Handing Over the Keys
Posted on March 23rd, 2011 by Douglas McKnight and Ian Blackthorne

“Handing Over the Keys”
Doug McKnight and Ian Blackthorne

“Junk, junk, old requisition forms, junk…oh, hey, Gencodia troop deployments. Might want to look after this one.” McKnight muttered to himself, adding the last of that group of PADDs to a small bin of similar devices that contained still pertinent Star Fleet tactical data likely to remain sensitive for the forseeable future. The remainder, he simply deleted the contents of and casually tossed them into a more sizable bin bound for…huh, come to think of it, who WAS in charge of keeping and distributing these things? Well, no matter; minutia like that was what Lieutenants were for. Someone would no doubt be glad to have the information storage devices back. O’Grady was sure to think, though of course never dare say that the time for sorting paperwork was long before the ship had docked at Vinland, but as far as Doug was concerned, this was the definition of efficiency. After all, he’d been meaning to clean out his desk for awhile, on account of having a few items buried in there that he’d like to bring with him on the brief announced shore leave. And the biggie had just been excavated.

“Gotcha.” he lightly shouted in satisfaction as he examined the image of the baseball cap now resting upon his head in the reflection from his currently deactivated wall console. Not his usual New Phoenix Sentinels cap, this, nor even the Leathernecks cap he broke out for the occasional inter-department baseball games in Lost Harbor, but rather a souvenir from his last visit to Vinland, bearing the logo of the O’Hara’s pub. He was supposed to meet Percy there in a bit for a late lunch, and a visible indication of a repeat customer couldn’t hurt their chances of quick service, or so his scheming brain figured. Regardless, however, a baseball cap should never look or feel newly starched for longer than absolutely necessary. Being crushed under a small mountain of PADDs for weeks on end in his upper right desk drawer had helped with that considerably.

“And that’s why you’re a professional, Doug.” he said with a smile, removing the cap and laying it down upon his desk. Sadly, he was still on duty for the moment, and the uniform code still applied.

The door chime chirped, and once acknowledged, Blackthorne arrived with a traveling bag over his shoulder, wearing a look on his face of impending vacation. “Colonel,” he began, a smile involuntarily forming on his face as the sentence finished, “Commander T’Kirr and I are going on our honeymoon. I am, effective immediately, placing Atlantis under your command with Commander Harper as your Executive Officer. Admiral Zuriyev will have orders for you when you report in.”

“…huh.” The news that Blackthorne intended to go on his honeymoon was, in itself, hardly a surprise. It was kind of what one did after getting hitched, or so he’d always heard. And nice as Gencodia was, as reluctant to leave as he’d noticed some of the others were, far too much work had been done for that to count. So, he’d kind of seen a departure coming. Being left in command, on the other hand, came as a bit of a surprise. Then again, it wasn’t as though command was anything especially new to him…he’d just have to make sure all the paperwork was seen to here before he walked into the avalanche of it that would likely await him once shore leave ended. Speaking of which…

“Yes, sir. And is there any particular timeframe in which such reporting in should occur? Or…is that up to me, now? Within reason, of course.” he finished with a half grin.

With a chuckle, Ian answered, “A delay of a couple of days here wouldn’t be out of the question, considering how long we’ve been out. Just don’t keep the Admiral waiting too long; he’s not known for his patience.”

“I’ll take your word on it, sir.” he said as he considered the chronometer a moment. “72 hours,” he soon decided, “countdown beginning at 0800 tomorrow morning. I’ll send a memo to that effect or something before anyone receives authorization to disembark. Beyond that, I’ll just have to place my faith in being insufficiently motivated to work on REALLY annoying him. I mean hey, one way or another, this command ends with my demotion, right?”

“Well, that’s certainly one way of looking at it. Then again, knowing Zuriyev, you may be quite grateful to step down upon my return. Either way, all you have to do to succeed is to piss off fewer Admirals than I have. Easy enough, right?”

McKnight sure as hell hoped so. He did have that standing job offer from Gerard, but as far as screwing up within the existing chain of command went, none of his drinking buddies were in the Admiralty, let alone running Alpha Quadrant Operations. All the same, though, giving it some thought, as far as the nerves problem went…there really wasn’t one. He was sure aspects of the job would prove a bit overwhelming, both in ways he expected and ways he did not, but even so, he was also pretty sure he could do this. He’d had lives in his care for as long as he could remember, and in his capacity as an officer for the past decade…which he made a mental note to get all depressed about later, but for right now, he was inclined to call experience by its name. Only the scale was novel, really. And now that he found this challenge dropped on his lap, he found as well that he looked forward to seeing what he could make of it.

“Guess I’ll find out, sir.” With that, remembering he was overdue for his daily fix, he crossed over to the replicator and ordered his typical raktajino, three cream two sugar, his gaze inquiring whether Blackthorne wanted anything while his voice stayed on subject. “So, while I’m slaving away to make sure you’ve still got a ship to return to, where are you scurrying off to, if it’s not prying of me to ask? I sort of figure you’d have worked out travel plans before you packed for it.”

Ian shook his head to decline the beverage. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” he answered, thinking of the vast array of places Dr. Carre had made available to them. “But we’ve yet to decide. There’s just not been a lot of time to think about it, so we’re just going, ohhhh,” Ian pointed to a bulkhead and finished, “that-a-way.”

“Watch out for black holes and such, then.” McKnight got out in between tentative sips of his raktajino. He had always believed, and had programmed his office replicator to agree, that whatever planet it was coming from, a cup of coffee should always initially be just a bit too hot to drink comfortably. Much better chance of avoiding lukewarm caffeine at the tail end that way, provided you monitored it vigilantly.

“Well, better get back to this if I’m going to have it done on schedule. Enjoy yourselves, stay safe, but most of all…” he let that hang a bit as he settled back into his chair. “Remember to get me a souvenir.”

“Will do, as long as you take good care of my ship,” Ian grinned. “Computer, transfer command and all command functions to Colonel Douglas McKnight, authorization Blackthorne phi upsilon kappa four two, effective immediately, and note the change of command in the ship’s log.” Satisfied with the computer’s response, he nodded and offered, “May the winds be at your back,” as he left.

McKnight watched him go for a moment before he turned back to the last few PADDs. It wasn’t long, however, before his work was interrupted one last time as he became aware of a grin spreading across his face, to the accompaniment of a low chuckle.

“MY ship.”