Ship in Harbor -- But Not For Much Longer

Posted on Tue Apr 30th, 2024 @ 12:51am by Captain Rylan Gray

615 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Opening Moves
Location: Bridge | Deck 1 | USS Thunderbird
Timeline: MD027 - 1530

[To: Ship-Wide Distribution, USS Thunderbird]
[Copy: Engineering Team, Thunderbird Project AK3, Utopia Planita Fleet Yard
[From: Captain Rylan Gray, Commanding Officer, USS Thunderbird]

Effective tomorrow ...

"Computer, delete that last," Rylan said as he reached for a cup of Yorkshire tea. There were times over the past month when he would have sworn that the only thing that had gotten him through was a good cup of tea. Well, that and Trusk. His Chief Yeoman, already making a name for himself with the endless list of infractions he had no authority to submit but did so anyways, had proved to be able at managing the tidal wave of information threatening to engulf the Ready Room on any give day. And Possum, of course, who was just as good a First Officer as Rylan had imagined he would be.

He swiveled his desk chair so that he could see the bit of shrapnel, from the Ark Royal, suspended in a clear cube and mounted on a wooden base. Some had wondered, particularly the counselors determined to crawl through every milometer of his brain after the Ark Royal exploded, if he would be able to take another ship out after all that. A part of him wondered that as well and the answer came in a old book of sayings, "Salt from My Attic." Well, not the answer but a way of expressing what was in his heart. "A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for," he said softly.

Yes, he was ready. He didn't want to play it safe; he wanted to get back out there. Get back to work. A month of preparation was enough. More than. The question now was how to word what he wanted to say. A part of him wanted to go running through the corridors of the ship spreading the word much as Paul Revere and William Dawes once had. And while he might have back when he was the First Officer, he was the captain now and he needed to behave better.

"At least part of the time anyway," Rylan said with a cheeky grin.

"Computer, resume."

"Ready," the computer responded. Rylan had wanted to have the computer speak properly with what everyone else would have called a British accent. The engineering team had disagreed. Strongly.

I have in my hand a more than 200-page report from the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yard engineering team assigned to the construction and preparation of the USS Thunderbird that basically boils down to this. We're ready to depart. My sincere gratitude to the Commander LeCroix and the Fleet Yard engineering team for all their hard work and long hours. My thanks also to every member of the Thunderbird's crew for ensuring that all departments have completed the departure checklist.

Our departure is scheduled for 0800 hours tomorrow after a brief change of command ceremony on the bridge. Because we are needed on our patrol route, there will be no celebratory party but I urge you all to take a moment tonight. Raise a glass. And then tomorrow, we will assume normal duty shift rotation. Owing to space limitations, only the Bridge crew is expected to attend the ceremony.

"Computer, play back the message."

The computer responded and Rylan, teacup in hand, listened. When it had finished, he instructed the computer to send the message. He thought about contacting Possum but decided against it. Everyone should decide for themselves how they would spend their last night in port. He would spend the night in his quarters, probably going through the briefing material again, while he watched a Rugby Match.

 

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