From: "Nora Rivkis" 
Date: Sat, 22 Mar 1997 15:46:12 -0500
Subject: Re: USS CHESAPEAKE: Dinner in Ten-Forward/MCO Reports

> Daniel turned as well, to find himself being approached by a dark-
> haired Starfleet Marine.  Closer inspection revealed him to be a 
> First Lieutenant.  Daniel stopped, and the Marine came to a crisp 
> attention before him.
> 
> "Shachor, David Giora, First Lieutenant, reporting as ordered, 
> sir."  He handed the Exec the PADD he had held.
*Play it by the book, Colonel.* In his own mind he used his old
rank without noticing it, though he had no right to anymore. *You
don't have to like him, you just have to work with him.*
> Brennan skimmed the man's jacket very quickly, then nodded.  "Ah.  
> You are our Marine CO."  He looked up at him and smiled.  "Welcome 
> aboard, Lieutenant."
> 
> "Thank you, sir."  Shachor remained straightfaced.
*And if he thinks you *are* going to like him, he's got news coming
to him.*
> Brennan decided to match the Marine's demeanor, and, letting his 
> smile fade, he motioned for the Lieutenant to follow him.
> 
> "If you will walk with me, Lieutenant, I will take you up to OPS, 
> who can assign you your quarters."
*All I need is my Marines. Give me my men and stay out of my
way.* He hid a smile at the notion of what his quarters would be
like. *No sleeping daytimes under a sun-tarp here. No living off
what you can scrounge or steal. I'll have to keep the Marines from
going soft... but they'll be in better shape, at least.* David glanced
again at the ship's XO, murmured a somewhat belated, "Thank you,
sir," and followed him down the corridor. *Have to keep myself
from going soft, too.*
 
> The two men started to walk briskly toward the nearest turbolift.
Two Hours Later, Lt. Shachor's Quarters:
David sat -- crouched, rather, as he'd been trained to be able to move
quickly -- on the floor in his own quarters, still getting used to the place. 
It felt safe... safer than he'd like. A safe place, alone, held too many
memories.
FLASHBACK:
David crouched on the ground away from the one beam of sunlight 
touching the floor of his cave. What sunlight could touch, so could
enemy fire, travelling along the same straight line. Or friendly fire. It
didn't matter. Half-naked, more than half-starved, much more than 
half-mad, David couldn't seem to recall the difference very well any-
more.
They would find him. He knew that. He had trained them too well.
Time was all he asked, and not much of that -- one more raid. One
more, to take out that many more Lebanese, to soak his hands
once again in blood that could never pay for Yael's. One more.
He had prayed for just one more for months now. Through the
fourth raid, and the fifth, and the sixth. The glorious seventh, when
he had taken down fifteen Arab soldiers and escaped unscathed
through the rain of bullets from his own Israeli troops, and the
eighth, most recently, when among his dead had been a woman
and he had stopped beside her body to cry.
*One more.* The cave was almost hidden from the surface. He
knew the terrain out here like no one else; he had spent his entire
career in the north. Even his men, the men who were now hunting
him, did not know this crevice. There would be time.
David licked dry lips and waited, much more than half-mad, for
the troops to pass overhead.
END FLASHBACK
He shuddered, crouched on the floor of a strange starship. The
uniform felt much too restrictive. It was well into Beta shift and
he didn't have his soldiers yet anyway; he didn't need to stay in
it. He changed into a pair of civilian khakis without a shirt -- the
uniform he knew best; and shuddered a little bit; and opened his
door. He would need to get to know his shipmates at some point,
though he couldn't say he exactly liked the idea -- he'd studied
the records and wondered *why* the officer corps of this ship had
to be so overwhelmingly human? He couldn't face going out again
tonight, but the open door registered both visually and on the
computer should anyone check on him; if someone chose to come
see what the new MCO was like... well, he'd do his best to welcome
them.
NRPG: Anyone who wants, take it from there.
Respectfully submitted,
Naomi Rivkis
1LT David Shachor
MCO, USS Chesapeake

Go to messages for March 1997 or Main Archive Page