A Fantale by Falstaffe
“Everthing all right, sir?”
Lt.
J.G. Geordi LaForge eased the pallet of scientific equipment down to the deck
plate, brought it to rest outside the flight deck’s airlock, slumped with his
backside against the bulkhead. He massaged his skull above and below the metal
band of his VISOR, “Fine. Just a nagging headache. Playing around with the
interface settings again. It’s probably nothing.”
Chief
O’Brian Ah’d sympathetically, turned
his attention back to the shuttle traffic console. He raised his eyebrows, gave
a hint of smirk, and asked, “Sir, don’t you think this is a little backwards?”
“Chief?”
“Well,
here you are delivering cargo and I’m the reception committee,” O’Brien wagged
the PADD in his hand with their new arrival’s accommodations, “And our Second
Officer is out playing chauffer.”
“Yeah,
well, it’s not often we get an extended stay at Vulcan, so the shore leave
rotations did leave us a little light-handed.” Geordi ground a palm into his
forehead, “Then I made the mistake of telling Lt. Corbin I was headed this way.
If I didn’t owe him from last week’s poker game-” The wall began to hum, indicating
that the landing pad on the other side of the wall was springing life, and so Geordi
sprang onto his feet. He held out his hand.
Chief
O’Brien handed off the PADD with a smile, “Thanks. I hear this Sel’Don is a
tricky customer.”
“Oh,
he’s a genius all right,” Geordi acknowledge, but then added sotto voce, “But a
quirky one, I’ll grant you.”
“Transporter
phobia-in a Vulcan?” Geordi nodded in agreement, so O’Brien continued, “The
Enterprise’s transporters are top o’ the line.” He leaned in, conspiratorially,
“And I should know-I’ve had my nose in the bloody manuals for weeks now. Pardon.”
“Trying
for your Transporter Rating?” Geordi asked, and O’Brien nodded. The two had
only a few moments more to banter before they were interrupted by the hiss of
airlock doors pulling back. Two figures made their way from Shuttlecraft 13. To
the left was Enterprise’s Second Officer, Lt. Data, a sallow-colored,
golden-eyed android. To his right walked a tall, studious-looking Vulcan with
razor-sharp bangs and the brocaded robes of the Vulcan Science Academy. The two
men were engaged in an animated debate, although their words were garbled until
they exited the din of the shuttlecraft bay.
“Mister
Data, if that’s your position, than I highly doubt the integrity of your ship’s
computer systems!”
Geordi
and O’Brien’s eyes flicked to each other, then back to the new arrivals.
Data
replied, “I assure you, Mister Sel’Don, I have thoroughly studied the analytical
studies of all aspects of the Enterprise’s design and construction. You are in
no danger.”
Geordi
stepped in front of the pallet of equipment, made ready to greet the two, while
O’Brien tried to look as inoffensive as possible and melt into the background.
“Mister Sel’Don.” Geordi forced himself
to brush off the implied insult and made his tone as welcoming as possible. “I’m
Lieutenant La Forge. Allow me to welcome you to the Enterprise, the flagship of
the Federation-the finest ship in the galaxy. At least we like to think so. Data,
welcome back.”
“Finest
ship?” The Vulcan shot back, with more passion than Geordi had thought Vulcans were
capable of. “Are you not aware of the design flaw?”
“Design
flaw?”
“Your
shuttle bay. It’s nowhere near the fantail.”
“The
fantail?” Geordi repeated blankly.
“Yes,
the fantail,” The Vulcan held up his hands, shaped them to resemble the back
end of a starship, a distinctive curve beneath.
“Oh,
uh, well, that’s because…” Geordi started, confused and unsure how or why that
mattered.
Data
stepped forward, “Geordi-if I may? As I was explaining to Mister Sel’Don, while
it is true that the hanger bay on many starships is located above the fantail,
that was to solve a problem that no longer exists.”
“Problem?”
O’Brien asked, surprised that he’d allowed himself to be drawn into a dispute
between superior officers.
“Yes,
the problem of crashing shuttles.”
“What?!”
O’Brien and Geordi asked together.
Data
continued, nonplussed, “Early designers recognized that—after a shuttle crash—repair
costs would be much lower if there was less starship next to the bay. Hence,
the fantail. However, the Enterprise’s shuttles are much more reliable, and
rarely suffer a catastrophic incident.”
“Data,
I don’t think-” Geordi began, but then Sel’Don cut him off.
“Are
you sure, Lt. Data? I had it on good authority that the original starship designers—human
designers—accidentally ordered structural members that were too short, and
because of time constraints, had to use what material they had on hand.”
Data
nodded thoughtfully, “Ahh, the missing meters theory. Hmm.” The android went
silent as if contemplating the truth of it.
Geordi
threw his hands up in the air, “What?”
“Regardless
of the origin,” the Vulcan pressed on, “Everyone knows it’s bad luck.”
O’Brien
stepped up, “He’s right, Lieutenant,” he said, hands spread wide. “Everyone
knows that a starship has a fantail to keep the devil from grabbin’ hold of it.”
He gave Geordi a broad wink.
Geordi
almost dropped the PADD.
“Apologies,
Lt. LaForge. At the Vulcan Science Academy I have so little contact with humans
that I was concerned about fitting in with a mostly human crew. Lt. Data
offered to help me assimilate smoothly and noted that a shared humorous
falsehood—typically of exaggerated proportions—often serves as an…ice breaker?”
He said, face scowling as he obviously wondered where frozen H2O figured into human
social interactions.
Geordi
relaxed, chagrined that an android and a Vulcan had conspired to tell a joke.
Not only that-it had been successful. “You got me, and good. Now, if I can
welcome you properly?” Geordi gestured to the pallet next to the airlock, “Here’s
the collection of spores, molds and fungi for your lab, Mister Sel’Don.”
“Oh,
they’re not for my lab.” The Vulcan replied. “They’re pets.”
Behind
the VISOR, Geordi’s eyes narrowed, and his forehead wrinkled.
O’Brien
asked, “The headache?”
“Oh
yeah. With a vengeance.”
(So much of Star Trek is centered on the bridge, but a starship has many other locations, with interesting tales of their own to tell. This is the first of--hopefully-- a few "Fantales" that I have planned-stories from the flight deck of the Enterprise and her sister-ships. It was a bit challenging to squeeze the premise into the thousand-word limit of "flash fiction." Hope you enjoyed it.)
