A day in the life of Senior Chief Zack Patterson

Posted on Sunday April 7, 2024 @ 4:10am by Master Chief Petty Officer Zack Patterson JR.

699 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Prologue: First Steps
Location: An apartment near Starfleet medical

The scene seemed familiar. The hallway of the former uss Poseidon. They were running for the escape pods, and he was already holding one of the unconscious crew, in a fireman's carry. With his height and strength, he barely felt the youngster. Everyone was panicking. Alarms were going off and the ship was shaking.

he didn't see the wall to his side explode, but he felt it. He felt the pain in his left arm and leg. He fell to the floor. Nearby crewmen came running over, as his world went dark.

---

Zack Sat up with a start in the bed. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was. He was in a spare apartment near StarFleet Medical. He had still been dreaming of the old Poseidon at least once a week. He scanned the tiny room. The curtains were open and light was just starting to come in. It was a small studio apartment in San Francisco. Facing the bay and about twenty stories up. While he was a senior chief, he had opted for a small studio place, as he was single and just an NCO. The bigger places were for families. Most of the crew from his ship were either on the Earth, or the Starbase. Though very few had come to see him. For the past few months he had been undergoing therapy for both his mind and his body. While helping others get to the safety of an escape pod, he had been injured. He had managed to save three people before the explosion. In the aftermath, His left hand had been removed near the wrist. His left leg was gone, a little below the knee. The woman who he had been carrying suffered far worse and in the last explosion, was cut in half. It had taken almost a month of counseling to get him to accept he was going to get biosynthetic Parts.

After he accepted this fact, the surgeries had happened. Now he was on the downhill side of ten or so months of physical therapy to get used to his new appendages. Although he was offered the chance to retire, he didn't want to look like he was quitting. He also knew if he quit, he would crawl into a bottle and never come out. Instead he had tried to press on.

Before the battle of Wolf 359, he had put in his application to the Chief’s board, to try and get the promotion to Master Chief. Not even a week after his surgery, he had gotten the call that he was to show up and speak with the Chief’s board. It was a normal thing. Go in and they will interview you. He had done all of the classes and other things he would need to have done for the hopeful promotion.

His ego didn’t want to have himself go in using a cane. But the doctor’s had insisted. He knew that each time he went, they only saw the old drunk that they had denied so many times before giving him the senior chief spot, though that was five years ago. He had been denied twice so far for the Master Chief spot.

He got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to answer nature's call. As he passed a hook, he took a robe and put it on, in case another doctor showed up. He seemed to have a never ending gaggle of visitor's stopping by. Mostly doctors and counselors. But occasionally it was a crew member. He took His time going to the bathroom, then taking a fast shower. He stopped and looked to a mirror. He had a shave as well. And was still surprised that all of the cuts on his face were already taken care of.

He was tired of bed rest. He wanted to feel useful Again. When he wasn't resting, he was working on therapy. Pushing his body to the limit. He went to his bed and dressed. He pulled On his starfleet uniform and noticed it was a bit snug. He would have to add more exercise, before he became a marshmallow.

 

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