Saturday, November 13, 2010

[USS Charon] SD241011.23 - Joint Log "Fire and Old Blood" Part II - Shiarrael t'Rehu, K'tara Severius, and Landon Neyes

[USS Charon]

"Mmm hmm..."  K'tara leaned over the PADD, glancing over the information.  She was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time before straightening up and nodding once.  "I happen to have a couple of survival suits and kits left in stock.  You are more than welcome to use one."  The woman gestured for Shiarrael to follow and started walking toward an equipment closet.  After punching in a code, the door popped open and K'tara pulled out a suit and kit, holding them out for the other woman.  "Here you go."

"Good."  Shiarrael set her bag onto the floor accepting the suit and equipment "you are not what I would have expected Starfleet to send."  She smirked ruefully at the Klingon " refreshing to have a security officer that does not drivel endlessly about matters that are already set in my mind."

K'tara just offered a polite smile as Shiarrael took the equipment.  As the woman was talking, K'tara turned to the closet and grabbed the other kit in hand as she threw the other suit over her shoulder.  She turned back to Shiarrael, the same polite smile on her face as she spoke.  "Be that as it may, I'm still going."  K'tara held up her hand before Shiarrael could interrupt.  "I'm sure you are more than capable of taking care of yourself and please understand that I am not going as your security escort.  However, you -are- planning to take a casual stroll across Hell's Asshole with one of my last remaining survival kits which cannot be replaced for some time.  Therefore, I am coming to make sure you don't fuck up my equipment.  ... Ma'am."  Cue smile.

Clever, Shiarrael thought, her rueful expression quickly fading "I will not begrudge your right to accompany me Lieutenant.  However, it would be wise for you to remember one thing.  As long as I am the commanding officer of this ship I own everything aboard it."  Her eyes set on the Klingon woman " including you."  She picked up her bag and turned around walking towards the exit "the new chief engineer was ordered to provide me a shuttle.  It should be docked, or be docking soon, with the airlock on deck five."

"Deck Five.  I'll be there shortly."  There was a pause before she replied, offering a toothy grin.  "I've never been owned before.  Do give me a list of what that entails and your expectations.  Do I need to report everything to you?  While going to pack for this little trip I was planning on taking a rather satisfying dump.  ... I assume owning me includes taking care of me, which also includes -all- aspects of my health, of course."

Shiarrael grinned "you have my permission to take your dump...I believe that is a terran expression for defecating?  However, I would appreciate it if you did not smear it all over the walls.  Ambassador Lamont had taken to marking his territory quite regularly and I am beginning to find the experience nauseating."

"Oh gosh no.  You got lucky there.  I'm already housebroken and everything." 

"Good- then we shall get along quite well, even if you are part Klingon."  The smirk grew as she disappeared through the doors.  Outside she let the smirk be replaced by an exasperated look.  Her recent lack of rest began to show it's form in tics that pulled at the corner of her eyes every now and then.   When she reached the turbo lift she called out "Deck Five!"  Elements have mercy on that new engineer if the shuttle was not waiting for her.

[Deck 5]

Sitting on a cargo container, next to the airlock control controls, was Landon. An apple in hand, he patiently waited for his Captain and whatever inevitable escort she managed to pull together to arrive. He flipped the fruit around a couple times and he looked at it, almost like a toy. He liked fruit. It didn't need to be fixed. It couldn't be broken, and even if it was... apples could be eaten in any form. Heated up, crushed, mashed, sauced, sliced, diced, cubed, and completely untouched by the destructive nature of people. Plus they were damned tasty. He spent just another moment raptured in it's glorious awesomeness before taking a large bite. It's red, glossy skin popped under the weight of his jaw, and it's juicy goodness ruptured in a volcano of flavor. He hadn't eaten for about 8 hours, and the experience was nearly sensual. God, he loved food.

He watched with pseudo-intoxicated, half-closed eyes as the Romulan woman he would soon come to know as his commanding officer, and a stern looking almost-klingon came out a doorway and into the corridor. He quickly swallowed and tossed the apple core down the adjacent hallway and out of sight, smiling coyly as they approached.

"Oh, Captain my Captain. It's nice to finally meet you." He nodded at the Lieutenant as well. "I'd like to ask permission to come with you... wherever you're going." He said. The awkward humor of his request didn't escape him, but he continued to beam pleasantly at the two women, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

K'tara just stood to the side of Shiarrael, watching the exchange closely with a stoic look.  Inside she was cackling at the situation, eagerly awaiting the exchange to come.  How ignorant was the Captain to think she could actually leave the ship without -someone- clinging to her?  'Like flies on shit.'  She thought to herself amusingly.

Her eyes set on them like a prying hnoiyaka judging its prey.  There was no question of sincerity- she could the fires of curiosity raging in their eyes.  The Klingon however, she had to wonder about- she certainly had wit about her.  Likely due to her human upbringing no doubt.  After a short moment of consideration a wry smile touched her lips "it is nice to meet you Ensign- I hope you find this ship suitable.  Since you insist on accompanying us you can make yourself useful."  She tossed the heavy pack into his chest and looked at K'tara "do you have anything for him to take?  Otherwise we should be on our way."

"Nope, I'm good.  Besides, it's probably best we don't strain the poor pilot.  I would like to get there in one piece."  She flashed Landon a quick grin as she moved past him toward the… well… flying tuna can.  K'tara restrained a groan as she easily tossed her bag through the open hatch, watching as the bag landed and now seemed to be taking up quite an alarming bit of room. 
"Pilot?"  Shiarrael gestured to the scout "I do not believe so.  The pilot is standing before you.  Though I will warn you...perhaps it would be best if you began your prayer now- there may not be time if we end up in pieces."  A wicked smirk creased across her face as she turned to look at Landon.
Landon slowly brought two fingers up in a mini-salute to Shiarrael. "Well I got us a Scout. It's a little bigger than a shuttle, so if you get tired of us you can 'retire' to your tiny...," he stopped to emphasize the enormity of the kind of miniature he was talking about, turning his salute into two fingers brought closely together. Playfully, with one eye, he looked between them at the Captain, "...itty bitty cabin in the aft. It's quite cozy. I'm sure you'll approve." He looked at the 'guard'. "Maybe not you, I dunno. I hear Klingons get fiery cramps. In the legs, I mean. How long are we gonna be gone again? And since we're in such a hurry, where exactly are we going?"
K'tara's eyes slid sideways from the Scout to Landon, the first real look of displeasure crossing her face.  The feeling was only amplified by her general appearance: Tall, dark, and ridged staring down at Landon.  "Your concern is… touching.  I'm sure I'll be just fine though."  It's unsure what set off her mood, but woe be to the one that prodded her now.  "As for our destination, I believe we're taking a joyride to Hell."  She turned to the captain, gesturing for her to board first.  "Isn't that right, ma'am?"
"You are not my servant."  She eyed Landon "you haven't earned that privilege yet."  Shiarrael turned to look at the half-klingon as the woman spoke and when K'tara finished the Captain nodded her head only slightly "hell- the term is apt but I doubt it will be so...crude.  We will be traversing the Vulcan forge- if you are not familiar with the area, due to interference, we will be unable to pilot this scout beyond the periphery- it is going to be a long walk through the desert."  Her violet irises honed in on the Engineer "any regrets yet Ensign?"
"I believe that my being assigned to you means I follow your orders anyway." Neyes' head flopped resignedly down and against his shoulder as the two women walked past and entered the airlock. Naturally. "Oh and don't you worry, I'm useful no matter where I go." He exclaimed, a tiny grin creeping onto his face. Why couldn't he still be a woman? Would the Captain have tossed her bags into his arms if he'd have been female? Did she discern those kinds of distinctions when it came to her crew's job performance and expectations? He thought for a brief moment on the subject. A very brief moment.
"Meh." He shrugged.
Landon snapped his fingers and the cargo containers lifted a few feet off the ground, the unseen anti-grav wagons beneath them hummed to life. Ah, to be an engineer. He smiled a little as he casually put the bag in his arms down on one of the containers and strolled into the shuttle. The wagons automatically followed him in a line.

[to be continued...]

Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon

LtJG K'tara Severius
Chief Security Officer
USS Charon

Ensign Landon Neyes
Chief Engineer
USS Charon