Errand Boy

Posted on 04 Aug 2017 @ 1:20pm by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Lieutenant JG Cameron
Edited on on 04 Aug 2017 @ 1:23pm

2,799 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - Starfleet Headquarters, Starfleet Operations
Timeline: MD 16, 1203 hrs

[ON]

Lieutenant Cameron came to a halt almost a full meter from Commander Machiavelli’s desk in Starfleet Operations, posturing himself in a rigid stance of respect before announcing himself. “Lieutenant Cameron, reporting as ordered.” Even though nobody could have told from Cameron’s demeanor or expression, he was excited. After the past several days of being on temporary loan to Starbase 001, it seemed that he was finally about to receive his orders. In the back of Cameron’s half-Vulcan-half-Xenexian brain, he wondered what vessel he’d be assigned to. With more than three years of active duty experience in Starfleet, Cameron felt confident that he’d be up to whatever task Starfleet had planned for him.

Machiavelli half-glanced towards Cameron before gesturing across the table at a nearby chair. “Take a seat, Lieutenant.” He retrieved a PADD and slid it across the table. “You’re being reassigned to Starfleet Command, effective immediately.”

The Vulcan/Xenexian-Hybrid crossed his brows in a downward tract. Cameron barely managed to swallow the first two or three things he’d been about to say before calmly re-centering himself. “In what capacity, Sir?”

The Commander looked up this time, apparently to measure just how well or poorly Cameron was taking his new assignment orders. “Down here, it pays to be a jack of all trades, Lieutenant. One day you might be a courier, the next, escorting a group of dignitaries along a tour of the facilities.” Machiavelli leaned forward, his fingers overlapping one another as he studied Cameron even more closely. “Your first detail will be relatively straight forward; Admiral Lirha Saalm, the former commanding officer of starship Galileo, has been on Earth for several days for an ongoing inquiry and is without an aide-de-camp. You’ll be assigned to assist and advise her in every way you can for the duration of her stay at Starfleet Command. Despite what you may hear or have heard regarding the admiral, you will will render every courtesy to her." Machiavelli stopped again. "I’ll give you a word of advice, Lieutenant. She’s a Starfleet Admiral, and one word from her lips can literally make or break your career. Be professional, and tread carefully.

“Do you have any questions at this time?”

Cameron had to swallow another poor choice of words. He’d come to Starfleet Operations hoping for a starship assignment; not to spend another three years in Sol. But the logical portion of him understood that Starfleet was a large and complex enough organization that not everybody’s desires could have favor. “Not at this time, Sir.”

Machiavelli nodded. “In that case, the Admiral is on her way down.” He stabbed a finger at the door behind Cameron. “Go through that door and stand by for her. She may or may not know that you’ve been assigned to her, but trust me, she’s hard to miss.” The Commander paused. “Dismissed.”

Moments later, Cameron stood in the presidium near a marble beam adjacent to an impressive painting of the United Federation of Planets emblem… supposedly drawn by a class of 8th graders. A golden bar beneath the painting read: “Jonathan Archer Middle School, Class of 2377”. The Vulcan/Xenexian hybrid heaved an inaudible sigh, not sure whether or not that logic and meditation could calm the twisting knot in his gut.

The one of the turbolift doors swished open on the main floor and out stepped Saalm, dressed in her typical red-collared uniform with a gray jacket. PADD in hand, she barely looked up except to make sure there was no one in front of her, and then continued her trek down the corridor and past the familiar UFP flag she'd seen countless times before as a cadet.

Cameron's came out of his semi-trance at the arrival of a rear admiral whom appeared to be physically Orion. He said she'd be hard to miss... he thought, summoning whatever walls he could so as to be sure that he could maintain a pleasant and professional demeanor on his introduction. He stepped in close proximity to her beeline towards the exit and statured himself as someone who needed her attention.

"Rear Admiral Saalm?" He asked.

"Hm?" she mumbled, hearing her name and seeing a shadow of a figure approach her out of the corner of her eye while her head was still down. "What?" she said out loud, finally snapping back to the outside world once her attention had been fully diverted from her PADD. Her light green eyes settled on a tall, bearded gold-collared officer with unique purple eyes. "Oh. Hello, lieutenant," she greeted.

"Ma'am, I've been assigned to you as your aide-de-camp." Cameron reported.

Maybe it was the strange language barrier that she occasionally occurred when Humans used colorful language, but she had no idea what he meant. "My...what?"

Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but paused long enough to better form what he was about to say. "Your aide-de-camp, Admiral. I would be responsible for handling your administrative or clerical matters... in confidence, of course." He said. From what Cameron recalled, aide-de-camps were generally confidential assistants and advisers to field grade officers. The position came about somewhere around the 17th century in France. The tradition of a field grade officer possessing at least one aide had since followed into the 24th century. "In essence, Admiral, I am here to assist you in whatever way I can."

"Starfleet has assigned me a yeoman? From Operations?" came her first questions. She wasn't opposed to the idea, but it definitely felt like a low-end assignment for a full-blown lieutenant such as... "What is your name?"

"Lieutenant Cameron, ma'am." Cameron replied directly.

It sounded like an Earth name, but a closer examination of the man revealed indications of Vulcan heritage. Strange, she thought to herself, but only with a passing musing. With a wave of her hand to indicate for him to follow her, Saalm continued her walk through the lobby and towards her office. "Well Mister Cameron, I'm sorry for the rush but I've been assigned temporary administrative work here at the HQ." Her tone was neutral but the creases at the corners of her eyes betrayed her disdain for such a use of her skills. "We can speak more in my office. I trust you were able to find your way with no troubles?"

Cameron nodded with rigid composure as he fell into step behind and to the left of the Admiral. "No trouble, Admiral." He debated for a moment on elaborating further; his tenure on Luna entitled him to frequent visits to Earth. San Francisco was one of his more frequent stomping grounds. Eventually, Cameron decided that because the admiral didn't ask for him to clarify, there was no sound reason for him to do so.

"How might I be of assistance?" He asked next.

Looking over to him while he matched her pace with his longer legs, she gave him a small sideways smirk. "Can you deep fry wing slugs?" Her mid-day hunger had slowly been increasing the more she shuffled around the HQ from office to office, and now, the thought of a proper lunch snack made her mouth wet.

Decades of mastering Vulcan self control techniques couldn't have prepared Cameron for the nearly overwhelming sense of revulsion that struck him at the notion. He barely withheld a grimace. "No, but I am certain that a local vendor will," he said, recalling the several dozen mobile food vehicles that frequented the area around Starfleet command. A quick search in his PaDD revealed one such vendor no less than a mile away. "Shall I... requisition... some for you, admiral?"

"Yes, I would like that. Two full platters with sides of romaine lettuce. And several sides of xiqai spice." She put a finger to her lips to think of anything else she might like. "And a large size lemonade. And anything you would like for yourself." They turned entered the small corridor where Lirha's office was located.

Inwardly, Cameron sighed silently. He'd hoped for a ship assignment. Now he was a glorified waiter. He didn't let those thoughts reach physical or verbal expression, but was glad to know that Orions weren't known to possess telepathic tendencies. "Yes, ma'am." He answered dutifully.

"This is me," Saalm said as she approached her office and pointed at the room number for him to remember. "I will see you in a few minutes, then? We can talk more over lunch...and maybe you can tell me who you angered to get yourself assigned to me," she grinned.


Eighteen Minutes Later...

Cameron had regularly found certain smells and aromas on earth to be outright unpleasant; but the assortment of cooked insects coming from the paper light bag in his possession was downright repulsive... threatening to surpass the tolerance of his half-Vulcan physiology. He was only all too satisfied as he came up to the Admiral's office, content in knowing that soon he'd be able to deliver her lunch into her possession before finding another part of her office to occupy.

Looking up from her PADD, Lirha welcomed the re-arrival of her newly-appointed yeoman. "That was prompt," she grinned. "Can you file reports just as fast?" followed a light tease.

Raising an eyebrow in esteemed Vulcan-fashion, Cameron nodded curtly. "Aye ma'am." He admitted, although he wasn't sure if being a bona fide PaDD pusher was more or less attractive than those slugs. But it was also as he was away that he'd been able to learn more about the great Lirha Saalm -- particularly, in the fate of her last command. Of course, there was always gossip. But now, he was in the presence of the foremost subject matter expect on precisely what had happened out there on the border of Federation and Klingon space.

"Might I make an query?" Cameron said after a moment.

"Of course," she answered, fetching the plate of wing slugs and sliding them to an unoccupied section of her large desk. Saalm had always had an open door policy even as a commanding officer, and she wasn't opposed to the occasional question or two.

From the time that she permitted his question, and the time that he actually asked it, there was a considerable pause. Whether he was deciding on the particulars of his question, or had second guessed himself, however, was masked behind a stoic expression. "Provided the circumstances regarding to the USS Galileo's destruction, your overall demeanor has been, shall I say... composed." He'd felt the word 'nonchalant' about to escape his mouth first, but managed to rephrase before the end. "Is this behavior caused by self-vindication? Or has the fate of your command been determined already?"

"Oh, come now, Mister Cameron," Lirha grinned while suppressing a soft laugh. "Starfleet might have trained me well, but I can promise I've been feeling trepidation as of late. And compared to what my crew and I have recently been through...I find it hard to fear a simple series of inquiries." Simple was perhaps a liberal term, but in comparison to the prior months spent under constant duress with the fear of death lingering at every turn, she welcomed a return to normalcy and the light yet sometimes boring duties of administration.

Cameron looked as though he were about to make a next inquiry, but he stopped himself at the last minute. It looked like he'd swallowed air.

She retrieved a deep fried delicacy from it's tray while taking a long look at the Vulcan hybrid's unusual expression. Maybe he was hungry? "Wing slug?" she offered, holding the hors d'oeuvre out for him to take. "I can't eat them all by myself," she smiled.

Feeling his stomach begin to churn in an unpleasant direction with the thought of consuming one of those... things, Cameron suppressed the urge to grimace. "I respectfully pass, Admiral. Vulcans do not generally consume meat."

Vulcans. She sighed yet kept her eyes on him a moment longer. "...And your other half?" she asked, noting his eyes and apparent dual heritage. "Didn't they teach you at the Academy to not turn down a flag officer's offer?"

She’s a Starfleet Admiral, and one word from her lips can literally make or break your career. Be professional, and tread carefully.

Commander Machiavelli's words echoed in Cameron's mind as he chewed at what few options were available to him. There were plenty of ways for him to 'get around' having to eat a wing slug, but none came to mind that he thought might improve his new working relationship with Admiral Saalm. Bearing down on his stomach, he reached forward and plucked one of the crispy creatures from the plate. Studying the wing slug precariously, Cameron tried to image 'chicken' or 'steak' as he brought its foul smelling form closer to his mouth.

"A fair point, Admiral."

It most certainly did not taste like either.

In fact, it took Cameron a great deal of discipline to prevent himself from spitting the wing slug out into the Admiral's lap, which he thought would go even less well. Calculating how many pieces he'd need to break it up to in his mouth before he could swallow, he took several small, tentative bites, and then gulped down.

"Thank you for your offer." Cameron reported, fearful that he might have turned a few shades green.

While Cameron tried the tasty morsel, Saalm fetched herself a hefty-sized wing slug and popped the entire thing into her mouth. She happily started to chew through the crunchy breading until she got to the gooey and soft center which contained most of the flavor. She suppressed a content hum while she ate, but then noticed her new yeoman seemed a bit...distressed?

"Are you alright?"

Cameron swallowed again, willing his stomach not to revolt. While he could taste no physical remnant of the wing slug, a strange and unpleasant taste stayed. "I am quite well, Admiral. Thank you." He moved his mouth around in slow movements, as though trying to strip the slime from the roof of his tongue. "Is there anything else you require?"

Casting a glance to the far side of desk where a large column of PADDs was stacked, Saalm flicked her eyes toward the administrative duties that awaited him. "Deliveries, I suppose," she answered in between chews. "These are my completed evaluation reports that need to be delivered," she added, motioning to them with her unwingslug-saturated pinky finger. "Are you familiar with the HQ floor layout?"

Reaching over and taking the collective stack of PADDs in his arm, he nodded curtly; although he wasn't entirely truthful in his awareness of the building, Cameron was all too eager to vacate the admiral's office -- at least until the odor subsided. "Yes ma'am. Although, if I have any problems, the facility computer will no doubt be capable of assisting me."

She laughed then grinned at him before gently teasing his manner of speaking. "Those computers are only for cadets, don't you remember?"

With furrowed brows, Cameron thought about the would-be ramifications of not being allowed basic access to any of the terminals.
It made no sense to him, and he had no way to know if Saalm was being serious or quizzical. "Is that entirely logical?" He asked, deciding to presume that she was being serious until proven otherwise. Misinterpreting a joke was one thing; misinterpreting real information was something else entirely.

The urge to roll her eyes when the joke passed kilometers over her new yeoman's head was almost irresistible. Thankfully the full plate of wing slugs in front of her would happily distract her for the coming moments, and so a simple and dismissive wave of her hand was the extent of her reaction. "Does it have to be?" she countered with a friendly glint in her green eyes. Saalm procured another fried appetizer from the plate, this one smaller, and popped it into her mouth. "It was just a joke. I promise no one will reprimand you for using the floor listing display." She paused to give him a devious look. "Hopefully."

"Indeed." Cameron added after a long moment. Saalm was Orion, so of course her emotions would run a little closer to the surface than most species. He wondered if this was the universe's way of playing a cruel joke. Still holding the PaDDs, he thought about what to say next. "Is there anything else, Admiral?"

"No, I suppose not..." she mumbled again, still eating and chewing. Some time to herself to delight in her lunch would be most enjoyable.

[OFF]

--

RADM Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo

&

LT JG Cameron
Chief of Operations
USS Galileo

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