Commander Etan Iljor: Change of Guard

[Michael Meir-Wright]

(( Etan’s Quarters, Deck 3, USS Octavia E. Butler ))

As he rose from his repose on the comfortable sofa every muscle of Etan Iljor’s body protested as though they were on fire. It had been several days since his discharge from sickbay and while his injuries had been healed, Doctor Toz had made it clear that he would be sore for several days.

‘Sore’ doesn’t begin to cover it, he thought pessimistically as he winced.

His attempted flight from Alto’Belaranto’s clutches had not gotten beyond the planning stages when the mine boss’ guards had beaten him to something resembling a bloody pulp. They had outright broken or fractured almost a dozen bones throughout his body and had left him with a nasty concussion which- mercifully- had all but abated. He had fallen unconscious with blessed rapidity so had been spared the worst of the pain. By the time he had awoken in Octavia E. Butler’s sickbay, most of the damage had been taken care of. They had kept him there for observation, releasing him two days after the ship’s departure from Cheyd’lang.

In his discharge papers, Toz had made it clear that Iljor was to remain off-duty until otherwise instructed, and while he agreed without question (something that Genkos Adea had drilled into him as a junior officer), the Bajoran had quickly found it stultifying- a result no doubt of being a career overachiever. When he had gone to read the various after-action reports that had been followed following their departure from Cheyd’lang- he found that his security clearances had been revoked, no doubt Toz’s doing to ensure he got as much rest as he needed. Of course, Iljor had been visited by a number of well-wishers- including Lieutenant Nilsen to his great surprise- who had all been kind enough to offer him some insights into what had happened, but in the grand scheme of things it had been rather confusing, a result of the concussion most likely.

So after several days of recovery, reading books, and watching old holovids of 23rd-century Bolian film noir (a bizarrely chipper genre)- he was itching to do something substantive. His idea had been to visit the ship’s swimming pool but the aches and pains that racked his body quickly put an end to that. Glowering at nothing, he quickly changed tact. Sonic shower it is then, he grumbled mentally as he limped towards the bathroom.

He was half way across his spacious cabin when the familiar boatswain’s whistle pierced the quiet. He stopped, blanched once again, and tilted his head upwards as the voice of Ensign Ikis- Octavia E. Butler’s delta shift Communications Officer  filtered through in her usual clipped Vulcan tone.

Ikis: =/\= Bridge to Commander Etan. There is an incoming subspace communication from Starfleet Command. It is marked for your urgent attention. =/\=

That prompted Iljor to hike one eyebrow upwards as surprise and confusion mingled in his thoughts. Then, something else occurred to him and he felt his eyes narrow slightly.

Etan: =/\= Is Doctor Toz aware, Ensign? =/\=

The incertitude in Ikis’ reply was evident.

Ikis: =/\= I fail to see why the Acting Chief Medical Officer would need to be enlightened as to the correspondence you recieve, Commander? =/\=

Etan: =/\= Because I- =/\= :: he sighed and shook his head,  dull ache forming at his temples. He grimaced and pushed through it. =/\= It doesn’t matter. Transfer the communique to my quarters. =/\=

Ikis: =/\= At once, sir. =/\= :: a hesitation. =/\= Would… you like me to inform sickbay of this missive, Commander? =/\=

Iljor’s eyes bulged instinctively and he replied a little too quickly.

Etan: =/\= No, no! That’s quite alright. Etan out. =/\= :: he tapped his communicator to close the channel before the ever-diligent could reply. :: Narrow escape! :: he muttered to himself. ::

Iljor  hobbled to the L-shaped desk in the corner of his compartment and slipped uneasily into its accompanying desk as every nerve, tendon and joint in his legs groaned with displeasure and discomfort.  The Bajoran then pulled the small desktop interface closer to him and activated its holographic display. The LCARS UI floated and the gunmetal desk and displayed his home screen which was taken up by the notification of the incoming message. He tapped the button marked “OPEN” and was quickly confronted with a demand for his security access codes. He sighed. They had been revoked.

Etan: Computer, I have urgent communication from Starfleet Command that requires security authentication, but my access codes have been revoked by medical. Can you override?

Computer: Working…  :: came the studiously neutral feminine reply, followed by a series of affirmative beeps and chirps. :: A one-time security clearance has been granted for Commander Etan Iljor. You may proceed.

Etan: Computer, open subspace communique from Starfleet Command. Authorisation: Etan Alpha-Two-Five-Gamma.

Once again, the Octavia E. Butler’s computer responded with favourable tones- and within a second the message from Earth was displayed in front of the injured Bajoran XO.

He read the orders and felt his moth gape in his shock.

Etan: Holy sh-

—

Commander Etan Iljor

Executive Officer

USS Octavia E. Butler

C239203TW0