Cmdr Jack Campbell, USS Rage

September 2005.
A short piece to re-introduce a character for a return of the USS Rage. I can’t remember much from the original sim, but there was supposed to be a sort of ambiguous falling out between the first and second, leading up to some revelations in character development. Not entirely sure how or when it lost interest, since it was mostly the ‘old guard’ and impressionable new guys simming at the time.

Commander Jack Campbell had just one and only one question alone that he needed to ask. It had been preying on his mind since they first stopped off at Starbase 12. He sat down and looked at the man whose expression was neither of contempt or compassion, but just to serve one’s own clients.
“So, who do you have to kill to get a scotch around here?”
“That all depends on who’s buying, Commander.” replied the bartender.
Campbell just laughed a bit. “Same old Cap. So how’s business these days?”
Cap poured Campbell a glass of scotch, passing it over to him. “Business as usual. It goes. How about yourself?”
“Not a lot. I’ve been teaching at the academy for a few years, so going back to getting used to a starship might be tricky for an old dog like me.”
“Being on a starship is like riding a bike.” replied Cap.
“You never forget?” finished Campbell.
“Pffft, nah. If you break it the first time, chances are your daddy’s gonna get you a brand spanking new one. Probably get you to pay for it though.”
Campbell laughed and reached for his drink. Picking up the glass, he surveyed the bar. It was quiet this time of the day, a couple of regulars strewn about. Glancing to his left he noted a talkative female Caitian in marine fatigues talking to another woman in a Starfleet uniform. Campbell just shrugged it off as it wasn’t anything seriously interesting. God knows his life had already gotten interesting since Rage.
The U.S.S Rage NCC-1983, and now a B to add to its name. Campbell shook his head as he talked some more to the old bartender.
“Cap, heard much on the horizon lately?” he asked.
Cap shrugged. “Not much everyone doesn’t already know around here. Government conspiracies and Super Beings. The usual ‘War is here’ sort of banter.”
Then the alarm klaxons went.
Cap looked out to the promenade. Hordes of security officers rushed past, only pausing to be questioned by the concerned. “Looks bad, Commander. Any idea what’s going on?”
Campbell threw back his head and downed the glass of scotch before standing and paying for the drink.
“Business as usual, Cap. It goes.”
Campbell walked out of the bar and headed down the promenade as if the alarms and panicking people didn’t exist. With most personnel, they would rush off to seek some answers, or to see if they could help. But Campbell knew there were no answers to be given, nor could anyone do anything about it to help.
But that didn’t mean no one could give it a shot.

Days later, Campbell sat in the back of the room as the grieving soaked the atmosphere around him. He was never one for funerals. It wasn’t the dead that disturbed him, far from it. It was probably the things they left behind that bothered him the most. Then again it could be just nothing. As prominent as Admiral William Ross was, he didn’t feel much for him. Campbell had never felt much for anyone in his entire life, only serving his own selfish ends.
That was until he met Charis Silver. The Chief Medical Officer of the U.S.S Rage certainly had a profound impact on him, and was even ready to commit to a relationship. But he’d broke it off six years ago and the idea never entered his mind again. Ever.
As Campbell headed to the conference room, he knew his past would be coming back. The good memories and the bad. But no matter how long you looked at them, they were just downright freaking weird.

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