phil jones2

by J. R. Karlsson

  Phil realised the mistake now in asking Annika a question, she was inexplicably fascinated in him and would undoubtedly ask one back.

  'I...' Phil started, then found himself realising he couldn't lie to this woman, Star Command and Agent Smith both knew who he was and what he did. If he were to lie now it would undoubtedly come back to haunt him.

  'I didn't really do anything back on Earth.' he admitted, staring down at where he thought his feet must have been in shame. 'Everywhere I worked I was given the sack.'

  'That's terrible!' Annika replied.

  'Well... terrible for me yeah, they had reason enough to do so. The fire brigade were getting tired of being called out because of another incident involving me. Eventually the local council decided it would be best to put me on incapacity pay and keep me away from anything that could be damaged.'

  Annika's eyes were watering again. 'You poor, poor man. To go all this life being the chosen one and have nobody from your home planet realise it. You're a hero to have survived as long as you have done.'

  Phil didn't feel very heroic at the moment, he could barely talk to the woman walking next to him let alone save Star Command from the Voravians.

  'I'm not a hero, I'm just some big, dumb idiot that got lucky with a test.'

  She gripped him by the shirt and pressed him up against the wall of the corridor, the tears replaced with a steely tone of determination. 'Now listen here, you are a hero Phil Jones and I'll not hear you saying otherwise. It wasn't luck that got you through that first test even if Agent Smith thinks you fluked it. Don't you see? The glove chose you, it believes you have the power to save us. I believe in you.' she loosened her grip, as if realising what she was doing and stepped away from him. Was that a hint of embarrassment he saw?

  'If you'll continue to follow me we shall soon reach your residential suite.'

  They walked in an increasingly awkward silence then, neither of them wanting to talk about what had just happened. Phil really didn't know how to feel about having a follower with such zealous belief in his capabilities. He'd never had anyone think he would amount to anything outside of a computer game other than the lazy fat slob that he was. He had travelled wastelands and visited castles and traversed entire continents with his WASD keys but the world outside his window was a level entirely beyond his capabilities.

  Now he was here in some vast space station straight out of a science fiction novel being told he was the saviour of humanity and having hundreds of people applauding his actions. He knew he hadn't done anything of note though, he was more inclined to believe Agent Smith's interpretation of events. He wasn't a chosen one and the glove had simply landed on him by chance. Why hadn't his box thing sucked the glove off him and sent him packing? Smith's every attempt to discredit him had been foiled in some way or another. Phil hoped he'd find something he'd fail at miserably so that he could be relieved of the glove and jetted off home on the next shuttle to Earth. At least, part of him believed that.

  There was a small voice that was rising in volume inside Phil, it told him that the things he was doing weren't insignificant and it had begun echoing Annika's sentiments. That Smith had failed so many times was not incompetence on the Agent's part, something else was going on here and furthermore, part of him wanted to stay and find out what he could become.

  Annika came to a sudden halt outside one of the many doors they had passed in this long corridor. 'Well, here we are then.'

  Phil once more had to come up with a response. 'Yes, here we are.' terrible.

  Annika misread the expression on his face as she placed her palm on a sensor that opened the door. 'The conditions of the room may not be up to your usual standards, you won't have to stay in them very long though.'

  The doors swished open to reveal an immaculately luxurious room. Classical music was being lightly pumped in through a number of unseen speakers and a platter of assorted foods bid him welcome on the sturdy glass table.

  Settling himself down on the cushioned recliner, Phil proceeded to dig into the buffet. Annika stood by the door watching him with a look of amusement on her face.

  'I trust this is to your liking, glove-wearer?'

  'mmfmmmfmmhhrm' Phil replied, crumbs sullying the spotless carpet.

  Annika entered the room and pressed a series of buttons on the control panel on the inside of the door, a faint blue light swept over the floor and the crumbs vanished.

  'If there is anything else I can do for you, please let me know.' she said hopefully, pursing her lips and gazing down at him as he continued to munch on the buffet.

  Phil nodded briefly at her in acknowledgement and continued to devour anything that looked remotely edible.

  'Honestly glove-wearer... if there's anything else you... er... desire. Please, let me know.'

  Phil swallowed, it had little to do with the food. 'What... what do you mean?'

  The familiar emergency siren started wailing in his quarters, he looked around in a panic but couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong this time.

  A console blinked open and the rattled features of Grand Admiral Burroughs looked over to Annika. 'The Scavanger has come under attack just outside an asteroid belt, the glove-wearer's vessel is the only one fast enough to get there in time. The crew are assembled, there's no time to talk, get to the bay immediately.'

  Phil instantaneously realised that this was bad news, and not just because he was being torn away from the buffet. He had seen enough episodes to know that whenever a ship was the only one able to get to a disaster it would invariably go horribly wrong.

  Hitching his belt, he rose from the chair and attempted to scoop up as much of the platter's remains as possible, his efforts were thwarted by Annika's firm grasp once more.

  'We don't have time for the food, glove-wearer. You must come with me immediately!'

  He caught a fleeting glimpse of the platter and his heart sank as she half-dragged, half-guided him through the corridors and down toward the docking bay.

  Phil did his absolute best to avoid colliding with anything that could possibly initiate the Star Command self destruct mechanism, mercifully he seemed to manage this as they came hurtling out a turbo lift and toward a huge set of bay doors that slid open with surprising speed at their arrival.

  He expected a large line of able-bodied crewmen to greet him with sharp salutes, instead there was a short ramp and the solitary curved beauty of his new ship as its engines started to glow.

  Given no time to admire the vessel, Annika continued to yank him by the arm and hauled him up the ramp into the darkness beyond.

  A series of blinking lights greeted him as they rushed through the dark corridor and into the main cockpit of the ship.

  'Strap yourself in, glove-wearer.' RJ said from the pilot's seat. 'You're in for a fast take-off.'

  Phil plunked himself on the nearest seat and started fiddling with the safety belt, though doing so with one hand seemed virtually impossible, especially when there didn't appear to be any harness.

  'You can't do anything right, can you Mr. Jones?' Agent Smith said, keying a few buttons by his seat and causing a faint blue glow to settle around his chair. 'This forcefield should take the brunt of your impact should our pilot prove...unreliable.'

  'All occupants are now safe, have a nice day.' the computer chimed.

  RJ tipped his hat to the invisible voice and punched a code into a holographic keypad that had sprung up in front of him. 'Well ladies and gents.' he spoke through the intercom over the now deafening roar of the engines. 'Here we go.'

  The forcefield that kept the ship in the docking bay faded out and the engines roared into life, sending them hurtling out into the vast darkness of space. The G-force pressed Phil's spine deep into his seat, he'd hate to think the effects on people with less padding.

  The engine's volume dropped down to tolerable levels now that they were out of the hangar, the whole ordeal was brief and relatively painless.

  'Preparing jump to hyper warp
, caution is advised.' the computer supplied.

  Hyper warp? Was that some sort of cross between warp speed and...

  The stars stretched out before them like rain sliding out across a plane window, then everything went blue and purple.

  With a thrumming noise, the force field he had been encased in dimmed into nothingness, every chair in the cockpit swivelled to face him then.

  'As loathed as I am to have to say this Mr. Jones, it is a necessary duty. You are in command of this expedition and the crew is at your disposal.'

  Phil blinked. 'What?'

  Annika offered him a radiant smile. 'You are the chosen one, the glove-wearer, the Grand Admiral himself insisted that you be offered the position of command... Captain Jones.'

  'Any orders sir?' RJ asked from the front.

  'Er... steady as she goes.'

  'Very good sir.'

  The main viewer flashed open, superimposing itself over the blueish tinge of hyperwarp, the engine noise increased slightly. 'I believe we should inform the Captain of the situation, don't you?' Professor Hanniman said, pouring over a console filled with engine-related statistics that Phil didn't even try to read.

  'We were getting to that, Engineer.' Smith said, not masking the distaste in his words or his choice of title for the professor.

  'The Grand Admiral informed us that the Scavanger came under attack, what else do we know about the situation?' Annika asked.

  'According to the transmitted logs the Scavanger was on a routine mineral survey through the NX1 asteroid belt when it picked up an unusually large amount of Voravian com traffic in the area. Captain Darwin ordered that they abandon their survey and hunt down the source of the signal, that was the last we heard of the Scavanger until a brief transmission from one Ensign Trigger Hawkins who informed Star Command that they had come under attack. The message was brief and panicked and didn't specify whether it was Voravian in nature or not.'

  Phil watched as the rest of the crew mused thoughtfully over this information.

  'So what we have here could be a rescue operation?' Hanniman asked.

  'Or a deadly conflict.' Smith replied. 'The vessel or vessels that attacked the Scavanger may still be lurking near the belt.'

  Hanniman looked worried. 'I've been over the system schematics and while this ship is a beauty she's no match for the Scavanger. So whatever took that out will undoubtedly make short work of us.'

  'Then we can only hope that whatever attacked the Scavanger isn't still out there waiting for us.' Annika said. 'What do you think, glove-wearer?'

  In truth Phil Jones wasn't entirely sure what to make of most things in life, let alone queries from fellow officers. That he had suddenly found himself Captain of a small ship hurtling through space faster than the speed of light was a large enough pill to swallow without having to give orders.

  'I... I think we have to be prepared for both those things happening, as well as other stuff.'

  The faces continued to stare at him, waiting for more.

  'The problem with rescue missions is that something always goes wrong, we're just going to have to try our best and make it so.'

  Smith frowned at him. 'Make it so?'

  'Affirmative, number one.'

  'Number one?'

  'Er... Yes, you are next in command, aren't you?'

  Smith offered him a cold smile in return. 'If that's what you order, Captain.'

  'Very good number one, do I have a ready room?'

  He watched the stares grow increasingly confused, all except Annika that was, she seemed to be laughing behind her hand.

  'You know... a place where I do all my Captain stuff.'

  'What the glove-wearer is trying to say is that he wants to know if our vessel is equipped with a Captain's private quarters like the larger Star Command ships.'

  Hanniman poured over the schematics once more and after a short time nodded his head. 'Yes sir, there are private quarters for the Captain.'

  'No ready room though?' Phil asked hopefully.

  'No ready room.' Annika told him consolingly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  'I guess I'm supposed to do my Captain things out here in the cockpit then.' he hitched up his belt and took a look at the expectant faces. 'I may not have been Captain very long but I know for a fact that every time the Enterprise went on a rescue mission something terrible would go wrong. Not once did they ever mount a rescue that went exactly according to plan without any hitches. So what I'm suggesting is that we should expect the worst and remain vigilant.'

  Smith's eyes widened slightly, he hadn't expected Phil to come out with more than one semi-coherent sentence at a time.

  'What is this Enterprise thing he keeps talking about?' the Agent asked Annika, still no clearer as to where the strange well of Phil's expertise was coming from.

  'It's an old science fiction television programme from back on Earth, Phil watches it religiously apparently.'

  Phil smiled at them both. 'It's my favourite show, everything I learnt about starship command I got from Star Trek.'

  'Mr. Jones, this is not a television show. The dangers we face are very real and the threats are imminent. If you believe you are incapable of commanding this vessel then I suggest you delegate the task to your... number one.' Smith drawled.

  Phil knew of course that he had technically made Smith his second in command and that the ship was far less likely to be blown in a million pieces with him in charge. Something stopped him though, he couldn't put a finger on what it was exactly but he felt inclined to continue in his command capacity.

  'Belay that request number one.' Phil said. 'Chief Hanniman, can you hear me?'

  'Aye Captain, every word.' Hanniman's voice crackled over the intercom.

  'Take us to maximum hyperwarp, let's see what this ship is made of.'

  'Aye Captain, maximum hyperwarp it is.'

  The ship shot out into the gaping void of space at an even faster rate than before, hurtling Phil onward with his crew into an unknown future.

  Chapter 8

  Chime! Scotch! Uniform!

  The Captain's chambers that Phil found himself in were no worse than his previous quarters at Star Command. Considering the size of his vessel and the lack of ready room he had been expecting something far more unforgiving and military, but it seemed that the luxury he had been afforded before was set to continue.

  A large scale model of the ship he was on was mounted upon the wall and he studied it intently, almost afraid to do anything else in case he set off an alarm or caused unnecessary problems for the rest of the crew.

  A small chiming noise interrupted his thoughts. He shifted his gaze around the room, wondering where the elusive noise could be coming from, it chimed at him again and he frowned. Was the ship trying to tell him something that he was unaware of? The problem there was the sheer number of things he was oblivious to, that chime could mean anything. Why didn't the computer just speak?

  'Captain? Are you there sir?'

  So that's what the noise had been, it was a glorified doorbell, and if it worked the same way as they did on the Enteprise...

  'Enter.' Phil said, watching his doors slide open at the command and reveal his pilot RJ awaiting entrance.

  For a moment Phil didn't recognise him, then he spotted the wide-brimmed hat the Texan held in his hands deferentially, it was only the second time he had seen the man without it firmly affixed to his head.

  'Pardon the intrusion Captain, I just figured I should have my say outside of the briefing in the cockpit area. Mind if I come in?'

  Well, at least now Phil knew that this wasn't exactly a courtesy call, he waved him on in without a word.

  'Well Captain, I'll get right down to the point. That was some mighty fine talking you did up there in the pit, even managed to turn stiff's head for a moment, until he knew the source that was.'

  Phil had no idea what the man was talking about. 'Stiff?'

  RJ smiled at him and Phil felt a genuine warmth
in it. 'That's what the boys at Star Command call Agent Smith, on account of his having a stick rammed so far up his... Fancy some scotch?'

  'I... er... Okay.' Phil had thought about using the replicators for a snack but decided against it, his brushes with technology since leaving Earth had left him wary of anything mechanical.

  'Scotch. Single malt. Neat.' RJ said. 'Two tumblers.' He added as an afterthought.

  'When entering a conflict zone it is advised that crew members do not indulge in alcoholic beverages.' the computer informed him.

  'Override. Ain't never been in a conflict zone without at least a shot of scotch in me.'

  The tumblers full of scotch appeared and RJ handed one over to Phil, who sniffed at it distrustfully.

  'Just like the stuff back home, try it.' RJ replied. 'Trust me, you'll want a drink before I get talking.'

  He didn't like the sound of that and sipped at the scotch, which he had to admit wasn't bad. Phil was no stranger to alcohol and the warming effect that the scotch was having was welcome after all his recent frights.

  'Now while what you said on the bridge was well-received and further cemented your credentials with the rest of the crew, I can't help but get a vibe of nervousness and under-confidence from you whenever things get rough.' RJ wandered over to the softer furniture in Phil's quarters and settled himself down, enjoying the scotch and the comfort. 'You're Captain of a ship now, you can't afford to display those qualities otherwise the people around you will start to doubt you.'

  Phil sighed, he had suspected that this was where the conversation was going. 'You want me to hand over the command to Stiff, I mean, Smith. Don't you?'

  To his surprise, RJ started laughing. 'Lord no, that would be tragic! I just want you to have a bit more faith in yourself. The big man upstairs certainly does, we've seen you make it through simulations and even an abduction from which you'd no right to survive. Someone up there likes you.'