USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50302.09 - 50302.16 |
The small shuttle skimmed through the stars, headed toward LanJep and the Galaxy.
Elijah made a few last minute course corrections before switching to full auto-navigation. Reclining in his chair, his thoughts wandered to the USS Soverign and to the experiences he had during the year he had been aboard. Thoughts of his holo-sims, the crew, the shuttles, and the helm of the soverign class vessel distracted him momentarily.
Beeps emitting from the console brought him back from his reverie. He was approaching the planet. He could see the ship through the front display, bright ID lights illuminating parts of the shinning hull.
He opened a channel and began transmitting the Federation identification codes, as well as his transfer orders. A voice came over his com, "We've been expecting you ensign. Shuttle bay two is open."
He took a final turn around the galaxy. Looking over the starboard side, he could see the federation insignia and the ships identification. A spirit of adventure and awe fillied him, and his excitement grew.
He guided the shuttle into the shuttle bay and climbed out, his heels clicking on the bulkhead as he landed. He glanced at the PADD in his hand. merely for routine, by now he had memorized its contents.
Heading down the corridor, he found his quarters and walked inside. His personal belongings lay on the floor in front of his bed. In a few hours he had transformed the sparsely furnished room into home away from home. Laying out a few decorations he had brought with him from the Soverign he couldn't wait to meet his superiors and the other members of the crew.
The Galaxy was departing tomorrow for her first assignment, and Elijah imagined that tensions were high for the time being, preparing the ship for voyage. He contented himself with changing into something more comfortable than his uniform and reading over the bios for his superiors and learning as much as he could about them.
Lying back, PADD in hand, he waited for sleep. This would be a most eventful journey. His second post in Starfleet, and he was fortunate to be aboard the Galaxy, the predecessor to the ship that made history.
*backpost, pre lanJep
*IT'S NICE OF YOU TO WALK ME BACK TO MY QUARTERS, DALLAS, BUT UNNECESSARY* Ella typed and passed to Dallas.
Karyn pretended to look absently at the padd she was holding, even though she had only needed to take a quick glance at it to get the gist of the report. After reading through the horrific accounts from the members of the Defiant Away Team, it was clear this mission would be with them for a long time to come. She was only now beginning to come to grips with her own experiences, so she couldn't imagine what Ella and the others were going through.
Emma had talked her into arranging leave on lanjep for the entire crew, and while Karyn thought it was a good idea, something about subjecting others to lanjep rather than simply her own care bothered her a bit. That was also when Emma reminded her exactly why that was. Karyn sighed. She couldn't doubt that lanjep and all that came leading up to lanjep was hard on all of them. "Not a problem, Ella, I'm happy to do it." All the time Ella was in sickbay, Karyn couldn't help but feel motherly toward her.
Ella walked carefully. Although her broken bones were all healed, she felt a bit wobbly. She made sure to walk within close distance of the wall, tucking the strange tye dyed bear (named Jerry) that Indigo had given her as a get-well-present under her left arm. She was aware of Karyn watching her closely, ready to catch her if she stumbled, but Ella pretended not to notice. And Karyn pretended not to notice Ella pretending.
"I've decided to prescribe some R and R for the entire crew," added Karyn carefully, "I know lanjep has some great opportunities for recreation. Perhaps after you've recuperated more, you can have some quiet time away from the ship. It might help to recharge your batteries in addition to our talks."
Ella frowned slightly. How the counselor had ever talked her into therapy was beyond her. Maybe it had something to do with being bed ridden. *I SUPPOSE A LITTLE VACATION COULD DO ME SOME GOOD* she wrote on the PADD. She'd probably spend the time in her quarters instead but there was no need to tell Dallas that.
Karyn read the message. "I think it would do us all some good." Karyn replied, sounding as if she just might be convincing herself of that as well. Lanjep was not exactly a place filled with happy memories for her.
They reached her quarters and Ella stopped to rest on the wall by her door. *I'M CURIOUS, DALLAS. HOW DID YOU KNOW I'D BE HURT AGAIN?*
Karyn shrugged. "I didn't really, but I came to sickbay as soon as I heard. The past has a way of creeping up on all of us, though, Defiant or no Defiant."
Not for long, Ella thought grimly. But that was an internal discussion for later. *THANK YOU FOR WATCHING AFTER ME* she typed.
Karyn smiled, quite sure in her own way Ella was giving her a dismissal. "Don't mention it. Anytime."
*I'LL SEE YOU AFTER THIS VACATION BREAK* Ella replied. She supposed someone should try to make the counselor happy once in awhile. Ella really only planned to show up a few times though before she broke it off.
"You can count on it." replied Karyn with a wink, before leaving Ella to get settled.
"We're here." E'xch presented in the dim darkness of the off hours promenade. The sounds of the late night establishments were as soft as a distant memory, as the shop was in a more secluded area of the district.
T'lan, O'Rourke, and Marsh had looks of skepticism written all over their faces as E'xch tried to save his own.
"Nobody's here." Marsh grumbled, his mouth like gravel.
"Marsh is correct. It appears their hours of operations are different than what you have told us." T'lan crossed her arms, a stern Vulcan look of accusation firm on her face.
"And it looks like we're screwed, E'xch. Great plan." O'Rourke shook her head in shame, "Better pack your winter clothes, because we'll be in Breen by the end of the week."
"No! It won't happen! Honest!" E'xch waved his arms frantically in the air, trying desperatly to calm the group, "I've done business with these two ever since I came on board, and a few times before then. They will deliver, trust me. They always deliver. They are master merchants that can acquire anything... for a price... that is..."
"Well, if they aren't open, we're going to bury you in a Breen snowdrift." Marsh suggested to the group, the suggestion getting uninanimous nods from O'Rourke and T'lan.
Silently, they waited. Fifteen minutes later, Marsh's patience was wearing very thin. He started to pace like a jungle cat, watching the corridors for passer-by's. O'Rourke fingered her comm-badge with paranoia in her heart, while T'lan, the only cool face, stood still and watched E'xch for any new reactions.
"Hmmm... maybe they're not coming. Oh well!" E'xch shrugged.
O'Rourke and Marsh shot daggers from their eyes to E'xch's heart. T'lan broke her Vulcan serenity and took one menacing step forward. E'xch stepped back as the group slowly converged, sweating and humming to fake calm.
It was O'Rourke who broke the silence. "That's it... i'm going to..."
"O'Rourke! Marsh! T'lan! E'xch? What the hell are you doing here?!?" The voice of the person E'xch dreaded more than his vengeful comrades was that of their boss, chief, and emperor. Worse, it came from a least expected angle, and the fact that Marsh missed the intrusion was very alarming.
From the shadows, Lieutenant Commander Corgan stepped out into the dim light. He was dressed in black, sunglasses included, in a suit that smelled of Klingon smoke and stress.
"I heard about the desk. What I haven't heard about is what Curot's shop has to do with it." James paced, eying each of his department croonies with the evil eye, "Start confessing, or we'll all be going to Breen in caskets."
***********************************************************************
"Finally!" Crom threw his hands up at the lanJepi sky as the call to return to the Galaxy came in. "Enough of this sweaty, dirty, disease ridden cesspool of a planet!!! When they said resort, I thought there would be MANY more dancing girls, and none of them klingon! I don't think I wanna see another klingon for a year!"
"I know! There should have at least been a four breasted Bolian or something!" Curot joined in the tyrade. At least a dozen klingons probably drew their blades and many death threats were uttered under breaths as the two Ferengi strolled down the causeway.
Crom activated his communicator, "ProConsul Crom to Galaxy, my Attache and I are ready to beam back to the ship. Whenever you're ready." Suddenly the familiar tingling feeling of the transporter licked at their molecules and dispersed them back onto the transporter pad on the Galaxy. Crom gave a shocked expression to the transporter chief. "A little notice would have been nice!"
The officer smiled and replied with a slight laugh, "You said whenever I was ready, ProConsul....I was ready..."
Crom held his hand to his chest as if he had been mortally wounded. "I had no idea you'd take that so literally! There may be some hope for you yet!" He smiled and strode to the doorway to exit. It opened, and Crom and Curot were staring right into the face of the law. Curot jumped slightly with surprise while Crom held himself better.
Four officers (one dressed in a jungle camouflage), were blocking the hallway, with the leader up front (and not in a standard uniform!).
"You know E'xch..." The leader hummed, satisfied, "Your backup plan was half correct. Good work."
"Thank you sir." Beamed the Denobulan, to the chagrin of the other officers.
"Lieutenant Commander Corgan. It's a pleasure to see you as always." Crom and Curot tried to brush by with little success.
"Can the crap, Ferengi." James motioned for the Ferengi to come forward, "I had a rotten evening. I was conned into a date, went to the strangest places on Lanjep, and worse yet, I have to deal with Ferengi. Does this make me happy? F**k no!"
Corgan silenced the Ferengi before they could squeal in cowardice, "But you know what will make me happy? If you help me and my security crew with a little redecorating problem."
The gentle sound of latinum caressed Crom's blood. The smell of profit was in the air. The riskier the road, the greater the profit. "Help? Me? What could I POSSIBLY do for the Security Department? Or, more like what can I do for Mister Corgan here?"
"Ohh... we just have a problem. You see, the ship is in the market for a new desk..." He eyed the Ferengi suspiciously, "And the Captain does get testy if he doesn't have a top notch desk, you know what i'm saying? Some joker decided it would be real funny if they took the desk for their own home decorations. So, that leaves us without a desk, and we at security are left with the age old problem of finding a replacement. I heard... from my esteemed colleague E'xch that you are the people to talk to. ARE YOU?!?!?!"
"Well," Crom began slowly wringing his hands together in a typical Ferengi fashion. "You need a replacement desk? Well, I am sure I can find a desk to REPLACE it at very, very little cost, I am sure you don't want that...."
"Perhaps you didn't catch onto my sarcasm, Ferengi!" Corgan snapped, his catlike grin dangerously close to Crom's quivering fangs, "I asked if you would know anything about a desk. I expected an answer that didn't involve a replacement. Let's face it, I know you two have something to do with the desk's disappearance! But...." He allowed the fear to sink in, "I'm willing to at least hear you out. Tell you what, if you know where to get the captain's desk, i'll give you a generous reward. No questions asked. Just the captain's desk, that's all."
"Well, I am sure you would settle for nothing less than an exact duplicate? I mean, Captain Bhrode would probably want a few words with you if he had to sit down at say, a Doctor's console or an elementary school desk?" Crom smiled. "Do you have the specifications for the captain's desk? I am sure it would be easier to come by if I knew exactly what I was looking for?"
"Who do you think I am? Stupid?" Corgan looked at the two Ferengi displeasingly, "You know what it looks like. Don't give me that bullsh*t."
The Ferengi gave James their best 'innocent look' (more like one of a cat caught with the family's pet bird in its mouth, but close enough). Though James suspected the Ferengi's had something to do with the missing desk, there was no proof.
To humor the Ferengi, James reluctantly handed over a PADD containing the captain's desk information.
Crom scanner over the PADD and placed his right hand firmly on his chin and slowly massaged it, loosing the odd hum and haw. "And there is, of course, negotiation of payment?"
Curot piped up from behind Crom. "This will absolutely NOT be cheap, hoo-man!"
"Yes, you are right about that Curot," Crom replied and handed him the PADD to look over. "There is no guarantee that I will be able to produce it, this is a very dificult item to find, so I would like to negotiate a two way contract...."
"Ok! How about you tell me the price of the desk right now." Corgan confronted, "The whole price. Say it."
"That is SO hard to estimate! I could give you a round figure of expected costs, susceptable taxes and...and...." Crom saw death in Corgan's eyes. "Fifty bars of latinum! That should cover all expenses neccisary to locate a desk for the Captain." He glanced back down at the PADD and over a few specs. "I can even see what I can do about a chair." Crom smiled a toothy grin. Curot cowered behind him in petrified fear.
"Ok..." James hummed, "How about this. You knock that price down to a quarter of what you are suggesting, and I don't pin you as a suspect for the theft. Don't give me that innocent look! We caught two figures of approximately your height in some monitoring footage, and those ears of yours are very distinctive!"
"TWELVE BARS, FIVE STRIPS!!! ARE YOU OUTTA YOUR MIND!!!!?!?" Crom bellowed at the offer. "A Naussican could make a better deal! I have no idea WHAT you are trying to accuse me of, MISTER Corgan, and these accusations will only force the price higher! It is ALREADY going to be VERY difficult to locate ANY KIND of desk that may be suitable for the Captian's, let alone one of these models!" he smacked the PADD into his palm. "Now, unless you are going to arrest me, you can drop your accusations. The desk certainly WON'T be found if I am in a jail cell!"
~"Great... so much for my gambit."~ Corgan thought darkly. Though he wanted to see the Ferengi's twitch and grovel, he really didn't have anything to pin them on except for a few shadowy readings and equally shadowy silouette captures.
"Sir." T'lan spoke up, "It is noted that the Ferengi, when seeking a profit, can be inhumanly brave."
"So I noticed." Corgan sighed, "Then tell me, Lieutenant. What should we do?"
"Oh, come now!" Crom sighed. "A good negotiation should be savored, like a good wine!"
"Sir, I can negotiate with the Ferengi."
Crom's eyes flashed to the beautiful vulcan, and instinctively looked her up and down all the while saying "Females and finances don't mix, but I am VERY willing to make an acception!"
A collective gasp came from the rest of the security group. All looked at T'lan as if she fell face first from a shuttlecraft. Serenely, T'lan didn't let anyone else's opinion change her placid face.
"Sure. Give it a try, Lieutenant." Corgan said.
"How would you like to begin negotiations? With a standard Order of....." His voice trailed off and his eyes froze into the gaze of the voluptuous vulcan standing before him. Crom wasn't sure if he was turned on, or just very, very afraid.
T'lan strided confidently over to the Ferengi's. Staring face to face with Crom, her sharp eyebrows driving a hole through the Ferengi's bulbous skull. It looked as if T'lan was willing to mindmeld, or drive a fist into Crom's unlucky face. For a Vulcan, she looked dead serious, if deadly wasn't enough.
The chief of security moved aside, and let T'lan put on her interrogation face. Nose to nose with each other, the Ferengi and the svelte Vulcan stared each other down. T'lan's fingers outspread, a gesture to offer a mind meld. The fingers came closer, Crom trembled in fear.
And her fingers brushed soothingly along the edges of Crom's ears!
Thunder ran through Crom's veins as a near seizure of pleasure shook his body. His ears tingled and his head began to swim, he knew this was bad. Very, very bad. But oh, so good at the same time! The rest of the room seemed to vanish and it was just he and she, his Voluptuous Vulcan Vixen of pleasure......
"Ummm... T'lan? Isn't that a tad bit inappropriate?" O'Rourke asked.
"I was about to say the same thing." Corgan muttered.
Ignoring the other security officers, T'lan continued to stimulate the Ferengi's twitching nerves. In a soothing, seductive voice, T'lan whispered, "Tell me how much you are willing to drop the price, and I may reward you in return. If not..."
Her voice turned ice cold, as her fingers pressed against a sensitive nerve. "....I know exactly where it hurts."
"You hear that?" Cheif Mate Mike Sternbach turned from a console to Ensign Saturn.
Emma sat and listened for a moment. "I don't hear anything..what is it?"
Sternbach furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure... It's a high pitch squeal almost....maybe we should run a quick diagnostic....."
**/\**
Crom was on his knees belting out a howl that would have shattered crystal. Curot grabbed his ears in horror and staggered back into a wall. A small rivlet of yellow blood dripped down his right ear, quickly turning a dark blue as it came into contact with the atmosphere in the room..
"I CAN GET IT I CAN GET IT I CAN GET IT!!!!!!!!!!" Crom bellowed into the air. "TWELVE BARS WILL DO FINE!!!!!!" He gasped wildly as if he was running out of breathable air.
As quickly as it happened, T'lan's finger stopped squeezing the Ferengi's sensitive lobes. The sharp, squeezing pain melted away, through the throbbing, dull pain and a inexplicably small bruise still remained.
"So, do we have a deal?" Corgan asked, wincing from the Ferengi's pitiful, girlish scream.
"Of course, of course... I should have what you ask for shortly, I just need to contact my contacts." Crom rubbed his wounded lobe.
"You'll have the desk at the security office in one hour. If not, you will not receive my latinum." Corgan fingered his PADD as if he was toying with his prey, "I'll have Fedcredits in my personal account exchanged into latinum and transferred electronically to your account. Meanwhile... don't disappoint me, Crom."
James waved to his security guards. The two humans and the Denobulan walked off, looking at the Vulcan seductress with deep surprise. T'lan facelessly stared at Crom, a glimmer of hidden Vulcan cruelty deep in her eyes. She nodded, said "Thank you for your... co-operation.", and followed her companions. As his underlings exited, Corgan pointed once at Crom, mouthed "Be there.", and left.
Crom stood staring at the closed door, slowly rubbing his bleeding ear. His eyes lolled back in his head and he exhaled deeply. "Curot," he said. His ferengi counterpart approached from the side. "I think I'm in love."
"So...what do we do now?" Curot querried.
"I accidentally left one of the Accentuators on the desk. Do you still have the transport pad?"
"No, I sold it like you told me to."
Crom spun around with a pained look on his face. "YOU SOLD IT?!" Crom bellowed.
"UUUhhhh.... yes! You told me to!!!" Curot said after trying to hide behind his hands. "I got 15 strips of latinum and a free bottle of slug juice for it!!
"WELL," Crom put his hands on his hips and stared at Curot. "Do we NOT have a BUSINESS DEAL where you get 15% of whatever profit was made and I get the rest?!"
Curot thought hard for a moment until it clicked on him. He frowned and slowly handed over twelve strips. Crom shook his head. "I'll expect the four slips tomorrow! Now," he deftly pocketed the latinum somewhere, "Try to find a way to locate the Accentuator on the planet, hopefully it is still attached to the desk. We will ahve to find a way to transport it up. I'll work on that. In the meantime, I have two days worth of reports that need my attention, and Liason Curran will have your lobes if I don't deal with them in a timely manner!"
"I'll do my best." Curot said proudly.
Crom nodded and turned to walk out of the room. As the doors slid open he called back, "And find out who that Vulcan was!" He stopped as a shiver ran up his spine. "Let me know immediately!"
Crom stood staring into a mirror at the discoloration now quite apparent on his earlobe. He winced as he fingered the sore spot. The comm system chimed and crom nearly jumped out of his skin. This 'vacation' on the 'resort world' sure turned into a huge ball of stress for the poor Ferengi.
Crom stormed over to a console and punched a few buttons. "What?"
It was Curot on the other end, "I have a lock on the Accentuator, and I have secured use of a cargo transporter for us to use. It cost me a strip of latinum, but I had no choice! We will just have to feed in the coordinates." Curot almost sounded giddy.
"Understood. I will meet you on the way." Crom fingered his ear subconciously before putting his jacket back on and walking out into the hallways.
*********
The doors of one of the cargo bays slid open as the two Ferengi walked in.
"...luckily for us, the Desk is still inside the house of Av'on K'Alling, and the Accentuator is active and working fine. This should be easier than sucking the stomache out of a Nuesarian Slag Beetle!" Curot strolled over to hte console for the Cargo Transporter. "I was able to use this transporter to bring a shipment of non-lethal Klingon weaponry aboard for my shop."
Crom looked at Curot in astonishment. "There is such a thing?"
Curot smiled. "No, but it worked. As long as I lined a palm with a little latinum."
"How devious...." Crom grinned. "I like it!" He clasped Curot on the shoulder and brought him toward the transport padd. "OK. Do your magic."
Curot's fingers flew over the console inputting coordinates and the frequency rate of the Accentuator. Moments ticked by nervously. A small bead of sweat appeared on Crom's forehead as he watched Curot work.
"Alright, I have the the Accentuator activated and ready to begin site to site transport. I am routing it through this cargo transport which will act just like the transport mat we had earlier."
Do you know if it is attached to the desk still?" crom asked with a nervous tweak in his voice.
Curot stared at the transport pad. "Well, we will know in a moment."
"Do it."
The transporter hummed into action and mere moments later the desk was a little dusty and safely back aboard the Galaxy. Crom smiled and sighed as releif overwhelmed him.
~chay'pen 'aHa'ba~ belted out from under the desk and a large klingon warrior arose on the opposite side of the desk with the Accentuator grasped firmly in hand. He looked down at the desk and glanced around his new surroundings, his gaze settling on two pale Ferengi.
"We are so very, very dead." Crom croaked.
~qava'la!~ The klingon bellowed and began to draw a blade. Crom shrieked as the Klingon dematerialized from behind the desk. Crom shot a panicked glance at Curot.
"I activated the Accentuator and sent him back to the planet." He smiled at Crom who was shaking visibly. "No need to worry Crom. I am going to go over the desk to make sure it hasn't been tampered with."
"You do that." Crom said as he sat down against a crate. "I'm just... just gonna....sit..."
Ten minutes of Croms life flashed away in but a moment in his perspective as he calmed his nerves from their seizures. This had not been a good week. He phased back into reality as Curot walked up to him and handed him a mug of liquid. Crom took it an looked at him with a sidelong glance.
"Slug juice. Not really that fresh, but it's beter than nothing. The Captain's desk is fine. I am going to go backto my shop and get ready to open. I will speak with you tomorrow. You look like you need a good sleep." Curot helped Crom to his feet and exited the cargo bay, leaving Crom to his own.
Crom slammed back the slug juice and tossed the mug somewhere into the depths of the cargo bay. "Well, on to business." He activated his comm badge.
"Crom to Lieutenant Commander Corgan."
A moment's pause, then a voice over the comm-badge. =/\="This is Jimmy."=/\=
"If you will come find me, I have something of interest for you. I do not believe you will be dissapointed." Crom smiled to himself.
=/\="Come to Cargo Bay 4. I'll meet you there."=/\=
************
Pacing impatiently, James entered Cargo Bay 4 with haste in his steps. All through his mind, he kept thinking about the two Ferengi diplomats.
Or thiefs... merchants...
What where they? James swore he was starting to develop an investigator's instinct towards these two examples of buffoonery. Though he didn't pride himself as the best investigator this side of the alpha quadrant, James knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Ferengi had a scheme set up all along. It was the same paranoid sense every human had whenever they encountered a Ferengi, that somehow, their entire plan was based on screwing the customer over.
But without any positive proof that the desk was stolen by the Ferengi, James couldn't make an arrest. Not one single arrest. It annoyed him to no end.
Corgan's mood was about to brighten. An ebony desk, lined with rare Andorian cherry wood, polished to a brilliant, sparkling shine like the obelisk of Arthur C. Clark's creation, stood alone and unharmed inside the cargo bay. Crom leaned confidently on the desk, his hand leaving a big, fat handprint.
"My god... you actually have it!" James whistled in surprise, "You mind if I give the desk a once over?"
"Of course you can inspect the merchandise! It would be sloppy business if you didn't!" Crom stepped quickly aside.
Corgan flipped open his tricorder, cautiously scanning every inch of the captain's desk. Some peculiar readings, such as residue Klingon DNA, was being detected.
"So, tell me how you managed to get a desk that was not only rare, but available to only the shipyard's database? And in Klingon Territory?" James eyed the Ferengi with suspicion.
"I suppose I just got lucky...There are a lot of shadey people on that planet, I wouldn't doubt that some enterprising entrepreneur just couldn't pass up the chance." Crom took a step towards James cautiously. "Greed can warp even the most powerful of minds. Ferengi Rule of Acquisition 232." He smiled a toothy grin.
"Any idea why there's a coffee stain on the left side of the desk?" James grilled, "I've noted that the captain keeps his mug there..."
Crom gave him a dumbfounded look and shrugged his shoulders. "At least I was ABLE to get it, otherwise you would have a difficult time attempting to tell the Captain that he nees to go to the nearest Shipyard to get one?!" He threw out quickly.
"Fine. I'll let it slide." James snapped his tricorder shut, "I'll take the desk back now, if you don't mind."
"Oh, and if you could be so kind as to make sure than nothing suspicious will happen here? I must take my leave and go to work again. I will expect transaction of the latinum to be confirmed by 1600." Crom massaged his hands subconciously.
"Your latinum is already in your account, Mister Crom." Corgan stated.
"It has been a pleasure doing business with you Mister Corgan. I look foreward to future dealings with you. Good customers are as rare as latinum itself." Crom spun on his heel and left the cargobay, and headed straight for bed.
"Hold on" James coldly froze the Ferengi in his tracks. "The reason I'm letting this one slide is because you two have diplomatic immunity crammed up your @$$es. But that diplomatic immunity is limited. I swear you two have a part in the desks disappearance. If I catch you doing anything resembling illegal activity on my watch, I'll make sure T'lan and I come for a visit... and it won't be a fantasy scenefrom Vulcan Love Slave! Understood?"
"Understood, Mister Corgan." Crom said flatly and staightened his jacket professionally. "Inidentally, I have a friend who has a number of antique watches from your homeworld. I will see that he sends you one of his best Rowleckses, free of charge of course." Crom bowed slightly at the waist. "Once again, a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Corgan," and made a hastey retreat from the Cargo Bay.
James looked back at the desk, saying "Geez... I'm just digging myself deeper..."
************
"I can't believe you did that!" O'Rourke stroked the polishing cloth over the Captain's desk, wiping off the smudges and stains caused by Ferengi handling. After scanning every inch of the device for fingerprints and DNA residue, and finding none, they recorded the results into the tricorder, then set to placing everything where it was meant to be placed.
T'lan shrugged, as cool as any stereotypical Vulcan, "I merely did what I had to.
"Yeah, well I didn't know you had a mean streak. Geez... that Ferengi nearly blew out the EPS conduits just by screaming alone." O'Rourke applied a spray of polish, turning the surface into a shiny black.
T'lan looked back at her human compatriot, showing a look of skepticism and unemotional Vulcan curiousity. "In order to have what you humans call a mean streak, one has to have emotions. I have none, therefore I do not have a mean streak."
"Spoken like a true Vulcan. But seriously, Vulcans don't seduce and intimidate people... as far as I know."
With a look that O'Rourke guessed as being Vulcan amusement, T'lan stated, "A Vulcan doesn't have to feel in order to act. I felt no emotion, but emulated emotion to maximize the effect of my bargaining with the emotionally exploitable Ferengi."
O'Rourke blinked, looking down at the shining black surface of Brhode's desk.
"Hey, whatever works." Shelly shrugged, continuing with her polishing.
"We're down to six.." Commander Von Ernst announced from the chair to the immediate left of the Captain's own, where the tiny red head sat.
The frown on Captain Brhode's face seemed to deepen. He closed is eyes and began to slowly rub his temple. "Thank you number one. Number two...?"
"Three point 4 minutes and counting." Lysander called out, glancing at the cronograph that he had started 60 minutes ago, when the steely eyed Captain had called for every officer to be aboard the Galaxy for departure.
"Bridge to engineering...report!" Brhode called out. "I want to know that when I press the gas pedal, we're not going to purge the waste recyclers instead."
[All systems ready to go, sir. No signs of the so called 'Quick Virus']
"Very good, O'Shea. We move out in..." the Captain started, then pointed to the Centuarian Second officer. Lysander held up two fingers. "..two minutes and counting. Hopefully the good Doctor is in his quarters smoking celery stalks and staying out of the way."
"Two more officers remaining on the planet, sir." Von Ernst said, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Ensigns Will and Ghell Mannruut. A pair of married Science officers. Shall I have them beamed up, Sir?"
"Absolutly not, Number One. They had 60 minutes to get back aboard. If they choose to have a little picnic in the park over thier duty, then I do not want them aboard my ship." Brhode barked. He turned to Raven Darkstar, currently standing stoiclly in the corner of the bridge.
"Meat Truck, inform Corgan that I want thier quarters emptied out and thier personal effects packaged and into the cargo bay, where they will sit until they can be shipped off to Breen."
The indian nodded solomnly.
"Mr. Gelf, please send the following message to Ianjep, attention Mannruuts: Give my regards to Commander Thomas." Brhode commanded. The Kerelian Ops officer's hands danced over his keyboard, as Lysander announced that time had expired.
The old man stiffened in his chair, then tugged his tunic in traditional Picard-like fashion.
"Helm..plot us a coarse away from this mudball."
Jeromy Savoie entered the headding and then turned back to the Captain. "Laid in and ready, Sir."
"Then let's not have any grass growing under our feet, man. Warp 3. Engage!"
And on his command, the ship surged ahead into the stars.
NRPG: This week is going to be a light one for you folks. Sit and marvel at the swirling stars and nebula outside the ship. I get the distinct impression that by the end of this week we'll be recieving a very..unusual distress call.
Meanwhile, look for Brandon to take the reigns for the next chapter!
"Sixty Minutes my arse," muttered Jack just after the comlink fell silent. And just before a klingon punched him squarely in the face. It had been an eventful few days. He had arrived on the Galaxy. Had a... muddled encounter with the Gunney, annoyed a few of his fellow crew, and even managed to get his med eval done. ~Lucky Dr. Malgin isn't around to see the after effects of this,~ thought Jack, ~but, then again, if I don't start turning this fight around... he may yet. I bet he'd enjoy it, too."
The magic mixture of bloodwine and what passed for whiskey on lanJep had certainly stirred things up. By things, namely Jack and a group of klingons. Now, this wasn't an evil fight or something caused by bad blood. Not at all, in fact, it was just a group of testosterone molecules in the vague shape of sentient humanoid life having at it, so to speak.
Jack rolled the taller of the two klingons who had his attention over his back and knocked a table over onto him. The taller klingon, Garhf or some such, was bored so, after talking with Jack about various things came to a natural conclusion to have a brawl in the bar. Which, as the idea circulated among the patrons, came to be more and more popular. Likeable chaps, mostly, trying to pass the day away with a bit of fun and blood. Especially blood.
The table theoretically should have delayed Garhf from rising and regaining the advantage. In practice, however, the table soon was airborne and knocked down both Jack and the other klingon who was in the process of bleeding rather heavily. The smaller klingon, Qalash, looked to be a would be warrior, at least his face did.
Scrambling to his feet, Valhoun kicked Qalash's legs out from under him sending the klingon to the floor once again. A few palm strikes to the nose finally knocked Garhf backwards against the bar where Jack found it convenient to charge at him, sending him over the bar and into a fairly substantial pile of broken bottles and glasses.
"Well, that wasn't too hard," stated Jack to no one in particular. The noise was rather loud so anything below a shout probably didn't register anyway. But, what was hard was the fist the quickly found its way from point A to point B. Point A being at the man's side and point B being squarely in the back of Jack's head.
A brief moment of blackness preceded the realization that he'd been on the floor for a few seconds and the world was just coming into focus. More fists were rapidly becoming more and more focused. It wasn't a klingon on top of him though, it was a human... a rather seedy looking one to be sure. Jack remembered him now, some local drug pusher harping on the tourists and their want of illicit goods that were only illicit in the Federation. Jack saw the man pestering some tourists the other day and gave him a piece of his mind. Hindsight being 20/20, this probably wasn't a good idea.
Very few deeds go unpunished and as the man reached for a knife hidden in his boot Jack assumed that he wasn't going to beat the odds. Jack ran through his options. One, he could bleed on the guy... which he was already doing. Two, he could plead with the man... but he sure as hell wasn't going to do that. Three, he could smile and take it. That sounded like a plan.
Thankfully, Garhf had a plan of his own, which involved letting his disruptor char most of the man's head off just as the blade began its fatal descent. Jack pushed the corpse off his chest and stood up, rather wobbly to his feet. The blast caught the attention of the rest of the combatants and they were all left staring at Garhf. After a moment of silence the bartender (who had a customer with a rather overdue tab against a wall with a knee in the unfortunate man's groin) spoke, "There wasn't any call for that, Garhf. This was just an honorable fist fight."
"There wasn't any call for the knife either."
"Fair enough... never liked the bastard anyway."
A hand grabbed at Jack's collar, "You better not be here when the security forces show up. Don't worry, no one remembers you and you wouldn't have gotten in trouble anyway, but you sure as hell wouldn't get back to your ship on time." Before Jack knew it he was out the door and realizing he had about 10 minutes to beam back to the ship.
*****
Despite the fact that transporters have been safe for over a hundred years they are almost constantly improving. And the Galaxy's are some of the most advanced in Starfleet. Just a few decades ago drops of blood streaming from a man's face and falling towards the ground would have not been picked up by the transporter. However, today, as soon as Jack materialized spots of blood fell straight to the floor, forming small circles of red on the pristine transporter pad.
"Sir, do you require assistance. You look like hell, sir. What happened? I wasn't notified of a medical emergency..." A mousy looking crewman inquired, clearly not sure on what to do.
"Nothing happened, didja ever pop a pimple and surprised that it began to bleed?"
"Yessir."
"Same thing happened to me. You don't have a towel on you, do you?" Maybe he could prevent leaving a trail of red droplets behind him as he made his way to his quarters.
"No sir, I'm... I'm on duty, you see."
"First rule of the universe: Always bring a towel."
"Yessir, I'll remember that sir."
The ship shuttered softly as the warp engines engaged. ~Well, at least I made it,~ thought Jack. Now all he had to do was get back to his quarters and heal. Jack thought about trying to take the least traveled route to his quarters to try and stave off some stares but hell, if the fleeters were that bored he wouldn't deprive them of a show. After all, as the old saying goes, he didn't get his cuts and bruises... he earned them.
Sitting near the window where millions of stars was going pass then, the young widow Rose Isis MacAllen this time wear an black see-threw dress eating dinner with her little daughter Karyn who was starting to eat her Betazoid fish with lennon pepper and wild rice which was good for the both of then..even for Rose since now the young woman was prenancy with twins.
The young Betazoid found out that the twins is an boy and an girl that are half Betazoid and half Human, why did Rashid leave her like this? She shook her head and took an drink of her Betazoid milk while little Karyn who was wearing an black dress smiles at her mother and did the same.
"Howdy ho." Came a tap on Rose's shoulder. She glanced back, found nobody on her right side. It was her left side that heard another greeting, a "How is everyone?" That gained her attention.
Slightly tanned with a few days of Lanjepi sun, and carrying some bumps and bruises of all sorts of misadventures, Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan was still the fresh faced, beaming, semi-youth that characterized his 'good mood'. Uniformed and bright eyed from wearing his characteristic glasses, James pulled up a seat next to Rose and Little Karyn, with a smile on his face, and a duffel bag on his shoulders.
"Hey, how's it going?" James smiled brightly, "Did Lanjep treat you well?"
"Fine I guess love what about you?"
"Well, I can say that Lanjep is... a mixed bag. Captain's pissed off at me, security's got a scare last night, but otherwise... the best vacation I ever had. Even picked up some trinkets from the tourist shops. I have something for everyone. Rose... guess what I got you."
"Ah diamonds." Rose said with an grin while taken another taste of chicken.
Corgan dug his arm into the bag, ruffling papers and cloth inside, making an exaggerated racket, "Ahhh, nothing that cheap! Oh... getting closer... closer... there!" He grabbed the item, and pulled it out of the bag. It was a brass colored, oval shaped disc that floated in the air. "I got you an authentic Klingon hoverdisc. They say it's supposed to test a warrior's reflexes. You're supposed to chase it and catch it. Trust me, it's tricky! I tried it myself."
"Maybe we can try it together." she replied with an big smile while taking it.
"I'll hold you up on that. OH... I didn't forget about you, Karyn. I got you something really nice!" James grinned, rummaging through the duffel bag, and pulling out of it...
Two wide, gleaming eyes, pink, velvety fur, and a cartoonish face.
"I found this plush targ at a toy store. It's yours, for keeps." James lightly handed the cute animal to Little Karyn.
Little Karyn eyes light up then smiles at her beloved godfather, "Pretty..Uncle James, HUG!" she told him while jumping up and down alittle in her chair.
"Alright. I owe you a hug. Come here!" James playfully growled as the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed, "Rrrrr... ohhhh! You're getting strong, Karyn!"
Meahwhile an woman who work there come and gave Rose an glass of some Betazoid red wine, "Thank you!"
"Hey, no problem. Mom always taught us to give whenever we could." James shrugged, taking a seat, "So, what happened to you while I was gone?"
"I checked about the babies, I having twins an boy and an girl I already picked out names. The boy name will be James Robert Edward MacAllen after you and Admiral Price and Diana Elizabeth MacAllen after two of my favor royal cousins." Rose told him while drinking her wine down fast, boy that tasted good.
"You're kidding?" James asked to confirm. She nodded, quite seriously. "I'm going to be a godfather... again. And one of the kid's going to be named after me? Well... what can I say? Thank you! Man... my sister on Earth's going to flip when she hears this!"
"I want you there with me when I give birth, you will be like an father to then." she started to expiled wanting to go hold his hand.
"Yeah... kinda scary, isn't it?" James joked, "A few years ago, I would have never guessed. It's a big responsibility. I just hope I won't let you down."
"You will never fail me in my eyes, love."
The young woman bit her lip alittle thinking if she should ask him this favor, but what the hell "How about you come to Karyn's day care for "Father/Children Day"?
Blankly, he tried to confirm if Rose was being serious, and it was undeniable that she meant what she said. Though James never though of himself as more than a surrogate uncle, the though of him being a real father figure was frightening. It was too much responsibility that he wanted to think of, and he felt he was not ready for such responsibilities. ~"Who would have thought indeed. I'm the kid's daddy in her mind, and I haven't a clue how to be a real father. What am I going to do?"~
"I don't mind. I can do it." James answered.
~"Oh, smooth move Ex-lax. No clue of what to do, and you jump in anyways? Don't you ever think things through?"~ James bitterly chasticed himself.
"Can you bring a phaser?" Karyn asked.
James kneeled down to Karyn's height, "Sorry, little lady. That's a dangerous item. But I will bring a tricorder and show your friends. Deal?"
"Deal!" She happily piped.
"And maybe we can have an..dinner together in the holodeck one night soon?"
The chief of security grew increasingly nervous. He wasn't oblivious to her charms, much less how she seemed to grow strangely attached to him during the past few weeks. Before, he rebuffed everything about her, thinking the influence of the Defiant was to blame.
So many strange events. From confessions (from Rose), to an electronic prophesy from a PADD (right in front of James' face) telling him either the future... or what either one of those people desired.
"I'll see what I can do." James replied neutrally.
"Great, just give me an call or write to me." the young woman said while looking at her beloved daughter Little Karyn Shinta eating some Betaziod Fudge Cake.
The little girl was giggling while eating it, "YUMMY!" she yelled out loud then laughed, with fudge all over her face.
"Look, I gotta go." James spoke apologetically, "I have an appointment to attend. So, enjoy your meal, and i'll see you later at the holodeck."
As James walked out of Ten-Foward, the young Betazoid couldn't help by what kind of appointment it is? And did she scare him away by asking him out to dinner with little Karyn and herself in the holodeck?
****
Victor leaned against the wall outside the small dressmaker's shop and soaked up the sun, glad for the momentary respite from the whirlwind that was his aunts on a shopping expedition. This made the fifth shop they'd stopped at since lunch, and he'd lost count of the ones before then. ~ How many dresses can two women try on, anyway? ~ He looked at the bags stacked next to him. ~Now there's a stupid question for you. All of them. ~
Closing his eyes again, he let himself relax. ~ All the problems aside, I'm glad they're here. I'd forgotten what it was like to... to have people around me. People that wanted to be there. ~ He smiled sadly. ~ Even if they are family, it's still good. ~
The scuff of a sandal on the street drew his attention, and he opened one eye, wary of another snatch-and-grab thief like the one Rexa had clotheslined earlier in the day after an abortive attempt to run off with one of Ar'resh's packages. ~ No, just some guy in... crap, that's the Legate! ~
He straightened up, nodding in greeting and throwing a glance over one shoulder. ~If they see him, there'll be questions, and then... ~ He shuddered. ~ I need to get him out of here. ~ "Good afternoon, sir," he began carefully.
Kylar had been shuffling along, wary of any would-be street urchins, pestering him for more credits. At the husky voice of an adult, he thought yet again, he was being taken for a tourist, or the parent of one of the children he'd swatted earlier for trying to snare his satchel.
"I am not interested in anything you have to say." He waved his hand off, not even looking at the individual who spoke. The sun was beating down hard on him, and his skin was reflecting a shade of pink where he began to burn.
"Heinrich!" a woman's voice echoed from inside the dressmaker's shop. "Are you there? We were..."
He stopped himself and looked up in the direction of the voice, and found himself looking at a wincing Victor Krieghoff.
~ Oh no. ~ Victor winced, reflecting that he did a lot of that when his aunts were around. "~ Too late. ~
"...thinking about taking a break," a second woman's voice picked up seamlessly. "Would you like to..."
The two women emerged from the store, revealing themselves to be a pair of Andorians, one taller than the other, and both very attractive. Their faces lit up in smiles at the sight of Victor and the Legate.
"Why Heinrich," the shorter of the two exclaimed, slipping up to him and wrapping an arm around his, "is this another..."
"...one of your friends from the Galaxy?" the taller finished, setting a package down in one of the bags stacked next to the wall. "Introduce us, please."
~ Nothing for it now. ~ "This is our shipboard Liaison Corps officer, Legate Kylar Curran," Victor offered with a reluctance that was clear to Kylar and apparently invisible to the women. "Legate, this is my aunt, Rexa," she was the taller Andorian, "and my aunt Ar'resh," she proved to be the shorter woman holding his arm. "They both serve on the USS Venture, but they wrangled some leave time to come out and visit."
Now the Legate was in a bit of a quandary. Stopped by one of the Security officers on the Galaxy, he was now being overshadowed by two curvaceous Andorians. They did instill a bit of a rush to his heart, and his cheeks grew brighter still at the sight of the two not-so-normal Andorians. Problem was, he had to get to the Embassy.
What was it with him and Andorian women?
Time to practice some of his shipboard diplomacy.
"Greetings and salutations. I am honored by your presence." Kylar bowed slightly in deference to the women.
Victor suppressed another wince - successfully this time. ~ I don't know that you should have done that... ~
"Ooooh, such manners," Ar'resh smiled. "You don't see many people..."
"...that understand proper etiquette any more," Rexa finished. "Of course, being a diplomatic officer..."
"...and such a handsome one too..." Ar'resh interjected.
"...you would be the perfect person to remember."
~ Run. Run now, while they're still warming up. ~ Victor advised silently.
"Tell me," Rexa began, "have you known our Heinrich long? We've only met..."
"...a few people from the Galaxy so far." Ar'resh patted Victor's arm. "There are so many people aboard her, but we just seem to keep missing them all."
The look in Victor's eyes suggested that, if he had anything to do with it, they might keep on missing them.
"Except for that nice young Ella Grey," Ar'resh added after a second. "Why she and out Heinrich make such a..."
~ Oh God, please no. Not in front of the Legate. ~ Victor looked as if he'd rather be waiting for a firing squad as he waited for the inevitable finish.
"... nice couple," Rexa sighed. "I just know that after a night or two of torrid passion together they'd see how perfect they are for each other. Not like that poor..."
~ Shoot me. Someone please shoot me. ~
"...Bajoran girl. She and our Heinrich just weren't right for one another." Ar'resh shook her head, eyes studying Kylar appreciatively. "I'm sure a man like yourself would understand how important a healthy sex life is in a relationship."
"Wouldn't you?" Rexa appended.
Kylar blinked. Hard. He had the distinct feeling he was being sized up.
"Sex for reproduction should always produce healthy results, but this does not necessarily occur." If it were anyone other than Andorians, he'd have berated them for the intrusion into his own personal life. Sex does not happen in the Kelvan Empire unless it is to reproduce, and even then, the beings do not touch. The best way to explain a Kelvan joining would be to compare it to the Terran squid.
The female produces her eggs, and the male simply injects his seed via one his many tentacles into her mantle cavity, and the eggs are fertilized. She then carries the around in an open sac to subsequently drop them into a hatchery to incubate several weeks later.
"I take it you and Lieutenant Grey are trying to reproduce, Lieutenant Krieghoff? How do you plan to carry out your duties as an Officer of Starfleet if you are to become a parent?" Yet another weakness of the Human race. They feel they must care for their children until they reach an age suitable for independence. One must learn to survive from birth in order to become strong. What creator wasted his time on these beings?
"Lieutenant Grey and I are not planning on reproducing," Victor sighed. "Together or separately. My aunts are just."
"We're just trying to help you find someone, dear one," Ar'resh explained, patting him on the arm. "You spend so much time worrying about work."
".that there's no time left for you to meet anyone special," her sister added. "You need someone in your life - especially considering how long it's been."
".since you had a lover. And Ella is such a sweet girl, you'd make a lovely couple."
".and have lovely children together," Rexa smiled. "Don't you think so, Legate Curran?"
"Well, I am not fully qualified to make that determination. My background is in Federation Law and Diplomacy, not pediatrics." He eyed the security officer up and down. "He does appear to be in good breeding form, though. Strong, resilient. He can hold his own in a conflict, from what I have observed.
~ I *am* actually a part of this conversation, you know. If someone asks to see my teeth there's going to be trouble. ~
"Aat lung ro puuth'vee uut vooh baap pi buup ub taar buzh, khooth. "Gaav" phee Terran, pav raph." (I do not believe he can live up to the Andorian standard, though. She is human after all.) He shrugged and a wry grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, hazed pink by the lanJepi sun and slightly cracked.
Victor's Andorian wasn't what it could, or probably should, have been, but it was enough to get the gist of what the Legate had said. ~ You didn't say that. You didn't. I 'm dreaming and I'm going to wake up soon - and you won' t have said that. ~
"Fortunately, my knowledge of Terran reproduction techniques is rather limited. It is not required knowledge in my field." He glanced back to the Andorian women, whose mannerisms had shifted to a wily look. He got the feeling he erred in Andorian doctrine, but how could that be?
"Have I said something to offend you?"
Victor stared; unable to even try and pretend he hadn't heard the words leave the Legate's mouth this time. ~ I don't think 'offend' is the right word, Legate. 'Fascinate' might be better. ~
"Your knowledge of Terran."
".techniques is limited?" Rexa eyed him with a mixture of medical professionalism and a more personal interest. "I would have thought that a handsome."
"man like yourself would have a more. intimate. knowledge of such things. Is there."
".something wrong? A war wound? A leaning towards."
".a different sort of partner or."
Knowing he was going to regret it, Victor interrupted before the line of questioning got any further. "I'm sorry, I should have explained earlier. The Legate is not human, he's a Kelvan."
"Ohhhhh." Ar'resh's eyes went wide. "A *Kelvan!* Why, that means that you' re."
".still learning what your body can do." Rexa's eyes lost most of their professionalism. "Do you mean to tell me that."
".you haven't had the opportunity to fully explore all of your capabilities?"
"Excuse me?" Now he blushed. He certainly wasn't prepared for this venture. "There are some capabilities I have no desire to explore. Two beings touching and sharing body fluids is not logical. I have explored all the capabilities I need to explore." He resisted the urge to throw out his anger at these two women. He'd never seen Andorians react this way before!
Gulping, he darted his eyes around, searching for an escape. If he let his emotions get to him, he was unsure how these women would react. Just as Cardassians view annoyance as an aphrodisiac, so might these two. The only Andorians he had known were in the guise of diplomats and officers acting in their duty.
~I am not sure how to respond to that.... I can't let these chaotic thoughts deter me~
"Aren't the combat arena's fascinating?" He looked beyond the women when he heard the roar of an excited crowd. Must be a challenging combat event going on.
Victor saw the Legate's eyes flicker from side-to-side in a familiar way. ~ He wasn't ready for that. They never are, but I expect it's worse with him. ~ "It's a Mok'bara tournament, if I recall." He saw Rexa's eyes cut towards the low wall to their left that overlooked the arenas on the beach below. "You were wanting to see the Finals, weren't you?"
"I." she sounded torn. "Yes."
"Why don't you two go find us some seats at that little café around the corner where we can see things, and the Legate and I will bring the packages along?"
"Oh, yes," Ar'resh nodded. "That would be perfect. We can talk between matches."
".and try to convince you that there really are wonderful things left to explore," Rexa agreed with a smile.
"At leth Deeh Than to ng roo thadu zhuu rekh thee hu-phethu laat gum ik del. (I (infertile :P) am honored to have been graced with such beauty un-matched in a most highly prized summer flower)" Kylar smiled and nodded, grateful of the release from embarrassment that was surely to follow.
The two women smiled and departed, Ar'resh kissing Victor on the cheek and thinking him for being so thoughtful as she left. Victor watched them round the corner, before turning to the Legate. "I'm sorry, sir. I was trying to warn you, but they finished up in the store too quickly."
"It would have been very undiplomatic of myself to deny myself the opportunity to greet a pair of potential delegates on the homeworld of diplomacy, Lieutenant. That, and I also am in a position to view more human irrationality and character in how they respond to certain stimuli." He took a deep breath the thick humidity that draped itself over him. Oh, how he wished to be in his Kelvan form... to reach out to the sun with his tendrils and bask in its unheralded warmth.
"They lost my Uncle Bernhard and Uncle Thallick in the War," he explained, moving to the packages. "It's been hard on them, and they. they're looking for someone to share their lives again. They're just." he paused. "They're like a Solitron Wave, once they get started all you can do is ride it or try to escape their path."
"I noticed, Lieutenant, and I hope it doesn't carry you away from your duties. I would like to join you, at least in viewing the arena matches. Do you mind?"
"No." Victor glanced in the direction his aunts had gone. "Do you mind some advice?"
"They are quite... endearing." He gazed off at the dual forms of the sisters laughing and whispering to each other as they cast furtive glances at various males they passed. Ar'resh slipped him a glance that hung slightly longer than casual eye contact.
Victor nodded, moving to start gathering up the packages stacked against the wall. "They're not going to stop with that - it's just the way they are. If it becomes a problem, try talking to them about something else. Rexa is an MD, she'd probably find a discussion of Kelvan physiology fascinating. If that's a cultural taboo, try unarmed combat. She's the best in the family now that Uncle Bernhard is dead; she practices a couple of Andorian styles that are very interesting."
"Oh? I would find that quite interesting indeed. Andorian culturalism is a fascination of mine. I have heard tell that the females are the more aggressive of the species. I am unfamiliar with the socialism aspect of the aggression, though. Perhaps you can enlighten me if the combat arts would be arousing for them?"
"Only if you were sparring with them - and they liked you in that manner." Victor thought for a moment. "They sparred with my Uncle frequently." He straightened up, shifting the packages to get a better distribution. "Talking about them ought to be fine, just beware of extended demonstrations." He started off slowly.
As they walked, Victor continued, "Ar'resh is in Security she's the Venture's security second. You might try talking to her about security procedures for diplomatic situations - I know they've all changed since the Diplomatic Corps was reformed. If that doesn't work." He thought a second. "Try talking about a social activity - dancing, music, something like that."
"Social activities are irrelevant. They serve no purpose but soften the finely tuned edge one should strive to attain. I am sure the Andorian efficiency in following protocol is being monitored with satisfaction by their own Liaison Officer. I do not think my sharing situational methods would go over well with the Liaison Officer serving there.
"Actually, that whole topic might be good to try. I'm certain that they have some interesting ideas on the relevancy of social activities to the development of a culture - or an individual. Again, you should watch out for demonstrations." Victor paused as a herd of Klingon children moved past in pursuit of a frantically-scrabbling targ. "If you think about it, I'm sure you can come up with something else to talk about."
"Captain Bhrode served as Executive Officer on board the Venture for 4 years. Maybe Ar'resh would be forthcoming in her knowledge of interaction with him? I am curious to compare his current psyche to his tenure on the Venture."
Victor blinked. ~ The Captain served with Ar'resh and Rexa? Wait. Father did say that he'd asked around. he just didn't say to whom. ~ "I think you'll find that my aunts are not reserved about much of anything, sir. Why not try and see?"
"Agreed." This could very well turn the tide in his favor with Bhrode. To interview two officers under his tenure on the Venture while he himself was under strict obeyance from the Venture's Captain might just yield some quite valuable information.
"Oh, and one more thing, sir? Just between the two of us?" ~ Might as well get this out of the way. ~
Kylar had begun his march to the arenas, with its fans shrieking in delight. Blood must have been spilled. The package he was carrying for one of the women - he did not know which one - felt light, yet heavy, or maybe that was his cautiousness transferring itself to the burden.
He stopped at Krieghoff's rather offsetting query. It would not be a gentle or casual question, he determined. Cocking an eye behind him, the Terran slipped up beside him and into his gait as they picked up the pace.
"They're my family, and they are very serious about finding someone. If they make and you accept an offer to... perform recreational reproductive activities... with them, they will consider it a binding promise of intent to marry them." Victor's eyes met Kylar's, reminding the Kelvan of a Terran tiger he'd seen once in San Francisco. "If you break such a promise, and they do not - I will, assuredly, kill you."
****
"You have no fear of that, Lieutenant. I have no desire to 'marry' anyone, or engage in sexual activity for the soul reason of pleasure. It serves no purpose, nor will it serve the purposes of the Federation or the Galaxy." He did not react to the penetrating stare of Krieghoff, but he was rather assured the Lieutenant was serious in his intentions.
"I am honored you would engage me in personal combat to the death, Mister Krieghoff," This was the first time he'd used the Terran's name, but then again, this topic had become personal as defined by the path of questioning already begun.
"But I seriously doubt you could defeat me. You are human, I am Kelvan. We have superior strength and combat skills. Simple as that. I will abide by your wishes, though, and thank you for your straightforwardness." With that, he ended the face-to-face struggle for supremacy, uncaring of the human definition of 'he who looks away first, is weakest'. He who can breaks the eye contact first, cares the least in his culture. Get the wasteful daring out of the way and get on with it.
A 100 meters away, more roars filled the darkening sky, as the sun began its lazy decent downwards to the horizon.
~ Well, that went better than I expected - although I don't think a phaser blast while showering was quite what the Legate was envisioning. Like I'd let him get his hands on me? ~ "As long as we understand each other, sir." He paused to shift one of the parcels. "Thank you for being civilized about it."
"I would have it no other way, Lieutenant." Like he'd let this human gloat over him for *any* reason. Civilized behavior was not in Terran nature. Illogical, irrational, erratic. How does one define that as civilized? But then, this one had an air of confidence around him, of uncaring about himself. He admired the ideal of putting aside one's own needs for another's albeit they were warped. Still, this human bore potential.
As the two rounded the corner, they could make out the crowds looking down at the arena - and the choice table Victor's aunts had secured in a shady corner. "There they are, to the right there. Just past the stuffed targ head display." Rexa turned and beckoned them on as Ar'resh jumped excitedly.
~They served with Bhrode? I don't know if I should run now before they tell me something I don't want to hear... ~ He watched his aunts point at something below them. ~ Oh hell, they say things I don't want to hear every third breath, what's one more? ~
"Tell me, sir," he began as the two men threaded their way through the crowd. "Have you studied many of the armed combat styles from Andor?"
"It was required education in Cultural education. There were some instances where it was required attendance to Karakom matches, of which I was witness to their unique style of unarmed combat. Much like your 'boxing'. I have not attended or viewed any armed combat, as all diplomatic functions are free of all arms. I have only studied it to a lesser degree."
Victor nodded. "Makes sense given some of the diplomatic negotiations I've seen. I never had much use for things like that either, but the chaka matches that Rexa has dragged me to were fascinating. You might try one some time." He paused as they reached the table, stacking the packages in the corner away from casual passerby and their grasping hands. "Inside or outside seat, sir?"
"Outside will suffice. I have other urg-- uhhhh!" He was just about easing himself in to take in the spectacle as well as avoid the rather outgoing women (he didn't want any actions to be misinterpreted as suggestive), when a sinewy blue arm grasped his own and pulled him into a seat freshly vacated by Rexa. He was trapped like the thin icing within a blue Oreo cookie. No amount of twisting could separate himself from the dilemma, so he accepted his fate rather dissiduously.
"Hurry up, you're missing..."
"...the best part of the match," Ar'resh pulled Kylar by the arm, settling him between the two of them with blithe indifference to his preference. "They're into the..."
"...semi-finals and one of the local champions is sweeping this tournament," Rexa finished, pointing. "There, in the black sash."
No amount of ignoring the women would help Kylar here. He gave Krieghoff a hard stare, as if emphasizing... DON'T YOU EVER TELL ANYONE OF THIS. And he thought humans were erratic. Instead, he tried his utmost to focus on the black-sashed gladiator, regardless of the chatter going on either side of him. He simply nodded and smiled in what he hoped were all the right places.
Victor moved to Rexa's right and leaned over as his aunts talked away and the trapped Legate nodded. ~ Not a bad fight. The little guy shouldn't have entered this weight division. no, wait, Klingon's don't have weight division. You just come as you are. He gets points for guts then, but not many for brains. Ohhh, that one had to hurt. ~
As the smaller Klingon was being carried out, he ventured, hoping to spare the Legate some of the chatter, "The Legate tells me that he studied some Karakom while he was undergoing training, Rexa."
"Really?" The taller Andorian's attention was focused on the Legate now. "You didn't mention that." Her eyes studied him in an entirely different way. "Yes. good shoulders and arms, you've got the body for it. "How did you do?"
"I didn't actually study it. I viewed a match while I was on tenure with the Department of Intergalactic Affairs on Earth in 2371. It is a very efficient form of personal combat and enjoyed it more than the Terran boxing matches." He actually did partake in a match, of which he narrowly defeated his opponent. It was not one he wanted to reveal, as he felt to this day they took it easy on him by giving him a lesser-ranked fighter. All in the interests of Diplomacy.
A bigger reason for not sharing this information was the warning Krieghoff had issued him of any kind of aggressive contact would be misconstrued as personal interest. Much like Cardassian agitation was. Every culture has their mating patterns, and he had no interest in raising those patterns here.
All in the interests of Diplomacy, but also in keeping the minions of the Starfleet focused on the matters of the Federation rather than personal interests. He liked the Terran, he found. Very confidant and forward. He would make a profound ally, even if he didn't know he was serving other interests in the end. This was not one he would want to make an enemy out of.
Rexa nodded. "If you'd like, I can recommend a few training programs. Most of the ones out there are mass-produced garbage, but there are a few designed by real Karakomi that are worth the time." She studied him again. "It would be a shame to let that interest go to waste when you have the natural equipment for it."
"I would very much appreciate the referral, Rexa." He hoped the use of her first name wasn't pushing limits. "I must admit, the open-handed wide-stance style appeals to me. Efficient, and graceful. Succeeds in its purposes." He leaned behind Rexa to gaze expectantly at Victor. "Maybe you are familiar with Andorian sparring styles, Lieutenant? Perhaps we may have a match? To prove that boastful remark made earlier?" A wry grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'm know the basics," Victor conceded. "But I'm no expert."
"You would be if you just tried, dear one, " Rexa interjected. "But like I've told you, I think Pel Ta'an or the Vulcan style Kareel-Ifla would suit you better than Karakom."
Victor's expression left little doubt that this was not the first time the conversation had occurred. "Maybe so, Rexa, but I haven't got the time to study them.
"Nonsense," his aunt replied. "If you're not on duty you're just taking one of those remote learning classes. You have plenty of time."
"Now," Ar'resh slipped into the conversation, "if you and that nice Ella Grey were to start spending time together, you might not have the extra time to spend on something like that..."
"Maybe," Victor addressed the Legate, hoping to end the debate before it went further astray, "we can schedule a match after you spend some time with the program?"
"Why? So you can spend time with Ms. Grey? Or do you need preparation time of your own?"
"No, I'm as good as I'm likely to get at Karakom, and I am not spending time with..." The roar of the crowd as one of the combatants was thrown over a barricade and into a mudpit drowned out the rest of the answer.
Speaking out loud, so as to not make favorites between the two, Kylar changed the subject. "Captain Bhrode served as Executive Officer on your vessel for some time. Did you serve with him?" The roars of the crowd elevated when the next combatant was led in to square off against the next finalist. This Klingon was a single-armed individual. It would be an interesting match.
"Johnny?" Ar'resh smiled. "Of course we know him. He's a..."
"...sweetie. He came aboard the Venture as her XO about eight years..."
"...ago or so. He's so dedicated and concerned for the..."
"...people under him that it was a pleasure..."
"...to serve with him" Ar'resh raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask? Is Johnny..."
".being a grump again?"
"Grump?" What is with these slangful terms? "Please explain more about.... Johnny. I'd like to hear ALL about him." Kylar, in diplomatic both, placed his arm knowingly behind the two women, resting it on the backs of their chairs, much like a man in confidence around women he knew he could manipulate. He carefully avoided touching them, so as to not show *too* much interest in what they had to say, for that was all that mattered to him. No information could be gleaned whilst in bed with two women, as pleasurable as it may be.
"Well... the first thing you need..."
"...to understand about Johnny is that his bark..."
"...is worse than his bite..."
"...most of the time. He really just wants all his people to come..."
"...home safely, and he gets *very* grumpy when that..."
"...doesn't happen. Everything he does is colored by that."
"He has a strange way of showing it. Has he been known to sacrifice crew in order to further his own needs? I do not see how needlessly ending the lives of so many have served the Federation in any of the actions Captain Bhrode has taken."
"It's all about managing risks," Ar'resh explained. "He believes very..."
"...strongly in his oath to protect the Federation, and he tries his best to..."
"...juggle that with the loss of members of his command, but there are times..."
"...when his duty to the Federation can't be accomplished without loss of life. But..."
"...even with that, he won't ask someone to do anything that..."
"...he's not willing to do himself to get the job done."
=/\= Attention all hands. Leave is cancelled. The Galaxy departs in one hour. Repeat, leave is cancelled. The Galaxy departs in one hour. =/\=
~ Saved by the bell.~ Victor stood as the message repeated on his and the Legate's communicators again. "We have to go - do you want the packages dropped off back at the resort?"
"We'll help you carry them, dear one..."
"...there are some things we wanted to tell you before you left. Suggestions and..."
"...ideas for getting together with your Ella later on."
~ Oh God, a whole hour of this.~ Victor threw the Legate a nod and winced as he started gathering packages. ~ Why couldn't they have said twenty minutes?~
It was a normal day for the engineering staff, though Brianna found herself trying to get settled into being the chief of it all. Thankfully she had not been in a fight with anyone, and no one was challenging her orders. Though this was still all new to everyone.
Standing at the 'pool' table she looked over the systems of the ship. Checking for any sign of troubles, shaking her head she looked up at a ensign. "Run a diagnostic grid three, check for stress in those relays." She said, blowing a little as she placed her hand on the edge of the table and leaned over it to look at something else.
Elsewhere, there was a Diplomatic Officer still trying to shake off the effects of wily Andorian women who'd almost gotten him in a heap of trouble and embarrassment. Thankfully, the call had come in to return to the Galaxy. Any longer and he'd have ended up married, or worse. He trembled in fear, if a Kelvan could know fear.
Now that the Liaison Office was at a lull, he thought he'd pay a visit to Engineering to lay the laws of the land down to the Chief Engineer and her treatment of the Klingon who'd been given visitor's status during the last tour with Corgan, Krieghoff, and the Princess.
Keying in his personal access codes, the doors parted. Alpha Shift was just beginning, and the crew levels were steadily rising as a pair of technicians rushed past him.
Dusting off the freshly pressed uniform of any foreign particles the tech may have left on him, he approached the nearest crewmember.
"Where is the Chief Engineer?" The Terran (there were so many!) hesitated long enough to point further into the Main Engineering Section. "Central diagnostics." He nodded, flitting his eyes over whatever she was working on. Such mundane tasks but they all had a duty, and so long as they were doing it, he had no problems.
He carried himself through the lobby, hands clasped behind his back, taking his time to curtly nod at others as he passed. No one saluted the Liaison Officer, and rightly so. He was not Starfleet. Only when certain circumstances into play would he assume authority, otherwise he had no desire to assume everyday responsibilities. He had his own agenda to worry about.
Precisely why he was here. Samara had over-ridden his authority without thought. Brhode had been down here to relay her the protocols of the Liaison Office, but this the Kelvan would not be satisfied with. He needed no human to stand up for him.
He entered the Central Diagnostics area to find a firey-red Terran (yet another one) leaning over a console.
"Where is Chief Engineer Samara? I require her presence." He simply stood opposite the redhead, legs slightly apart, hands tightly clasped behind his back still.
Brianna didn't look up at first, realizing someone meaned someone named Samara she looked up. "I'm Lieutenant Brianna O'Shea, the new Chief Engineer. Is there something I can help you with?" She said, giving a brief smile.
Kylar furrowed his brow. He takes leave and upon his return there are personnel changes.
"When did the transfer of Engineering command privileges take place, Lieutenant? I was not made aware of it?"
"Earlier, tell me you don't have a issue with that?" Brianna said then glanced over as a nameless ensign handed her a pad. "You want to talk in my office or do you prefer here?"
Again, the Kelvan squinted. What was he to make of this new wrinkle?
"We need to discuss protocols relating to my authority and your responsibilities on this vessel. It should take no longer than 10 minutes. You select the venue."
Brianna raised a eyebrow and then folded her arms over her slender body. "When exactly was it the rules changed and said I had to discuss protocols with a diplomat, Sir?" Brianna asked. "Surely you would be best to discuss with the Captain what you require."
"Captain Brhode is aware of my access grants on the Galaxy, as is Starfleet and the Federation. I suggest that if you have an issue with the protocols, you can take it up with him." He sincerely doubted she would.
Brianna unfolded her arms to make herself look less interested in his statue. She was scolding herself that she first thought he was attractive, she knew now he was just another diplomatic with a control issues. Saying nothing she stood there, listening.
"The protocols were instituted three months ago. If you check your archives under 'Liaison Corps', you will see the offices have been granted exclusive access to all high tonnage military vessels." He rounded the diagnostics table, aware of the woman's relaxed yet confident gaze on him. He ran a finger along the edge of the console, searching for any sign of lax discipline, until he came around to O'Shea's side of the unit.
He lifted a finger. Well-manicured nails curled up into the light, but no sign of debris.
"You keep a clean environment, Lieutenant. I commend you. Engineers aren't usually this efficient in cleaning their environment so much as maintaining it."
Brianna watched him move, he carried himself smoothly, for a man. Resting her backside on the console she placed her hands on the edges of it and smiled. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult, Sir." She said then give a look of total amuse meant. This was like some weird courting maneuver, a display of feathers, if you will.
Moving on... "You are required to grant myself access to all venues of Engineering in the interests of diplomacy. I am fully aware of the highly classified and restricted areas that are off-limits to non-designated personnel. In the event Starfleet interests take precedence over Liaison interests, then command shall return to your hands. I shall make that decision though, Lieutenant. Otherwise, I am not, nor will I ever be, a member of Starfleet, but a representative of the government body that precedes it. The Federation. We all answer to a higher authority, Lieutenant, and I am that representation of that authority for every member of this crew, including Captain Brhode."
Brianna said nothing again, but still held the faint smile on her facial features. Folding her arms back over her body she licked her lips moistening them.
"Be that as it may, if you have any concerns with any legalities with yourself, other officers, or Starfleet, you may approach myself or members of my office with your grievances. We also represent the Judge Advocate General's office. Any questions?"
"I have a comment and a question, Sir." She said smoothly, still leaning on the console in a relaxed state. "You can count on me coming straight to you if I think you are a problem, I'm a very direct person and I do have a slight anger management problem -then again- I am Irish." She said then give another smile. "My question is, Sir, are you always this bossy or does it take years to create a soapbox big enough to hold your body weight?" Brianna asked, still smiling.
"I would appreciate you keeping your personal opinions about me to yourself, Lieutenant. It is both unprofessional and inefficient to let... personal feelings intrude upon potentially critical decisions. If you cannot keep it together..." He moved in closer and maintained solid eye contact from within a few inches and lowered his voice to a whisper. "... I will have you transferred off this ship and on your way to Breen before you can bat an eyelash." He stood back, letting it sink in and continued on in normal tone.
"If you can keep the anger problem in check, you are more than welcome to bring to my attention any grievances you may have, but it better be conducive to the operations of Engineering. That is my concern, not personal judgments. If it's personal, I'm sure Commander Dallas would be more than willing to discuss those options with you. I, for one, will not tolerate it. Do we have an understanding that the goals of the Federation are higher than our own and you will abide by them?"
"Sir," Brianna said softly. "You've not seen my personal side nor have you witnessed my anger. Perhaps though you need to check your regs and realize we are on the same side. Much as you won't tolerate disrespect, I won't tolerate someone telling me how to run my engineering section, Sir." She replied, respectively.
Kylar leveled his gaze at Brianna, sizing her up. Several long moments passed, and if there were any witnesses, you'd never know which was more abundant. Confidence, stubbornness, or tension. Finally, the Kelvan spoke up.
"I have no Engineering expertise, Lieutenant, therefore I have no desire or ability to over-ride command functions relating to this department. I have not come to discuss authority levels, I am only confirming your awareness of my authority in certain matters. I will not intrude on your area of expertise, therefore do not question mine. I am a Federation delegate, not a Starfleet Officer, and therefore, this vessel is owned by my superiors - the Federation itself. I will not interfere in Starfleet interests, therefore do not interfere with the Federation's."
"Then I think we have come to a understanding, Sir." Brianna replied then looked back down at the main engineering station. "Is there anything else you'd like to go over with me, Sir?" She asked still looking away from him.
"Not at all, Lieutenant. I have other important matters to attend to, as I'm sure you do as well." He glanced at a display without at all knowing what it was he was looking at. He waved his hand in its general direction almost absent-mindedly. "Just make sure this vessel is running at peak efficiency, unless you would like a visit from Captain Brhode. Just a piece of advice, not an order." He was just about to turn from the all-too-obedient female, but stopped on pivot to catch the woman on the edge of his perception.
"Have a good day, Mr. O'Shea." Never did he indulge in formalities, but it was better not to burn any bridges. He only hoped this woman was capable. Too many women in command positions. It gave him the chills.
Without waiting for an answer, he marched out of the lobby, never looking back once.
Brianna watched the man leave, she couldn't help but wonder if all the men on this ship were so full of themselves. Sighing, she realized this was going to be a long tour of duty and started rethinking if she should ask for a transfer cause it was already clear her personality and the ones on this ship were not going to mesh into a good working relationship.
OOC: For those of you who don't know me, I am horrible at picking out titles. Sorry. :)
Dakota sat down on her chair in her quarters, tired. Tired, and exhilarated. It had been her first full day on the ship, and she knew she was going to enjoy.
Well, she wasn't so sure about the captain, but everything else...simply wonderful. The people in department were wonderfully knowledgeable, and so nice. They had some funny ideas about how their department should be run, but that was okay. Dakota knew she would get used to it. it seemed to work for them, so why fix something that ain't broke?
Madison had run in earlier, talking her head off about her new class and teacher, and the kids in her school, and how everything was so much fun, and so big and new and exciting.... It exhausted Dakota just listening to it, but she had kept smiling and encouraged Madison to talk.
Eventually the girl had to run out things to talk about.
She hadn't, but she had moved onto new territory in her room, talking to her stuffed animals, telling them the same things that she had just told her mother. Dakota could hear her right now. She chuckled lightly.
She looked around the room, knowing that there was plenty for her to be doing right now. She was going to end up staying up way longer then she should if she didn't get up right now and get everything straightened up. She had a bunch of PADDs to go through for her department, there was those new views on the development of T'Kith'Kin culture that her friend, Commander Rebecca Weber of the Miranda, had sent her, she still needed to unpack her things, get them set up where they needed to go....
She mulled over them in her mind for a while, trying to decide if any of them sounded good. None of them really jumped out at her as something she could stand doing at the moment, so she decided to be lazy and unproductive.
Everyone needs at least ten minutes a day of being lazy to stay sane. At least ten minutes.
Dakota got up and grabbed a story she had been reading. She had started it almost a year ago, but was so slow on reading times these days that she kept forgetting about it. It didn't help matters that she occasionally had to start the book over when she had been away from it too long. It was a case of taking two steps forward, one step back. Good thing it was a good book, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered.
Dakota tried to read, but she found her thoughts wondering more and more as she sat there, childish babble drifting through the air, providing a comforting white noise to block out anything else she might have heard.
Finally, as she stared off into space, her book dropping forgotten in her hand, she gave it to the impulse, dropping her book on the floor, and setting her chin firmly in hand.
The thing that was foremost in her mind was this ship, the Galaxy. She had heard such stories about it, both the crew under the current captain, and under the previous captain, who was now an admiral. In the right circles, these crews were legend; in the places where stories from other ships were fodder for the gossip mill (when you didn't have anything else to talk about, talk about the crews of the other ships in Starfleet. That provided plenty of amusement, and in most cases you didn't have to worry about coming face to face with someone that you had just heard had woken up buck naked in the middle of a private garden on Alpha Centauri, interesting patterns shaved into parts of their body, with pictures showing up the next day, full color, in the local tabloids, and be expected to keep a straight face. Sometimes, that just was not possible.)
Because she had heard so much about these people, being among them was an overload. She knew so much about these people already, before she had ever met one of them. It was intimidating at times, knowing as much as she did. She had heard the embarrassing stuff and the heroic, the boring and the horrific.
What if she didn't fit in? What if she couldn't hold her own among these people, who seemed to have formed a tight knit group? Dakota had seen that before, been part of that before, as a matter of fact. The circle that is almost impossible to break into, to become a part or. It was the type of circle that those on the outside simply sat there and watched, wishing they could be a part of it.
And maybe she was thinking way too much about being on a new ship.
The move to his new office was a long, hard effort for Curtis. He hadn't even really set up his old one yet, so a lot of his stuff had just been lying around. It was a pain to have to get it all back into boxes again, just to move it down the hallway. After about 30 minutes he had had enough.
"Screw this." He said, then reaching across his old desk to his computer panel, he tapped in a few instructions.
"Computer, initiate." he commanded, and instantly, everything in the room along with the Lieutenant was beamed to the new office.
"Let Bhrode yell at me, I'll deal with that later." he decided and began to clean up a bit, then, checking the clock, "Hmm, that new assistant of mine should be here any minute, better pick up the pace here."
Corran walked through the coridoors of the Starship Galaxy, finding his way easily enough. Federation Starship layouts were pretty standardized, really.
He passed the entry on this deck for the massive primary computer core, and located his destination: the Operations Managers office. The young (well, relatively speaking, anyways) Trill pressed the doorchime, awaiting permission to enter. "Come on in." came the reply. Quick response, eh Kid? Guy must not be all that busy. Vorrin's voice asked in the back of his mind.
Shut up, Vorrin. Corran thought in his most oft-repeated litany. Rex entered the office, looking at the - suprisingly young - Operations manager. "Afternoon, sir. Lieutenant' Corran Rex, reporting."
Curtis looked up from where he was giving his office some last minute touches.
"Mr. Rex! Please have a seat. You'll have to excuse me, I've just finished moving my things in here."
"New to the job yourself, sir?" Rex asked, taking a glance at some of the personal effects in the office.
"Yes, you're here to, well, replace me so to speak. I was assistant as of 2 days ago, just got moved up cause the fleet wants Commander Reece back for some post at Starfleet Medical or something." Curtis said, taking a seat in his desk chair, "Have you met the Captain yet?"
Ah, yes, Captain John Bhrode. One of the most...well, infamous was as good a word as any, commanding officers in Starfleet.
"I've not had the pleasure." Rex replied ... somewhat cautiously. "I hear he's somewhat....strict."
Curtis laughed, "No need to worry about what you say around me. As for strict, thats quite an understatement. He takes care of us, don't get me wrong, but the man is a class A pain in the whole-tones, if you get my meaning."
The analytical mind of Jalen, the scientist who'd been Rex's first host, assumed control momentarily, and Curtis couldn't help but notice that there was a change in his new Assitant's posture. He hld himself much stiffer now... much less relaxed.
"Anyway Mr. Rex, about the department here. We have staff meetings once a week and you and I will meet privately in my office every day to discuss issues with the ship and the department. I'm a pretty easy guy to deal with, no real temper, and I'm married, so sexual repression is no worry either, so I won't be taking things out on you." Curtis laughed, "any questions?"
"Many." Rex replied.
"Well then, ask away!" Curtis said.
"How many personell may this vessel evacuate in a time of crisis?"
"About 200 via shuttle, everyone else can use the escape pods." answered Curtis.
"And how quickly, do you beleive?"
"Umm, 20 minutes, if we're rushed." Curtis said.
"At what efficiency level to the computer cores operate?"
"Usually around 92 percent or so..." Curtis answered, becomming a little stressed out.
"And what.." Lieutenant' Rex started once more, and the put his palm to his face. When he pulled the hand away, his body had relaxed. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I... forgot myself for a moment. No, I have no other questions."
"So, that brings us to duty shift assignment. I'm placing you on the bridge station, but what shift is up to you. I work the main Alpha shift, and I'm the first officer on Delta shift, so if you don't want to be around me, choose the others." Curtis grinned.
"Beta shift's fine by me, sir." Corran replied, fully "in charge" once more. "I don't mind sleeping late."
"Beta shift it is then! You'll start tommorow." Curtis said. "Well, now that all the business stuff is out of the way, is there anything you'd like to talk about? Concerns? Questions? Anything?"
Corran smiled, fighting to keep Jalen down. "None whatsoever, sir."
"Fine, fine. Alright then Mr. Rex, that just about covers it. Go get yourself settled in, you have the rest of today off." Curtis said.
Jack was still deciding on whether or not the conversation he just had with Gunny Goldstein was a good or bad start to a productive or destructive relationship as he unpacked his few belongings. There was more than enough room in his quarters and no matter what he did there were vast gaps where space was almost begging to be used. Not one to dwell on interior design he set his thoughts to something else. Almost as if his wish was granted, the console towards the opposite side of the room began blinking. Jack muttered to himself as he realized it was the ship's computer reminding him yet again to report to medical. ~Can't get five minutes of peace, can I?~
In the end, Jack resolved to bite the bullet and hurry on over to Sickbay to get it all over and done with.
*2 hours later*
Time sure does fly when you're sleeping. The doors to Sickbay swished open and Jack bee-lined to the nearest nurse. Some young enlisted woman who was working hard at monitoring various charts and data streams. "Excuse me, Doc." Of course, to a marine 'Doc' was anyone who could patch up a disruptor wound, get drunk with, and generally keep you out of trouble.
"Uh, sir," replied the nurse, her blonde hair a bit frazzled from work and stress apparent on her face, "I'm not a doctor, if that's what you mean. Commander Malgin is in his office, howev..." Jack, didn't let her finish.
"Nonsense, enlisted make far better doctors that those 'fleeters who went to Starfleet Medical. If an officer treats a wound he is honor-bound or some such to get to the bottom of how it happened, how it affected your personal feelings, and a million other nonsensical things. When a nurse or medic patches a guy up, there isn't any of the rubbish. Just a smile and a sarcastic remark. The way it should be.
That managed to illicit a smile from the young woman, either because she was genuinely please that someone of was respecting what she did or, at least just as likely, she didn't know what to make of the man in front of her. Either way, she paused for a long moment before pointing Jack, once again, towards the CMO.
Jack really did hope that he made the woman's day a bit better, after all, medical officers were on his very short list of individuals to never, ever piss off. Soldiers were always taught to never tick off the people who fed you, who supplied you, and patched you up. Some really good advice, that. At any rate, he tapped at the chime on the doc's office door. "Hey, Doc, do you have a few minutes?"
The leutenant wasn't familiar with the rituals of this medical department, one of which was 'never knock in the door when CMO is busy', but in an case he will HAVE to become familiar or else... However, what 'else'? There will be no 'else' in this instance. But let's return from this philosophycal thoughts to the CMO's office, where Vladimir Malgin was really having a great time. Having a meeting of medical staff was always a great time as Vladimir could open every part of his temper, of his tired soul, his own 'katharsis'... It was a time of mental disclosure of his tired mind...
... "IDIOTS!.." yelled chief doctor.
Medical crew sighed all as one - this was the most usual of Vladimir's resolutions, he gave on any subject. It was 'a bad end of a bad chat'.
"No, did you hear me? You are IDIOTS!" Chief doctor continued to burst out his thoughts "TO give not that medicine which I prescribed to a patient! Of all things you could do this is the worst. I thought that I trained you well to understand that my words are final and they are more hole than Bible in this Sickbay, but today you disappointed me. And if there is a thing I dont like, it is to be disappointed. So, I will once again tell you my conclusion - you are idi..."
It was the point where door chime rang and Jack's voice asked if doctor is free. Malgin sighed annoyed and said "Okay, people, you're lucky that this is the first time when this happens. But nobody disappoints me twice. Dismissed". Medical crew headed to exit the room. Vladimir looked at their backs and invited marine to enter with tired gesture "Yes, I have a lot of minutes, but I am angry like hell - you don't know what is it like to run a whole department of idiots... Come in, lieutenant, and tell me if your reason to come is worth those minutes I am spending on you."
"Well, it's actually leftenant, not lieutenant..." Not that Jack expected the CMO to care, but there was just something about addressing people properly that stuck with Jack. No doubt from years of training as a marine. "But, I think you'll find it is a vast waste of your minutes. I just arrived and need to go through the dog and pony show that Starfleet deems necessary, Medical, Counseling, and that jazz. So, if you'll be kind enough to just give me medical clearance, I'll be on my way. You don't really need to do all those idiotic tests, do you?" While Jack did engage in a few behaviors that didn't lead to a healthy body, he loved to work out and he was in superb shape for a man who definately wasn't twenty anymore.
Malgin shot an evaluating glance at Jack and thought for a second. To torment or not to torment? That is the question that he was asking himself. Finally he sighed and said "Dear mister What-is-your-name, of course I understand that you don't want to pass all tha routine test and blah-blah-blah, but can't you marines use some brains? This is made for you and only for you. Imagine - you made me give you clearance without tests. And suddenly, in fight with some Klingons or whomever, your leg just breaks down, all because I haven't checked it and told you about the weak spot in bone due to lowered calcium levels, as example. Then - you die." Malgin gave a smile, that looked sorta demonic, but then smile receded from his face and he sighed weakly.
"However, I don't care. I will give you 'green light', but I am sure that wise boys and girls from counseling will not do it that easy. Of course, I'd torment you, but I am just not in mood."
"Leftenant Jack Valhoun. That's VALhoun not CALhoun, by the way." And anyway, I'm fit as a... well, something that is fit, ya know? But thanks Doc, I didn't want to be here all day for no reason. Too much else to get done. And, about the brains for marines... you'll hafta go through supply for that. I can't authorize the issuing of brains. Don't have the clearance, you understand." This was... easier than expected. Typically CMOs were a heck of a lot more 'by the book' than this guy was. That was a good thing.
"Pal, I like your style. But I got one thing to say - don't be so disappointed with lack of brains. Rest assured that some people - I mean tactical and counseling - have a lot less brain mass than you have." Vladimir smiled widely. For the first time it was a true smile. But even it quickly disappeared when he realized that it would harm his image.
"Anyway, Doc, why do you think counseling won't be another automatic greenlight? Please don't tell me they have some counselor who think he can save the world one mind at a time. That would hell. If they saved all the resources spent on counseling and spent them on medical or engineering or anything, I can only think that things would be that much better." It was true, in Jack's opinion, Starfleet must spend massive resources for something that's not very useful. Phaser rifles, engine parts, hyposprays were useful. Counselors were not.
Malgin chuckled. "Why? I'd tell you why - shmuks there in counselling are so feeble-minded, that they think that everybody else 'have problems' and these problems need solution. Hell no! Those guys need to see psychiatrist themselves. They will say - 'you have a problem, don't you? Try to realize it... How do you feel? I understand... Blah-blah-blah..." He paused, then continued in less mocking tone "Counseling here on Galaxy is of the same kind as everywhere. So all I can say is that I wish you not to spend the rest of your life in psychiatric clinic."
Jack grinned lopsidedly, "The rest of my life, eh? Well, would that be counseling for the supposed problems I have now or counseling in order to recover from the counseling I'm about to receive? Sometimes I think that the counselors are only counselors in the same way that art critics are critics instead of artists. It's like they failed out of bartending school, where one can really help, and went into Starfleet to try and compensate for past failures." The man shrugged, tired of the idiocy of Starfleet beauracracy, which he felt counseling was firmly apart of. "So, Doc, you need me for anything else? Or can I go?"
Vladimir stood up and said "Well, from YOU I need nothing at all. You are free to go anywhere - I will fill all the forms. Count yourself lucky that I am in such a magnanimous mood today, so you're apparently first person ever who exited my 'Cave of horrors' alive and unharmed." He winked to Jack "By the way - I plan to go to the bar and have a beer or something better. Drinking alone definately can lead to bad conseqences. Care to make me a company?"
"Sounds good, just so long as you don't mean 'a beer' as in only one. Actually, I haven't been around this ship too much, what does it have? Some synthehol serving lounge for boring 'fleeters to talk about their boring lives while drinking boring drinks?" All in all, Jack hated Starfleet's idea of recreation. So bland, so plain... nothing creative or fun at all. Just a bunch of people sitting around and agreeing with each other and occasionally laughing at the politically correct, non-offensive joke of the day.
"No, no, no! The beer is the smallest I'd agree on. The most usual liquid and the best of all is of course russian vodka, which should be drank in company. So if you really want it - russian vodka is guaranteed. If you only knew how much I hate all those usual officers, who drink liquers, cocktails with no more than 10% of alcohol... This is just unnatural." Vladimir said last words so they sounded almost like a spit. "All in all, bar can always be substituted with my quarters, where the widest spectrum of alcohol drinks could be found and, of course, with the best snacks. I didn't mean to boast, but it is much better than any bar."
"Vodka, eh? Sounds like an adventure waiting to be had. I'm a whiskey man myself but I'm always willing to expand my horizons. As for your quarters, hell, as long as you're not trying to seduce me, I could care less where we drank. I'm always willing to try out someone's personal supply. Me, I didn't relaly have the time or inclination to bring too much aboard with me. Some Captains frown upon officers bringing a bar with them while others look the other way." Jack did think that it would be nice to get away from the usual fleeters so maybe somewhere more private would be the best option. He motioned to the door, "So, Doc, lead the way."
Elijah stepped out of the turbolift onto deck 10. Today was his first shift at helm, pretty standard, nothing special. He didn't know very many people, though and socialization wasn't one of his strong points.
Craig Ashbey caught up to him in the corridor. "So I hear today was your first day on duty?
"Yeah. It was pretty routine."
"Craig. Craig Ashbey."
"Oh yeah, I'm . . ."
"Elijah," Craig finished for him. "Don't look so surprised, you don't become one of the first Zalkonians in Starfleet and go unnoticed.
"I guess you're right." Elijah shrugged.
The doors to ten-forward parted and the two walked inside.
Taking a seat at the bar, Elijah turned to glance around the room. There weren't many people there in the middle of the day, but the few that were looked relaxed and at ease.
"Martini, please."said Elijah when the bartender came up behind him.
"I'll have the same," said Craig. "So, who have you met? Aside from the Bridge crew."
"Well to be honest, no one. Aside from you. I haven't even met our CO."
Craig picked up his martini, and drained it in one pull. "Hey, I've gotta go. Just enjoy yourself for now, and everything will be taken care of. Beleive me, once we get assignments from Starfleet the proverbial sh*t's gonna hit the fan, if ya know what I mean."
Craig stood from his chair and walked out of the lounge. Elijah waved a hand goodbye and turned to watch the people milling and socializing.
Elijah bolted the martini in his hand and left, heading for the holodecks. Maybe some surfing would help him focus.
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