U.S.S. Corsair
Eris Desk – Ship’s Lounge
“Bermuda Triangles & Spinning Compasses”
Ambassador Ian Lamont entered the Charon’s lounge. Adjusting his uniform jacket which bore the look and insignia of the Federation’s diplomatic corps rather than the ubiquitous fleet duty uniform he smoothed a stray wrinkle before stopping at the bar and ordering a glass of wine. His entrance always managed to turn a few heads a fact not lost on the aloof ambassador who plainly stood out in a sea of naval personnel. Taking his wine he made his way to one of the lounge’s many large windows to enjoy the visual splendor of the Yy’a nebula.
The nebula with its magnificent swirling greens and trace other colors was a visual playground for both the eyes and the mind to wander and explore. Sipping his wine, the ambassador did nothing except bask in the all consuming magnificence of the mysterious and dramatic nebula. This had been his first opportunity to view the Charon’s latest mission objective since their arrival. He had to admit the view was quite impressive. The entire window was like a painter’s canvas splashed with color and light, yet this canvas slowly ebbed and flowed with subtle movement. Lamont found himself asking questions that the scientists aboard were no doubt salivating over. What lie beyond the colorful veil of gasses? He’d heard a few rumors of this nebula’s reputation. It appeared this area had a history of consuming vessels and people never to be heard from again. The rumors and purported phenomenon reminded him of Earth’s own ‘Bermuda Triangle’. The triangle had always been steeped in myth, legend, and rumor with dozens of craft having disappeared in its waters and countless reports of unusual phenomenon. Rumors still persisted to this day ranging from the plausible to the grotesquely ridiculous. Lamont wondered if this area of space was the Romulan’s own Bermuda Triangle. He only hoped the answer to that question did not come at the expense of Charon equipment or personnel as had so frequently occurred back on Earth.
Lamont continued to stare out at nature’s beauty before him as he relaxed and allowed himself to ponder the gas cloud’s mysteries and magnificence. However his thoughts one fading into another were interrupted when his ears picked up the tonal inconsistencies of an unusual conversation somewhere behind him. Attempting to dismiss the conversation, Ian found himself unable to focus on the nebula as his thoughts were continually interrupted by the especially odd voice patterns of the two men behind him. Lamont had no interest in the men’s conversation and indeed it was quite ill mannered of him to listen in on a private conversation yet he could not help overhearing bits and pieces as the voices interrupted his own thoughts again and again.
“…shuttles today. I hear…the captain…must be…mission. Are you…”
“Yes. I’ve been assigned… nebula…not looking forward to….romulan….they’ve completely screwed…Santa Fe. I don’t know…why…damn…singularity….what’s wrong with old fashioned…Cochrane….warp drive?”
“That’s the trouble with Romulan….you can’t…and shouldn’t…but…one can….stand up for….”
“How…what can…do…shuttles? I’m just….pilot…just want to fly.”
“…wrong. Access to shuttles…where….difference.”
“What are….saying?”
“Nothing…only….”
Lamont couldn’t help but piece the conversation bits together in his mind. While the conversation was annoying and intruding on his enjoyment of the nebula the tonal differences between the men were odd. Something about how the words were being spoken and what was being said felt wrong somehow. Ian felt the prickle of words delivered too smoothly and efficiently to be spoken in average conversation. The tone of the voice was level and even and the words seemed out of place. If he didn’t know better he would almost say the accent had the ever so subtle inflections of a Romulan who spoke nearly impeccable Federation Standard. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Lamont turned to see only an irritated pilot swallow the last of a beer at an empty table. Glancing upwards, Ian noticed someone exiting the lounge. The pilot seemed familiar though he couldn’t immediately recall a name.
Moving quickly toward the exit, Lamont followed the mysterious person out into the hallway. Stepping out into the corridor the ambassador looked both directions yet the person he had only glimpsed had seemingly disappeared. Lamont continued to look down the hall, but aside from two officers speaking there was no one else in sight. Moving back into the lounge, Lamont felt compelled to speak with the pilot, but upon entering he noticed the man was also gone.
Ian moved up to the edge of the bar and set his wine glass down his expression bearing that of one who was confronted by a perplexing conundrum.
The barkeep moved over and noticed Lamont’s concern. “Ambassador, is there something wrong?”
Ian looked up at the man with an odd expression. “I do not know”, was all he said before leaving the lounge still unsure of exactly what he had heard and if his instincts were actually giving him proper direction given the limited words he had overheard. His internal compass was pointing in a direction he was having trouble believing, yet he could not deny what it was saying. Perhaps the nebula and its reputation unlike the Bermuda Triangle was to blame for his inexplicable gut feelings. There were some days he wished he was a telepath, but then again, the thought of being able to read the captain’s twisted mind simply made his stomach turn. Perhaps being a normal human was not such a bad curse to bear after all.
[ To Be Continued…at some point. :P ]
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Ambassador Ian Lamont
Diplomatic Advisor Extraordinare, USS Corsair
Unidentified Pilot
Unidentified Possible Romulan Type Person
(APB Tav}
