| Home
Characters Logs Specs Rules Join
|
"Co-Workers
Meet"
After his meeting with the Captain, Jonothan continued on to take a look at the bridge. That was, after all, his workplace and he felt he should get used to it before the launch. The turbolift doors swished open to reveal the bridge of the USS Republic. Jonothan stepped off the lift and the doors closed behind him as he surveyed the brain of the ship. It still wasn't in top working condition and there were a few enlisted engineers working on a couple of consoles here and there. Then, he set his eyes on his station - the left half of the long free-standing console in front of the captain's chair. He made his way down past the rail and into the center area, stopping at the Helm. He ran his fingers across the console as he sat down in the seat and smiled. "First time?" Marie asked casually as she slipped into the seat beside him, making sure the captain couldn't hear her. "Or just the first time as department head?" Jonothan looked to his right at the navigator and grinned. "First time as department head ... and at the helm of a Constitution-class ship." He extended his right hand toward her, "Jonothan Fitzgerald." "Marie Larron." Shaking his hand she unabashedly looked him over and decided that he looked like someone with a sense of humor. "Looks like we'll be working together closely, then. Have you met anyone else aboard yet?" "Just the other helmsmen," Jonothan replied before adding, "And the captain. He didn't seem too impressed with my informal personality when I spoke to him while eating a pear." "A pear?" Marie chuckled, deciding to keep to herself that she'd been more than informal with the captain earlier that day. "I wouldn't worry about it. Commanding officers sometimes take little things way too seriously... and I know what I'm talking about. If you ask me, they're not the almighty, revered people they are considered to be..." Jonothan smiled and nodded. "Can't argue with that," he said. "I doubt my last captain would have argued with that either." "Mine would have," Marie said with an expression of something close to distaste. "Most definitely. So -" She finished checking the current heading on her console, then turned and looked at Jonothan. "I guess I don't have to call you 'sir', do I?" "Certainly not," Jonothan replied before grinning and adding, "Unless I give you an order, Ensign." Marie winced but then smiled bravely: she'd brought it on herself. "Naturally... Listen, I'm trying to put together a little group of people for an occasional round of poker. Would you be interested?" "Sure," Jonothan replied. "But I must warn you ... I'm not very good." Marie chuckled. "Rule number one: never let on to your true qualities. Telling me this was your first mistake, and I wonder what'll be your next." She winked at him. "I'll let you know when I've found a few other players. Though you can already start saving your loose cash." "Oh I will," Jonothan replied with a smirk. "But for all you know I'm not being completely truthful about my true qualities." "Then I shall be on my guard not to underestimate my foe." With a raised eyebrow Marie looked at him. "You have single quarters, don't you?" The helmsman nodded, "Sure do. Why? Do you need a place to host the game?" "Indeed," Marie said. "But beware, it might be a long night. I have a feeling my roommate wouldn't appreciate it." "No worries," Jonothan said. "Just tell me when." "That
I will." Grinning, Marie turned back to her console, thinking that she
was on her best way of making this assignment a lot of fun.
"Departure"
"Captain's log; Stardate 7602.9: the USS Republic has been given the 'all clear' from Starfleet and the refit coordinator to proceed with it's shakedown. We shall be departing within the hour. Many tests will be taking place during her missions. Not only will the ship and her components be pushed to their limits, but also the crew and their ability to work both individually and in teams will be tried. And not least of all, I myself will be tested, both as a leader and a representative of Starfleet and the Federation. I... hope... I will be able to live up to the tasks ahead." *Bridge* It was a bleary and disheveled Captain Spencer that staggered out of the turbolift. The top flap of his wrinkled jacket hung slack across his chest. "We've received clearance for departure, Captain." The young communications officer reported. Spencer couldn't remember her name at the moment; in fact he couldn't even remember exactly what species she was. But he nodded his acknowledgement. "Call all hands to departure stations." His gravelly voice mumbled as he crossed to the captains chair. In the background, he could hear the order being repeated on the ship wide com system. He flipped the com switch on the arm of his chair that connected him directly to engineering. "Witten, engage our power supply systems and disconnect the umbilicals." There was only a momentary blip on the bridge stations as power was diverted from an outside source and internal supplies made the Republic truly independent. Spencer sat stiffly in his chair. Back muscles, still knotted from sleeping in his lounger, made it difficult to make himself comfortable. He let out a small, painful grunt as he shifted to find the best way to sit, before simply slumping down and slouching against one of the arms. "Problem with your masseuse, Captain?" Ensign Larron whispered at him as she crossed from the turbolift to the navigation station. He shot a dirty look at the back of her head as she sat down at her station. "Engineering confirms that all systems are operational." The communications officer relayed. "Mr. Fitzgerald, disengage moorings and confirm please." Spencer had to clear his throat before getting the command past his raspiness. "Mooring disengagement confirmed, sir. We're floating free." The helmsman answered after a moment. "Hmm," Spencer was trying to work a kink out of the back of his neck. "Go ahead light up the maneuvering thrusters, Lieutenant. Get us out of here." "Aye, sir." With the gentlest sense of movement, the starship began to slide forward. "And no bumps please, Mr. Fitzgerald." Spencer tried to find the energy to back the joke with a smile, but he couldn't do it. His eyes drooped wearily instead. Light from the drydock's carbon arcs seemed to caress the starship as she slipped slowly past them. The Republic was shedding its cocoon and emerging into open space. Nearby orbiting ships blinked their running lights in salute. The USS Republic was entering active duty. "We are clear of drydock." When Ensign Larron made the proclamation, a small thrill surged through the bridge. Spencer found the energy to smile. "Ahead three quarters impulse. Course, 347.29." Spencer had the coordinates memorized and was able to snap them out without thinking about it. "Once we're past the orbit of Jupiter, proceed to warp factor 6." The
bridge settled into the normal soft drone of reports as well as the bleeps
and pings of monitors and sensors. On the main viewscreen, the hypnotic
pattern of stars whipping past them ran a cyclic image. Within an
hour of the Republic's maiden voyage, Captain David Spencer found himself
asleep in the captain's chair.
"The
Other Departure"
Tarrah packed up and left the Captain's quarters. With her duffel bag over her shoulder and the large suitcase held in front of her with both hands, she made her way out into the corridor. Fortunately it was pretty empty since most of the crew was enjoying the departure of the Republic. But Tarrah was just feeling sad and alone. Suddenly, the area of the ship containing the command crew's quarters seemed strange; she didn't belong here, she had been cast out. She felt like a stranger. She was a female Orion; she had never had a man pass her up before, not to mention getting out of bed with her to sleep in the living room. It was unthinkable. "Deck 6" she muttered as she entered the turbolift. She sighed as the doors closed and she was separated once and for all from the captain's quarters. She had arranged a room for herself with a roommate. That was another major source of anxiety for the cadet. She had dealt with roommates before and it never turned out good. Eventually they would get upset and jealous that Tarrah got all of the attention from members of the opposite sex. She looked at the PADD again to reread her assignment. Her new roommate was named Ensign Irila, a Deltan lab technician. Tarrah had never met a Deltan before and didn't know anything about the species, but as long as she didn't leave hair in the sink, Tarrah figured she'd be able to deal with it. Two hours later, Tarrah had her gear stowed and she, and the bald female alien who was her new roommate, made their way to the mess hall for a late breakfast. Everything had been going along fine, the two women were getting along like old friends, but Tarrah knew that things were about to change. Once they were in public and she started commanding all of the attention, that was when "old friends" turned to bitter enemies. And sure enough, as they strolled down the corridor every male eye strained to follow the young women. Tarrah was careful not to draw any additional attention to the attention. Once they arrived at the dining facility, they quickly got some food and found an empty table. One young male ensign stammered out a hello as he scurried out of their way. Tarrah could tell that Irila was starting to get uncomfortable, but she promised herself she would avoid commenting about the attention she was drawing as long as possible. "I'm really sorry," Irila finally said, "I hope that's not upsetting you." The bald woman nodded her head toward a nearby table of men who were glancing their way and whispering. "Me?" Tarrah exclaimed, "No, of course not. I was afraid it was bothering you." "No, I got use to it after awhile." Irila shrugged. "However, it's been my experience that drawing such attention to yourself often has a negative impact on my female friends. I just didn't want you to feel intimidated because I'm drawing so much attention." "Irila," Tarrah reached across the table and set her hand atop the Deltan woman's hand. "I take it you're not familiar with Orion women. I think I'm the one who is drawing all of the attention, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you." "Oh, do Orion women emit pheromones too?" Irila asked innocently. "Pheromones?" Tarrah let go of the bald woman's hand. "Yes, Deltan women emit a pheromone that instigates a sexual response in the males of most species. They can't help their behavior, it's just a chemical reaction." "Pheromones?" Tarrah repeated as she slumped in her chair. "Yes, that's why Starfleet makes Deltans commit to a vow of celibacy when entering active service. It's the only way we're able to keep members of the opposite sex at bay." "A vow of celibacy?" Tarrah whimpered. "I never had to take a vow of celibacy?" "You're not Deltan." Irila now reached across to put her hand on Tarrah's. "You just have to understand, we have a reputation as being very sensual. It's just the way it is. You're still a very pretty girl, Tarrah. I'm sure many men would find you attractive too." Tarrah stared back in stunned awe. She was a Green Orion Slave girl, she had spent her entire life learning how to be sensual and please men. She had been bread to be irresistible. She had always been the most desirable woman in any group she had ever been in. But now this girl This Deltan! Was drawing more stares and leers than she was. That just couldn't be right! This day just couldn't get any worse! First Captain Spencer refuses to have sex with her, now another woman shows up and says that she's more desirable than an Orion. Tarrah could feel her whole world crumbling around her. Could it be that she was past her prime? Had she lost here value as a sex object? With a sudden loss of control Tarrah began to cry hysterically and ran from the room. As she got to the door, she began to regain control. She grabbed the doorframe and forced herself to look back. Irila was staring back with an apologetic expression. Tarrah knew it wasn't her fault, she should go back and give her new roommate another chance. Then
she noticed that every man in the mess hall was still staring at the Deltan
woman. Tarrah's dramatic exit went completely unnoticed. She
began to cry again and ran up the corridor.
"Speed
of Light"
First day out. Into the vast unexplored reaches of space. And Tomoe couldn't decide what to wear. Well, to be more accurate, she was sitting at the comm terminal trying to describe to the quartermaster her uniform measurements. Communication with the quartermaster was rather difficult, as glimpses of Tomoe's white lace bra kept peeking onto his screen. "The pants are much too high. I prefer more of a hip-hugging style with a slight flare. And the tunic is a little on the loose side." Tomoe explained. "Uhhhh... okay. We'll have that out to you in a few minutes." The quartermaster replied slowly, eyes never wavering from the screen. Tomoe nodded and disconnected the comm. 10 minutes until her scheduled duty shift and she wasn't even dressed. While she waited for her clothes to arrive, Tomoe grabbed a box of toaster-pastries and fished one out. Normally she would forego such an unhealthy breakfast for a simple soy milk and a muffin, but today required a little extra help. Thankfully, just as she finished the fattening treat, her new uniform materialized. Tomoe quickly donned the clothing and her boots and hurried out the door, adjusting the front flap on her outer tunic as she walked. Why Starfleet put such inconvenient devices on uniforms was beyond her comprehension. She arrived on the bridge just in time for the launch. No press, no fanfare like there was for the Enterprise's recommission cruise. Just 3/4 impulse and straight on out of the solar system. As the Republic accelerated past Jupiter, Tomoe stood at the back of the bridge and silently wished her old home a farewell. With that done, the ship shifted into warp toward their next destination. Tomoe retreated to the turbolift to start her duties for the day. There were a few systems to check up on, some people to see. Her afternoon would be spent meeting with the ship's recreational director to establish some reasonable guidelines for on-duty rec activities. And a lunch meeting with... Tomoe pulled out a portable display device from her pocket to check. Ensign Marie Larron. Tomoe
set the device to remind her about lunch later, and headed down to
check on engineering. As executive officer, she was ultimately responsible
for making sure the infrastructure of the Republic was working correctly,
the crew content and efficient. Important decisions like "How do
we save the galaxy?" would be left up to Captain Spencer.
"Thrust
and Parry"
The clash of foils echoed through the gym as two padded and masked figures maneuvered forwards and back across the mat that had been stretched out in one corner of the room. Their blades were a blur as they swung back and forth towards each other. Suddenly, the smaller figure found an opening and her foil whipped inside and bent as it touched the torso of the larger figure. "Congratulations, Ensign." Captain Spencer took off his fencing mask and held it under his arm. "That's two matches in a row that you've won. You're very good." He crossed over to a replicator to get a glass of water. Knowing that Spencer couldn't see it Marie didn't bother to hide her grin. "Thank you, captain. I know." The Captain smiled at her cockiness. She stepped up next to him, taking off her mask and wiping some sweat off her brow. She was looking forward to a well-deserved shower, but as far as she was concerned, they weren't done yet. "So," she began, her eyes already twinkling with a new idea. "Are you ready to give up, then? Or would you rather we raised the stakes a little?" "Raise the stakes?" Spencer raised an eyebrow as he looked at her suspiciously. "Why, Ms. Larron, are you suggesting gambling on my ship?" "All of life's a gamble," she answered lightly. "Don't tell me it's forbidden." "Well, as Starfleet officers, risk is our business. I suppose it could be allowed. So what do you have in mind?" "Well, you know..." Marie cocked her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Let's start off easy. If I win the third match... I'll get my personal quarters." She almost added, 'on deck two', but decided not to overdo it. "What do you say, captain?" "And what if I win?" he asked testing his foil. He didn't look at her, but he could tell she was sizing him up. Marie smiled sweetly. "What if you win... interesting question. What if you win? Is there anything you might want that you don't have yet?" "I don't know if you know this, but I also like to paint. It's a bit of a hobby. But it's been a while since I had a live subject. How about if I win, you have to pose for a portrait?" Spencer finally turned to look her in the eye. Marie laughed, unabashedly so. "Pose for a portrait? Me?" She let the laughter die down to a chuckle, wondering if he meant it. "Are you serious? I probably couldn't sit still long enough. That wouldn't be much fun." "My dear Ms. Larron, you must realize that you only get the 'fun' stuff when you win the bet." He swished his sword dramatically, "So, what do you say, is it a bet?" This was fun already, and Marie hadn't even won yet. "Most definitely." She put on her gloves and her mask again and walked over to the mat. "Let's get it over with. I can't wait to move out of those quarters." "Very well then," he put his mask back on and crossed back to the mat. "Enguarde!" he said as he raised his foil. Marie assumed the basic stance and raised her foil for only a half-second after his challenge before she charged forward and lunged, hoping to catch him off guard by her fast-paced attack. But to her surprise her stab was deflected and before she could find her balance again, Spencer rushed at her and within a second the buzzer sounded to announce that he had been awarded the first point. Marie huffed and without a word readied herself for the next round; the game wasn't over yet. However, her luck seemed to have run out. Only once did she manage to penetrate Spencer's defenses, and that was not enough to win: eventually the buzzer signaled the end of the match and of Marie's hopes. She slipped off her mask, panting for breath. "Have you been letting me win before?" she challenged, eyes slightly narrowed. "I don't like being patronized. Or cheated on." Then her lips curved upwards into a smirk as she prepared to take off her gloves. "Or maybe you were just lucky this time. Ah well... that's the risk you take in gambling." The prospect of having to share her quarters with a roommate after all was less sobering than the fact that he had actually won. She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "When do you want me to pose for your portrait?" "Madam, I take great offence at the suggestion of impropriety." Spencer adopted an offended posture. "Perhaps you wish for me to prove my honor with another round?" Spencer grinned behind his mask as he still stood in place on the fencing mat. "Of course we'll have to up the bet. Perhaps, double or nothing?" "What?" Marie gave a mock chuckle. "Two portraits? And what do I get if I win? Quarters on deck two?" "Like I said, you win you owe me nothing. I win; you have to offer a little something extra. And what extra would you suggest that you have to offer, Ms. Larron?" Was he toying with her? Marie wondered to what end he would be suggesting a new bet. She shook her head. "Nothing you're quite ready for, Captain. Trust me on that." "As I said, risk is our business. I don't suggest underestimating my readiness." Spencer's voice was softly muffled behind the mask. "And I don't suggest overestimating your charm, Captain," she shot back. "What do you want?" "If you are familiar with art history, Ms Larron, you will know that nude studies have a long and distinguished reputation." Spencer enjoyed the fact that his face was unreadable behind the mask. "What do you say? How much are you 'ready' for?" Marie gave him a short fiery glare before she put on her mask and replied, "As much as you'll ever be able to dish out. Nude studies, I ask you! En guarde!" And so it began. Marie leapt to the offensive, letting her outrage energize her attacks. Spencer calmly knocked aside each of her moves letting her wear herself down. Soon he could see her start to waver just slightly, but it was enough to turn to the offensive and slip his blade through her defense. The buzzer seemed to spur her into an even more aggressive attack, but again Spencer remained calm and took advantage of her over enthusiastic tactics. And when the buzzer finally announced the end, Captain Spencer had completely shut her out on points. Marie fought bravely, with all her might, but there was no denying it: Spencer was better than she was. Why she had been able to beat him before was a mystery to her; he was good. Very good, and that didn't sit well with her ego. Still, when Spencer scored the final point without her even having come close to him, Marie was incredulous. And angry, and it was all she could do not to make it too obvious as she ripped off her mask. She walked over to him to shake his hand in the customary display of respect towards a worthy opponent, but today she gripped it a little harder. "As you said, 'all of life's a gamble.' Ms. Larron." Spencer recognized the firmness of her grip and returned it with equal firmness. "You win this time, Captain. Enjoy it while it lasts." She put on a face of brave stoicism, intending to make him pay, one way or the other. "Tell me when and I'll be there." "You know, Marie." Spencer softened a moment. "You know you don't have to go through with anything you aren't willing to." Marie looked at him and shook her head, the smug smile already returning to her face. "You have no idea, Captain. No idea. I'll be just fine. But thank you for the offer." "Very well then, let's say 1900 hours tomorrow evening; my quarters." "Agreed." She nodded in acknowledgment. "Until then, Ms. Larron." Spencer gave a brief bow before grabbing his towel and heading toward the showers. Watching his back as he left Marie felt a mischievous smile spread on her face. If anyone was going to have fun with this, it would be her. |
