[USS Charon, Deck Ten]
Brent had been rummaging through his things for some time now. He had lost something while packing or at the very least misplaced it. He knew that he had not really lost it but still, he could not find it now, and it was very irritating to him. It was a holodeck program, one that he wanted to find again. It had cost him several favors from the young engineering officer he had bribed into creating it for him.
For some odd reason the engineer was better at making programs that focused around creating women that fell all over the person who entered and providing them with a room to act out whatever sordid fantasy they wanted. Brent never really understood that logic in that. He had never really had any trouble getting girls to like him, even back home where he was average. But he didn't really want to dwell on the motivations for someone who built those kinds of programs.
Finally, Brent had found it. He grinned looking at the data crystal. It would be perfect. At least he hoped it would be something close to perfect. Or at the very least acceptable. He was insane for trying this, insane. However there was only one way to find out for sure... And this was it. Brent made sure the shirt he had on was clean before he sat down on his chair in his small room and tapped the commbadge he had on the table. It felt dumb to carry it with him at all times, so he sometimes took it off.
"Lieutenant Warren to Commander Tyrax..."
[Deck Three]
She had been staring at the screen hovering over the desk for 48.4 minutes now, as perfectly unmoved as only a Vulcan deep in thought can be. And still there was no logical conclusion. Theories, probabilities, wild mah-tor-pahlah chases. And the deeply rooted feeling of something being very wrong indeed.
Breathing a positively annoyed huff, Sakarra was about to access another list of reports and transcripts, when the commbadge next to her hand sprang to life.
She had not even noticed she had tapped the desks polished surface with her fingertips and for a second blinked at both her own hand and the silvery shining metal.
Slowly, she inhaled and leaned back in the chair, giving the deep red letters on the screen another disapproving look before she pressed the badge to answer.
"Yes, Lieutenant. What may I do for you?"
"Actually Sakarra, I was hoping that I might do something for you. You helped me out a great deal with the Captain's children the other day, and I was hoping that I might pay you back tonight," he said. If it was any other person he might have been worried about the slight innuendo there, but with Sakarra he didn't feel that it would be as big of an issue.
"I was curious if I could take you out and show you something. I think you might like it. It will take about two hours tonight. Would you like to join me at Holodeck 1 at say 2000 hours? I will do my best to promise no holodeck screw ups or trips flying through low gravity this time," he asked throwing in a bit of humor from the first time they had met.
Holodeck?
Unseen by the young Marine and without causing so much as a whisper of fabric, Sakarra steepled her fingers under her chin and gazed back at the screen. It was a friendly offer, especially considering how overbooked Charon's recreational facilities had been as of late. With nothing to do but finish up the last repairs and go over long completed paperwork yet again, the crew was becoming understandably restless.
And perhaps occupying her mind with something different for a while might actually help. Although Sakarra would have rather been dropped on an annoyed Le-Matya's back than admit it, she was going in circles with … this.
Not to mention he had managed to spark her curiosity.
After precisely 1.27 seconds, she came to a decision.
"There is no need to 'pay back' for my assistance, Brent. However your invitation is both appreciated and accepted." The raven haired Vulcan paused for a moment, considering the comment regarding no low gravity, and a silent smile appeared in her eyes remembering some quite ruined power circuits. A new workout program perhaps? The Guardian was certain to have brought some new downloads for the crew.
"Will any particular type of clothing be required?"
Brent grinned at her comment. "Formal dress. I will be wearing a tuxedo myself," he said as his plans began to come into fruition. Fantastic. He had hoped that she would agree to this. He rubbed his hands together and rolled the crystal around in his hands. "I am so glad that you agreed to this. It's actually quite beautiful and well worth the time in the holodeck."
Formal?
This time her brows shot up in slight puzzlement. Well, one could safely assume formal clan robes would not be required for the holodeck, nor Starfleet dress uniform. Let alone she was not inclined to drape herself into the former unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps the database could provide her with the definition of tuxedo and provide guidance for what would be an appropriate choice.
"Very well. I shall meet you at 2000 hours."
She closed the comm link and after another minor frown at the script hovering over her desk, instructed the computer to display images and definition of tuxedo, with added cultural references.
Precisely 3.7 seconds after that, an invisible observer would have seen just how bewildered a Vulcan can truly look.
Ah. This would require some … improvisation it seemed.
Brent grinned as he went to get washed up and dressed. He replicated himself a nice black tuxedo before sliding on a set of cufflinks that had the SFMC insignia on them from his mess dress uniform. He looked around a little bit making sure he looked just fine before he wondered if she should have explained formal dress to Sakarra. She had to have dealt with at least a little bit of it in Starfleet, and she had said that she was raised on Betazed... Well that would certainly make this a lot more interesting if she came in an unusual dress.
Brent decided not to dwell on it as he made his way to the holodeck and waited outside for Sakarra.
[Corridor outside holodeck one, 19:59 hours and 32 seconds]
Sakarra had not thought she would in fact be grateful for Olixinna having pressured her into taking along some other clothing than her favored robes. Although she remembered the 'shopping tour' her cousin had subjected her to with some mild exasperation, there had apparently been some purpose to it after all.
The young Vulcan had pondered several choices and immediately disregarded the "Santa's elf" dress, although to her it had definitely seemed the most formal choice. However, there was another option involving a tightly laced bodice and billowing skirt, in a rather elegant black which according to her research should do just fine. Unfortunately, it also involved a fair amount of rather thin fabric, notably from the waist up, and left arms and a good portion of the wearer's … front … open to cold air.
Well, that's what she had all those heavy coats for, no?
She stepped out of the turbolift, wondering if she had maybe chosen wrong after all since Mr Tisdale had suddenly come down with a severe case of the hiccups after meeting her outside her quarters. The heavy cloak brimmed with combed Fogcat fur billowed behind her and she immediately spotted the tall figure of the young Marine already waiting.
Well, the tuxedo certainly suited him.
"Good evening, Brent. Is this appropriate?"
[To be continued...]
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer
USS-Charon
