Star Trek: Enterprise
Last Full Measure
by Michael A. Martin and Andy Mangels



p.Beginning: For James Mongomery Doohan (1920-2005), whose passing has made this planet a much sadder place; for Robert Sheckley (1928-2005), who provided inspiration and convivial times; for Army Specialist Casey Sheehan, (1981-2005), who gave his own last full measure of devotion in Iraq; and for Cindy Sheehan, a bereaved mother possessed of the courage to stand against the unjust, illegal, immoral, and wholly unjustifiable war of aggression and occupation that took Casey's life and has killed, crippled, and orphaned more than 100,000 others. Semper Invictus, Cindy.
     --M.A.M. p.20 "We'd better find the Xindi soon, Hoshi. Otherwise I just might have to kill my roommate," Mayweather said very quietly. He tried to punctuate his words with an easy smile, but he suspected it looked more like the grimace of a man passing a kidney stone.

p.24 In a much gentler--and quieter--tone, he said, "Look, however good these MACOs may be in close combat, fighting the Xindi is going to take more than just three dozen gung-ho, egotistical ground-pounders."
     "True enough, Travis. But the MACOS are definitely going to give us an edge when the shooting starts. They certainly earned their rep when the went against those pirates in the Janus Loop. 'Semper Invictus.'"
     "'Ever Invincible,'" Mayweather said, translating the MACO force's famous official Latin motto into English. "I heard they've picked up a few other choice labels over the past few months as well."
     Hoshi nodded, smiling an ironic smile. "One of them is even in Latin. 'Semper Invisus'; 'Ever Hateful.'"
     Mayweather couldn't help snickering. "Chang wasn't very happy last week when he heard Ensign Marcel using that one. He accused Starfleet of being 'Semper Invitus.'"
     "Ouch. 'Ever Unwilling.' I had no idea your roommate was such an accomplished linguist."
     "Haven't you heard? MACOs are great at everything."
     Hoshi made a gentle "tsk" sound. "You sound like you've adopted one of the other new Latin mottoes a few of the MACOs have tried to pin on us: 'Semper Invideo.'"
     Mayweather favored her with a shrug and a blank stare. "What's that mean? 'Ever Movie Night?'"
     "No. 'Ever Envious.'"

p.86 As she considered her course of action, T’Pol crossed over near the captain’s chair, though she didn’t sit in it. She preferred to stand when she had command of the bridge; taking the captain’s chair always felt a bit presumptuous, regardless of her rank or position.

p.102 “Don’t worry,” Hayes said. “I promise that Peruzzi won’t get in your way. Unless she has to.” Which I know she’ll do in a heartbeat, he thought, if your party encounters anything half as scary as you are when you’re pissed off.

p.102-103 “Are you sure you’re going to be all right, D.O.?” Archer asked O’Neill, lines of worry corrugating his brow. It occurred to Hayes then that he would never have thought to ask any of his people that question; the notion that, say, Corporal McKenzie might not be able to handle herself solo on a simple five-klick hike, even in a desiccated hellhole like this one, simply would not have crossed his mind.
     “I’ll be fine, Captain,” O’Neill said, now regarding the captain with a deferential expression. “I’m not the one who’s about to fly straight into the proverbial lion’s den. Have a safe journey, sir.”
     Archer smiled gently. “Thanks, D.O.”
     “And if you let yourself get eaten by the proverbial lion, you and I are going to have words, believe you me. Sir.” She grinned.
     Archer grinned in response as the lieutenant turned and stepped into the gangway, then vanished from sight. Corporal Peruzzi and Ensign Chandra quickly followed.
     “Seeing the mood she’s in, I almost feel sorry for any unsavory characters they might run into on their way back to the shuttlepod,” Reed said quietly a few seconds later, a rueful smile crossing his lined face.

p.107-108 Hayes lowered the weapon stock, but with clearly evident reluctance. Reed considered the instant dislike he had felt for this man from the moment he and the rest of the MACO force had first come aboard Enterprise months ago. He felt a curious blending of satisfaction and disappointment as he realized that his initial instincts had been correct. Being from a family with a centuries-old naval tradition, Reed understood the ancient, ingrained rivalry between sailors and marines--“squids” and “sharks,” to ancient naval parlance--whenever they were billeted together; now he wondered if the antipathy he felt toward Hayes was rooted in a much deeper, even more fundamental place.

p.121 O’Neill felt simultaneously pained and numb, as though she had just received a crippling body blow. As she and Peruzzi carried Chandra’s corpse all the way into the shuttlepod, O’Neill was seized by a nearly irresistible impulse to shout imprecations at the corporal. She somehow managed to restrain herself as they carefully laid the dead man onto the deck behind the cockpit.
     But she couldn’t suppress the hard, cold glare she cast at Peruzzi. If you MACOs were anywhere near as good as your rep, we wouldn’t have just got done carrying Ravi’s corpse.
     Then O’Neill saw the stunned, haunted look in Peruzzi’s eyes, and instantly hated herself.
     Because it was obvious to her that the young MACO was having the very same thought.

p.122 STRAC = Skilled, Tough, and Ready Around the Clock

p.128-129 Her comment reminded him that Trip and Hoshi and over a dozen other crew members were even now ling in sickbay, victims of some bizarre burp of Delphic space. He sent them a quick “get well soon” thought, though he knew from his long experience hauling freight with his family aboard the Horizon that a bag of kind wishes was worth exactly the price of the bag.

p.161 I’m a space marine who isn’t quite up to traveling through space. If it weren’t for the space-sickness meds Doctor Phlox had prescribed him--“prosthetic space legs,” as Corporal McKenzie liked to call them--Chang had no doubt that somebody else would now be in charge of the MACO side of this mission.

p.165 Mayweather found himself praying, something he hadn’t done for a very long time. But the situation seemed to merit a call to whatever deity or deities might be within divine earshot of the Delphic Expanse.

p.183-184 “My long-range visual sensor pickups are all down at the moment,” Trahve said, his faintly apologetic voice translated by the linguistics matrix Reed carried. “I was supposed to get those systems repaired while I was ashore on Kaletoo. But I was... otherwise detained before I could get around to it.” He offered a weak smile.
     Hayes released a snort of air from his nose, and Archer thought he could actually hear the MACO officer’s teeth grinding. “This is what I mean, Captain. This little slug is giving us just enough rope to hang ourselves with, and he’s doing everything he can not to tip his hand. He’s playing us.”
     Reed looked up at Archer. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Major Hayes, Captain. And as long as the major is using Wild West metaphors, I think it would be in our best interests to get the hell out of Dodge, as you Yanks used to say.”
     Archer glared at the two men, then at Trahve. The officers weren’t being insubordinate, but he didn’t appreciate the lack of support he was feeling from them both at the moment.
     “Don’t look to me for advice,” Trahve said, turning slightly from his console in order to hold up his bloody, manacled hands, as though for inspection. “Whatever I say only seems to encourage more threats and violence from you people.”

p.204 Left again Please, please don’t let me upchuck inside the damned helmet).
     A familiar voice spoke up via a secure, tight-beam channel, echoing slightly inside his helmet. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Chang, you seem to be a little uncomfortable out here.”
     Glancing toward his neck ring at the com system’s small heads-up display, Chang noted with some gratitude that Mayweather hadn’t made his comment on the strike team’s open channel; no one else had heard the pilot’s comment. Nevertheless, a curse formed on Chang’s lips. He bit it back in silence, knowing that there was no point in letting Mayweather see--or rather hear--any cracks in his cultivated veneer of disciplined calm.
     “Thank you for noticing.”
     “It’s all part of the service,” Mayweather said. “Wouldn’t want you to somehow get the idea that I’m just some sort of taxi driver, after all.”
     No. Never. A quality taxi driver would have stayed with the cab. “Then I hope you’re not expecting a tip.”
     “Well, one tip would be nice. For starters, I could use a little more advice on the best way to place these charges.”

p.205 Why’d I let him talk me into bringing him along on the EVA? Chang thought, shaking his head within his immobile helmet. After all, Mayweather was a pilot, not a demolitions specialist. He’d been reared among freight haulers, not elite troopers or even asteroid miners; he might know his way around space, but he was clearly lacking in the essential MACO skill of Blowing Stuff Up Real Good.

p.221 Though he knew it was pure superstition, Mayweather wished he could move his feet just for a moment--not to escape, but to kick Chang for violating the boomer’s taboo against tempting the fates that ruled the great uncaring universe.

 

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