Red Shirts: After Dark

Posted on 28 Mar 2013 @ 2:36pm by Benjamin Dale Ph.D. & Petty Officer 3rd Class Bo Chalan & Petty Officer 3rd Class Kareel Gan & Warrant Officer Evan Kell & Chief Warrant Officer 2 Sergei Petrov & Chief Petty Officer Juliet Finch & Petty Officer 3rd Class Thanis Rothgra

2,475 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Deck 2, Mess Hall
Timeline: MD03: 1930 hrs

[ON]

Benjamin Dale sat at the lengthy mess hall table, stirring his soup idly and staring at the man across from him. Of course, it wasn't the Bajoran's fault that he was there. The man had been sitting at the long, empty table. The only empty table in the hall. Dale had had a choice - he could take his tray out of the mess hall and eat... somewhere else. Or he could suck it up and 'socialize'. He'd actually considered sitting at the opposite end of the table, but even he found the idea of that just too demoralizing for words. So instead, he ate his food, slurped his soup, and stared at the placid, ridgy-nosed man. "You know you're wearing a dress, right?"

Bo glanced up from the chicken leg he'd gotten from the replicator in lieu of the wing-slugs and smiled slightly. "Robes."

"It looks like a dress," Dale maintained and went back to his soup.

"I think they're very fetching," a strong, clear voice emerged from the side of the table and plopped down beside Dale. Beside her, the dark headed intelligence officer Kell also sat down. Kell had forwent the wingslugs, preferring a modest dinner of french fries and gravy. Kareel on the other hand coveted a grand helping of slugs and brownies, along with a giant container of zetkol. Kell wasn't sure who this Trill was, but apparently, she was now his guide as he let himself be dragged around. "Nice colors. Billowy. You don't like billowing? Sweeping away, regally." Kareel made a fluttery motion with her hand and grinned quickly.

"Thank you," the Bajoran inclined his head with a quick smile.

"Can't say as I've tried much 'sweeping' or anything regally," Dale muttered, eying the Trill woman and the other stranger. Grey skins, couldn't trust 'em. Hadn't there been some kind of Intelligence kidnapping attempt on his Assistant Chief? He'd never said two words to the young woman, but that didn't mean he liked the idea that FI could just traipse on and grab whoever they liked at random. "Who are you?"

"Kareel. Gan," the woman answered, arranging her slugs in a circular pattern on her plate. "Who are you?" she tossed back casually.

"Ben Dale," Dale said with a broad, slightly mad smile, then eyed the man at her side for another moment, but he offered nothing.

"And then," said SWO Sergei Petrov, one hand high above his head, "I had to reach out, barely within my grasp, and just caught the branch with these two fingers." Petrov lowered his hand and stuck out his middle and forefingers. "I curled them around the branch, well it was actually a root, and then pressed in with my thumb. If not for that, I would have certainly died."

The red-haired woman next to him was called CPO Juliet Finch. She eyed him skeptically. "Why did you have to reach at all? Weren't you wearing an anti-grav harness?" she didn't sound like she believed a word of it.

Petrov let out a thunderous roar of a laugh. "My god, no!" He pulled out a chair for her, which she took and sat down. Petrov sat down across from her, next to the strangers already assembled. Well, he recognised Dale. "Gentlemen," he greeted with a jolly smile. "I was just telling Miss Finch, here, about the time I was climbing in the Urals when I lost my footing. I nearly fell a hundred metres down a sheer ninety-degree rockface to what would have been my certain death." As she sighed, Petrov picked up a grease-dripping double-patty cheeseburger and sunk his teeth into it.

Chalan Bo smiled quietly to himself.

Dale snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet you did. But the rocks loved you so damn much, they didn't want to hurt your pretty face."

"A real hero," Kareel said without any sarcasm at all. She made a fist. "Veracious, fleeting... illusive and peripheral." She slurped her zetkol. "Practice makes perfect."

Ignoring Dale's snide remark, Petrov set down his burger and forked a pile of french fries. He dipped them in a glob of dipping ketchup. "So, after I lost my footing, I grabbed the root and pulled myself to safety. I considered foregoing geology at that moment to become an arborist."

Bo peeled a bit more chicken from the bone and ate. "What were you climbing to?"

"To the summit," said Petrov. "I challenged the rock. Challenged death." He reached for his cola and drank.

"It has been argued that a human is the sum of his experiences," Bo mused. "Do you feel that your challenge was met?"

"Don't encourage him," Juliet said after blowing on her chicken noodle soup.

"Yes," Petrov said. "I'm sorry," he smiled. After wiping his hand on a cloth napkin, Petrov held out his hand to introduce himself. "Sergei Petrov."

"Chalan Bo," the Bajoran considered the offered hand, then wrapped both his hands around it, squeezing it gently. "We meet in time."

Kell 'hmmed' to himself, snatching a fry and nibbling on it thoughtfully while they all spoke. He watched them expressionlessly, soaking in the conversation without contributing.

"Does anyone else here enjoy a good climb?" Petrov asked, withdrawing his hand to lift the burger for yet another mega-chomp. "Let's get to know each other."

Kareel lifted her hand. "I enjoy, well," she paused for a moment. "Most things. Take me climbing sometime." She poked a wingslug. What marvelous little creatures. "And, I'm Gan, by the way. Kareel. That is Kell. Kell plays a game in his mind where he must say the least amount of words, to convey a concept, at any given time. Charming!"

Kell shrugged. Ate a fry. Drank some of the Orion Zix he'd discovered this morning. Almond-y. "I'm Kell. SFI. I follow reporters around," he said in his deadpan way.

Dale rolled his eyes, "If you follow the reporters what are you doing here, and not - say -" he pointed across the mess hall to where one of the press - the tattooed one - was scampering out after his department head.

Bo nibbled another piece of warm chicken, swallowed. "I have climbed and enjoyed doing so," he said quietly. "Never as a challenge to death, however."

"Why, then?" Dale asked around his spoon.

"At first, as an escape from death. Later... to hug the mountain," he answered, folding his hands. "To envelop it, and thank it for its shelter."

Kell gestured at the tattooed reporter and shrugged a wry eyebrow. "They're doing a thing. Dating thing."

"Excuse me?" Dale half stood up. "She just told us not two days ago not to talk to them. And she's dating one of them?" He made a face, "That one?"

"Date, meh," Kell crunched a french fly. "Casual thing. A thing," Kell shrugged.

"A thing," Dale repeated.

"Yep."

Petrov gave Kell a hesitant look. "What makes you say that?" Panne didn't date anyone, he thought. She was mysterious like that.

"They were in the labs. And the lift. And the arboretum." Kell tilted his head. "Nothing obvious. You can just tell." Maybe they couldn't tell. That was why he was the intelligence officer, he supposed.

"He has such a lovely eye, right there," Gan interjected as though it were of great import. She poked her neck.

"Creepy," Dale shuddered.

Juliet tilted her head. She had only spoken to Lieutenant Panne once, when she needed help installing the new holoemitters in one of the labs, and she had never met the man she was with. But, she didn't like talking about them. And she didn't like making fun of his tattoos. Although she could never imagine getting one, or an entire body's worth, she admired people who did. "That's not very nice," she said with obvious disapproval. She looked across at Petrov, who was playing with his french fries absentmindedly.

"Nope, it's not," Dale agreed, and didn't seem to care.

"I believe the chief petty officer is implying she finds your outright disdain uncomfortable," Bo clarified, peeling another tendril of chicken free from the replicated bone.

"I'm sorry," the chemical engineer smiled, a little too broadly, "that my opinions are such that they make you think that they make her uncomfortable. Did the right to free speech suddenly disappear on board this ship?"

"Free speech is earned and taken, not given generally to anyone with sour klemos on their tongue."

Dale lifted his brows at the Bajoran, "Look who got his dress all twisted in knots."

Bo inhaled slowly, exhaled even longer, then ate a piece of chicken. "You're a challenge, Mister Dale."

"Just Ben is fine. 'Mister' gets in the way of a good argument."

"Oh, please," Gan said, leaning forward with wide eyes. "Continue the petty bickering!"

Petrov didn't like Dale. He thought him too smug, and unless smug people were disrespecting his superior officers or department on duty, he just shrugged it off. Like right now. He took another out of his burger and sipped at his cola.

"I'm not bickering," Bo murmured.

"I am," Dale challenged. "What does God need with a starship, anyway?"

The Bajoran eyed the feisty Terran. "I can't speak to the needs of Terran deities. Only to the will of the Prophets."

"So that's what the dress is about."

Bo's lips curled into a small, delightfully dark smile. "If you've a wish to learn about the Prophets in truth, I'd be more than happy to talk to you about my faith. In the meantime, I would be delighted to offer any advice I can on understanding women," he added. "And other people in general. I shall make an effort to educate myself. When I have some, I'll be sure to let you know."

Dale stopped with his spoon halfway to his lips and laughed outright. "I thought monks were supposed to be retiring, peaceable folks."

"I'm Bajoran," Bo said nibbling another piece of chicken. "We haven't been 'retiring' for a long time."

Juliet watched everybody bemusedly, a little smirk on her lips. Petrov was eating his burger, seemingly lost in deep space.

Dale snorted. "Here, here. Well said for a bloke in a dress."

"You're becoming redundant."

"Don't have to tell me twice," the chemical engineer quipped and took a long noisy slurp of soup.

"What's it like," Kareel breathed, "Being a monk? What do you call yourself? Vedek?" She tilted her head.

"Prylar," Bo shook his head, aghast at the idea that he would ever be mistaken for a Vedek. "The Vedeks are... no. I'm barely even a prylar, really. I was conducted up from ranjen about four months before I enlisted. Here, I'm a nurse in sickbay. I'm not on a conversion mission," he assured them.

Petrov snapped out of his stare into a plate that must have been a thousand lightyears deep. The idea of Lieutenant Panne being somehow attached to a stranger, and that stranger, had struck a chord in him. He was worried. But, he had probably shown that, and Petrov wasn't a visibly affected man. "Well," a smile broke on his face, "Thank the prophets for that," he chuckled.

"Here, here," Dale seconded.

"What's a prylar? Oh, Dale, could you please hand me a burrito? Over there." Gan smiled at the man with lovely red hair, really, so many nice heads on this ship, and jerked her head to a plate full of burritos on the opposite side of Kell.

"Those are my burritos," Kell said with a faint smile.

"They look really good." Gan pouted. She put on her Best Pout, in fact, and batted her eyes at him.

Kell blandly handed her a burrito.

"Prylars speak the word of the Prophets, as it has been translated by the Vedeks. It's a matter of hierarchy, responsibility, and experience." Bo watched the 'burrito' passed. "It is necessary to have purpose... before I enlisted, I had never had replicated food. Now I can't imagine a life without it. Strange how quickly we become used to things, isn't it?"

Juliet's soup was gone now, and she found herself lost in the conversation. Prophets? Burritos? She hadn't been paying attention. She remembered this Bo person saying that he wasn't planning on converting anyone, but there was too much god-speak going on right now. "Are you sure you're not trying to convert us?" she asked, but her humour could have been more obvious.

"She asked the question," Bo shrugged.

"You don't find it interesting?" Gan asked, munching away at her burrito.

"Hey, hi, hello!" Thanis waved to everyone with his chin, grabbing a seat a half second before he noticed his sister. "Are you just going to be everywhere now?"

"Have a burrito, dear," Gan smiled serenely and held hers out.

Thanis nabbed the burrito and bit into it. "I hope you're carrying around a bag of sour cream and onion pretzels for every time I see you in the corridors, too."

"Full of good ideas," Kareel grinned. Although, she couldn't exactly guarantee that she wouldn't just eat them all. She hummed under her breath and arranged the food on her plate into a face. She decided she would recreate Petrov with her sizable helping of wingslugs and began working on his eyes.

"What'd I miss?" Thanis inquired around a mouthful of burrito.

"They're making love to the mountain," Kareel waved a hand toward Petrov and Bo.

Thanis made a squicky face. "Wouldn't that - you know - chafe?"

"Don't look at me," Kareel grinned, placing her hands palm-up in the air in an arrested shrug. "Everybody has their kinks."

Thanis said something, but it was incomprehensible as his mouth was full of burrito.

Bo smiled at them all, rising and straightening his robes, "I should return to Sickbay and see how I can be of assistance. It was a pleasure meeting you all." He bowed slightly, lifted his tray, and retreated.

Petrov had finished his scoffing and stood as well. "I should get a few hours of sleep before I report for Gamma bridge duty." He stood with his plate and patted Juliet on her shoulder. "Have a good night, everyone."

Juliet smiled and looked at the others. "Are we that boring?"

Dale smirked. "Maybe they're going to compare mountains."

[OFF]

Benjamin Dale Ph.D.
Chemical Engineer
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

Crewman Chalan Bo
Nurse
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

Crewman Apprentice Thanis Rothgra
Engineering Officer
USS Galileo
(NPC Lilou Peers)

PO3 Kareel Gan
Engineering Officer, SCE
USS Galileo
(PNPC Liyar)

Warrant Officer Evan Kell
Intelligence Officer, SFI
USS Galileo
(PNPC Liyar)

SWO Sergei Petrov
Science Officer/Geologist
USS Galileo
(PNPC Maenad Panne)

CPO Juliet Finch
Operations Officer
USS Galileo
(PNPC Maenad Panne)

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