Saturday, July 31, 2010

[USS Charon] SD.241007.31 || Joint Log || LtJG Anderson & Crw Davis

… BEGIN JOINT LOG …

 

= / \ =…. [Takes place after the briefing and sparring session…]

 

Sam walked into the small mess hall, PADD in hand. She wanted to continue her review of the information they'd received during their briefing, as well as make sure the crew roster was updated before they reached the Charon. She headed to the back of the small room, and sat at a booth against the wall, able to see the entire area.

 

Auden could be found sitting near the back of the mess hall, alone at a small two person booth. He used his left hand to hold a large viewing PADD in front of him and was watching the contemporary dance competition from his home town which has been held two weeks after his departure from earth. To his right was a delicious looking blueberry muffin which had a few bites out of it and a cup of steaming black coffee.

 

Sam was just about to get down to work when her combadge chirped at her in short clipped tones. She held back a sigh, not really in the mood to eat, but knowing she should. She looked around, hoping to get a few ideas of what she should order. The blueberry muffin at the adjacent table looked appealing enough, so she got up to go and replicate one, along with a glass of water. She returned to her spot, then mildly distracted by the PADD she scarfed the muffin as quickly as possible, an old, very hard to break habit.

 

Taking a moment to look up, Auden recognized the Crewman from the briefing when they exchanged quiet greetings. He took note of her overly-petite figure once more and being a doctor he immediately continued to work in his head as to why she could be so skinny, it was beyond having a fast metabolism in his opinion.

 

Auden tried not to make it obvious that he was watching her but couldn't help himself after watching her shove the muffin she had replicated into her as if someone was going to take it. "Crewman. You really shouldn't eat that fast, especially for someone of such small stature. It's a choking hazard." He offered her an awkward smile.

 

"Sorry" She blushed slightly, embarrassed to be 'caught'. "I'll try and remember."

 

"No need to apologize, I just don't want you getting hurt." He took a look around the small mess hall and noticed that it was getting a bit more crowded. He used his free arm to gesture towards the chair in front of him. "Would you like to join me? There have been far too many new faces and names the past day or so. It'd be nice to get to know one a little bit more. Davis, right?"

 

Sam got up, and joined him at his table. "Yes sir, Samantha Davis" she answered clearly, if a bit shyly.

 

Auden eyed her for a moment. "Please do not call me Sir." He gave the shy woman a genuine smile and moved in a little bit closer, putting his right hand beside his mouth if only to give the illusion he was trying to be quiet. "It makes me feel older than I am." He thought for a moment and then continued, "I'm not that old either. So. Dr Anderson will do."

 

She grinned, actually a little amused at his joke. "Ok Doctor Anderson. Like a real doctor doctor?" She asked, obviously impressed.

 

Auden gave Sam his pondering look again, "I think my medicine doctorate is genuine. Maybe I should check that." He set the PADD he was viewing down on the table and leaned back slightly, "So. What did you think of the briefing? You excited to be heading to the Charon?"

 

His reply answered her question. He wasn't like a doctor of physics or something. "The meeting was informative. I just hope I can get all the new personnel files organized for the Captain by the time we arrive. I suppose I'm excited." She'd never really thought about it. She went and did what she was told most of the time still, but she was getting better at thinking of her own desires.

 

Auden nodded, the meeting was definitely informative. Midst his thoughts he saw a rather attractive male officer walk nearby, his hormones got the best of him and he got caught up in the moment forgetting his was sitting with Sam for a moment. When he realized that he had checked out someone right in front of his new friend he blushed slightly.

 

Sam watched the scene unfold. She had a practised eye, noting your owner's mood went a long way in avoiding all sorts of unpleasantness. She realized the man Auden had been watching was 'attractive', though she felt no response herself. Why he had watched him, or why he was blushing because of it, she had no clue. "Do you know him?" She asked, wondering if there was something she should know.

 

Auden made a quick come back to reality, "I think I may have run into him before." He looked at Sam directly, he wasn't a telepath but he could sense certain cluelessness as to his reaction to the male officer. "The Charon should be an interesting assignment. Deep space. A Romulan Captain. I wonder if she spars with her crew.." Auden thought back on the meeting and the arranged sparring session between Khiy and the Colonel. 

 

"Yes, it should be interesting. It's my first posting. You think she would actually? I mean spar with the crew?" Sam got a sudden knot at the idea. Certainly not, right?"

 

Auden chuckled, in all honesty he wasn't sure if she did or not. "Guess we'll find out eventually." Auden couldn't help but yawn, it wasn't that the conversation was boring him, it was the fact that he was tired. Regardless of the fact Mark had told him he was completely comfortable with Auden possibly having night terrors, Auden had tried his best to not sleep at all saving the possibility. "I am sorry Crewman Davis. I guess everything is catching up with me." He grinned, "Would you possibly like to meet up again tomorrow for a light lunch?..." He looked her over again, food would not hurt her any.

 

"Oh, ok. Of course. I understand." For some reason she couldn't explain his gaze didn't hold any fear for her. She didn't even get the feeling that he was expecting sex from her, and she'd gotten that numerous times, even when she was reading the situation completely wrong. "Lunch tomorrow then." She agreed

 

… END JOINT LOG …

 

 

Lieutenant Junior Grade

Auden Anderson, MD

Medical Officer

Uss Charon

 

&

 

Crewman

Samantha Davis

Yeoman

Uss Charon


Thursday, July 29, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241007.28 || Off Duty Log || "Bunk Mates"

<<This takes place immediately after "Drink and Be Merry"
 
=/\= Onboard the Quantum Fury =/\=
 
Sam had finished a small meal and had a quick chat with Auden in the lounge, and was now attempting to find her accommodations. She'd learned the layout of the Charon, but hadn't looked over the smaller ships specs, so found herself easily lost. She thought she had the right place, and the door did open when she placed her palm to it, so she stepped in.

Occupying the room before her were several marines from Aria's task force, including Aria herself. The colonel leaned lazily against the plated wall, laughing and joking with three others, two men and a woman. They each had their specialties, that particular reason for being there but right now that wasn't apparent. They all had casual wear, dressed in urban cammo pants and tops of verying kinds, except for Zazz, who prefered to leave his shirt laying on the bunk.

The groups low key socializing hit a brick wall when Sam entered the room. None of them knew who she was or why she was bothering them, but Aria, always one to take the lead, spoke up. "Can we help you?"

"Oh, sorry." Sam looked around, realized she obviously had the wrong room. "I didn't mean to disturb you, I just got the wrong room." She spoke quietly, embarrassed by her mishap.

A forbidding smile played across the woman's face, obviously amused at some level by the sheepish girls mistake. On what level? Who could know. "Are you sure you got the wrong room," Aria pushed herself away from the wall, taking a step towards Sam. "What room are you looking for?"

"Deck 3, room 12." Sam answered.

The room erupted with amused smiles and muffled laughter, like they knew something she didn't. Zazz interlocked his fingers against the back of his head, flexing bicepts and tricepts that might just be able to crush stone. He stayed the most quiet, whereas the other man, Vel, had the loudest laugh, but he covered it up tactlessly enough with a cough about as real as replicated food. The third, a smaller woman but who nevertheless wore the smirk of a soldier, only smiled, knowing what was coming.

By far amongst the four marines, it was Aria who stole away the center of attention. A took a sharp gulp of air, abruptly halting in place. Excruciatingly long seconds later her fliudic walkz resumed, circling the girl once over. "I know exactly where room 12 is...positioned...on deck 3."

Her boots barely made a sound as she took a step or two back and to the side. "In fact I would say I was intimately familiar with said rooms location," her voice was like an unknown melody, pleasant to hear yet cold enough to carry a chill down ones spine. "Welcome," then the shortest of pauses before, "to room 12, deck 3."

Sam watched the interplay of the group. It was the Marines who had rescued her, pulled her from the rubble just a foot from her dead and bloodied owner. They had clothed and fed her and been unswervingly kind during the journey to Earth. Their laughter, albeit aimed at her, was still comforting. "Oh" She answered, realizing it was the correct place after all. "Would you like me to come back later?" She asked, her voice far from the boisterousness so often shown by the Marines.

The woman chuckled to all who would listen and waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. If this is your room, then it is your room as well." Her eyes swept over the room, nodding as she counted the number of bunks. "The three of them," she gave a flick of her gaze to each of the marines, "have been thrown in here. I'm up stairs because someone things I'm VIP, but unless I'm taking someone to bed with me I'll probably bunk with my team."

She gave a slight sigh, something on her mind, something coming up. "I'm Aria. The jungle boy over there," she lifted her chin to the shirtless marine, "is Zazz. The other boy is Vel and the lady to your left is Xantho."

Sam smiled shyly to each in turn, nodding slightly. "Sam" she introduced herself. She noted that there were four bunks in the room, and Aria had stated she would most likely bunk with her team. Sam somehow managed to scurry stealthily, long practice of not wanting to be noticed, to the one free corner of the room, and dropped her small bag into the corner. She sat on top of it, her back against the corner.

"A pleasure," she replied. She couldn't help up cock her head to the side in confusion at the girls odd behavior, watching her practically float past the group and into the room to setup shop in the corner. "What are you doing in the corner? The bunk is over there. You can have the one under Xantho and bond."

Xantho, for her part, thought the whole encounter was just silly. She giggled at her commanders idea, not out of mockery but out of a girlish little charm she had managed to preserve throughout her time in the corps.

Sam looked up at Aria. "You said you would probably bunk with your team, and there are only four beds" She explained softly, uncomfortable at the idea of taking somebody's bunk. But she got up, picked up her bag and headed for the lower bunk on the right. She settled onto the bed, crossing her long thin legs and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Xantho had already hopped up onto the top bunk. The two boys were'nt quite ready to call it a night, and Aria certainly wasn't. She still had an appointment at 2100 she was not going to miss.

Xantho leaned over the side, poking her head down into the space of the bottom bunk. "So what is it you do, Sam?"Sam had finished a small meal and had a quick chat with Auden in the lounge, and was now attempting to find her accommodations. She'd learned the layout of the Charon, but hadn't looked over the smaller ships specs, so found herself easily lost. She thought she had the right place, and the door did open when she placed her palm to it, so she stepped in.

Occupying the room before her were several marines from Aria's task force, including Aria herself. The colonel leaned lazily against the plated wall, laughing and joking with three others, two men and a woman. They each had their specialties, that particular reason for being there but right now that wasn't apparent. They all had casual wear, dressed in urban cammo pants and tops of verying kinds, except for Zazz, who prefered to leave his shirt laying on the bunk.

The groups low key socializing hit a brick wall when Sam entered the room. None of them knew who she was or why she was bothering them, but Aria, always one to take the lead, spoke up. "Can we help you?"

"Oh, sorry." Sam looked around, realized she obviously had the wrong room. "I didn't mean to disturb you, I just got the wrong room." She spoke quietly, embarrassed by her mishap.

A forbidding smile played across the woman's face, obviously amused at some level by the sheepish girls mistake. On what level? Who could know. "Are you sure you got the wrong room," Aria pushed herself away from the wall, taking a step towards Sam. "What room are you looking for?"

"Deck 3, room 12." Sam answered.

The room erupted with amused smiles and muffled laughter, like they knew something she didn't. Zazz interlocked his fingers against the back of his head, flexing bicepts and tricepts that might just be able to crush stone. He stayed the most quiet, whereas the other man, Vel, had the loudest laugh, but he covered it up tactlessly enough with a cough about as real as replicated food. The third, a smaller woman but who nevertheless wore the smirk of a soldier, only smiled, knowing what was coming.

By far amongst the four marines, it was Aria who stole away the center of attention. A took a sharp gulp of air, abruptly halting in place. Excruciatingly long seconds later her fliudic walkz resumed, circling the girl once over. "I know exactly where room 12 is...positioned...on deck 3."

Her boots barely made a sound as she took a step or two back and to the side. "In fact I would say I was intimately familiar with said rooms location," her voice was like an unknown melody, pleasant to hear yet cold enough to carry a chill down ones spine. "Welcome," then the shortest of pauses before, "to room 12, deck 3."

Sam watched the interplay of the group. It was the Marines who had rescued her, pulled her from the rubble just a foot from her dead and bloodied owner. They had clothed and fed her and been unswervingly kind during the journey to Earth. Their laughter, albeit aimed at her, was still comforting. "Oh" She answered, realizing it was the correct place after all. "Would you like me to come back later?" She asked, her voice far from the boisterousness so often shown by the Marines.

The woman chuckled to all who would listen and waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. If this is your room, then it is your room as well." Her eyes swept over the room, nodding as she counted the number of bunks. "The three of them," she gave a flick of her gaze to each of the marines, "have been thrown in here. I'm up stairs because someone things I'm VIP, but unless I'm taking someone to bed with me I'll probably bunk with my team."

She gave a slight sigh, something on her mind, something coming up. "I'm Aria. The jungle boy over there," she lifted her chin to the shirtless marine, "is Zazz. The other boy is Vel and the lady to your left is Xantho."

Sam smiled shyly to each in turn, nodding slightly. "Sam" she introduced herself. She noted that there were four bunks in the room, and Aria had stated she would most likely bunk with her team. Sam somehow managed to scurry stealthily, long practice of not wanting to be noticed, to the one free corner of the room, and dropped her small bag into the corner. She sat on top of it, her back against the corner.

"A pleasure," she replied. She couldn't help up cock her head to the side in confusion at the girls odd behavior, watching her practically float past the group and into the room to setup shop in the corner. "What are you doing in the corner? The bunk is over there. You can have the one under Xantho and bond."

Xantho, for her part, thought the whole encounter was just silly. She giggled at her commanders idea, not out of mockery but out of a girlish little charm she had managed to preserve throughout her time in the corps.

Sam looked up at Aria. "You said you would probably bunk with your team, and there are only four beds" She explained softly, uncomfortable at the idea of taking somebody's bunk. But she got up, picked up her bag and headed for the lower bunk on the right. She settled onto the bed, crossing her long thin legs and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Xantho had already hopped up onto the top bunk. The two boys were'nt quite ready to call it a night, and Aria certainly wasn't. She still had an appointment at 2100 she was not going to miss.

Xantho leaned over the side, poking her head down into the space of the bottom bunk. "So what is it you do, Sam?"

"I'm a yeoman." Sam smiled slightly, finding Xantho's position amusing. She wasn't tired yet, in fact she had a lot of reading she wanted to do before sleeping, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to fall asleep on the bunk anyway. She could just wait for the others to fall asleep and curl up in the corner. She laid back, so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to look at the other woman.
"And what do you do?" She asked with genuine interest, if still in a soft tone.

"Mmm," Xantho looked up, which turned out to be down, because she was in fact upside down. "I'm a combat enemy profiler," she said, proud of herself. It was not a usual specialty, but nor was Aria's team a usual task force. Xantho had been picked for very good reasons and Aria had made sure the younger woman knew it.

"Oh, what's that?" Sam blushed slightly, not sure how much of a faux pas her ignorance on the subject was." She looked at the poor upside woman, thinking that must be an uncomfortable position. "Do you wanna come down here?" She asked tentatively.

The marine's eyes whirled around in thought. "I determine the most likely psychological atributes the UnSub is to possess and then hypothesize what sort of tactical action can be expected, as well as what tactical action is likely to succeed against the UnSub." The soldier psychologist shook her head with a disapproving smirk at the second question. "Not at all, I'm fine right here. Until the fight anyway."

"Ok" Sam didn't understand half of the explanation, but wasn't going to ask for clarification, or what fight she was referring to. She moved to the corner of her bunk instead, pulling out the PADD she'd been busy with all day. She felt slightly defeated from her apparently lame attempt to be social, and eager to busy her mind with the data on the PADD.

Oh but it would not be that easy, nor had the marines finished with her. "They stuck a yoeman with a bunch of combat vets?" Zazz found the idea laughable, as though there must have been a mistake. Xantho shot the large marine a glare. Aria eyed the group but let the encounter play out.

Vel, for his part, ended his silence. "So where are you from? Xantho and I are from Earth. The Queenbitch over there," he motioned toward Aria, "Epsilon Colony. The clunk head trying to blind us with his greased up abs is from the moon."

Sam pulled her legs in closer, an unconscious manifestation of protecting herself. She wondered if she should just grab her bag and go, she could find somewhere else to sleep, and these Marines, or at least Zazz, didn't seem eager to have her around. She couldn't ignore the question though, and pushed down the desire to flee. "Olympus IV" She answered, not meeting Vel's eyes.

Xantho could see the girls discomfort. It was what she did, after all, figure out what and how people felt. She gave the shirtless marine a poisonous look and shewed him away in a rare sense of of bravado. "Never heard of it," she said to the girl with a shrug. "Hey you wanna come watch the fight with us?"

Sam shook her head. "No thank you" She answered politely.

Aria busied herself in preparation as the group spoke, tightening her belt, selecting a tighter shirt and placing her tags with her things. She bent down to loosen her boots, one never wanted poor circulation in the cold after all. "Are you sure? High stakes are in the air and I think a lot of people onboard have been waiting for something like this for quite a while." From her bag she pulled two snow-white pieces of cloth and began wrapping them around her knuckles and wrists one after another, a look of exhilaration on her face. She wanted this fight more than anyone else knew.

Sam watched Aria with fascination. The woman had a whore like beauty, curvy and confident. But she had no desire to see a fight. She'd witnessed plenty, and she did not see the entertainment in it. She also didn't know how to politely refuse...again."Ahhh ummmm" The normally soft spoken, but at least spoken Sam stammered.

"Well, suit yourself," came the reply. The marines figured she was simply too timid for such events, which, they mused, probably explained her small stature and profession. "If I don't come back, I'm either fighting someone else or in the infirmary. Otherwise, well..." She paused a moment to make sure the wraps were tight enough. "Otherwise I'll be nursing my victory wounds in the mess hall."

Sam relaxed a bit, seeing that she was off the hook."So why are you fighting the Captain in the cold?" she asked tentatively, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Aria had to check herself at the question, impassioned with flashbacks she wished she sometimes couldn't remember. "I like the cold. The cold forces you to stay in action. To slow down is to lose heat, lose energy, lose will, so it makes you keep going; makes you resolute." She looked down at the girl. Her jade eyes were absolutely soul-shattering, but behind them was something else, something bestial. "The cold makes everyone equal. Muscles tighten, responses slow."

What might have turned into a tense moment was disrupted when Vel looked at Zazz who made his signature dumbass grin and motioned over to Xantho. Xantho was still hanging from the top bunk, upside down as Sam and the Colonel had their chat. Vel brought his finger up to his lips, a silent demand for quiet and turned to face Xantho, still hanging there. He was quite about it, his plan that is, grabbing ahold of her belt and hanging downard, causing the soldier psychologist to fall forward with a shriek. The two men burst into laughter shortly thereafter, nearly coming to tears as Xantho rolled around on the ground. A quick foot to the gut, however, bought an 'oh fuck' from Vel who doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Xantho hopped to her feet, a 'ha!' look on her face as she dusted herself off. "I needed to get down anyway," she said ruefully, "so your prank was all for not." Once again, the room erupted in laughter.

Sam just huddled in the corner or her bunk, privately praying not to be noticed; not recognizing the joviality of the scene that unfolded before her. The shriek from Xantho left her cold, and it took a long few moments for her to realize the woman was not being raped.

Vel recovered easily enough and patted Xantho on the shoulder. "Nice hit, you harlot! Now lets go so we don't get shitty spots." The three of them left wearing their enthusiasm, only Aria stayed.

The colonel wanted to stretch a moment before heading off to the fight, deciding to try one last time to include the scared little girl. "You sure you don't want to join us? That's how you make friends," she offered the girl a wink.

Sam just shook her head 'no' slowly uncurling from her ball.. Yes, she wanted to make friends and fit in, but it was all a little too much at the moment.
"Well then," Aria's parting words, "be seein' you."
 
=/\= =/\=
 
Colonel Aria Falcon
Marine Force Recon
 
Samantha Davis
Yoeman

Flag this message [USS Charon] SD241007.28 || Off Duty Log || "Drink and Be Merry"

<<This takes place shortly after 'Extravaganza'>>

=/\= USS Quantum Fury - General Mess =/\=

Starfleet had done few things right during Rob's transfer to the USS Charon, but it was times like these he was glad the bureaucrats on Earth had gotten around to rescuing him and the other survivors from Carida. There was nothing like a good Scotch, and contrary to popular belief most Starfleet vessels had enough real alcohol to keep him and the handful of other liquor-liking officers satisfied.

The last time he'd indulged his craving for the 'real stuff' he'd managed to start a bar fight, one that had left him and Landon Neyes in the brig aboard Starbase Versailles. The other patrons could hardly tell the difference between what he was drinking and what was normally served at the bar; Rob's behavior however, was quite different.

"You," still fairly sober, yet inebrieated enough to strike conversation with a superior officer, Rob pointed out the woman who had interrupted his short reunion with Landon, "fight any aliens yet?"

Aria lofted a thin brow at the tipsy Fleeter and sauntered over to him, curious more than anything of what the jackass could possibly be going with his question.  One hand on her hip, chin dipped down slightly with eyes narrowed in a surprisingly engaging fashion, she decided to give it a go.  "Have I."  A simple answer to test the waters.

Normally Rob would have been annoyed by such a simple answer, but there was enough Scotch running through him at this point that her response didn't compute normally. "No, no, that's later isn't it," he put his glass down and eyed the woman; alcohol or no alcohol she was quite attractive. In the midst of his emotionally taxing reuniting with Landon, Rob had missed her beauty. He found it hard to believe she was known as a fighter, and to Commander of the Quantum Fury no less.

Rob took another swig, "Fighting," he stopped on the word, his own experiences flowing through his mind, "it's overrated."

Aria let a short giggle escape her soft lips, the sound sweet, like cherry blossoms.  "The fight with the Romulan," she confirmed, "yes that is later."  A twist to the right and she was mixing a drink for herself, another Black Dahlia.  Given the man's sudden change in mood she figured she'd need another drink as much as she'd enjoy one.

The supple woman brought the glass to her lips, tipping its edge to grant her the sweet pleasure of its contents.  It was a wholely intricate maneuver but whether deliberate or not was hard to discern.  Her eyes fell upon the slurry man once again.  "And why would you say my profession is overrated?"

Rob smiled and shook his head slightly as he put the glass back on the counter once more. "Our," he corrected her. "I may not have graduated from Quantico or wear those pips, but I've seen my fair share of it," the glass was back up to his glass before he finished his sentence, "I just don't find pleasure in it."

Normally Rob would have refrained from implying such a harsh idea, but the Scotch had loosened him up quite a bit.

She giggled again, lower lip nipped without thought.  This was less of a sweet sound, more humor than mockery in the tone.  "Oh no," she took a step forward.  "I'm sure you've had your fair share of arena time, but it's not your profession," her voice slowing for the last word.  "Your job is to protect.  Mine is to kill, and let me tell you," a quick wiggle of her brows, "business is booming."

He paused, looking into his glass for inspiration--it didn't help. "I failed," his words were more empty than angry; he didn't expect her to understand. "I may not be trained to kill, but people died nevertheless," he finished the solemn statement with a another swig.

Aria's subtle writhing of that oh so succulent body of hers stilled, the curiousity in her eyes drying up, the playfulness in her sway seeping out of her.  The mans tone had taken a decisive turn for the worst.  "People die in combat.  That's the name of the game.  So what failure?"

Scotch or no scotch the statement made him sick, "The game?" He put the glass down more firmly this time. "Like the one you're about to have with that Romulan?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, it was slight but perceivable, and another step was taken forward.  The Game, was a term for what she did that she used as a way to make peace with what those slender hands of hers had done and will do again, but the mention of that word, 'Romulan', it coiled around her gut, choking anger out of her - no, hate.

"Yeah," he voice almost hesitant, "that's right.  With that Romulan."

Her physical response to the mention of the green-blooded miscreants intrigued him, "Well, their not Cardassians," he sighed. "What'd I give to spar with a fan-neck."

"We all have our demons, no?" Rob looked back at his glass but decided against another drink. "Except ours seem to be of the 'alien' nature."

She didn't want to talk about the Romulan or any Romulan for that matter.  It wasn't something that sat well, the knot in her stomach saw to that.  She would deal with this encounter the way she normally delt with talks like this.  "Then why don't you just challenge him and get it over with?"

"Him?" Rob had forgotten about the Fury's first-officer.

Aria slowly nodded, indicating to where the captain and first officer had originally approached her earlier in the evening.  "He was right there," she said matter-of-factly, "but I'm sure you can challenge him when it comes time for my match."

The thought of participating in a game fight suddenly didn't seem very appealing to him. "I guess I'll leave the public beatings to you."

Rob took a deep breath and stretched back in his tall chair, eyeing the Marine woman in the process. He hadn't even thought about the opposite sex since Carida, the memory of Chelsea and the others was still too potent in his mind. Now, with a few ounces of liquid-stupid in his veins the violent images didn't seem as strong as he looked at the woman. "I bet you like them too," he smirked, again referencing the upcoming brawl.

Her nerves, tingling with tension just a moment ago, calmed themselves as it appeared the issue of Romulans had dropped.  Aria, feeling comfortable in the air around her once more, began to slip back into normalsy.  That is, normal for her.  "My dear security boy, are you insinuating that I get some sort of perverse pleasure out of brawling?"

"Yes," he replied sharply, "and again, that's 'former' security," he pulled the cuff of his undershirt out, showing her his new department color. "Now I get to deal with you folk and Starfleet, determining the best course of action for the Charon and the fleet," he words dripped sarcasm as he mocked the official job description of the Chief Strategic Operations Officer. "Fantastic, I know," he pulled his flask of scotch from out under his

pullover casual-wear jacket and poured his glass three-quarters of the way full before offering some to the woman.

She laughed, and this time it was a real laugh, her hand covering her mouth as she smiled.  It wasn't his depression that amused her, but the totality of the encounter,  Jerk, friendly, agravating, sad and self destructive.  It was like he had lift a whole life in just a few short hours.

"Well don't you worry.  I am more than capable of planning my own operation.  Maybe some of my badassery will even rub off."

He raised his glass in approval. "Here's to that," his voice was a bit louder and stood out amongst the relatively quiet room.

He took a hard drink and shook his head as he swallowed the bitter liquid before turning back to the woman. "You mentioned your name before in the conference room, but I seemed to have forgotten it."

"I already donated that tantalizing bit of information once already."  Her fingers glided effortlessly through her satin black hair, again the glass pressed to her lips, sacrificing its contents to her unsated thirst.  "Why should I give it again so freely?"

She was toying with him, but at this point of alcohol consumption he didn't care. "You need a reason? I thought my kind demeanor and interesting life history were more than enough," he smiled slyly.

"Kind demeanor?"  Now that was funny.  She set her drink down and propped both hands on her waist.  "You've been about as friendly to me as I could expect a bull shark to be."

Rob frowned, he hadn't tried to be overly abrasive with her and he'd expected a Marine's definition of friendly to be a bit more liberal than most. "Well then what exactly is friendly?" He raised a brow and stared at her intently.

She tilted her head up, looking towards the ceiling.  Good question; she thought about it a moment, snatching up her drink to finish it off with a satesfied smile, her favorite drink.  "Swooning would have been the sort of friendly I expect."

Lansine's wasn't surprised. "You 'expect' huh?" He bit his lip, weighing what to do next. "And did you expect me to do the same before I bored you to death with stories of my unhappiness?"

She shook her head firmly, turning again to mix another signature drink.  "Not at all."  The mixture swirled in her glass untill she was satesfied and brought it in for a quick taste test.  "Actually I had expected something more along the lines of a verbal assault."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Rob smirked, referring to her interruption of Landon and his reuniting. "Water under the bridge," he raised his glass to hers.

The woman wondered then if it was the booze talking or the real thing, but tapped her glass to his anyway.  That was good form after all.  "Mmmm, I would say time will decide whether or not that is true."

He would have probably agreed under more sober conditions but Rob smiled nevertheless. "Well then here's to our future relationship," he slammed the rest of the glass of Scotch, "Aria," he said after finishing; he had remembered her name mid-drink.

She couldn't help but grin and follow suit with her drink.  "So I don't have to throw you a bone after all," she tipped her head to him in congradulations.  She wouldn't have told him her name again, and was fully prepared to make him go look it up.  "Good for you."

"You'd be what a few of these can do," Rob replied quickly. "Those too," he pointed to her drink.

Her eyes darted to the empty glass, her lips formed into a fleeting smile.  "The vice can certainly do some funny things to you."  Her face suddenly became very serious.  "But I should stop.  I have a sparring match to prepare for."  She set the glass down and graced him with a wide smile.  "See you at the fight."

=/\= End Log =/\=

Colonel Aria Falcon
Marine Force Recon

Lieutenant Robert Lansine
Chief Strategic Operations Officer

[USS Charon] SD241007.28 || Duty Log || "The Belly of the Beast" - Part 1

Ingested by an alien ship or entity, Lt. Leon Athalla was in command of a small contingent of fighters that was cut off from the Charon with no apparent means of escape.  The fighters’ propulsion systems were curtailed by some form of tractor beam or by technology or biological phenomenon which had never been encountered.  They were alone in unknown waters, surrounded by blackness, and cut off from the Charon.

Athalla activated his external forward lights which were instantly absorbed by the darkness before him.  The word ‘massive’ seemed to be lacking in describing the sheer size of the ship that now surrounded them.  A glance at his sensors provided little additional detail.  Whatever was interfering with his engines also seemed to be causing interference with sensors.  He sat quietly for several moments contemplating a course of action.  Did they simply sit here and wait?  As the hours passed their power and oxygen supplies also decreased.  The Valkyrie was not a long range, deep space craft and had a finite operational limit before it could no longer maintain environmental conditions required to keeps its occupants alive.

Sitting still and doing nothing was a poor option.  It might take the Charon hours to mount a rescue, or days.  The Charon might never get the opportunity for rescue operations with the unknowns involved with the alien craft and the nearby star days perhaps hours away from going nova.  There was only one option available – use of their weapons.  Yet even that option was fraught with problems.  What did they target?  Firing blind was pointless and reckless without a target.  Sensors were unable to determine the source of the interference that had frozen their propulsion systems.  Even if they managed to punch a hole in the side of this thing to escape there was no guarantee they would have the capability to leave.

Athalla swallowed as his thoughts drifted to the kobayashi-maru simulation given to those seeking command posts at the academy.  Pilots were not required to take the exam, and Athalla hadn’t even given it any thought since his academy days yet here he was – in command, in the dark, and powerless to do anything.  Without engines he might as well be piloting a rock.

The thought of rocks quickly faded as his proximity sensors suddenly exploded in a blaze of crimson warning lights.  His HUD was awash in alerts as the computer flooded his helmet with audible buzzers and alarms warning of impending danger.  Athalla had only seconds to react to the information splashed across various displays.  A tap of the thrusters spun his fighter 180 degrees reversing his direction in an instant as he applied forward thrust which he had carelessly left engaged.

The force holding the fighters had terminated without warning as Athalla and a few other fighters nearly drifted into the walls of the ship they had been sealed inside.  A pent up breath escaped the pilot’s lips as his heart rate slowly dropped pulling away from the serpent’s hull and back into dark emptiness.  Things were looking up.  At least now they could maneuver.

“George team, report your status over.”

Each pilot checked in and despite the sudden surprise of being freed everyone appeared unscathed.

“George leader, how do we proceed over?”

Athalla pondered the legitimate question for only a moment now that they had regained the use of their engines.

“Blasting our way out of here won’t work.  This ship has already proven it can stop our fighters cold.  We should refrain from provoking it, at least for now.  It pulled us in here for a reason.  I doubt that something this large regards a few fighters as much of a threat and we aren’t large enough to even be a snack so for now I think we’re probably in the clear.  We still have several hours of lifesupport before our situation becomes critical.  I suggest we try to learn as much as we can about the inside of this thing.  We might find out who or what is running the show in here or at the very least map a few possible targets in the event this turns ugly.  Assume delta formation.  All pilots are to remain in visual contact in the event we lose sensors or communications.  We’ll proceed into the belly of the beast on thruster power.  We don’t have any idea what might be lurking in here and impulse speeds are just too risky.  We know this thing can move and coil so keep a sharp eye on your proximity detectors.  I know none of us can see a damn thing right now, but keep your heads on a swivel.  We could run into anything in here and need to be prepared for evasive maneuvers.  Set sensors to maximum intensity and form up.  I’m on point.”

The small contingent of fighter craft slowly entered a tight formation and eased into the darkness before them at a slow, steady speed.  It was anyone’s guess as to what they would discover.  Athalla could only hope that this snake didn’t bite and wasn’t poisonous.  Only time would tell…

[ To Be Continued… ]

__________________________

Lt. Leon Athalla (apb Tav)
Fighter Pilot, USS Charon

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241007.28 || Duty Log || "The Quantum Fury Extravaganza Log!" - Cast of Thousands

Colin Pinnell <pinnellcb@thehiddenkingdom.com> wrote to charon@ucip.org:

<<Hi Everyone;

We've got a whole slough of new characters coming aboard, so we're
getting them all in a care package aboard Quantum Fury. We thought it
would be fun for them to get acquainted before showing up, so we've
dragged them into a massive get-to-know-one-another log. If you wanted
to be more involved in this and were unable to due to time constraints -
sorry! - then write me a line and I'll make sure you get some good joint
log action in. That stands for pretty much anyone, of course, but for
all the new players especially I want to make sure no one feels left
out. So, without further ado, I give you...>>

"The Quantum Fury Extravaganza Log!"

Quantum Fury had two meeting rooms. One was a "war room" of sorts,
something a Captain, Tactical Officer and other militant officers could
use to prepare the course of war. The other was a more simple general
meeting hall, complete with circular table, holoprojectors, wall
displays, and three narrow, tall windows out into space. They right now
showed the trailing lines of a star field at warp, drawing off into the
distance behind them. A pretty view, but the windows were too narrow to
enjoy it much, and the room was too plain to be considered beautiful.
Like Quantum Fury herself, the space was utilitarian and functional. The
rest was extravagance on a warship that was too small to afford it.
Still, Savant had made the best of a poor situation. A side table had
been brought in for food and drink - organics were constantly dictated
by their biological needs - and the lighting was adjusted from the
bright 6500k / 120-lumen-per-square-meter standard down to something
that would be considered comfortable. Warm firelight tones dominated
instead of bright sunlights. Food was a sampling of their varied
preferences from replicator records, with a few additions and changes
made to give a taste of the exotic and new. The wide monitor on the side
of the room showed multiple views of Charons' current position, in orbit
of a super-massive star that was just about to go nova. Scientific
readouts flanked the display, but the view itself was staggering. This
would set the scene appropriately for a transition from one role to
another. She wanted to make the transition a positive one. When they
entered by ones and twos, Savants' hologram was not waiting for them -
just a quiet, comfortable room, a little bit of Romulan music playing in
the background, some food and drink, and a wall-wide scene of a star's
death playing out before them.

Sam walked in, just a tad hunched over. Her attention was immediately
turned to the screen showing a star collapse in on itself. It was
beautiful and captivating. She pulled herself away from the scene and
moved to the back of the room, out of sight, and wondered what was
softly playing through the speakers.

Aria had been surprised to discover the little informal get together in
the casual meeting room. After her meeting with the ships' captain she
had diagnosed the man as suffering from an acute affliction of
rod-up-the-ass and wouldn't have guessed he'd have allowed such an event
to take place. She shifted in her casual-martial wear, loose fitted
urban BDU's and a black, low-neck, sleeveless shirt. She twisted at the
waist, right to left, dog tags clanging as they rolled in the valley of
her chest. Her jade-green eyes swept over the ground, polishing every
table, screen and occupant with her attention. There was a spark in her
eyes and a content smirk on her indigo lips as she made her way to one
of the tables, intent on indulging; her taste parched of a good drink.
Bonus, it might help to drown out the horrid sounds screeching out of
the rooms speakers.

The only examples of the rooms' occupants she knew were the ones she had
brought with her aboard the ship, her dozen-strong team of fellow Force
Recon vets. Her sergeant major had already helped himself to some of
the snacks provided. She had always found it odd how the old career
soldier had loved his snacks. Then, in a seat at one of the rooms
corners lounged one of her corporals, the groups' hacker. She stole a
second look before turning back to the drinks. Something about hackers
got her all hot and bothered. They could never seem to reconcile their
desire for freedom with the rules. She hated the rules just as much;
well, save for her rules. It steamed her to know she couldn't have that
one. No matter, she thought, plenty more out there. So many new faces
to meet, after all.

Auden Anderson walked into the small conference room. He took a quick
look around and not particularly in the mood to think up of small talk
he decided to stand near the back along with a petite and young looking
enlisted woman. He glanced at a PADD he brought with him and tapped on
the controls a few times, bringing up a medical document he was reading
earlier. He was still unsure of this entire situation, it had all begun
when he had met Mark the night before whilst settling into his quarters
on-board the Quantum Fury.

Samantha nodded to the officer next to her. She felt odd being the only
enlisted person in the room, and wasn't good at 'small talk'
so hoped the acknowledgment was enough.

Auden may have been looking down but through his peripheral vision he
saw the enlisted woman offer a small nod. He looked up at her and
smiled, nodding back. "Seems to be getting pretty crowded in here. Auden
Anderson." He felt it was proper to at least exchange names before the
briefing would begin.

"Samantha Davis" She answered in a soft voice. Looking around the small
room. It was indeed filling up fast. She toyed with her PADD, not sure
what to do with herself until the briefing began.

Lieutenant Janel Sorad walked into the room and quickly took a seat, not
particularly noticing the surroundings. His thoughts were mostly focused
on the coming assignment on the Charon, and he was eager to learn as
much as he could before the Quantum Fury arrived.

Rob quickly inspected the room when he entered through one of the two
doors from the corridor. It was small, yet functional, the people
already there seemed poised and focused, a good change from his
experience in sickbay only a few minutes prior. Before sitting down he
made a mental note of the exits, a habit he'd picked up while on Carida.
Once seated, his attention snapped to the others sitting at the table.
Some where officers and at least one was an enlisted woman who couldn't
have been more than 20 years-old. His gaze gradually went down the line
of people sitting across from him, until he saw him--Landon.

Seeing as Landon Neyes had nothing better to do, he'd heard about the
briefing and decided to be prompt for once in his life. He'd arrived to
the meeting ahead of schedule and was reading the flight reports for the
Charon's previous unclassified missions, when the others began to pile
in. While he wasn't entirely prepared to accept a position as a chief
engineer, he knew enough to realize he was able to learn as he
progressed on duty. It didn't even occur to him to look up from his
PADDs as people wandered in, until he distinctly noticed someone staring
in his direction. He waiting just another moment, seeing if the person
would look away, dutifully finished reading his paragraph, and finally
looked up.

Rob.

Neyes nearly coughed his breath caught so fast. Had he been a lesser
species hid heart probably would have stopped. His surprise at seeing
Rob Lansine sitting across from him was only exceeded by his amazement
that it wasn't some ridiculous figment of his imagining. For months
Landon had dreamed that Carida never happened, that the Intrepid-D
wasn't scrap metal, and that Rob and him were colleagues again like
nothing had ever happened. In the end though he'd always woken up just
before either of them spoke, left solemn and wondering if his friend was
still alive. Now that Neyes was fairly certain he was awake, the fear
he'd wake up and it wouldn't be real was terrifying.

Landon blinked, and mustered his courage to speak. "You're alive." He
pronounced.

Rob couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't move or speak. Nothing came
to him, it was too surreal.

"If this is that dirty holo-woman's idea of a joke, you're one sick
slice of code." Landon hissed.

His further expletives were silenced by a light hand upon his shoulder,
placed there as Savant stepped from the ether as if stepping from one
reality to the next. A whiff of ozone and the tingle of free electrons
accompanied her touch. "I hardly joke about something like that, Sir,"
she said smoothly, all smiles for the new crew. Her voice was tuning
forks sounded in time, chiming the minutes of the meeting and naturally
calling attention to her.

"I'm sorry for cutting your socializing time short - you'll have plenty
of time to get to know one another afterwards, and on Charon. For now, I
thought it best to get you acquainted with your new roles and the
long-term mission that Charon has in the Typhon sector."

She walked - no, floated - to the head of the table, where already the
holoprojectors were painting an image of Romulan space. Charon was a
bright blue chevron amidst the green. "we are in an unusual predicament
aboard this ship. As you no doubt understand, we are operating far
beyond friendly borders. The Romulans have been very welcoming but I
would hesitate to call them true friends. As stereotypes must no doubt
inform you, political situations within the Romulan Empire create great
difficulty for us. They are a major source of our supply of consumables
and intrigue both. However, our role within it a fleet is a vital one,
and it cannot be over emphasized that our ship is at the very vanguard
of the defense and prosperity of the Federation."

The holographic scene became populated as she spoke, showing rough
positions of Romulan fleets, installations, and settlements. She spent
on amount of time describing them all in light detail, enough to form
about the basics while not wasting time or becoming boring. Being
connected directly to the ships biological sensors meant that she was
able to keep track of their hormonal levels and was able to gauge their
attention levels within a degree of freedom. Whenever it seemed that
they were getting bored or somehow disinterested she would move on.
Given the emotional turmoil that was rolling between a few of the
participants, she spoke briskly and move from topic to topic quickly to
distract from the drama.

"Each of you will be responsible for a different role aboard the ship,
but it is important to note that we are all in the end responsible for
the success of the mission. As we operate so far from friendly territory
and so deep in foreign territory you will find that you will often be
called upon to do tasks which are outside of your job description. It
will be challenging, but this ship will be the best posting you could
hope for to further your careers. When you have finished short tour
here, you should have your choice of assignments given any level of
success."

"The desk terminal in front of you has a brief sign-on system of your
job requirements as well as a few samples from previous officers in your
positions. I think it's a good idea that you look over them now, and
perhaps top of each other or ask me if you have questions or wish
clarification. This briefing is as much for you all to get to know one
another as it is to disseminate information to you. All of this being
said, do you have any questions?"

Aria only half heard the AI's pep talk. She wasn't disinterested per
say, it was just that she had heard that sort of thing innumerable times
prior. She had per brothers' arrogance which kept her from feeling
guilty for not completely paying attention, but just the same she sat
and logged into the console to review the data the screen displayed. It
was, sure assumed, incomplete. A brief overview of what 'they' wanted
her to know.

Sam listened intently, taking notes as fast as she could tap them into
her PADD. She made side notes of things to look up later, not sure what
the Captain would want to know once they arrived, or what she needed to
be fully versed on. She just hoped she didn't miss anything.

Auden was still close to Sam, he too was taking notes and downloading
the data being presented to them. It sounded exciting enough.

Rob wasn't listening to the hologram, the situation was still
ridiculous, no matter her attempts to continue with the briefing. What
were the chances Landon could get posted to the very same ship he was
assigned straight after Carida? The numbers flew through Lansine's mind
but didn't register, nothing was registering. He couldn't believe this
was happening.
"Landon Neyes?" He finally spoke, his words uncharacteristically soft.
"How is that possible?"

Neyes looked at Rob for another few seconds before he stood and made a
move for the liquor at the far table of the room. He needed a drink.
"I'm sure the AI could give you exact numbers." Taking a swift drink, he
turned and faced Lansine again. "My guess is it's a little out
there." In truth Landon felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders
knowing that Rob was indeed walking, talking, and breathing. The buried
guilt he'd learned to let slip into the past was vanishing like a
distant and unreal memory. How did he escape that place? Did he help Rob
escape at all? Was he the same person? He was about to continue their
discussion, now that Savvy had finished her speech about their upcoming
assignment together, when someone stepped in front of him and started
talking.

With Savant's speech concluded she had made her way back to the drink
table as well, having skimmed through the briefing text to her
satisfaction. It was a lot for her to take in, the whole Romulan aspect
her life had been suddenly stained with. A Romulan on this ship, one on
the ship she was headed for, Romulan music, Romulans in the briefing.
It had her a bit on edge and she was in the market for something to dull
that edge.

Her drink of choice was there, to her surprise, and wondered if the
get-together, which she began to realize was full of specifics, had been
purposefully assembled by the AI. Shrugging her supple shoulders, she
took hold of the drink, a Black Dahlia which oddly enough was purple,
not black, and took a sip. The conversation to her left had caught her
attention and she thought it perhaps a good thing to get a jump on
getting to know everyone.
It only took a step or two to reach Neyes, not that she knew who he was
or anything. "She tipped her own beverage in friendly gesture. "What's
your poison?"

Landon stopped short of asking her to excuse him and move away. Under
the circumstances, them all being gathered like this to meet each other,
he thought it inappropriate to cast of his future crewmate with such
disregard. No matter how much he wanted to find out what happened to
Rob. Although, he also thought it might be a good idea to let himself
and Rob recover from finding out they were alive, and stationed together
on the Charon. So he nodded and held up his drink, tipped it slightly
and smiling in response. "Rigelian Whiskey. Sav recommended it to me
earlier. I have to give her credit for her taste, as calculated as it
might be..."
She lofted both brows, surprised with the drink. "Whiskey? Not a drink
for the faint or pallet frugal." She wondered a moment whether it was
his regular gig or if today was a special occasion. "I'm Aria," she
said pleasantly enough. She gave herself a quick up and down,
"shouldn't be too hard to guess what I do. What's your thing?"

Rob had the urge to physically move the intruder out of their
conversation but decided against it, "And you are?" He gave her a
disapprovingly look.

The negative look was not lost on the keen-eyed sniper. She had spent a
lot of time looking at facial expressions over the years and making
peace with them being stuck in her memory, so this Rob fellow's
displeasure was as loud to her as a red alert klaxon. She usually dealt
with things she didn't like in one of two ways. One could get another
reprimand added to her record. The other often avoided a fight but was
far more disrespectful. She chose the latter and ignored him.
Sam had stayed back as best she could, grabbed herself a glass of water
and just listened. The tension amongst the group was palatable and it
made her a little nervous, but the interactions were fascinating none
the less.

Landon held up a hand to disarm Rob, smiled a little at the small
squabble before him, and looked on the woman who'd obviously just tried
to interject herself and get to know people. "Chief Engineer," Landon
made a concerted effort to pay her the attention she deserved, but
caught himself looking over her shoulder and skimming the heads of the
other crew for Lansine. He quickly reset his gaze and finished his
drink. He drew some air between his teeth as the whiskey took its bite.
With a quick turn he set the drink down and addressed the woman again.
"I'm Landon by the way, Landon Neyes. Eleventh host to the Neyes
Symbiont. This is my friend, Rob." He stopped when he realized he didn't
know what position Rob held. "I've served aboard a Luna before, but I've
never dealt with Romulans. As I understand it the Charon's Captain is
Romulan, which is just as well." Landon smiled sarcastically. "That
should be interesting."

She muttered under her breath at the 'interesting' comment. "You have
no idea." The expression on her face had visibly changed for a moment
and the mention of Romulans. She was beginning to feel like they were
being thrown in her face. Irrational as the feelings were, they were
very reasonable to her and she took a long drink to chase the demons away.

The lull in conversation gave Rob a chance to further his conversation
with Landon, "Yellow huh?" He looked to Landon's collar. "Ensign too,
things seemed to have changed," whatever displeasure the encounter with
the woman had caused it was now erased by the smirk on his face. "This
is too strange," his smirk became a genuine smile, his first since
boarding the Fury.

Landon smiled in return, and he felt happy to be speaking to his friend.
He pressed his chin back and looked downwards awkwardly at his collar,
running a hand across it. "Yeah well... They've already got a pilot, and
I don't need someone else to lead me in how to fly my ship. So I'll have
to put my other skills to the test."

The familiarity of their friendship seemed to coming rushing back,
"Other skills?" Rob raised a brow, "I didn't know you were useful for
much else outside piloting shuttlecraft and killing Cardassians?" Rob
caught himself before he mentioned too much about Carida. The event was
still an open-emotional wound for him, he had no idea how these past
months had treated Landon.
Aria made a mental note of the 'killing Cardassians' comment and shifted
her gaze to Rob. She didn't think he was the sort of civvie she'd be
able let along with, not that there the list of civvies she could was
very long, so she thought it best to know who he was. "And what is it
you do?"

The woman wouldn't give up, nor could she take a hint. "Chief Strategic
Operations Officer," he punctuated the words with his own frustration.
"Former Chief Security Officer aboard the USS Intrepid." It was times
like these he made sure to include full titles, all too often his age
made for an easy excuse for others to disregard him. "And you are?"
Each emphasized word stood out like a knife edge as he spoke and she
absently wondered how far she could push this fire cracker. To her, it
felt like she was standing next to a defective bomb, hadn't popped yet
but the threat was still just as real with every second that tick tocked
by. "Marine Commander, Force Recon." She didn't like telling people
her rank. Rank seemed to fundamentally change peoples' personalities,
often for the less honest.

Neyes eyed the two as they faced off in their newfound posturing, a
social situation he really did not enjoy to participate in, and now he
found it didn't agree with him to witness it either. "So! Strategic
Operations! Marine Command! Looks like you two will need to get along
well in order to get your jobs done. I on the other hand have yet to
meet another engineer stationed on this ship." He rubbed his hands
together as he thought about making another drink. "The Charon doesn't
have any kind of experimental technology or engines on it, does it? I'm
just about through with alternate subspace harmonics."
The reference to their former ship fell on deaf ears, Rob hadn't been
briefed about the circumstances surrounding the Intrepid after Carida.
"I doubt you'd know where to start," Rob's attention shifted back to
Landon. "You don't know the difference between a hypospanner and a
wrench." Poking fun of the Trill was one of his favorite past-times on
the Intrepid--no amount of dead civilians or Cardassian soldiers could
change that.

The doors to the meeting room slid open and a young Romulan man walking
in tailed by an older Cardassian. They both wore the command red of
Starfleet and the variations in their ranks were simple- the Romulan's
collar supported three solid pips while the Cardassian's only support
two solid along with one hollow. Per usual Khiy Kanryth wore a serious
expression that might as well have been carved in granite while Onarin
Kaen wore a smug grin fitting of his heritage. Behind the pair two more
individuals entered. The first was a young light skinned woman with
fiery red hair and lipstick to match it. She wore the teal collar of
the medical services and trailing her was a more unusual sight. A
Tholian skinned in translucent blue- a true rarity, in fact Vekelse was
the only Tholian serving in Starfleet.

"I hope everyone has found the Quantum Fury welcoming." Khiy's comment
lacked any real sincerity as he moved towards the Marine woman he had a
confrontation with earlier. She appeared in a small group and he slowed
waiting for a chance to speak to the woman without interrupting.
"Colonel." Khiy finally found the opportunity and spoke "my Executive
Officer informs me that you have demanded a sparring match. While my
time is limited I believe I can accommodate you." On the other side of
the room, behind and out of Khiy's sight, Onarin grinned and offered
Aria a slight wave.

Rob's grip on his glass visibly tightened as the Cardassian Starfleet
Officer accompanied the influx of new personnel. He'd heard there was
one serving onboard the Fury, but he'd tried his best to keep it out of
his mind. While his mind wanted to continue to analyze the fan-neck the
show unfolding before them proved to be interesting, definitely now that
he'd already grown annoyed of the Marine woman.

Auden looked up briefly from his PADD, he had heard various
conversations and was pleased that he had not been approached by anyone.
He was sure there would be plenty of time to get to know his fellow crew
mates of Charon and the Quantum Fury throughout the travel time ahead of
them all. The Romulan commander particularly caught his attention, he
was very attractive in Auden's point of view. Shaking his head the
doctor returned his attention to his PADD.

Aria grinned, unsurprised at the Romulan's stoic look. It was like
trying to talk to a Greek nude, except far less flattering.
"Demanded?" She giggled to herself, a carelessly friendly sound. "Oh,
no no no. It was your wide necked Second who practically goaded me into
the idea at all," adding after a slight pause, "but that's not to say
I'm uninterested."

Neyes and the others turned to listen to their address. Landon watched
as the crew made themselves known, and upon seeing the Cardassian enter
the room, Landon watched Rob carefully. Within a moment of seeing Rob
stiffen as he too noticed the Cardassian, Landon placed a reassuring
hand on Rob's shoulder.

A slight but perceptible grin broke on Khiy's normally placid face
"good. My crew have already begun taking bets. It seems the odds favor
you. If any of your friends would like to join the pool they can speak
to my chief medical officer" he nodded towards the redhead. "What type
of environment is suitable for you Colonel? I will have my chief
engineer program the holodeck for our match."

Aria folded her arms across her chest, nipping at her lip as she
thought. It surprised her that the odds allegedly favored her. She
would have thought loyalty to their CO would have taken presidence over
any femme fatale. "Cold," was all she replied with.

"Cold?" Khiy nodded his head recalling that they had a few holo-arenas
set in an Andorian setting. "Very well, I will meet you in the holodeck
at 2100 hours?"

Aria smiled. She loved the cold, gave one an excuse to warm up in all
sorts of ways. She had another reason for choosing it as well. "I
wouldn't miss it for the galaxy."

Auden looked up again, 'You have got to be kidding me...' He rolled his
eyes. Was this actually happening? He was not a fan of physical violence
of any means and thought that this whole idea of sparring was quite
barbaric. He certainly would not be attending, the doctors on board
could tend to any wounds that would be bound to appear on either of the
officers.


Savant watched all of these with content interest. The crew seemed to be
meshing. Of course there were the expected conflicts - they were mapping
quite well to her predictions - but these could easily be compensated
for. Indeed, it seemed as if organics thrived off of this low0-key
interpersonal rivalry. They generated it whenever there wasn't some
minimum value within the social environment. Savant suspected that it
was the exercise social muscles, to decrease boredom, and to determine
the overall social hierarchy - it got very complicated when dealing with
multiple species. It was, despite all this, a great amusement to watch
unfold. She re-biased her predictive network and let them go to work.
Perhaps she would even place a bet on the sparring match.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Yeoman Samantha Davis
USS Charon

Colonel Aria Falcon
USS Charon, Marine Commander

Lieutenant Commander Auden Anderson
USS Charon Assistant Medical Officer

Lieutenant Janel Sorad
USS Charon Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Commander Robert Lansine
USS Charon Strategic Operations Officer

Ensign Landon Neyes
USS Charon Chief Engineering Officer

Khiy Kanryth
USS Quantum Fury

Onarin Kaen
USS Quantum Fury

and

Savant

[USS Charon] SD241007.28 || Duty Log || "Airedales Ahoy - Part II" - Lt. Leon Athalla

### [Fighter Squadron hovering between Charon and the 'SpaceDragon'] ###

 

Lt. Leon Athalla climbed and dove, looped and spun, as he kept the alien objects affectionately dubbed 'tadpoles' entertained while rescue operations were carried out on a nearby shuttle which had collided with one of the inquisitive, slug-like ships.  Keeping one eye on the three tadpoles surrounding his fighter, Leon was also engaged in running detailed sensor scans of the serpent-like main body which was yet to be classified as a vessel, a lifeform, or some hybrid of the two.

 

He hadn't time for detailed analysis of the scans.  His mission was simply to take them while beaming information back to the Charon so that the scientists could do..whatever it was they did.  Splitting his attention was not often something he preferred, but at the moment the tadpoles were not a threat and obtaining detailed scans for the Charon was a top priority.  In order to make some researcher's day, Athalla, now in command of the squadron, had ordered the team close in to the main alien body to perform sensor scans in addition to keeping its offspring amused in the process.

 

The mission which had started out as nothing more than babysitting for a handful of shuttles had shed its lack of action and become fun – something none of them had expected.  The tadpoles were certainly agile and quick often mimicking complex maneuvers like a child learning to tie a shoelace.  Then there was the parent or 'mother' someone had called it over the comm. which was an even larger mystery as its presence, intentions, and abilities were unknown.

 

Athalla was about to order the squad to form up and make a coordinated pass of the alien object when his eye detected movement which was almost instantly confirmed by the other pilots as the comm. line exploded with chatter.

 

"Uh George Leader we have observed movement from the alien vessel.  Activity unclear but from my position something is opening."  "Seven O'clock.  Mother ship opening.  Orders George leader?"

 

"Keep the channel clear", Athalla barked at the pilots the fun factor suddenly fading at the unexpected activity from the alien ship.  "All fighters form up.  Concentrate sensors on the opening, but maintain your distance.  We need to perform a threat assessment as well as relay all sensor data of this thing's internal structure to the Charon for analysis.

 

Athalla had hardly issued his orders when a long dark shadow suddenly swept over his canopy as the alien vessel opened with a speed and ease he had never witnessed.

 

"Fallback to the Charon immediately", Athalla suddenly shouted to the squadron as they fighters were quickly overtaken by the massive alien vessel.  "Repeat, all fighters fallback to…"

 

The stars slowed and stopped moving.  Athalla immediately rammed his throttle forward as it clacked against the end of its track.  His impulse engines roared to life as his HUD and avionics registered 110% thrust - yet he wasn't moving.  The alien ship now blocked out most of the nearby star as it quickly enveloped the squadron with amazing speed through some sort of portal or mouth like maw large enough to swallow a dozen Charon sized starships.

 

"Engage warp drive!", Athalla shouted activating his own engines.  Instantly his instrumentation and HUD bled crimson as alarms, warnings, and alerts flooded his senses.  A quick check of various systems indicated they were operational, but once again he was not moving.  His computer shouted out a warning about its inability to create a stable warp field due to an unknown cause.  Athalla cursed himself for not paying more attention to the seemingly dormant mother ship and as a result the Charon was now out of sight with the light from the nearby star slowly fading from view as they were encircled and swallowed by the alien ship.

 

"George leader this is George 4 - unable to move.  Propulsion systems are not responding. Permission to redesignate target as hostile and lock weapons?"

 

Athalla's gut reaction to the request was also to lock weapons and attempt to fight their way out, but there were too many unknowns.  Violence now might endanger them as well as the Charon.  They had yet to be attacked and were only immobilized or so it seemed.  Despite his instincts they needed to wait.  Attacking was an option, but until the situation changed it was a last option.

 

"Negative.  All fighters stand down and wait for further instructions.  I repeat, stand down.  We will not engage unless attacked is that perfectly clear?"

 

Athalla noted the responses of the pilots and quickly tried to hail the Charon.  His calls were answered only by static.  He repeated his attempts on all emergency frequencies but was met by the same result.  Shortly thereafter the giant maw that had enveloped them closed completely blotting out the light of the sun and bathing the pilots in total darkness.

 

 

[ To Be Continued ]

 

_____________________________

Lt. Leon Athalla

Fighter Pilot (apb Tav)

[USS Charon] SD 241007.27 | "Ill Deserved" | JL | CStrOps & CO (QF) | LtJG Robert Lansine & Cmdr Khiy Kanryth

=/\= USS Quantum Fury =/\=

Doctor visits, debriefings, briefings, and unbelievable surprises--Rob's time onboard the Quantum Fury had already been more exciting than the past two weeks since Carida.

And it seemed it wasn't quite over yet.

After serving as Chief of Security onboard the Intrepid and managing over 1,000 civilians on Carida Rob had thought he knew what it meant to be exhausted. Now, after a series of seemingly mundane transfer duty obligations Lansine now found himself standing outside the Fury's Commanding Officer's office. The call had come unexpectedly and rather abruptly only a few minutes prior. It had taken him a few extra minutes to navigate the foreign halls of the Fury but Rob had managed to find his way to the CO's office without too much trouble.

The doors slid open and exposed the Commander's working space. Had Lansine actually cared about aesthetics he might have mentioned something regarding the dull means of decoration but his mind was preoccupied with more important issues.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Robert Lansine reporting sir," Rob's eyes met with the Commander's as the other man acknowledged him.

"Greetings Lieutenant."  Khiy said "sit down for a moment."

Rob took a seat and again looked over the office. He'd never heard of this man before, Commanding Officers of Starfleet vessels were typically well known throughout the Federation but Lansine had never heard of this Commander Khiy Kanryth. But no matter his familiarity the man had called him down; Rob was just curious why.

"I have looked over your record."  Khiy had taken the liberty of going over every one of their guests' records to make sure nothing was amiss.  With all the recent incidents aboard he couldn't take any chances "it seems you performed quite admirably in a difficult circumstance."

Rob couldn't disagree. Carida had been hell. The more people in Starfleet that realized that the better he supposed, but he doubted the man had called him down to tell campfire stories of his time stranded on a the Cardassian-infested world.

"The reason I have called you here is because I have been informed by Starfleet to attend to a matter they seem to have overlooked."  Khiy wasn't much for words or fanfare.  He pointed to the small velvet box sitting on his desk and then slid it across the polished wood at Lansine "you have been officially promoted to the rank of full Lieutenant for reasons I have not been made aware but likely due to your performance on that planet.  Congratulations."

If it had been physically possible, Rob's jaw would have hit the floor. He couldn't conjure up any response before the Commander spoke again.

"You may leave."  Khiy dismissed the officer.

Traditionally the response for an officer in his position was 'thank you' but Rob felt anything but gratitude—he felt guilty. Captain Savage was right when he'd pushed him about the deaths on Carida; they were Rob's fault. You could censor them from Starfleet records, debrief witnesses and even console those responsible but Rob could never forgive himself for what had happened. Did Starfleet really think another pip would make it all go away?

Rob's looked at the Commander, albeit with an empty gaze, "Thank you," his words were hollow and lacked any sort of sincerity.

"I had nothing to do with this Lieutenant.  There is no reason to thank me."

With the new title fastened securely to his collar Rob turned and left the room.

His day had just taken a turn for the worse.


=/\= End Log =/\=


Lieutenant Robert Lansine
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Charon

&

Commander Khiy Kanryth
Commanding Officer
USS Quantum Fury

[USS Charon] SD241007.27 || Joint Log || "Role Reversals" - Cpt Rehu & Amb Lamont

“Role Reversals”

 

Shiarrael returned to her chair and sat down as Savant stood up to escort the hologram around.  In that second she knew that Savant had probably processed a large quantity of information regarding the issue.  Hopefully she would be able to find out more about these things through the Avatar.  Shiarrael also typed a short note to Aerv telling the young woman to take a small team to the outer hull to investigate the thing that had attached itself to the Charon.  When she finished Shiarrael looked at Lamont who appeared offended "Ambassador"  She said distracting the annoying Ambassador "do you have any experience with starship operations?"
 
Lamont was stunned.  A new and technically sophisticated lifeform had just appeared before them and initiated a first contact scenario and the captain had ordered the computer to escort it about this ship without so much as an introduction?  Had she gone mad?  No…no she was already mad, but insane?
He couldn’t fathom her decision.  Savant, for all of her processing powers, was not the ideal candidate to speak with this lifeform.  The sophisticated program lacked those innate human qualities and instincts which were vital in first contact negotiations.  Furthermore this was HIS providence and his alone!  She was purposefully cutting him out for the sole purpose of spiteful revenge.  The nerve!  The audacity!  Did she really place diplomatic protocol on such a low level?  
 
Lamont quickly stood and opened his mouth scarcely able to contain the anger boiling up within him over her irrational, reckless, and immature actions.  He would see that Starfleet command was made aware of this improper breech of well established protocol especially when it came to first contact scenarios.  Savant could easily mistake innuendo, body language, or some other emotion its programming was never designed to process or notice leading to a diplomatic disaster.
 
Then it hit him.  A tirade on the bridge was exactly what the captain expected.  Not this time.  Oh no.  He had no intention of giving her yet another excuse to send him to the brig.  He would not be baited so easily by this temptress.  If she wanted to let Savant play ambassador so be it.  The responsibility was hers.  If this went south it would hang on her head, not his.
 
And besides….two could play at this game.
 
Lamont closed his mouth slightly as it formed into a pleasant smile.  “Actually captain I do have some operations experience from my days aboard the Lexington.  You’ll forgive me, I’m a bit rusty, but I think I would enjoy a refresher course while Savant entertains our guest.”  Lamont motioned toward the empty operations chair.  “May I”, he asked politely.  “With your permission of course sir.”


Shiarrael knew Savant was more than capable of entertaining the 'guest' and monitoring the ship's operations even if at a limited capacity- but limited capacity for Savant was still beyond capacity for Lamont.  However, if Lamont wished to tinker with the operations console she had no complaints.  Should he actually harm anything he would have to answer to that program "you have my permission Ambassador."  She smirked slightly- just enough to be seen but not enough to give away her malicious thoughts.

 

Lamont, none too happy with the arrangement but determined to save face, nodded and proceeded to the operations station where he cautiously looked over its various interfaces.  “They’ve upgraded”, he muttered poking a few buttons here and there.  The basics seemed to be accessible without trouble however much had changed since his last encounter with an operations console aboard the USS Lexington which seemed like a lifetime ago.

 

After a few minutes of cautious prodding Lamont felt slightly better as more of his previous training slowly came back to him.  It wasn’t until his console exploded with information did he begin to question his decision.  Perhaps waging a war of words with the captain over her decision to have Savant initiate first contact with an unknown intelligence thus usurping his role was the better choice after all.

 

"Captain...I think it just swallowed the fighters."  Ensign Felding's who had replaced Aerv at tactical looked perplexed as the view screen image switched from the probe that had attached itself to Charon's outer hull to the image of the serpent-shaped machine. 

 

Lamont’s console was ablaze with incoming sensor information and confirmations of transponder communication loss from the fighters.

 

As the difficult situation played out the science officer only added to the tension by announcing findings that the nearby sun was only hours away from going nova.  Lamont quickly checked the sensors to the best of his ability and found evidence which corroborated the science officer’s statement.  An alien intelligence walked the ship, the fighters had been captured, digested, or worst case destroyed and the Charon now only had hours to recover the fighters and their pilots, deal with an alien entity of unknown power and potential, and escape the blast radius and gravitational fallout of an exploding star.

 

Lamont was simply trying to keep up with the massive amounts of data coming in while attempting to be of some use at the operations console.  He couldn’t help but contemplate the fate of the pilots, the intentions of the alien entity, and of course the future of the Charon.  It suddenly dawned on him how little he missed the controlled chaos of bridge duty.

 

"Wonderful."  Shiarrael cursed in Rihannsu and stood up.  "Commander Lamont inform Savant that she will have the bridge when she finishes with the 'avatar'.  Oh..."  Shiarrael had almost forgot and felt a moment of angst before she mentioned it to the Ambassador "have a shuttle prepared for me.  I am going to retrieve our people before this sun explodes."  Hopefully, she added as an afterthought.

 

Lamont turned in his seat to protest.  The captain had no business leaving the ship under these circumstances!  His lungs filled with a deep breath in preparation to protest, however he stopped suddenly.  She’d made her decision and if there was one thing he had learned from her it was that she was just as stubborn as he was.  Nothing he could say would change her mind.

 

“Aye sir”, he responded turning back around to face his console.

 

Rehu left the bridge without incident as the bridge crew carried on in the face of adversity.

 

Lamont notified Savant of the captain’s orders and quickly contacted the flight deck and requested a shuttle be made ready for her departure.  Despite his strong objections to the captain’s actions Lamont felt compelled to tell the captain something before she departed.

 

Tapping into the shuttle’s onboard computer with some difficulty due to the unfamiliar operations console Lamont entered a short message where the captain would no doubt see it.

 

The text simply read, ‘Good Luck Captain.  -Lamont’

 

[ End Log ]

 

___________________________________

Ambassador Ian Lamont

Captain Shiarrael Rehu