=/\= Somwehere in space, Valkyrie fighter chasing comets =/\=
"I would be inclined to oblige you and see what impact a torpedo might have on a comet this size." though she was speaking with the utmost calm a Vulcan can possibly summon, Sakarra was closer to laughing outright than she liked – but incurring a hiccup while piloting was not an experience she cared to repeat.
"Unfortunately our warp speed is limited and we will have to push the engines to catch up with Charon as it is. Not to mention the ground crew would be terribly vexed if I brought back the fighter without any of the carefully loaded ordinance."
One could safely assume they would be annoyed already, but then again it was just part of the age old battle between pilots and ground crew, both insisting the birds were theirs and neither ever winning the argument.
Still, Sakarra took the time to make one last leisurely pass over the silent beauty floating underneath them before they jumped to warp and left it alone to travel the stars. Predictably, an unhappy flight control NCO's voice made itself heard the very moment the Valkyrie barreled towards Charon, warp engines screaming at maximum output.
"Dammit Sehlat, about time! What have you guys been doing out there? Slow up now, we're clearing a space for you."
"Negative control, engines are at maximum. Prepare to engage tractors."
"You are kidding, right? You're coming in stick hot and want to land on a beach towel? Abort. Now!"
"Hm."
The irritating fact that everyone in flight control seemed to have been provided with her old call sign aside, Sakarra did not approve of Mr Van Draken's tone of voice.
The helmet's opaque visor turned left, then right, and without paying any heed to the curses out of the comm system or the terrible speed with which Charon's looming shape grew larger, the young Vulcan kept the Valkyrie's nose pointed squarely at the bright lights filtering into space from the open shuttle bay doors.
At the last split second, the left wing tipped upwards in a way that would have looked marvelously elegant if the fighter had not been so damnably close that warp fields grazed against each other for a full 1.2 seconds as Charon's hull flew past underneath in a silver blur.
Sehlat. Brent would have to remember that nickname for some other time. He was going to make a comment about the name before he noticed that Sakarra was not heeding the call to slow down and break off. "Uhh shouldn't you be turning now or slowing down or...." Brent paused for a second as he saw the ship growing closer at an alarming rate... "OH SHIT LOOK OUT" was all Brent could manage before Sakarra nosed the fighter upwards and along the warp field of the Charon. When Brent realized that he in fact would not die he looked down at the incredible sight of the Charon passing below them. He managed to take a few pictures before he finally spoke up again, clearing his throat before he said anything else. "You know I'm going to have to get you for that."
"As long as said 'getting' does not involve cold water …"
Like a good little pilot – and certainly not one who had just performed a 'bounce' to drive home her point to a rude flight control person, Sakarra double checked her pre-landing checklist and came about in a slow, lazy arc. There was only the slightest of shudders as they passed through Charon's warp field and even though the deceleration was rapid enough to produce a sensation as if a giant hand was pressing against the Valkyrie, they came to a halt over their designated parking spot with the ease and grace of a cat waltzing home to take a nap on the windowsill.
"Welcome home, Sehlat." At last, Lt Hadley's voice replaced that of Mr Van Draken who possibly had suffered a myocardial infarction in the meantime "Stand by please, elevator's engaging. Nice maneuver, though I wouldn't recommend you do that when the CO's looking."
"Roger that, control." The young Vulcan replied dryly and disengaged the locks of her helmet.
"No cold water. Gotcha," Brent said as a few ideas crept into his head about how to best get Sakarra back for that little piloting stunt. "Here I'll download the camera pictures to my quarters, we can have a look at them there hm? Say over dinner?" Brent asked. He removed his helmet as well, running a hand over his more than usual messed hair. With one free hand he began to undo the flight suit as he placed the helmet into the seat that he had just occupied. "Some ride. I wonder if anyone saw us doing it," he said outloud as if to annoy the deck crew even more.
Judging from the exasperated looks thrown in their direction, even those who had not seen it personally were well aware. But the glares seemed to have the same impact on the Vulcan's serene face as water rolling off lotus leaves as she tucked the helmet under her arm and climbed down the ladder onto the deck.
"Dinner sounds most agreeable." Not to mention she was curious as to how the pictures had turned out.
Wearing both a smirk and a barely disguised inquisitive look on her face, Rebecca took the flight suit off the Marine and nodded at Sakarra's request to send the sensor logs to the science department. If scuttlebutt could be believed, they'd been spending quite a bit of time in each other's quarters. But looking at the Vulcan, one could think all they did was meditate or something to that effect. Still, Rebecca easily enough recognized the devilish smile on the Marine's face. Definitely something there. Bad for Vara, good for her chances of getting more holodeck time.
=/\= Deck 10 Quarters 02 =/\=
Brent stretched out a little bit as he entered into his own quarters again with Sakarra in tow. Waiting as she came in he smiled waiting for the door to close behind her before he locked the door and slipped his arms around her waist drawing her up against him. "That was fun. I like blowing things up," Brent said approvingly. "Well except for maybe that part where I thought we were going to become a smear on the Charon's flight deck."
Brent held onto her as he looked down with a smile on his face. "Now what can I get you for dinner with my expert replicating skills," he said with a slight tease to the fact that he could not cook.
"So I noticed." Finally, the smile she had been keeping subdued showed ever so slightly on Sakarra's face and she wrapped her arms around the tall Marine as he nearly lifted her off her feet yet again.
Something deep in the ocean blue eyes warned her that he had not forgotten either the little shock she had caused him nor his promise of retribution, but for right now she was content to nestle against his muscular frame and breathed the wonderful warmth emanating from the rough uniform – the dusky, masculine scent she knew so well mingled with the fresh notes of either aftershave or cologne and the unmistakable metallic sharpness of a Valkyrie's interior.
Pressing her face against the broad chest before her, she pondered the food question and tried not to get distracted by the hand traveling up towards her neck.
"Some risotto would be lovely." She finally mumbled "Lots of red peppers."
"Risotto, lots of red peppers it is," Brent said as he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the neck. He let her down from her tip toes as he backed away to place her 'order' into the mechanical and mediocre chef. He made the request for her before he ordered himself a large platter of spaghetti and a large hunk of garlic bread as well. Brent had no fresh food lying around in his quarters, as he had no ability to cook. However what he did have was alcohol. Several different spirits including a few nice bottles of red wine. He set down the plates on the table pulling a chair out for Sakarra before Brent retrieved two glasses and withdrew a bottle. "May I interest you in a little bit of wine with your Risotto?"
"You may."
She settled in the chair with a fluid grace that belied the marvelous heat coursing up her spine, demanding attention since she had felt the playful kiss and the not quite so playful tightening of his arms around her. By now he had to be aware of the effect his actions had, but apparently Brent was quite content to continuously keep her in a state of … anticipation. Unless he was as completely oblivious as his innocent face suggested, only Sakarra did not buy that for a second.
Well, two could play that game.
Folding slender fingers under her chin, the raven haired woman watched her companion procure the food and thanked him with the gracious tip of the head a Vulcan t'sai affords one who attends in a most satisfactory manner.
Luminous black eyes took due notice of both the smile flickering across Brent's features and the carefully controlled movements he always displayed after adjusting his quarters' gravity for her. He was up to something.
=/\= To be continued … =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
