The BLTS Archive - Scotty: The Early Days:
Story #4: The Trafalgar Novel: Serpentine 1:
The Making
by Sarah James (sarah_james_42@yahoo.com)

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remark: This is the first story of the Trafalgar Novel:
Serpentine

subtitle: Scotty - The early days (Book 4): Serpentine

feedback: always welcome

disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to
Paramount.

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[prologue]
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A journey always begins with an idea. An idea derives from a
decision. Every decision plots a course.

A ship is just a vessel until it has a crew. Then it's a
ship on a mission, depending on capable men and women to
safely guide it on its journey. A grand star ship is a world
where everybody has their place and its crew will always
have to rely on those who lead, those who follow and those
who take the risks.

Private log of Captain Benjamin Rathbone Fuller Entry number
#168 of 2245

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Stardate 2245701.08: USS Trafalgar, Captain's Log, Report
---

Captain Ben Fuller, reporting. Let me begin this day with a
sudden realization. We are at war and heroes are a myth. I
like to think there are good people serving on my ship.
That's because I, the Ugly, will not tolerate anything less
than exceptional performance from my crew. The unpleasant
thing, though, is that in a Galaxy that big you still can't
avoid the occasional rendezvous with a bad apple. Ever since
the events in the Arkon belt forced this square-jawed
hotshot Scott on me, I've had little rest. It all began
quite harmlessly. More than a year ago my task was to drop him
off at the mining colonies and leave him there. Which I did.
Now a tragedy has led us back to Aldebaran V... We are at
war. The enemy had started out with quick hit-and-run lunges
into our territory. Now we know, it had only been a foreplay
for the big Blitz attack of six days ago. What a disaster
that was. The enemy's Armada is impressive to say the least.
They will be back, no doubting that.

Our orders are to stay around, patrolling in a tight net
together with three other ships. We have to keep on our toes
which prevents me from taking care of other issues that are
pinching my big toe at the moment. The most unpleasant thing
about bad apples is how they think of themselves as
infallible. In a way they are as they always seem to escape
hell alive and in the end they begin to feel at home on your
ship. I certainly never invited him to join my crew, nor did
I make the slightest effort to make him feel at home. This
rotten young man has more than one worm in his thick head, I
swear. Over the past few years all my officers here on board
the USS Trafalgar, taken together, have not given me as much
as a head cold as Lt. Scott in one single day. Once the worst
damages on my ship are repaired, the wounded are cared for
and the dead mourned, I shall take the time to confront him
in the manner he deserves. For the time being, though, he is
rather safe in his arrest cell.

As of now I am sorry to report the loss of all our mining
colonies in the Arkon belt. They are completely destroyed.
But even more sorry I am to announce the loss of 6000
colonists, civilians, Star Fleet personnel and their
families as well as disastrous damage to the Trafalgar.
Survivors from the mining colonies are spread over the
Reliant, the Horizon, the Intrepid as well as the latest
arrival in the sector, the USS Defiant. We were able to pick
up only a handful of civilians, led by Lt. Scott, Star Fleet
engineer on Aldebaran V. Our own losses include 24 good men
and women. It is the blackest day...

My Number One is among the severely wounded. I will go and
look after her now.

Fuller out!

---

With a place of merely three point 125 square meters to
dwell, plus the sonic hygiene latrine built into the back of
the wall, Lt. Montgomery Scott rested on his hard,
inconvenient bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. A
pillow was missing. A blanket was assumed unnecessary.
Anything nice, comforting or distracting was evidently
absent from this room. The door was wide open, mocking him,
he thought sarcastically. Although when you got too close
the energy field would begin to buzz in a hostile way and
you could feel tiny sparks dance the mambo on your skin.

Scott groaned deeply. Well, there was little he could do but
lie here to glare at the same blank ceiling he had been
staring at 24/7 day after day. How many days had he spent
this way? He'd lost count. Nobody talked to him. The
security guards outside ignored him steadfastly. Other
personnel was busy repairing the damages. The Captain,
obviously, could spare no time either. Or had he...?

"Forgotten!" Scotty grumbled. He'd certainly been forgotten
here once again. They probably didn't even have the decency
to let his family or his estranged wife know that he was
still alive. His stomach formed a knot of frustration.

Star Fleet had not been particularly kind to him from the
beginning. First they had banned him behind a desk,
forgotten him there then promoted him to Lieutenant when he
reminded them carefully, then forgot him again right away. Next
time he had reminded them a bit louder. So they had decided
to send him off to the mining colonies, as far away as
possible where they could conveniently forget him once more
for a year and half until they had allowed raiders to attack
the colonies freely. The ships had come by far too late to
rescue the few survivors. Once aboard the Trafalgar they had
put him into sickbay with minor injuries and forgotten him
there, again.

So he had taken things in his own hands. At last! Now he was
enjoying a break in the brig for that.

---
Stardate 2242706.14: Captain's Log, Supplemental.
---

The USS Trafalgar is still patrolling along the borders. We
currently have little more than 300 men and women on board,
all good capable people.

Correction: All but one! Montgomery Scott is a young
engineer who never fails to amaze me. Oh, he's quite capable
whenever he wants to be, his hair-raising bit of showboating
from six days ago proved that. Ach, he gives me headache,
again.

What to do? What to do?

Frankly, I'm inclined to send him back to HQ with the next
ship that comes along our way. They can court-martial him if
they want to, or give him a stellar cross. I don't care.

Brief summary: We picked Scott up from Aldebaran V where he
had led a small group of civilians to safety during the
Blitz attack before he succeeded contacting us. Then a
fierce battle with the relentless attackers ensued. The
Trafalgar took heavy damage in this action. Somewhere in the
confusion Scott must have decided he was too much a square
jawed, crazy, evil tempered poster boy of a hot shot to stay
in sickbay as told. Instead he took a stroll to the hangar
deck, beats me how he got in, to steal one of our space
vehicles and go for a ride. In the middle of a battle!
Nogura, can you imagine the nerve of him...Hmph, Scottish
Red Baron on a space tricycle when have I sent out this
recruiting offer? However this madman tried to save our ship
and the limping Reliant on a repair scooter, armed with
nothing but a sonic screwdriver. Like this he went toe to
toe with the attacking raiders.

I hate to mention it, but he did manage to dismantle the
sensor arrays of a few ships by ramming his screwdriver into
the unprotected underside of those small vessels. The others
were scared by his mysterious super weapon. Eventually they
gave up the battle, retreating to their territory. They'll
be back once they figure out what our super weapon really
was. Of course I had Scott arrested on the spot.

For some reason, however, the young engineer feels a part
of my crew now. I certainly never encouraged that!!! Well,
Chief Barnes wants to keep him though. I've always been a
disciplinarian. The boy seems to have trouble with
disciplinarians. Whether it's my orders, Star Fleet
regulations or science theories, he's determined to keep
ignoring them.

I know, his last bit of show-boating saved the Reliant,
saved almost 400 people, but it also cost me ten years of my
life span. That's how scared I was. HQ orders were to
retreat and leave the Reliant behind. Scott, obviously, had
objections. So did I. But how I hate to be tricked into
action like that. Nogura, I couldn't leave him to die out
there for nothing! Now could I?

Addition: BUT no matter how much he wants it, how much you
want it, you old bastard, or how much Laura Barnes wants it,
this Montgomery Scott is NEVER going to be a member of MY
crew. Never bloody never! Read my lips, Nogura.

Request: I've had it, Admiral. Take him back! This limey
doesn't fit in here. He would make a fine figure on the ship
of some Horatio Hornblower, I reckon, not on mine though.
This is my last word!

Fuller out!

---

"The making of a good man more often than not begins with
tragedy," Captain Fuller's deep voice was loud enough to
ring in Lt. Scott's ears, hopefully getting through all this
bulkhead, reaching this brain thing, provided he had one.
Ben Fuller was fuming with fury. "If you think the past six
days in the brig were a tragedy, then wait till I'm finished
with you!"

Standing as straight as he could manage in front of the desk,
in Fuller's office, Lt. Scott could do little more than hope
that the Captain's rising blood pressure would cause him to
suffer a stroke before he managed to throttle the younger
officer. His head bent low, the young Scotsman of average
build and height tried very hard to look convincingly
repentant. Even the stubborn riot of black hair on his head
was flat for a change.

Gritting his teeth, Ben Fuller thought that he certainly
felt ready to commit homicide at this point of the day.
Furiously, he tousled the last few remaining auburn strands
on his balding head, which was already crimson from his fit
of rage. It were officers like Scott who'd caused him to
gradually go bald during his career. "Speak!" he ordered.

Wisely, Scott held his tongue. Next to him, Laura Barnes,
stood as stiff as if she was under fire too. She wasn't, of
course, but Laura had stood up for the Scotsman from the
first moment on. Carefully the young man dared to cast a
quick glance in her direction. A warning flashed in the
older woman's eyes.

Fuller's voice rose considerably in the course of his verbal
disciplinary. There was a man on this ship who knew how to
make full use of his shout organ. Scott would be deaf for
the next couple of days. Never mind, the Captain told
himself, he's not going to need his ears in the brig anyway,
where he can do little else but stare holes into the
ceiling.

"Mr. Scott, I guarantee you're going to leave this ship as a
decent, humbled man and you're hopefully going to leave it
soon. Well, you had a few quiet days to reflect on your
actions. Is there anything you'd like to get off your chest
before I send you back to your cell?"

For a second Scott closed his eyes in defeat, exhaling
deeply. It was the first time ever since they'd met that the
Scotsman reacted with something else than his typical
smugness. Then the young engineer bravely straightened his
shoulders. "Sir," Scott eventually spoke up, his hazel eyes
wide and earnest as he ignored chief engineer Barnes' sudden
drain of color from her face.

Ben cursed beneath his breath. Damned if she hadn't told the
boy to simply shut up and silently suffer through it, he
realized. It was her own tactic whenever she had to face up
an angry Captain. Laura should know, after all her years of
service under his command, that it wouldn't work with him.
"Yes, son?" he encouraged as gently as he could manage.

"I would only like to point out that I could be very useful
with the on-going repairs of the warp drive."

"Yes! Of course!" Chief engineer Barnes blurted a tad too
enthusiastically.

"No way!" Fuller replied, his sharp gaunt features remaining
a stony picture.

"But Sir! With Fraser and Gardner both in sickbay I
desperately need another warp drive specialist. Please,
Captain," Laura Barnes begged him, practically on her knees.
For the first time since he'd known her, this woman made use
of the word please.

Fascinating! If this young Scottish bloke managed to bring
out Laura Barnes' modest side, Fuller mused, he might have a
good core after all. Maybe Ben would even send his
condolences to the Scott family should the boy end up
serving a prison sentence in Tantalus after his court
martial. What a shame, he could have been a good one. "But
he's not a drive systems engineer," the Captain replied
sternly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Excuse me, Captain," Scott quickly spoke up again. "I am."

"What did you say?" Fuller asked surprised. That couldn't
be! Then why for goodness sake...

"I said I am...Sir."

"Why would Star Fleet send a drive systems engineer to the
mining colonies?" Indeed a good question.

Scott shrugged helplessly. "Well," he speculated. "maybe
somebody wanted me out of his way."

Obviously hotshot had made himself enemies in Star Fleet's
Engineering Corps. The many reprimands in his record
indicated just that. "Who?" Fuller demanded to know.

"Admiral Piarelli," Scott admitted with an innocent shrug.

"Ah, his holiness, the chief of Engineering himself. At
last! I get the picture. Nogura could hardly interfere with
this assignment without undermining the chief's authority,
could he?"

Again the Scotsman shrugged puzzled. "Aye, that's what I
figured. Why?"

"Never mind. How old are you, Lieutenant?"

"Twenty three, Sir."

"Twenty three," Ben repeated thoughtfully. How much havoc
could Scott have possibly caused in the Engineering Corps
when the stripes on his sleeve were still so fresh? "So
young," Ben Fuller observed smartly, "and already you have a
well documented history of serious stealing, trespassing,
and insubordination. Oh dear! How come?"

Scott swallowed. "Why, Sir, I reckon that's simply a matter
o' repeatedly being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh I see," the Captain nodded with pretended polite
surprise in his expression. This Englishman was not raised
by a fool. "Are you telling me it's not your fault?"

"N-no, Sir, that's no' what I'm saying," the engineer
responded nervously.

At least the man was honest. Fuller shook his head
exasperated. What should he do? Could he really throw Scott
to the wolves in a court martial? Wasn't it already bad
enough that Admiral Piarelli had planned to cold-heartedly
send this little bugger right to the front lines where
chances were good that he would helplessly die in another
attack of their mysterious enemy. Any other inexperienced
hotshot might not have survived in that hell. Not only had
Scott survived, but he had also saved a handful of helpless
civilians.

I can't completely ignore this, Fuller told himself while
cursing Admiral Piarelli for being a reckless, heartless
aristocrat who couldn't bear the slightest disagreement from
anybody.

"Sir," Scott carefully reminded him of his presence, "I
believe I can be a good officer. Only nobody in this bloody
Fleet would gi' me half a chance! Pardon my language, Sir.
Sir?"

Fuller stifled a chuckle with his fist against his mouth.
"Fine, Scott. I hear ye! Suppose I agree," the Captain
finally proposed hesitantly, "Then tell me, son, why should
I let anybody get away with piracy. I'd call it mutiny, but
then again I'm not your Captain and the Trafalgar is not
your ship. Hijacking one of my repair scooters is rather
uncommon for somebody who is listed among: wounded. Wounded
are supposed to be in sickbay. No?"

Scott's shoulders dropped slightly. No doubt in his own
stubborn mind he had spent more than enough time in sickbay
healing two cracked ribs, one strained wrist and a nasty cut
above his right eyebrow. "I was tied down in sickbay for
nothing, but a few scratches..."

"Ah, now he's a doctor as well!" Fuller exclaimed. At the
same time Barnes shook her head, laughing softly until the
Captain's glare silenced her.

"While," Scott carried on steadfastly, "the enemy wrecked
havoc out there. Admittedly, I had no right to eavesdrop on
intraship communications, but..."

Fuller pulled in his breath sharply. "Lt., what you mean is
you took advantage of the confusion under emergency in
sickbay to willfully gain access to the chief surgeon's
office where you illegally hacked yourself into
communications while the doctors were busy fighting for the
lives of incoming casualties."

Scott nodded with a sudden blush. "Aye. Sir, the situation
was devastating. We were losing the Reliant. Losing almost
400 people. We had lost so many already...Orders from HQ
didn't make sense. They did no' understand o' course."

"Understand what, Scott?" Fuller frowned. "That a man can't
leave his comrades behind?"

"Aye."

"And it did not occur to you to let me, the Captain of this
vessel, make that decision? Maybe I would have done the same
thing. Only with more weapons between myself and the enemy.
I could not even order direct fire as you were in our way. I
should have given the order anyway. Your mother would have
gotten a nice stellar cross for her hero son, fallen in
battle, unfortunately hit by friendly fire. But we never
write that into our condolences – after all, friendly fire
kills too. No Scott. Instead I did my best to guard your
back so she will be able to visit you in Tantalus where
somebody with your tendencies truly belongs."

Scott swallowed. No doubt he knew well that he was half-way
there, literally with one foot in the legendary prison
colony. All Fuller had to do was to press charges. "But I...
I deserve another chance, Captain. If ye dinna do it for me
do it for me poor mother. Sir, please, she would absolutely
die if my Uncle would pulverize me for being a shame to the
family again."

It had never been so hard for Fuller "The Ugly" to end a
disciplinary hearing with a straight face. "Suppose I also
agree on that, Lieutenant," Ben finally let Scott off the
hook. "Then I would do so merely because of how badly we
need a capable drive systems engineer. Tell your poor, poor
mother that I'm very impressed by her patience and that you
have a new assignment. Welcome aboard the USS Trafalgar, Mr.
Scott. I can safely assume that Nogura is going to grant my
request for your transfer to this ship anyway. I've got no
time for formalities. You're hired. Out!"

The joy in the young man's broad face was genuine. There was
no doubt. Open-mouthed, he glared at Ben until chief engineer
Barnes nudged his side with her elbow. "That's... that's...
that's wonderful. Thank ye, Sir!"

Quickly Fuller put up a cautioning hand. "Yes, yes. Don't be
too grateful though. I insist that you use every single free
second that you can spare to think about what this Captain
expects from a good officer. From tomorrow on we will meet
at 18:00 each day, punctually, in my office to spend
approximately 60 minutes talking about this subject over
dinner for as long as it takes to get morale into your
Scottish scull. Agreed?"

"Absolutely!"

Ben liked to see such enthusiasm. "Fine. See you later,
Lieutenant. Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Thank you, chief, dismissed. Laura? Thank you!" Fuller
growled. Only, after Barnes, too, had left his office with a
huge smile on her face, Ben allowed himself a quick,
chest-lifting, lonely laugh. If this boy was more scared of
his Uncle than of a court-martial Ben would really like to
meet Scott's Uncle one day.

---
Captain's Log, private entry #169 of 2245:
---

The USS Horizon arrived at our rendezvous point punctually.
Something that we on the Trafalgar just never accomplish. I
wonder why... Anyhow, we picked up some personnel there,
among them a dear old friend, our Number One Commander
Saedalaere, put back together by the best surgeons in the
whole Fleet. It was good to see her return to her post with
her old ferocity.

Unidentified ships are spotted close to the border too
frequently in recent days. HQ wants to know more. So we go
looking. It's about time we find out who the enemy is.
Obviously they know a lot more about us. They left a message
for us in the Arkon belt, written in flawless Federation
Standard.

"For Romulus and Remus. Victory!"

That says it all. We are dealing with a whole Empire of
fanatics situated right in front of our door step. Not
necessarily good news. If those raiders are the same people
who destroyed our mining colonies, then their ship design has
changed significantly. Their vessels are bigger now,
reminding me of a bird of prey.

Thus we carry on with our duty, patrolling along the borders
at a distance that could be interpreted as an invasions by
prying eyes. Lets see how long until Romulus and Remus take
action. It's time we get to know our enemy.

Otherwise things are back to normal on the ship. No more
outdoor sport for young Scott. I have him tied up,
securely, with a double shift down there in main
engineering. Chief Barnes is writing whole odes on his
talent instead of reports. Well, I'm willing to take her
euphoria in stride as long as she remembers: I want no more
trouble with her new second.

I hate to admit it. The boy turned out to be wonderful
dinner company. Talkative, animated, no table manners at all,
but full of Scottish jokes, toasts and anecdotes. This
little limey! I got used to his presence so quickly that I
began wondering if I'd missed something in my life. Like a son.
Not that he would be my first choice. Yet, I find him
endearing. I never found anybody endearing, 'cept for my
childhood pet Petey, the doberman pinscher. Hmph and I blame
you, Nogura!

I would like to end this entry with my favorite quote:
"Cross the wounded Galaxies"

Fuller out!

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The End