking out over main engineering. “On Risa, we never had a culture of uniform worship, but I cannot dispute that there was no better way for young me to get to the leading edge of science than to join Starfleet, and our current mission certainly reinforces that decision. My career path since was undeniably affected by my difficulties integrating into the military lifestyle. So, I can relate to that.”

“Uniform worship.” Quinn had to repeat that one to himself aloud, and once or twice in the privacy of his own head. He instinctively wanted to say that was overstating things…and it was at the very least an example of painting a culture with an overly broad brush. He’d known plenty of people, educated professionals and otherwise, who took a somewhat skeptical view of Starfleet. He remembered stories of Percy’s deadbeat dad, for instance, who had always maintained that the military was no place for real scientists. Even his own aforementioned father had never actually bothered with the Academy. As he’d told it, he “Didn’t need four years and God knew how many hoops to jump through to explain to me why I was out there or what my damn job was.” And even at that, he’d not chosen to become a career man, resigning once his pledged tour of duty was complete and only re-enlisting during the Dominion War when the sheer scale of the crisis became evident.

Even so, there was no denying that the average citizen of the Federation did in fact regard the uniform he wore with a certain reverence. The Starfleet officer represented the values, the tenacity and the strength of the Federation in action. And while the service was far from perfect, just like the men and women who comprised it, he knew firsthand that Starfleet did work damn hard to deserve all that praise. The problem was that some of the people who wore the uniform were all too aware of the praise, and didn’t mind it one bit.

“Honestly, my issues with the military all essentially boil down to some of the people in that very uniform. I, uh…I occasionally think I could be a little more effective at this particular job if I was a little less hesitant to use my authority like a cudgel. But I’ve known too many officers who didn’t have that hangup, and they’ve always spurred the most doubt whether I belong here over the years. I mean, almost anywhere, you’ll have people in charge, and people working under then. And sometimes, that boss is just going to be an entitled, power mad dickhead. But when you’re a civilian, there’s usually something you can do about it, right? You go to HR or something, and you complain. Here, they call that “going over your head”, and you catch high holy hell for it. You’ve got a power mad dickhead here, and they know they’re operating under a system that enshrines their right to be a power mad dickhead so long as their dep…their people get results. Whether that department hates their jobs, succeeds in spite of their CO? Nobody ever even thinks to ask.

“Anyway, uh…I’ve been lucky that it hasn’t been my experience with this department. I swore I’d never be that kind of CO, and I know for a fact that a lot of folks on this ship must breathe a lot easier knowing we don’t have that kind of CO in the big chair.”

“Why, thank you, Rodney!” Kate leaned back in the chair with a delighted smile, clasping her hands as a warm rush of gratification filled her at the notion of her crew thinking of her in such a way. Of course, it was hearsay, but she had no reason to doubt that Quinn was at least somewhat connected among the crew, and he certainly seemed earnest enough. Regardless, it was heartening to hear of any successes in achieving a goal she had constantly pursued ever since command of anyone at all was first thrust upon her.

“You know, I do see it as part of my job to take care of my people, and also to ensure that they are taking care of themselves.” With a jovial chuckle to lighten her concerned tone and expression, she appealed, “So, please do not turn me in to one of those—how did you say, dickheads?—by making me bludgeon you with a cudgel of authority just to get you to take shore leave.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Quinn replied just a bit haltingly, albeit with a smile, absorbing the reality that he’d just repeatedly cursed in front of his commanding officer. He’d had every reason to expect she’d tolerate it—that was sort of the point of this line of discussion—but it was still a bit surreal. And of course he’d walked right into Harper’s redirect back to the original reason for her visit. Well played, Captain, well played. “Now that you mention it, my hoverboard may indeed have been idling in my closet for too long. And…in about five minutes, I’ll have already run every diagnostic I can think of at least twice. There still needs to be somebody keeping an eye on things down here, of course, but I know there are a fair few officers and crew onboard who’ve taken the engineering extension course. If a few of them could be temporarily reassigned to a skeleton watch, and you promised to give me a call at the first sign of trouble…I would agree to take my hands off the wheel for awhile. No cudgel required.”

With an exuberant clap of her hands, Kate stood, beaming. “Splendid! I think we can manage all of that. Now, get off my ship, Rodney.”

Rising from his own chair, Rodney stood to attention, restraining his grin in all due deference to an official commandment from on high. “Yes, ma’am! Permission to finish my pineapple juice first, ma’am?”

“Granted!”