Launch Party, Part 1

Posted on 15 Oct 2018 @ 4:28pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & Crewman Draia Thero & Lieutenant JG Matthew Plumeri & Petra Varelli Ph.D. & LuAnn Lovegood PhD
Edited on on 16 Oct 2018 @ 6:37am

2,882 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 17 - Crystal of Life
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 2, Mess Hall
Timeline: MD -182 - 2216 hours

[ON]

They say any party you can hear from next door is a party you don’t want to miss. This was especially true of the Galileo-A’s launch celebration, because this party was literally overflowing into the corridors outside the mess hall. The corridors were decorated identically to the mess hall itself: the overhead lighting was dimmed and was supplemented by red alert and blue alert flashes at irregular intervals. The furniture options were minimal, leaving room for adequate flow and dancing. Instead of furniture, there were overlapping wall hangings haphazardly stuck to every bulkhead: Tellarite fertility totems, Andorian weapons, Vulcan meditation mandalas, signage from Vega Colony, and even a mechanical bull. Like the decor, the music was a diverse overlap of several Federation cultures, including Vulcan trap music coming from the embedded communications system, Human dance beats from select LCARS companels, and Crewman Draia Thero singing Andorian punk classics on a stage in the corner of the mess hall.

The aggressive, clashing reverie of the United Federation of Planet’s diversity was a homage to Vega Colony. This was made especially evident by the servers wearing Starfleet jumpsuits from the 2100s to honour the original establishment of Vega Colony, back in the day. The servers' trays were filled with delicacies sourced from the replicator patterns of the most well-renowned restaurants in Vega City. If you asked the architect of this celebration, he would tell you he chose the UFP diversity of Vega Colony as the theme, because that was where the original starship Galileo ended its first mission. At least, that’s what he said to anybody who had been there. To anyone else, he added that Vega Colony was where Galileo had landed, dead in the water, at the close of her first mission.

Said architect of this celebration had positioned himself behind the bar in the mess hall. Ducking down to reach for a particularly reserve bottle, all that could be seen of him was the side-part of his black hair. It was styled tight on the side, and long and curly on top. Bouncing back up, it was clear Counselor Lake ir-Llantrisant had immediately named himself the bartender for this party. He had done this because, A, mingling was akin to torture and, B, he wanted to keep the Captain’s personal stock of real alcohol no more than arm’s lengths away from himself. The replicators were freely available to any suckers who wanted synthehol, but he was sitting on the good stuff and anyone who wanted some would have to make nice with him. That was what left him mixing another cocktail as more of the crew arrived.

Stepping off the turbolift, Matthew gave himself one final visual check before heading into the much anticipated party. The shiny surface of the LCARS panel made a suitable reflective surface. His eyes went to his feet first. The desert tan boots had metal toe protectors inside. The sole of the boot was thick and rubberized. It went up over his ankles and was laced all the way up with thick black and yellow bootlace. On each outer side the SFMC Marine logo was clearly visible. His feet were well protected and he could literally kick a door down if he had too. The pants were thick denim and fit a little loose around his calves and up his thighs.

He ran his hands over the distressed blue jean trousers. The leather studded belt had hard metal spikes on it and also could be weaponized. The sleeveless, black leather jacket was not as uncomfortable as he thought it might be. Against his bare skin and chest he figured it would be too warm and feel 'sticky'. But, it didn't and felt fine. On the front of the jacket, gold squares run all the way up to the collar along with a large metal zipper. Matthew was a hairy chested guy and he gingerly pulled the zipper up a little more and was careful not to catch any chest hair in the zipper. His muscled, bare arms had only two "friendship bracelets" on his right wrist. He had been advised to let his beard grow but he was only able to manage a thick, blond "five-o'clock" shadow". There were hand pockets on the sides for each hand and two breast pockets, also zippered shut. There was a white horizontal strip that was just shy of the midsection. The collar was short and tight. Very similar to a Terran repulsorlift jacket used for the exciting racing events that he liked so much. Similar to the kinds of bike jackets for a motorcycle or the "King of Hammers" race on Mars. That would be coming up again in another year he thought to himself as he examined his reflection in the LCARS panel.

He attached the metal keychain to the black leather belt and secured to to the loop on his jeans. It swung low and hung about his right thigh. He nodded to a few persons as they passed him by in the corridor and then made his way into the mess hall and the party.

Matt walked in and took it all in. The sights and the sounds. Someone really knew how to plan a party. "Aww...hell's yeah!" he said to himself out loud and decided to head to the bar.

All of a sudden, Lake's gaze landed nowhere near the cocktail shaker clasped between his hands. Watching this hairy-chested man in the revealing jacket and dramatic boots amble up to his bar, Lake felt awfully overdressed wearing his uniform. Truly, Lake suspected he would have felt overdressed in a skant even. Flipping off the top of the shaker, Lake poured out a drink for another crewman, but he kept his dark eyes on Matthew. Lake offered a single nod, asking, "And what are you thirsty for?"

Matt nodded back, "Counselor!" and smiled at the man. He looked at the bar back to try and see what would be good. He really wanted a frosty cold beer from home. But it was extremely unlikely that a case of Incantaari Imperioli Birra was stocked. The closest drink that humans had to it was a dark oatmeal stout. Incantaari was like beer with a coffee kick. He quickly finished scanning the shelves and said, "How about a beer? Something cold?" he spoke over the music as he leaned into the bar. "Bartending...isn't that a kind of counseling? Are you ever off the clock Counselor?" he asked mildly teasing.

There wasn't much blithe in what Lake had to say. He braced his palms against the bar and he leaned in as close to Matt as he could. "I can't pinpoint the reason. Really, there's probably an infinite diversity of reasons," Lake said in his matter-of-fact timbre, "but I find most crews always relate to me as a Counselor first. Most people tease me for being a Counselor, not for being a Romulan or a martial artist or a medical doctor." --Lake's smile was manufactured, but it gradually warmed as he met Matt's eyes again-- "I'm eager to take off my Counselor's uniform if you want me to."

Matthew met Lake's eyes and in them he saw desire and release. Lake was a sexy, handsome looking guy. His smooth skin and darker features were attractive and Matt knew that Lake knew that too. It seemed to Matt, from the brief encounters that he had had with the Counselor since coming onboard, that Lake was used to getting what he wanted. And that he used his good looks and direct, dominant, "alpha" personality to get what he wanted. During his first Counseling session Matt thought him to be somewhat arrogant...kind of a dick. But he chalked that up being 'Romulan'. Add to that being handsome, good looking, confident and direct and one could see that the Counselor would be the kind of person who got what he wanted. In Matthew's mind he pictured a string of heart-broken people that Lake cast aside after he was finished with them. In that briefest moment, when their eyes met, Matt recognized the desire for sex, for passion, for a satisfaction. He inwardly wondered if he would be just another notch on the Counselor's bedpost?

And yet, Matthew was lonely too. He wasn't used to being alone and he didn't do 'alone' very well. Fontalans weren't that kind of a people. It was a much longer story of why that came about. But suffice it to say that with their history inclusiveness and togetherness proved to be a much better way to live. Life was far too short as it was. Lake's eyes softened a bit and Matt saw some of the arrogance fade; he was sure that too was a manipulation but Matthew was horny too. Fontalans did not have the same sexual 'hang-ups' that Humans seemed to carry with them to the distant regions of the galaxy. So, when Lake made a move, Matt was receptive to it. Lake had a hot, muscular body. Martial arts, Romulan genes, whatever made the man a walking sexpot was attractive. Plumeri didn't like to be used for sex; but he was used to it. Humans seemed to do that more he discovered and was surprised by it too. He understood why and still, he thought that they were missing the whole point of sex. Enjoy it; it's not supposed to be a weapon!

The loneliness for connection and the desire to release the pent up, horny build up were strong. Matt thought for a moment, reading Lake's face as best he could. Fighting his own wants and his own needs. He wanted to feel good too. He wanted to spend time with someone too and Lake was making an offer and he was a cutie pie. Matthew pulled at the Lake's collar and looking at the pips said, "Lose the uniform...Lieutenant...you got a place in mind? 'Cause I'm ready now to take you on." His voice, sultry and laden with sexual tones. His eyes finished the answer and with Lake's face so close now...a kiss on those thick lips was his answer. Matthew let him go, gave him a playful face slap - not too hard - and finished his drink. Indicating with his head to the room behind the bar.

Everything Matthew assumed about Lake was true. Just about everything; you'd have to guess which ones would be a lie. And even with all of those hedonistic assumptions being true, Lake hesitated. As Matt stepped away from their kiss, Lake held a hand out, but it's meaning was unclear. "You said... I mean, I said... you asked if I was ever off the clock, which was why I said..." Lake's lower lip quivered as he lost track of what had just happened and centered himself on who was standing right before him. "But you're dressed like that," Lake said, as if it was the final clue, the deciding factor.

Very suddenly and with no discretion, Lake started scanning the mess hall with his eyes. In thirty seconds or less, Lake attempted to catch sight of every face in the compartment other than Matthew's. "Is she here yet?" Lake asked Matthew, softly and urgently. "Is the Captain here yet?"

Matthew looked at him so strangely, "Captain Saalm? No, I think we'd all notice if someone as hot as the Captain strolled through the doors. Matt got a sly smile on his face, "You're...naaaahhhh...tell me you're not suggesting you, me...and Captain Saalm. Dude...I don't want to spend the next three years in the brig or worse...find myself floating home." He said it playfully enough, just loud enough for Lake to hear. In the back of his mind he wondered, ~He's not *seriously* considering a three-way...O..M..G!"

Responding playfully in kind, Lake said, "I don't want to be airlocked either," and there was a sense of manic hyperbole to what he was saying. "That's why I need to know if she's in the room, and where she is in the room at all times. It's my party. I'm the mad scientist. That means I have to play the dutiful host" --and he cupped the side of his mouth, as if to tell Matthew a secret-- "At least, only when she's looking."

Lake downed a shot to calm his nerves. This man, this beautiful man standing far too far from him was an absolute rollercoaster of sensory overload. "Besides," Lake admitted in his nearest approximation of sotto voice for a loud room, "I've already been naked with Captain Saalm and it went very... very.. very... badly."

Matt's eyes went wide and he grinned and laughed, "But she's Orion?!" he said. As if that alone was an explanation of some sort. "You, mister bartender/counselor sir...you are a trouble maker." He leaned in a little closer and asked, "How many hands would go up if I asked the whole room how many of them have you had? And by had - you know what I mean. Done the 'nasty' with?" here he used air quotes with his fingers as more people arrived at the party.

Lake had to think on that a moment, but only a moment. He leaned in too, close enough that he was practically pressing his chest to the bartop. Impassively, Lake asked back, "Would it surprise you to know the answer is zero?"

Matt belly laughed out loud, "HA-ha-ha! Yes, it would." Lake looked serious and so Matt stifled his laughter as best he could and said, "Oh. Uh. My bad. You're serious?"

Admittedly enigmatically, Lake replied with "Do the math, mister scientist." For effect more than reason, Lake started counting off his fingers, one by one. "I was accepted to Galileo's crew not much earlier than you," Lake explained; "I would have to be scheduling crewmembers in my bunk twice nightly to earn the reputation you suppose for me in the scant few days I've been aboard."

Leaning forward on his arms and looking the counselor over, "Counselor, a guy like you would certainly have no problem mastering a schedule now." He was teasing of course and he ended his comment with a playful wink. "Your reputation preceeds you sir. Perhaps it is...undeserved? Still, reputation had to come from somewhere." Lake filled out a uniform quite nicely and so it wasn't hard to imagine that he could be a player.

"Someone far wiser than me once wrote that what other people think of me is none of my damn business," Lake replied without acknowledging or validating anything Matt had said. As an aside, Lake mumbled, "I think it might have been a Betazoid? I might be wrong." Shaking his head, Lake leveled his eyes on Matthew, and he said, "Do you have a question you would like to ask me?"

Meeting the steady gaze of those black Romulan eyes and that haughty Romulan face, he let a beat pass. Remembering their conversation earlier from the counselling session. Matt said, "No questions. Counselor. Thanks for the drink." He set the glass down with a thud and moved down the bar.

---

Petra Varelli decided that since she was a civilian, she could dress however she wanted. And, since this was a party, she was going to dress up. She wore a short black skirt, high heeled sandals, and a silvery top that glittered in the light of the lounge. The good thing about being on a small starship was that she didn't need to bring anything with her. She hoped she wouldn't leave the same way. She slowly walked around the room to see what caught her fancy.

LuAnn Lovegood chose to wear a loose, flowing dress the color of moonlight. Because it was a party, she was also wearing a pair of anatomically correct heart earrings. There was so much to see that she took her time, going from area to area, pausing to appreciate the music and aesthetics before moving to the next.


[OFF]

To Be Continued…



Lt. JG Aria Rice
Security
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vansen]

Lt. Tris Shizn
Conn Officer
USS Galileo-A

LTJG Matthew Plumeri
Science Officer
USS Galileo-A

Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo-A

PO3 Constantin Vansen
Operations
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vansen]

CWO2 Oliver Sylver
CONN
USS GalileoA
[PNPC Vansen]

CH Verity Thorne
Chaplain
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Blake]

CDR Scarlet Blake
First Officer
USS Galileo-A

PO1 Gabriel Stark
Security
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Blake]

Dr. Alexion Wylde
Medical
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Blake]

Laeon Wylde
Civilian Dependent
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Blake]

Cmdr Allyndra illm Warraquim
Second and Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo-A

Crewman Draia Theroh
Engineer's Mate
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC ir-Llantrisant]

Chief Petty Officer Kala Gorvel
Engineering Officer
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Wyatt]

LuAnn Lovegood
Counselor
USS Galileo-A

Lieutenant Marisa Sandoval
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo-A

 

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