Last time, on Endeavour:
And she bursts out laughing, the first honest sound that’s come out of her mouth this entire meeting.
And I know that step one of my new job is done.
I step out of the psychologist’s office feeling… better. I got her to laugh, got her to talk like a real person. I’ll work on getting her to drink like a real person later, but it’s a start.
The hallway is wide. Wide enough for two gurney’s, side by side. The smooth floor and the doors that are level with the ground are a break from traditional MISC ship design, or at least that’s what Leo, the ships engineer, was saying the other day. There was alcohol involved.
The corridor’s empty, but… speaking of alcohol, I check my mobiglas. 3:13 in the afternoon. Plenty early for a drink.
Before I start towards the kitchen to see if there’s any beer leftover from yesterday’s party, my mobiGlas pings. A second later, a ship-wide broadcast comes over the intercom.
‘Hello everyone, Cones here.
We’ve had a call from the UEE. They received a distress call from an Orion. It was short, and cut out almost immediately, but the message said something about a plague before it cut off.
Penn has us on the way already, and we will be joined by a squad of UEE marines before we reach the Orion, but this will be a level 3 biohazard. Full suits for every crew member. Any patients will quarantined for the duration of the mission.
We’re on this because we’re closest. Our ETA is three hours. I’m sorry to do this to everyone so soon after the events of last night, but…
This is our job. This is what we all signed up for. I trust you will all do your parts.
Aaaand dammit. No beer for me.
The next two hours go by quickly. Hazmat suits are doled out. Groups are assigned, meetings are had. We meet up with our UEE marine escort; three Hornets, a Gladiator, and an Espera Prowler. They’re going in heavy, and I have to wonder if they know anything we don’t.
I wonder a lot of things over the next three hours, really.
I’m assigned to Frank.
Frank… Frank is our Cutlass Red. No-one’s told me who named the ship Frank yet, but… that’s what it’s called. It’s officially the M.S.S. Frank. If you asked me normally, I’d say it was ridiculous.
If you asked me after I’d had a few beer, I’d say it was hilarious, and the best name ever for a Cutlass Red.
If you asked me right now… I’d say I don’t give a damn about its name, I just don’t want to be on it.
The Frank will be the Endeavour’s connection to the plagued Orion. The Endeavour won’t be connecting the airlocks, at least not at first, just in case. Complete separation of the two ships. A code 3 biohazard.
And I’m assigned to the Frank. Which means I’m going in, right off the bat.
It’s times like these where I ask myself if being an actor was really such a bad a job afterall.
Curious about what’s going on on the plagued Orion? Worried our heroes hazmat suits might have holes in them? Worried about zombies? Find out what happens next week in Endeavour Episode 10: No zombies, and no holes in my hazmat suit, but honestly I’d have preferred one of those two options.