Engineering - Ensign Gil Reporting For Duty

Posted April 8, 2021, 9:43 p.m. by Ensign Gil (Engineer) (Tom Shore)

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Engineering - Ensign Gil Reporting For Duty

Posted by Ensign Gil (Engineer) in Engineering - Ensign Gil Reporting For Duty

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Engineering - Ensign Gil Reporting For Duty
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻

Gil’s eyes widened at the sight of the captain and the numerous substances oozing from him. He took it in stride, however and simply nodded as Cobb led them to his ready room. At his question Gil nodded. “Yes, just Gil. I never had a last name. It’s a pleasure to be aboard, captain.” Then he heard the captain hiss and turned in time to see the security officer laughing, and was quick to put two and two together.

He made a mental note to head down to decontamination after talking with the captain.

Gil shrugged at the captain’s second question. “Not really. I’m more interested in the mechanical aspects that deal with containing them. Ever since I was a kid I had a talent for machines. It came with surviving on a world full of junk. To be perfectly honest, it was either engineering or xenolinguistics. I’m very adept at learning new languages quickly. Again, something I picked up in my youth. I didn’t have a fancy universal translator to help me understand the numerous tongues of the galaxy.” He shrugged. “I originally applied to the USS Endeavor as a translator, but they went with a betazoid instead.” He shrugged again. “I didn’t even hear about the Leviathan until a friend recommended me the posting.”

  • Ensign Gil

“A friend, eh?” the captain replied, wondering what manner of friend made recommendations for highly classified vessels on highly dangerous missions. “Someone on my crew?”

As the pair continued to traverse the corridors of the Leviathan, Gil would notice several officers staring in horror at the state of their captain, before darting as quickly as was possible out of the debris path. But eventually the pair reached the ready room and Zachariah was quick to usher the engineer inside.

“Please, have a seat and I will be with you in a few moments.”

Cobb disappeared into a side room, leaving Gil all alone in the main ready room. The layout and furniture were typical for ships of the line - a single desk and terminal, a larger conference table with six chairs, a couch running the full length of the left wall, above which rose the observation window. And on the right wall, the only item that marked these surroundings as belonging to Zachariah Cobb - a tall and well-stocked antique drinks cabinet.

Appearing anew a few moments later, it was a cleaner and more composed captain who now moved to this cabinet and filled a pair of tumblers with whiskey. Handing one to the engineer, Cobb sipped at his own as he settled into his chair, his eyes catching the glowing green handprint on the ensign’s shoulder and producing a sharp moan of alarm.
“Ah. I…I can arrange for my yeoman to bring a fresh tunic,” he offered, before adding with increasing composure, “although in truth you learn not to value your uniform so highly on a ship such as this one.”

Reclining back in his seat, Zachariah studied the young man as he sipped at his own whiskey. “I was an engineer myself before I became a captain,” he remarked. “So I can appreciate an interest in machines and their workings. And an interest in containment procedures will be well met. It is a key responsibility for the engineering team that they provide suitable containment units to prevent any kind of breach.”

“So,” he continued, his expression growing more serious, “have you ever seen an anomaly before now, lad? Or have they, until today, existed only in campfire stories?”

  • Captain Zachariah Cobb

“I say friend, but really I was more approached by a Starfleet agent who found my expertise in engineering to be of interest.” Gil shrugged as he followed the Captain into his ready room. He took a seat and waited for the captain who eventually returned, much to Gil’s relief, in a new uniform. And at Cobb’s noting of the glowing stain on his uniform Gil simply shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” And indeed he had, growing up on a junk planet you got used to stained clothes. However the glowing was what perturbed him so he was happy to accept Cobb’s offer for a new tunic. However when Gil sniffed the glass of whiskey Cobb had given to him he wrinkled his nose and opted to just cradle the glass in his hand and hope Cobb wouldn’t notice he wasn’t going to drink from it.

Gil shrugged at the captain’s question. “I never really knew about anomalies. Never heard of them until I was offered the position here. However I’ve been reading up on containment procedures and have already begun to think of ways that I could help improve them. I can link you a file of my findings whenever you want me to.” Then he frowned. “My question is… what do we plan to do with these anomalies? I mean in the long term?”
- Ensign Gil

The captain shrugged. “Us? We deliver them, unharmed as much as is possible, to the base and then transfer them into long-term containment. What the base researchers do after that, however, is none of my concern.”

He locked eyes with the young man, attempting to read the intention behind his query.
“Mr Gil, the anomalies that we have in containment, every single one of them has taken at least one life. Some of them have taken several. Some, hundreds. Some of them,” his posture stiffened, “would see this entire universe reduced to dust in the blink of an eye, had we not been there to stop them. So number one, we capture them and contain them to restrict their capacity to do harm. Number two, we study them, learn all that we can about them, using every scientific method at our disposal. And usually make an enemy in the process. But occasionally,” he concluded with a chuckle, his mind recalling the anomaly known as ‘Carroll’ and its penchant for board games, “we end up with a friend.”

The doorchime chirp halted his soliloquy, Cobb running a hand across his long beard before calling out “Enter.”
Seconds later and a nervous-looking yeoman scurried in, handed a fresh tunic to Gil and then scurried out again.

“My washroom is just there if you want to clean up, lad,” Cobb nodded to a small door at the back of the room. “Also, if you have new ideas for containment then I would be most interested to hear them. As, I’m sure, would your new chief.”
He considered the cybernetically-enhanced engineering chief with a curious smile, before adding quickly, “Have you met Mr Durheim yet?”

  • Captain Zachariah Cobb

Gil listened the captain and nodded with deep consideration before finally nodding. “Sounds like a dangerous, yet rewarding, job.” He smirked. “I’m sure I’ll fit right in then.” When the yeoman entered with a new tunic Gil accepted it and, before Cobb could gesture to the washroom, quickly took the contaminated tunic off and handed it to the yeoman who seemed somewhat scared of it as it continued to glow in the spot Cobb touched it. Now it was Gil’s turn to show off his physique, a wiry frame with a handful of scars, laser whip marks on his back and what looked like bites on his shoulders and on the right side of his abdomen. There was also a black tattoo on the bottom side of his right forearm, a sort of alien barcode, and a bitter reminder of Gil’s former life as a slave. “A friend? Well that’s not such a far fetched concept for me, sir. My mother was a giant bug.”

His eyes caught the scars, like hieroglyphs, the tale of his existence etched all across his body. Words of curiosity and concern edged to the tip of his tongue. But no further. The propriety of feigned ignorance silencing him at the last.

As for the comment on his mother, Zachariah was not sure whether the words were truth or jest. And so apart from a wide-eyed expression, the captain said no more.

Gil was quick to cover up with the tunic, however, and regarded Cobb’s question about Durheim with a shake of his head. “Afraid I haven’t, sir. But I’ll be sure to fill him in on any ideas I might come up with. Right now, however, I need to acquaint myself with your current methods of containment before I can build upon them.” Gil smiled and nodded to the captain. “Is there anything else you need from me, sir?”

  • Gil

“I am sure Mr Durheim will be keen to put you to work, lad. A talent such as yours should not be left idle on a ship as busy as this,” Cobb remarked. “But if you’re angling for a tour of our containment area, then I would be happy to deliver one myself, if you like? I will promise not to contaminate a second tunic,” he chuckled.

  • Captain Zachariah Cobb

Gil smirked, everyone had the same reaction when he mentioned his mother. The kind queen of a now extinct race of insectoids had taken him in as a child when his former masters dumped him on one of their hunting worlds. She taught him how to survive, and she had been as loving and caring as a human mother to him. He missed her every day.

At the offer of a tour of the containment area Gil’s eyes lit up with interest and he nodded. “Yes, I would very much like that, sir.” Then he chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be going through plenty of uniforms during my time here.”

  • Gil

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