Tall Tales
Posted on Sun May 17th, 2026 @ 9:09am by Lieutenant Sylar & Lieutenant Bartholomew Hale
2,070 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
Friends and Traitors
Location: Sickbay, USS Thunderbird
Timeline: Mission Day 1, 2100 Hours
Hale had spent the past two hours skulking around the USS Thunderbird. Hiding behind cargo containers, bulkheads, even potplants as he tailed the man who'd watched Barnes and his investigation in the shuttlebay. From the skeptical glances of his colleagues, Hale was reminded that a command-red uniform was scarcely designed for subtlety. Nor, apparently, was he.
Hale had stalked this man across decks, tailed him up ladders and shadowed him from catwalks. This, Hale figured, was some sort of strange retaliation for the spook he was given earlier. Nevertheless, the suspicious Lieutenant Commander, also in a crimson uniform, seemed to be unconcerned he was being surveilled. He'd stopped for dinner, a drink and most awkwardly, a pit stop at a female junior officer's quarters.
Gentle questioning of the crew revealed he wasn't a shipmate. Hale had never once lost sight of the man, and the intermissions had allowed Hale to write and send a preliminary report to the Thunderbird's XO about the shuttle fire.
All of this had led Hale to the Thunderbird's sickbay, where the Lieutenant Commander had snuck in. Hiding in the junction where the hallway met the turbolift, Bartholomew decided this was the time to confront him. He dabbed his sweat-peppered forehead on his sleeve and strode down the corridor into the sickbay. Across the ward, he spotted the Lieutenant Commander in the intensive care unit, standing over the unconscious Ensign Dara. He was speaking to a sciences-division officer, a Vulcan.
As Hale neared, he caught the conversation.
"... and, Doctor, I'm eager to return myself and this young man to the Starbase. I'm eager to get out of here. I've... I've been followed for the past two hours by a bearded, sweaty lump of a man."
"And you are?" Hale asked, sauntering into the ICU.
The Commander turned and looked Hale up and down. "Lieutenant Commander Max Bobbins, Chief of Flight Operations. Starbase 310."
Hale eyed him suspiciously. Then, he looked to the Vulcan caring for the patient. "I do hope he's not causing trouble here, Doctor?"
Sylar looked emotionlessly from one human to the other. “Since he arrived,” he began coldly, “Lieutenant Commander Bobbins has caused no disruption within Sickbay, at least no disruption additional to that caused by his presence here.” There was a slight, deliberate, inflection, suggesting that Sylar questioned the need for Bobbins' being there at all. Sylar paused to select a hypospray from a nearby console which he configured silently, and turned to Bobbins. "As to the Lieutenant's condition, while his investigative efforts appear to have involved physical exertion, I can assure you that his physiological response does appear to remain within normal operational parameters for a human of his age and condition." He raised an eyebrow and looked at Hale, "unless, Lieutenant, you are here to report that you are defective?"
"Defective." Bobbins repeated with a smirk. He looked Hale over. "Yes... you must be Bart Widdershins-Hale."
"Do I know you?" Hale puffed out his chest. No one called him that.
"We were at the academy together," Bobbins replied. He gave the Lieutenant a once-over, his eyes stopping momentarily at Hale's collar, "Though it looks like I've been promoted up the chain of command with greater speed and success. I didn't know a full Lieutenant could be a helmsman. That must sting."
Hale looked over at the Doctor as Bobbins turned away to face the patient on the biobed. Bartholomew had been denied a right of reply.
"What is Orfil's condition, Doctor?" Bobbins asked. He began to wring his hands. "In my haste to have him returned to the starbase, I... neglected to enquire."
Sylar had raised an eyebrow at Bobbins' obvious and unsophisticated insult and he now assumed a slightly disapproving expression. He stretched out the silence until it was, to humans, awkward. He turned slightly to ensure that both Hale and Bobbins were being addressed. “Ensign Dara’s condition remains stable,” he replied slowly. “His injuries are responding appropriately to treatment and he will, with continued medical attention, recover in approximately fifteen point five Earth days." He looked at Bobbins now, with a slight frown, and then more subtly at Hale. "Your earlier statement indicated an intention to remove both yourself and the Ensign from this vessel. That is not logical; it is my medical opinion that he is not presently fit for transport.” Sylar made a very slight move, placing himself equidistant between Bobbins and the prone Ensign Dara.
“This ship of yours, it’s casting off soon, is it not?” Bobbins hissed at the Thunderbird crewmen. “You can’t tell me that he’s staying aboard this ship, away from the advanced medical facilities of a starbase, and his home!”
Sylar had a perfectly expressionless face. "As the presiding physician it is logical that I make the determination upon Ensign Dara's fitness for transport. If you wish to overrule my decision your next step would be to appeal directly to Captain Norsgaard. Unless," he paused, with a slight hint of sarcasm, "in addition to your alacrity in achieving high rank," he paused, with a slight inclination of the head, "you are also a qualified doctor?" Sylar frowned now, sensing that the climax was approaching. "Lieutenant Commander Bobbins, unless you possess immediate family status or operational authority directly relevant to Ensign Dara’s treatment, I must ask the purpose of your continued presence at this bedside.” Sylar now took a more obvious sidestep, he was now directly between Dara's biobed and Bobbins.
“I promised his mother I’d look after him. This boy isn’t merely a subordinate, he’s family.” Bobbins shook his head. His hand reached out for Dara’s, gently patting it. “I will make my petition for Orfil’s transfer. You’ve done your job here, Doctor, for that you have my thanks. But he needs to come home.”
"As you wish," Sylar said flatly, watching Bobbins interaction with Dara, "and your concern for the Ensign is logical." He confirmed that the security protocols, which had been discussed that evening with the Captain, were in place and beaming out of Sickbay was prohibited, as was any accessing of medical treatments without his, the CO or the XO's override.
He looked again at Hale. "Lieutenant Widdershins-Hale, if I were human, I would have responded to Lieutenant Commander Bobbins' remark with 'Hikaru Sulu'. His name is a revered one on Vulcan. While I am a doctor, not a historian, I recall that he was a Lieutenant when he helmed the USS Enterprise. Indeed, he took command of the Enterprise during the Organia incident with the Klingons. If Thunderbird is to find itself in a situation of complexity and challenge, I am reassured to have an officer of experience at Flight Control." He gestured for Hale to come to the biobed. "While Ensign Dara is incapable of giving evidence to an investigation, your pursuit of Lieutenant Commander Bobbins indicates that you seek him for some purpose. Can I assist in that purpose?"
Hale checked over his shoulder to ensure the Commander had departed. “He was watching our investigation into the incident that led to Ensign Dara’s injury from the shuttlebay catwalk. Slightly unusual behaviour.”
Sylar frowned. "Curious," he concluded. "I can confirm, Lieutenant, that I have increased the security protocols in Sickbay." Sylar frowned again and looked at the human.
“Very good. Since I’m here, it would be worth checking in on your patients. However, I believe we’ve not been introduced. Bartholomew Hale.” The helm officer outstretched his hand.
Sylar accepted the handshake; familiarity with humans over the last ten Earth years had given him that, and so he complied with the ritual, his grip firm, precise, and notably brief. “Sylar,” he replied evenly. “Chief Medical Officer.” He released Hale’s hand one eyebrow lifting slightly. “You have selected an unorthodox moment for a social introduction, Lieutenant Hale. However, given the circumstances, the inelegance is understandable.”
His gaze moved briefly toward Ensign Dara, unconscious and completely unaware of the tension that just played out in the Sickbay. “Ensign Dara sustained moderate plasma burns, minor airway irritation, and associated neural trauma resulting from the explosion aboard the shuttlecraft. It is unfortunate that there is nothing significant that would aid an investigation; his injuries are consistent with proximity to an explosion in a confined environment."
Sylar inclined his head towards the morgue. "Doctor Petracca and I have completed the preparation of Ensign Jolley's body. His injuries were considerably more severe. Extensive plasma exposure, airway burns, cardiac arrest, and catastrophic systemic trauma. Despite intervention," Sylar looked even more reserved at this, "the damage exceeded recoverable limits.”
"I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. I suppose we're lucky that one of these lads survived." Hale let out a sigh. A sting shot through his hands, a phantom reminder of the fire extinguisher's icy texture when it discharged. It was he who doused Chris Jolley, and now he wondered if he'd been fast enough. "Has Chief Engineer Barnes been notified of Jolley's passing?"
"Command is aware," Sylar responded, noting Hale shudder, "but when I attended Engineering Lieutenant Barnes was not present." Sylar began to walk over to his office. "I gather from your exchanges that Lieutenant Commander Bobbins is not a friend of yours?"
"It would appear not. I meant it when I said I don't actually remember him. Though, ironically, I used Bobbins' name as a threat to chide Dara for giving poor Mister Jolley guff in the shuttlebay." Hale followed Sylar into his office. "To be fair to the Commander, I'm no covert operative. My tailing was painfully transparent, so I can't blame him for being a little sharp with me. I do appreciate your assistance back there, however."
Sylar offered a slight nod. "His criticism of you was vulgar and arrogant; and to address a colleague in that way, inappropriate."
"Heh." Hale offered the Doctor a chuckle. "I was an investigative officer with the Inspector General for six years, Doctor, you don't survive that long without a thick skin. That Bobbins fellow is just a bag of hot air. However, his behaviour was bizarre, and I don't just mean those barbed remarks."
Sylar's eyes drifted toward the doorway through which Bobbins had departed. “I concur with your assessment that his behaviour was irregular. There were clear indications of tension and panic. His concern appeared selective, his urgency, specifically his urgency to depart, disproportionate, and his presence here insufficiently justified by either protocol or personal connection. Your suspicions are therefore not without foundation, Lieutenant. Although suspicion without evidence is an insufficient basis for conclusion.”
"I entirely agree. I had to follow Bobbins for two hours, he had some peculiar habits for a man who was concerned about an infirmed 'family member'. He stopped to eat, to drink, even to spend a solid half hour in the quarters of a female officer. When he finally arrives in sickbay, he grumbles and retreats as soon as he arrives." Hale raised his eyebrows. "I suppose we all show our concerns in different ways."
Sylar frowned. "His behaviour was atypical for a human, as was his sudden change of focus when questioned. I suggest that we inform the Chief of Security. I have also increased the security protocols of Sickbay." He looked curiously at Hale. "This promises to be an 'interesting' mission."
“We’re already off to a flying start,” Hale agreed. “Well, Doctor, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got a meeting in a moment with the XO, and Lieutenants Baas and Barnes. I’ll report what we’ve noted about Mister Bobbins. At the risk of overstepping, I’d like him vetted before the Captain and Exec consider his appeal.”
"Agreed," Sylar said readily. "Please report this unusual incident. I will remain here and will oversee Ensign Dara's recovery; while the Captain is aware of the death of Ensign Jolley I have not had opportunity to brief Lieutenant Barnes. Could you suggest that she attends Sickbay."
“Of course. Good evening, Doctor.” Hale gave him a curt nod and went for the exit, but stopped short of the portal. “And Doctor, thank you, for everything.”
Sylar acknowledged with a nod of his own. "While gratitude for the conduct of one's duties is not necessary, you are welcome."
Lieutenant Bartholomew Hale
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Thunderbird
Lieutenant Sylar
Chief Medical Officer
USS Thunderbird
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