Commander David Cody: Starfleet's Blasted Clause

[hoodsdavid]

((Mars- JTSC Offices))

:: In the midst of dealing with a brand new secretary (having fired the first couple), David had, for the better part of six months, readjusted to civilian life and dealing with company issues since coming back. He stood and listened to the recordings of an irritant Board of Directors, along with Deborah, on the future of the company and which way everyone thought the JTSC should go while biting his tongue and keeping irritation out of his conversation. oO Just give me an excuse. Oo ::

:: In the midst of an idiot notion not to pursue Starfleet contracts, David could hold his tongue no longer, fed up with civilian bureaucarcy. ::

Cody: ::snapping:: I don't give a koroshan heilbrieder! Those contracts PAY, and the next idiot who denies people their wages can look for another drankfeisten job!

:: Through the viewscreen in his office, David watched a sea of stunned faces. Six months!!! Six months since he woke, got out of it, hightailed it back to Mars with his adopted daughter and got back into the swing of the family business, and finding a bunch of cutthroat thieves. He resisted the impulse to issue pink slips. oO This is why I didn't want this... Oo He grumbled without sharing his thoughts, wondering what possessed him to think he could manage them when each and every one of the people on the Board looked after their own self-interests. ::

:: One of the shareholders spoke up. ::

Shareholder: We're not arguing that, Mr. Cody. There's a definite benefit to contracts with Starfleet, but the JTSC has a long held tradition of remaining independent. If we start picking up Federation contracts, how long before we start being associated with Starfleet and the Federation?

:: David curbed what he wanted to say and tempered himself as a short red flash ignited on his desk surface. oO Great, now what? Oo A swift glance caught a Starfleet signature and inward, he groaned. The last thing he needed was Starfleet to come calling. He was done, he was out of it, and happy being a civilian corporate owner. ::

Cody: Excuse me. I need to take this.

:: He cut off the Board of Directors before they could voice a commplaint and touched the section on his desk before whirling around to the wall where the viewscreen hung. It crackled to life as an ugly-mugged, grizzled Admiral lit up the screen. David recognized him, Phillip Dunning out in the 118 area. ::

Cody: What can I do for you, Admrial.

:: Dunning scowled, a padd in hand, before addressing him. ::

Dunning: Never mind you hung the rank and snuck out? ::growling Let me quote, "Hang the rank, I'm done." I've got your damn confession on record, Commander. You snuck out of Starbase 118, where you were comatose for the better part of two to three years, and gave up the damn pips for what? Some blasted corporate raider?!

:: That, David felt, was completely unfair. Jennet Trade Securities Corporation never raided anyone. They didn't have to. The company produced necessary assets for the universe at large. He snarled. ::

Cody: I don't think so. I don't need pips to know when smoke is being blown.

:: Dunning straightened, looking a tad on the defensive but at least considering. David relented his choice of words, guilt swinging in. ::

Dunning: Let's start this again. Hi, Dave. Glad to see you're up and about, doing well.

Cody: ::inwardly groaning:: Can we cut to the chase, please?

:: Awkward, Dunning glanced at a padd before resuming eye contact through the viewscreen. ::

Dunning: I need your rear outbound. We know you hung everything and bugged out. Maybe we don't even blame you. Fact of the matter is, much as I'd love to let you whittle away the remainder of your years doing frak knows what, Starfleet clause says we can yank you back any time we want. So you're yanked back, Commander. Hightail your sorry rear side out to the Borderlands between Federation and Klingon space. Might be a short term engagement, in which case you can go back and play corporate owner. Right now, you're reinstated.

:: David blinked. He could think of numerous ways to shut this down, but glancing at what awaited him with the JTSC Board of Directors, he admited Dunning caught him at a good time. oO Short jaunt, okay... I could like that. Oo He didn't, however, intend to get snared back up. He withheld betraying anything as he consulted with a screen on his desk. ::

Cody: Maybe I could work this in.

Dunning: ::disgust apparent:: Oh please. We've got a red-eye in orbit. You're outbound in five minutes, Commander. Maximum warp will place you within a couple of hours, so get your sorry ass out to where we need you and help. Once done, you can go back to your 'so-called' retirement. Dunning out!

:: The viewscreen went dark, leaving David fuming and feeling like he was being pulled on strings. He cursed, mentally, running down all the colorful names he gave the Admiral as he hightailed it across the room and through the door, meeting his new, bright-eyed, blond-haired and very young new secretary holding a bunch of padds. ::

Secretary: Uh, Mr. Cody?

Cody: Shunt it over to my sister, please? ::a sad smile:: And please inform the Board I have an emergency trip to make. Hopefully it won't take long and I'll be back within a day or two.

Secretary: Uh, sure...

:: Suddenly realizing that the owner of the JTSC had vanished, she muttered under her breath.

Secretary: ...you need a wife.


TBC...


Commander David Cody
Starfleet