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Engineering Feat

Posted on Thu Jul 8th, 2021 @ 5:34pm by Senior Chief Petty Officer Jonathan Stoun & Commander Peter Horn

1,809 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 3 - Fear Is Fear Itself
Location: Engineering
Timeline: a day or so after "Surrender"

Sickbay was boring, and tedious. Against better judgement, Peter gathered his pup up in his arm and set her on the floor after attaching the leash. Of course he wasn't going to let her run free, and he had kept her on the bed with him so far too, as he'd said he would do.

But he was going stircrazy, and though still not feeling in the right mind set, he did need to do something about his missing hand. So, rather than calling the chief engineer to sickbay, he started the exhausting journey to where he would find the chief engineer instead: engineering.

He had no idea just how long it had taken him to get there, but he felt he was exhausted by the time he did and he had little energy to spend towards the energetic pup that danced around his legs, trying to keep him moving. He cradled his injured arm to his chest, belatedly wishing he had used something to cover the missing limb and keep it from everyone's view. Though he knew better, he did feel stared at.

"Chief?" he called out, his call echoed by the white pup's shrill bark.

Jon had been sitting in his office when he heard the call. The usual din of engineering had been quieted with several of the personnel out in the ship making repairs. He stood up and looked through the office door seeing Horn there and a little dog. "What can I do for you Commander, I don't know if I can help with the dog."

The Vulcan almost smiled. Almost. "I do not require assistance with my dog," he answered as he approached. When he got closer it got abundantly clear what he could need help with, especially as he passed the man into his office. "I do not know of you are the person to turn to," he confessed as he turned back towards the man once he was inside.

He showed the bandaged stump, though his expression was one of utter discomfort as he did. "I require a replacement," he said slowly, as if it were extremely difficult to even ask. "I need to be whole."

"Hmm... now that is something that I could probably assist with. At least until we can get you back to Starfleet medical." The engineer looked at the bandaged arm. "Here, sit down, let's talk. Do you want something to drink? Water, Coffee, could probably get something stronger if you would prefer that." Jon pulled out the chair opposite of his desk and then grabbed a tricorder and a padd from the shelf.

Peter sat, somewhat stiffly and uncomfortably. "Coffee please," he answered after a few seconds of consideration, "I do not know what you mean with 'stronger', however. I need your help, I need my hand... I need to feel whole." He wanted something that resembled his original limb, functional and as real as possible.

Jon sat the tools down on his desk then walked over to the replicator, he punched in a few buttons after which a carafe appeared with two mugs. "I can see what I can do, during the war, we had to occasionally field produce new arms, legs, hands, some of those Jem'hadar weapons were brutal. Especially those little pop up mines they used. Anything to keep our people fighting. " The chief shook his head as he put the coffee mug down on the table and poured a cup for the Horn. "I had improvised a new appendage for an Andorian security officer that attached directly to a phaser rifle, he could fire it just by thinking about it." The chief sat down, and grabbed the tools he had laid earlier. "Alright, tell me what you want? Functional, pretty, or somewhere in between? If we look at it from a purely engineering standpoint, I can craft you something that would be very functional but maybe not the most flashy."

Peter shook his head. "I want it to look as closely to what I lost," he answered, "I need it to be as functional as my left hand, as my own right hand was. I do not need flashy, I need it to look real, and function as though it is real." The pup barked for attention and he leaned over to pick her up and put her in his lap, gently stroking her fur. Doing so, seemed to ease some of his visible anxiety.

The engineer leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully at Peter. "I think I can do it. I'm going to have to start with a scan of your left hand so I can essentially mirror it to the right. I may need to work with the Doctor on some more of the fiddely bit parts, but nerves and bones and flesh are essentially the same as a ships sensors, and hull, just, fleshy. I mean, the Gel Packs are essentially just a humanoid nervous system. The internals aren't going to be an issue, I'm sure of that. The other bits are going to be the challenge."

"I do not care what the inside looks like," Peter said softly, "as long as it looks like what I lost, and functions as naturally as my dominant left hand." He held out his left hand, for the chief engineer to take scans. "I would appreciate the ability of sensory input, if that is possible."

"Anything is possible, they didn't think they could ever break the sound barrier, faster than light, or edible replicator food." Jon took the scanner from the Tricorder and started moving it around Horn's left hand. "I think we can make it so as you wouldn't really ever tell the difference really." The tricorder beeped to indicate that its work was done. "I think I've got a good scan. I should be able to put something together for you, may be a few days, and then I will have the doctor install it." The chief smiled at the Commander as he uploaded the information from the tricorder into his desk computer. "How are you doing?"

"Not well," the counselor replied, leaning back in his seat. "I find it difficult to accept. I am terrified to face my family as I feel I have failed."

The engineer leaned back in his chair as he contemplated Peter's words. "Look, I'm not a counselor, that's your gig, but, but I find that failure is such a harsh word when it comes to these type of things. I remember my dad asking me a long time ago when I got home from work, if I worked hard and did I do the best I could. As long as I always did the best I could, even if it wasn't good enough, it was fine." He paused for a moment as the Padd on the desk beeped. He picked it up and scrolled through. "Now granted much different circumstances here, and I don't know your family, but, I'm sure they are going to just be happy that you are still here. What we do out here that is never a guarantee, and well." He handed the Padd across the table. "Computer is already spitting out schematics for a new hand. I just need to tweak it a bit and take a look at some of the sensory pathways but I think you'll be fine."

Peter nodded. "Perhaps you missed your calling chief," he answered soflty, "you are right, I cannot hide forever. But this feeling will not go away that easily. You did not see the look on my son's face when he brought the captain to sickbay. He did not want to stay. Equally, I did not want my wife to see me. I felt...shame."

"That's tough. I guess I can't put myself in that spot, I don't have much of a family to speak of. I mean, Things will get better, they have to. Once we get you fitted for this, I think it will help but." He paused for a moment. "You know your family better than I do. I think it is just the initial shock of things. I know telling them to get over it probably isn't the right answer either."

"They have seen me in worse shape, at least my wife has..." Peter sighed softly. "My youngest, he is much like me at that age. Rules do not seem to apply to him, yet when I do require help, he refuses. Yet....he helped the captain but said nothing to me." He looked down at what remained of his lower arm. "It hurts," he admitted slowly. "And the way he looked at me, I am terrified my other children will look at me like that, even if my daughters are not on board."

The little white pup barked shrilly for attention, as if to draw him from his misery. Peter smiled and crawled the pup behind her ear. "She still needs a name, but I am coming up blank. I had a white shepherd mix before her, called Tundra...because that was where she had saved my life. But now...I do not know what to call this one."

"How about snowball? Looks like a snowball at least. I had a big fluffy white cat growing up named snowball." Jon took a sip from the coffee on the desk. "Give me a few days to get a working prototype together and talk to the Doc about how to interface and repair the nerve endings. We'll have you back to more or less yourself in no time."

Snowball. Peter considered that for a moment. "What about Khione?" he then asked. "Khione, in Greek mythology, is the goddess of snow." His focus was briefly on the white pup, who barked and wagged her tail happily once she realized attention was on her. "Thank you Chief, that is most appreciated," he finally answered the chief's statement.

"Khione? Sure, little advanced for me but it has a ring. We were a bit simpler with names." He laughed. "Buddy, poochy, puppy, had a cat named dog once. I'll contact you once it is ready to be fit to you. We'll make it better commander, if you ever need anything let me know."

"I will." Peter stood and offered a slight bow as he set the pup back on the floor. "Thank you chief. And my prior canine was called Tundra, because that was where she found me, after I was injured. She saved my life then."

"Fitting then I suppose." He stood and nodded to the counselor. "Hopefully this one won't be pulling you out of a snowdrift."

"I should hope not. I prefer warmer climates. I am going back to sickbay, if you need anything further from me." He offered a small smile before walking out.

 

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