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GM for this game: t_catt11
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AmaraD
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PARTY PLAN!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday!)
USS Peregrine; Bridge – 1645

"Alright, Mister Pierce, Mister Suder, I apologize again for interrupting your down time, but I'm nailed to the con and we have a party to plan."

=/\= Ready sir!=/\=

Dio took a quick sip of his coffee, a data pad with the layout of the Captain's mess balanced in his lap and another in his hand with Dr Moore's information on dietary needs that she'd sent out earlier.

A vegetarian and a carnivore walk into a reception and we need them to not kill each other. This'll be fun
"Few rules - no flowering plants. Since we're short staffed, instead of serving we'll have two small stations at the head of the room, in front of the replicator. One tricked out in the Kuldar colors, one for the Rytain. We'll put Federation blue and drinks between the two."

That should also eliminate the risk of having someone offered the wrong food and taking offense.
"For the Kuldar, we're going to have a cook-to-order hot appetizer station. Either of you two familiar with Korean or Mongolian style BBQ from Earth?"

=/\= Afraid I've never partaken sir, but Natasha here says she's been around a few times.=/\=

"See if there's a metal hot plate design in the replicator for that. The blood sauces are going to be tricky - I'll see what I can program in while you two are decorating. Wake Juarez up and get him to tweak down the heat detector for the Captain's mess during the event and increase the air scrubbers. I don't want so much as a iota of smoke getting away from the stations - maybe a passive force field?"

"For the Rytain, cold appetizers. All vegetarian. maybe a small fruit desert. I'll see what we have that's sufficiently artistic."

=/\= I'd suggest checking the Betazed recipes sir, there are some very lovely southern succulent recipes that would look lovely.=/\=

"I'll take any help I can get. Mister Pierce, since you were present for our last big event, you have some idea of the decorative needs. We don't need to go all out for the reception - keep it tasteful, but clear which station is for who."


Lasad rubbed his temples for a moment, before changing the datapad to bring up the replicator system. "I've got a menu to make."

---------
Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Bridge – 1830

The bridge was an odd sight. There were two or three plates of food around the bridge chair, some still with half-eaten remains of various flowers and display fruits from several failed experiments. Leah had been kind enough to run them up to the bridge as he programmed. Dio was happy to offer Ensign Thomason, PO Amai and Lt Berk.

"Lieutenant Berk!" Dio said cheerily, as the plates went around the bridge "I realize some of this isn't going to be perfect to everyone's taste buds, and today is hardly going according to protocol, but please let me know if I get too far out of bounds."

((OOC: Opening left here for RP if Berk is feeling chatty, but optional.))
The main viewscreen had a view of the Captain's Mess, which had undergone a very rapid transformation. The head of the room now had two small tables. The right station had a lovely gold and russet tablecloth, over top of it was a polished sandstone mossiac. A small Rytain banner hanging behind it, and a small menu of black polished slate with the offerings and ingredients listed resting beside little plates waiting for finger food.

The left station was wrapped in dark purple and black silks, a doe-soft leather skin (Dio did not ask where Pierce had acquired this) over the top. A small metal Mongolian grill the size of a skillet had been rigged up over a hot plate and was starting to reach a nice glow. The Kuldaran banner hung n the wall behind it in a mirror to the Rytain station, while the menu here was a thin piece of hammered copper.

Natasha was speaking rapidly over the bridge speakers, now in a dress uniform while Tam ran around behind her frantically clearing out the remaining, unused decorations. =/\=...Juarez even managed to rig some very small local force fields up for the stations. One around the hot plate to keep any steam or smoke rising up to the air scrubbers and not lurking in the room - it's a trick my dad's restaurant on Starbase 35 used something similar and it's a wonder. There's another one over the Rytain table with a micro-environment to keep things chilled.=/\=

Between the two stations was a Federation banner and a table laden with different drinks. Carefully labeled and selected to be safe for everyone attending, so they wouldn't have to patrol everyone's drinking. The ceiling corners of the room was decorated with a few small wind chimes - two of hammered metal, and two others of thin pipes of petrified wood, added soft musical notes to the room. They also hid the soft hum of the air scrubbers working.

"You two worked miracles, and I owe this whole team a night on the town next time we've got shore leave. I also finally some menu items for you. Mister Peirce, you're on the Kuldaran stations since you've got the most familiarity with the food preparation. Mister Suder, you've got the Rytain station. Info is heading your way including the names they're programmed as in the replicator."

Rytain 1 - Roses made of Daikon raddish, cucumber, tomato and bell pepper, with a sprinkle of sesame seeds and a dash of red wine vinegar.
Rytain 2 - Small spring rolls, stuffed with green onion, avacado, sprouts, and red cabbage. The rolls were sliced in half and the vegetables emerged from the top like a tiny bouquet. Served with a sweet-spicy soy and mustard sauce.
Rytain 3 - Small woven salad cups of Betazoid blue-leaf, with a salad made of starfruit, prickly pear and mango inside.

Kuldar 1-3 - Three raw meats - Venison, beef and lamb. Sliced razor-thin and kept chilled until they moment they hit the grill.
Kuldar 4 - Sauce one, beef blood and red wine reduction, heavy on pepper.
Kuldar 5 - Second sauce, lamb blood, rice wine vinegar and blood.

"You'll want to offer some forks for the meat - there's no way to keep it from being messy. But everything else is solid finger food."

Natasha laughed, a full-throated cheery belly laugh that lifted even Dio's exhausted spirits by it's presence =/\=We've got the info now, and will start getting the food replicated and laid out. It's a small party so we should be fine.=/\=

Dio grinned in response, rubbing the back of his neck "Better to be prepared. Cover our bases, best foot forward, white-glove and all."

I'm not going to count on anything going right at this point.

Posted on 2016-09-11 at 12:11:37.

t_catt11
Fun is Mandatory
RDI Staff
Karma: 309/54
5258 Posts


repection...

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Captain's Mess, 19:25


So far, so good, Silas mused inwardly. Lieutenant Lasad and the Operations crew had done a bang up job considering the ridiculously short timeline and lack of proper facilities to work with. Rather than attempt to directly reproduce any native dishes from Kuldar or Rytain - and knowing the near-infamous issues that replicators had with trying to duplicate the subtleties of certain cuisine, this was quite wise - he had overseen a spread of mostly Terran dishes that coincided with the preferred tastes of the diplomats' cultures. There were tasteful decorations, and the Ops staff were gracious and helpful; in fact, they seemed to genuinely enjoy the experience.

Drake, on the other hand, found the entire affair to be rather grating. Escorting diplomats was one thing, but entertaining them was quite another... what he wouldn't give right now for some pirate vessel to shoot at! Silas knew full well that he had a tendency to be direct (Michelle would have accurately called him blunt), and polite chitchat did not come easily to him. But such were the perils of command, he supposed; the commanding officer of the Peregrine did his best to smile politely and conduct acceptable small talk while he ate from a plate that contained carefully measured portions representing both parties equally.

Truth be told, Silas had to consciously focus on the task at hand. There were quite a few items that rightfully demanded attention - even with his earlier "hide and do paperwork" session, there were still administrative items that needed his involvement or approval. His new Science and Engineering chiefs needed to be properly briefed on the mission. He wanted to draft a new framework for a policy on external personnel, and had some homework to do to see if there was any aid that he could render for Tesenblen. And, much to his shame, Silas had discovered just as he left his quarters that he had missed an earlier missive from Doctor Moore to update him on Commander Thorson's status. Silas mentally kicked himself for that one; he felt like he had not only let down his friend, but put a poor foot forward with his new Chief Medical Officer, who he owed a full acknowledgement (and sincere thanks) to.

It had been a long day, of course; the meetings could wait until Alpha shift tomorrow. For now, the most important duty was to play nice, smile, and laugh politely at jokes of questionable comedic value.

Tochi seems at home here, he thought to himself. Of course, that was no real surprise - the affable helmsman was more of a social butterfly than Silas would ever be... and he had a bit of a built in advantage, what with one of his previous hosts having been a diplomat herself (himself?). Indeed, Silas pondered wryly, if Lieutenant Zai managed to not let his association with his current Captain torpedo his career too much, the man had immense potential as a commanding officer in his own right.

The Captain shook his head with a near silent chuckle and allowed himself to return to the conversation that he had only been half paying attention to.

"...this is, of course, our nature," Threel pontificated. "and why the Ryatin are such an ideal fit for the Federation. We believe in the sanctity of all cultures, in the value of all viewpoints..."

The Ryatin ambassador was cut off with a chortle from D'Lar of the Kuldar. "Please, Ambassador - do not sully this room with such pt'lagh," the fierce representative growled. Threel wore a look of shock as D'Lar continued.

"The Ambassador here is a liar," D'Lar declared with as much emotion as one might use when declaring that the Terran sky was, in fact, blue. "Have a care to not listen too closely to his flowery words." Threel made a motion as if to protest, but D'Lar held up a hand. "Of course," he allowed, "I am also a liar. What diplomat could ever hold such a post if this were not the case?" He laughed at his own words, and wore a huge grin. Threel's expression relaxed into a bit of a sickly smile, though a cold glint remained in his eyes.

D'Lar's own expression grew more serious for a brief moment, and he uttered a cryptic statement. "Then again, at least I freely admit what I am."

The Kuldar took in the expressions around him, laughed out loud, and raised his cup. "A toast, then, to putting the best foot of our peoples forward. Perhaps when this is all complete, Ambassador Threel will have me visit his home for a holiday, and he can regale his family with tales of my own falsehoods!"

That provoked some laughter, and seemed to bring levity back to what had felt to be a dangerous moment. Silas did notice, however, that Threel did not seem to let the laughter reach his eyes.











Posted on 2016-09-14 at 00:43:09.
Edited on 2016-09-14 at 09:25:39 by t_catt11

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
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3092 Posts


Why is no one posting? Partay!

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:00


Standing before the door to the Captain’s Mess, Asovil realizes the magnitude of the captain’s request that all department heads attend the reception. Stalling her entry, the Andorian scientist chews at the inside of her bottom lip while considering her thoughts. Accomplishment isn’t something that’s new to her. Accolades and recognition have been a part of her life for as long as she can remember. Yet, entertaining foreign dignitaries as a department head on a Starfleet vessel is very intimidating no matter the outfit she’s wearing. Thoughts ring through her consciousness without compunction as to how they influence her desire to enter the chamber. What if she says the wrong thing? What if she spills? What if she doesn’t realize the customs that these alien ambassadors revere are the same that she’s unconsciously stepping all over? What if she mispronounces one of their names? What if she misrepresents the ship and her captain?

Swishing doors further down the corridor give the young woman a start, sparking the ignition that propels her into the recognition area in front of the portal. Sapphire eyes widen with the opening of the Captain’s Mess hatch revealing the finely decorated ensemble within. With breath caught in her throat midway between inhaled and exhaled, Lt. Sh’iraolnas finds herself forced to face her fears much sooner than anticipated. The night has begun and the Andorian woman forces her insecurities deep down to be addressed later by her subconscious (most likely while sleeping), tugs at the hem of her dress coat, and takes in the small chamber with a critical and suspicious gaze.

Saber class Captain Messes are designed to comfortably seat eight. With the center dining set inhabiting the majority of the space options as to positioning are limited despite Asovil being one of the first besides the Ops team to have arrived. Directed to a seat further down the table by a helpful gold shirt, she quietly sinks into the chair and even her antennae strive to make her appear less noticeable.



Posted on 2016-09-14 at 22:12:44.

Boo Boo
RDI Fixture
Karma: 27/1
673 Posts


Wasn't invited to the party so ..

Stardate 2365.02.08

USS Peregrine; Crew Quarters, Deck 3 – 1905



Crewman Amy Wren walked into her quarter’s common area and stopped dead in her tracks. The common area, which was shared by the 4 enlisted personnel that occupied to two bedrooms in these quarters, was a shambles. The furniture, chairs, desks, etc., had all been moved to the back of the room and piled high against it. A pair of short, bare legs were sticking out of the ventilation shaft located in the back wall near the ceiling. The legs were wiggling wildly in the air and muffled grunts could be heard coming from the vent.

“Damn,” a muffled voice came from the shaft.

Amy moved closer recognizing the voice as her new roommate, Crewman Sandra Reynolds, a newly acquired nurse that had come aboard at SB118. She was at a loss as to why Sandra would be stuck in a ventilation shaft in the middle of the night.

“Sandra?” Amy asked as she moved up to where the ‘pile’ of furniture began.

“Amy?”

“Yeah,” Amy went on, “what are you doing in the ventilation shaft?”

“Ah.. well,” Sandra began as the legs stopped their struggles, “there was a noise you see. I traced it to the ceiling but I couldn’t get at it there so I thought I might be able to find it if I could just get in there. This ventilation shaft seemed to be close but… well… I got stuck.” Her feet wiggled a little as if to illustrate the point. Crewman Reynolds was a small slim woman but the shaft wasn’t much bigger than her, and was designed for air and not a human being.


“Do you want me to help you down?” Amy asked as she tried to restrain a chuckle.


“Yes please,” Sandra said with an embarrassed tone.


After a few minutes of struggling and pulling, Sandra popped free and slides back down into the room. She her face was flushed, rather from her struggles or embarrassment it wasn’t clear.


“Thanks!”


“Well we aren’t done yet,” Amy said as she inclined her head towards the furniture piled up, “Come on, I’ll help you put all this back.”


The two of them got to putting all the furniture back where it belonged. Sandra managed to laugh at her ridiculous situation and was glad that her roommate wasn’t angry with her for causing all this trouble. She thought that she and Amy might just get along well. It had been a hell of a first 24 hrs.


(OOC: Just a little something. Not much, just an intro to who Sandra is. )




Posted on 2016-09-15 at 06:44:24.
Edited on 2016-09-15 at 06:45:41 by Boo Boo

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Le Soirre

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Captain's Mess - 1855


Smoothing the front of his dress uniform’s long, wrap-around tunic, Lt Zai strode through the door of the Captain’s Mess and allowed a pleased smile to play on his lips. Operations had done a phenomenal job of trimming out the room in a manner that honored both the Rytain and Kuldar cultures while, at the same time, blending them almost seamlessly together with Starfleet/Federation appointments. There were chimes hung from the ceiling that filled the air with a soothing musical quality, and the aroma of the foods wafting subtly from the stations was delectable. “Very nice,” the XO said from where he had paused just inside the dooryway.

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” Crewman Pierce smiled from where she stood at the ready next to the Kuldaran themed station.

“Lieutenant,” Crewman Suder, posted next to the Rytain station, echoed with a welcoming nod.

He offered each a nod and a warm smile; “Natasha. Tam. You’ve outdone yourselves, again.” Hands clasped behind his back, he strolled further into the room, taking a moment to further inspect the décor and dishes at each of the posts. “If the food tastes as good as it smells, we imagine the Ambassadors will be quite pleased.”

“Lt Lasad put quite a bit of thought into the decor and menu, sir,” Natasha responded, the smile on her face reflecting her pleasure at the XO’s accolades, “He’s got quite the knack for these things.”

“Risans often do,” Lt Zai grinned in return, imagining, then, what Dio might have been able to accomplish in a larger space such as those at the resorts at Ceasar’s Lagoon or Temtibi Bay, “especially when they have staff the likes of you and Mr Suder to assist.”

“Would you care for a sample, Lt Zai,” Crewman Suder asked cordially, “or perhaps a drink?”

“Not just, yet, Tam,” Tochi politely declined, “We’ll wait for the others to arrive. The Captian, we think, will be duly impressed by all of this, and we’d hate to muck it up by leaving our fingerprints all over it.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Ops crewmen chorused.

“Thank you,” Zai smiled, moving now toward the doorway that provided access to the washroom. There was no need to truly inspect the space, of course. With the attention OPS had paid to the Captain’s Mess itself, he was sure that they wouldn’t have neglected the space but, duties of the XO being as they were (especially when one’s Captain was far from being the exceedingly social sort) it was something of a necessary formality. As expected, the tiny compartment had been rendered spotless and, also, tastefully appointed so as to be accommodating to both visiting parties. Following his cursory inspection, he nodded his approval before checking his reflection in the mirror to ensure that he looked at least as close to presentable as the Mess.

He re-entered the Captain’s Mess, set to offer another nod and statement of approval to the OPS crew, but the thought vaporized from his mind when he saw that Asovil had arrived and, despite how lovely she looked, appeared to be trying to make herself as unnoticeable as she could manage. When he saw her, the Trill’s smile morphed from one of pleased satisfaction to… something else… brighter… warmer, perhaps? “Good evening, Lt Sh’iraolnas,” he beamed, eyes sparkling as he circled to the side of the table where she sat, “No bells?”

((OOC: Assuming some kind of reaction/response.))

“Not to worry,” Tochi chuckled softly, gesturing at the various wind-chimes overhanging the room, “Operations has seen to all the bells we may need. And, if we may say so, you look perfectly lovely without them…”

((OOC: And continue as you see fit, Brom… Idle chit-chat, the beginnings of a deeper conversation to be taken up later… everwhat. I imagine the remainder of the attendees will be arriving in the span of the next minutes and, to that end, Tochi will take it upon himself to greet each one as they arrive (Silas isn’t the “party-guy”, after all)… Plenty of RP opportunities there, too, I would think. Skipping forward to the time-frame set by Drake’s post.))




Posted on 2016-09-15 at 08:39:44.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Part-tay! Part the second!

Captain’s Mess – 1925
Tochi found it almost funny that he was enjoying the reception this much. He was by no means an antisocial sort, of course, and he did always enjoy a good party, but, in most cases, especially prior to the Joining, those parties were more the planet-side bar-room sort. In this instance, though, Kasru’s skills and memories roiled to the forefront and served him exceedingly well. So well, in fact, that he had to consciously refrain from acting too much the diplomat. More than once, in fact, he had been forced to stop an all too political observation from passing his lips by, instead, poking a morsel of food into his mouth or taking a sip from his glass... Wouldn’t want to fly too much in the face of Captain Jacob’s orders, would we?… He did do his part, however, to keep the conversations flowing and, hopefully, veering too far off course from what Captain Drake’s intentions might have been to begin with.

As Ambassador Threel was currently expounding on the magnanimity and broad-mindedness of the Rytain people, Tochi took a moment to regard the Captain. He hadn’t been the most verbose of hosts – giving a welcoming toast as was expected and, then, engaging in small talk where it was appropriate - but Drake was doing a fine job of masking his discomfiture behind a polite smile and a façade of feigned interest. He’d rather be anywhere else, right now, the Trill mused, except, perhaps, having dinner with Jacobs…
“...this is, of course, our nature,” Threel pontificated, snatching Tochi’s attention back from gauging Silas’ level of well-concelead annoyance , ‘and why the Rytain are such an ideal fit for the Federation. We believe in the sanctity of all cultures, in the value of all viewpoints...”

The Trill tipped his glass to his lips as D’lar interrupted his Rytain counterpart with a gruff chuckle. “Please, Amabassador – do not sully this room with such pt’lagh,” the Kuldar growled, almost facetiously. Despite the teasing tone that veiled the sentiment, Threel seemed unable to keep an appalled expression from darkening his visage as D’Lar continued.

“The Ambassador, here, is a liar,” the Kuldaran diplomat declared with as much emotion as one might use when declaring that the Terran sky was, in fact, blue. “Have a care to not listen too closely to his flowery words.” Threel made a motion as if to protest, but D'Lar held up a hand. “Of course,” he allowed, “I am also a liar. What diplomat could ever hold such a post if this were not the case?” He laughed at his own words, and wore a huge grin.

Tochi couldn’t help but chuckle along, at that. There was more than a little bit of truth in the Kuldar’s words, he knew, and the fact that Ambassador D’Lar not only recognized that fact when he had lobbed it like a photon-grenade into the conversation but, also, took some measure of self-deprecation in absorbing his own share of its blast was, in itself, a very politic maneuver.

Curious, the Trill couldn’t help but note, We wouldn’t have expected such a jest from D’Lar given our initial encounter. Threel would have been our choice as the more light-hearted of the two. While the Rytain’s expression had relaxed into a bit of a sickly smile, there remained a cold glint in his eyes that hinted at his not truly finding any humor in his counterpart’s words.

The grimness to Threels’ countenance only deepened when D’Lar added, almost as an aside to himself; “Then again, at least I freely admit what I am.”

That statement raised Tochi’s own brows for a nanosecond and the diplomat in him felt compelled to intervene in an attempt to defuse what could potentially be a contentious bout of bickering. To his surprise, once again, though, D’Lar managed to do that very thing, himself…

The Kuldar took in the expressions around him, laughed out loud, and raised his cup. “A toast, then, to putting the best foot of our peoples forward. Perhaps when this is all complete, Ambassador Threel will have me visit his home for a holiday, and he can regale his family with tales of my own falsehoods!”

“Here, here,” Tochi laughed along, raising his glass in salute, “To the Rytain and the Kuldar. May their peace be found and fostered and may their future lies about one another be of only the most flattering sort.”

Despite the fact that Threel, like the general consensus, also seemed to be laughing along, Tochi noticed that any mirth, feigned or genuine, had done nothing to alleviate the cold glint in his eyes.

Again, the Trill mused, watching Threel over the rim of his glass, quite the reversal of what we might have expected from these two… His gaze let go of the Rytain, then, and drifted toward Silas. When the Captain met his gaze, Tochi subtly raised a brow… There may need to be a conversation about this with Capt Jacobs and Cmdr Farr… We have made some... observations…


Posted on 2016-09-15 at 10:48:39.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Aboard the Coronado

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Coronado; Deck 3; VIP Quarters – 1830

The door to the stateroom hissed open and the sound of heavy footsteps that followed caused the Minister to tense and practically slam the lid of his case closed in a panic. That tension eased, though, when his unannounced visitor appeared in the archway that separated the office space from the cabin proper. “You startled me,” the Minister scolded, “If you had been anyone else…”

“You should have seen to it that your door was locked,” the visitor chastised in return, his stern gaze ticking meaningfully toward the Minister’s case, “If I had been anyone else, just now, our mission would have failed. Leave those alone until it’s time.”

Sufficiently cowed by the rebuke, the Minister locked the case and set it aside. “You are right, of course. I suppose I’m simply nervous.”

“Where are they,” the visitor asked, refusing to pander any more to the Minister’s skittishness.

“In the lounge, taking drinks with the Captain and his First Officer,” the Minister answered, rubbing his hands on his vest as he rose from the desk, “Are we going, now?”

“No,” the visitor shook his head, “It is too soon. This ship is less active in the later hours. Our chances will be much better then.”

“Of course,” the Minister nodded, his fingertips tentatively brushing across the case as he came from around the desk and moved toward the living area, “of course. When?”

“I shall let you know,” the visitor said, “until then, leave the case be. You’ll draw unnecessary attention.”

“Yes,” the Minister said, glancing back at the visitor who still leaned in the archway and, beyond him, the case, “of course.”

“I can do this alone,” the visitor sighed, “if you are finding yourself with a lack of resolve.”

“No!” the Minister protested a bit more quickly than he had intended. “No,” he repeated following a breath, “I am as committed to this as you.” He took a decanter from a shelf and poured himself a sampling of the blood red liquid, then, with a gesture, offered to do the same for his visitor.

The visitor lifted a hand by way of refusal and, at last pushing away from the archway in which he had been leaning, moved toward the door. “Perhaps you should have another after that,” he suggested before the door whisked away to admit him to the corridor, “It may steel your nerve.”

“Of course,” the Minister muttered, quickly drinking that first sampling and, then, pouring another, larger than the first, “Of course.”



Posted on 2016-09-15 at 12:46:54.

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
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Karma: 124/10
3092 Posts


More meat

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:02


Waiting, she decides, for everyone else to arrive is almost as discommodious as arriving in the first place. Taking time to visually investigate the work that Ops has put into these festivities, Asovil finds herself engaged with the curiosities of each cultural spread and only vaguely hears the swish of the hydraulics opening the doors far to her left. The table is set for nine; a little squishy with barely any elbow room in a space usually comfortably sitting eight, but it works.

The science officer is seated at the end of the left side of the table as is appropriate what with her being the lowest ranking officer amongst the department heads and this not being a science vessel. The delegates would be seated to either side of the captain’s chair at the head of the table, Toch’si—Asovil finds her cheeks warming involuntarily at the thought of the XO—position will be to the right of one of the ambassadors on the opposite side of the table from her’s while the 2nd in command (the Andorian woman struggles to remember the name of the Chief Operations Officer as she can’t recall having met him yet) would be across the table on the left of the other ambassador. Then the Chief Tactical Officer would be to Tochi’s right, the Chief Engineering Officer across from him, and the Chief Medical Officer across from where Asovil sits. The end of the table opposite Captain Drake’s chair is to remain empty.

“Good evening, Lt Sh’iraolnas. No bells?”

Asovil feels her shoulders tense up and the butterflies that had settled in her stomach now fly into her chest. Attempting to retain as much composure as possible, the blue-skinned young woman rises quickly from her chair and turns towards the handsome man addressing her. Offering a snappy salute, she barely constrains the smile she wishes to wear to the corners of her mouth and the light in her eyes.

“Lt. Zai,” acknowledges the lower ranking officer. “Unfortunately, the creation of bells to adorn my uniform is not part of my replicator rations. And, I could find nothing in the Starfleet manual about the placement of bells on a dress uniform, so I chose to disregard the adornment in favor of avoiding another reprimand on my record.”

“Not to worry,” Tochi chuckles softly, gesturing at the various wind-chimes overhanging the room. “Operations has seen to all the bells we may need. And, if we may say so, you look perfectly lovely without them…”

“You, sir,” Asovil can no longer keep her smile at bay and it erupts across her face lighting her from within. “Are incorrigible.” Though, you sure do clean up nicely, she finishes to herself.

“I must admit something, Lt. Zai,” the young woman adds with a worried tone. “This is the first time I’ve been invited to such an event. What is expected of me in my position and how best can I honor the Captain and this ship?”

(OOC: room for a reply.)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:25


Lt. Sh’iraolnas’ plate consists of a raw cut of meat that reminds her of a barely cooked cut of krill-beast, a serving of some leafy vegetables lightly sprayed by a mixture of oils and dusted with herbs, and a kind of bread that reminds the Andorian woman of her people’s hari. The fluted glass before her sparkles in the light showing through its translucent crystal the champagne colored liquid served as a drink. Fragrances of the food mixtures persistently pursue her attention, but the roiling condition of her nerves-induced stomach has made it nearly impossible for her to taste the morsels. All the science officer can do is occasionally sip the dry liquid and watch the proceedings, still a little overcome by the magnitude of the responsibility she now holds.

Flitting sky blue eyes dart from the face of one of her dinner mates to another and then back to the speaker in a vain attempt to observe all data-points. She catches the Captain shake his head with an amused—No, not amused, but more resigned perhaps.—smile but cannot fathom where the expression is born from. Certainly not the rhetoric being delivered by the distinguished Rytainian ambassador. Please, she finds herself thinking. Don’t look at the captain right now Ambassador Threel. Worry that the Rytain gentleman might take offense should he think that the captain feels his discourses humorous fills her head.

The delegate has been speaking about the various accepting and even encouraging aspects of his people for the past few minutes. Captain Drake has obviously found something concerning the man’s information either questionable, or faulty altogether. What exactly that is, Asovil cannot surmise as she has no foreknowledge of either the Rytain nor the Kuldar races. The only thing she can hope for is that those aboard the Peregrine do nothing to exacerbate the already hostile relations between the two races. The lieutenant, junior grade has been able to determine throughout the conversations for the past twenty-minutes, or so, that these two delegates are enroute to a conference wherein they are supposed to attend peace talks mediated by the Federation of Planets. Asovil determines that the safe and uneventful delivery of these ambassadors to the summit is the mission, and as such, is now dedicated to insuring its success.

"...this is, of course, our nature," Threel pontificates with a flourish of his hands. "and why the Rytain are such an ideal fit for the Federation. We believe in the sanctity of all cultures, in the value of all viewpoints..."

Crystaline blue eyes dart to Lt. Zai as the Trill tips his glass to his lips, polite consideration written all over his roguish features. At the same time, the Rytain delegate is cut off by a throaty chortle from D'Lar of the Kuldar stealing the science officer’s attention and causing her brow to furrow at the affront.

"Please, Ambassador—do not sully this room with such pt'lagh," the fierce representative growls.

Feeling defensive about the success of their mission, Asovil’s antennae rigidly stand atop her head as she quickly assesses Threel’s countenance. The yellow-haired individual wears a look of shock like an open mask upon his orangish face as D'Lar continues. For her part, the Andorian woman finds her stomach clenching as it always does in preparation for conflict. Scenarios in which she must find something diplomatic to say while coming from a position of strength begin to play out in her head despite knowing that such behavior is not within her wheelhouse.

"The Ambassador here is a liar," D'Lar declares with barely any consideration for inflection. "Have a care not to listen too closely to his flowery words." Threel makes a motion as if to protest, but D'Lar holds up a scaly hand.

"Of course," he allows. "I am also a liar. What diplomat could ever hold such a post if this were not the case?"

He laughs at his own words and wears a huge, wolfish grin, but Asovil isn’t one of those who is relieved by his self-deprecating comments. She notices that Tochi chuckles but cannot find it within herself to more than turn the corners of her mouth up in a accommodating smile. The Kuldar’s mind is cunning and he duels with words while walking the edge of an icy crevace, she notes turning her attention from the grayish man to the orange one. Threel's expression relaxes into a sickly smile, though a cold glint remains in his narrowed eyes. He is not amused. The Science Officer looks towards the captain for a retort, a play at saving the Rytainian ambassador some face while not offending the Kuldarian, but he is projecting no such inclination. Returning her attention to the scaly, stringy-haired ambassador whose clothing are not what the blue-skinned woman would consider formal at all, Lt. Sh’iraolnas catches his expression changing to a more serious one.

"Then again,” D’Lar discloses with a bit of a rueful tone. “At least I freely admit what I am."

He does not know when to stop! Asovil’s white eyebrows raise on her once smooth forehead and her antennae twitch with dismay as she sinks back into her chair. Neither the captain, nor others of higher rank and more prominent position, seem inclined to address the rough-dressed man’s remarks and that is causing the strong-willed woman some consternation. A glance towards the XO reveals to her that he, at least, is taken aback as that statement raises Tochi’s brows for a nanosecond as well. Good! Were I in Ambassador Threel’s place, Asovil determines. I would have challenged him to a duel by now. Perhaps Tochi is about ready to rape with him. Unwittingly using the wrong terminology for engaging in a duel with the rapier Lt. Zai had described at their earlier dinner, the Andorian feels a momentary surge of hope accompany the thought.

The Kuldar takes in the expressions around him, laughs out loud, and raises his cup. "A toast, then, to putting the best foot of our peoples forward. Perhaps when this is all complete, Ambassador Threel will have me visit his home for a holiday, and he can regale his family with tales of my own falsehoods!"

This provokes some laughter, though again, Asovil is not among those who do. While the mood in the room seems to lighten, the blue-skinned young woman takes notice that Threel does not seem to let the laughter reach his eyes.

“Here, here,” Tochi laughs along, raising his glass in salute. “To the Rytain and the Kuldar. May their peace be found and fostered and may their future lies about one another be of only the most flattering sort.”

Leaning forward and taking up her glass as is appropriate according to Federation custom (something Asovil had learned in Starfleet Academy had been adopted from the Terrans by those other species who had joined), she hefts the glass up before her stone face and then touches the liquid to her slightly parted lips. Just a taste is all that she allows before placing the glass back at the upper right of her nearly untouched place setting.

These two, Lt. Sh’iraolnas shrewdly surmises. Are going to be a handful when it comes time for the summit. I, for one, am certainly grateful to Uzaveh the Infinite that I do not have to attempt to wrangle them. It would, undoubtedly, not end well.

Posted on 2016-09-16 at 18:14:33.
Edited on 2016-09-16 at 18:16:25 by Bromern Sal

Eol Fefalas
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More from the reception (fluff'n'stuff)

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:02


“Good evening, Lt Sh’iraolnas. No bells?”

The willowy Andorian tenses faintly, then rises quickly from her chair and turns towards him. She offers a smart salute which he returns with a grin. There is a captivating light shining in the depths of those sapphire eyes, in that instant, and a faint upticking of the corners of her mouth but her full smile doesn’t quite appear… You should never be afraid to show that smile, Asovil, he thinks…

“Lt. Zai,” she returns from behind that restrained smile. “Unfortunately, the creation of bells to adorn my uniform is not part of my replicator rations. And, I could find nothing in the Starfleet manual about the placement of bells on a dress uniform, so I chose to disregard the adornment in favor of avoiding another reprimand on my record.”

“Not to worry,” Tochi chuckles softly, gesturing at the various wind-chimes overhanging the room. “Operations has seen to all the bells we may need. And, if we may say so, you look perfectly lovely without them…”

“You, sir,” Asovil can no longer keep her smile at bay and it erupts across her face lighting her from within. “Are incorrigible.”

There! Much better!
“In some situations,” he responds, his own smile fueled by the freeing of her own, “we suppose that’s true.”

“I must admit something, Lt. Zai,” the young woman adds with a worried tone. “This is the first time I’ve been invited to such an event. What is expected of me in my position and how best can I honor the Captain and this ship?”

“A good question,” Tochi says, “Let us begin our answer by saying that you honor our Captain and our ship simply by attending. In our experience, this sort of thing is little more than a formality, intended to make our guests feel welcome, to familiarize them with the command staff, and the staff with them. On the surface of things and, likely in Captain Drake’s intent, we suppose, it’s as simple as that; nothing more than a ‘meet-and-greet,’ as Terrans say, to show hospitality…”

The XO pauses, here, and offers something of a shrug. He knows that Asovil has yet to have her formal briefing with the Captain and that details about the Peregrine’s current mission should come from Silas, himself. Given the course that today had followed, though, Tochi can see no other way to answer the Andorian woman’s question without divulging, at least, some of those particulars.
“…That said,” Lt Zai smiles vaguely, “and as I’m sure that you, as a scientist, are aware, things are often other than more than what the surface shows.” He gestures to her chair as he pulls out the one next to it and sits, inviting her to do the same, before continuing. “Our initial directive in this mission was to function only as an escort for the Coronado,” Tochi explains once Asovil has retaken her seat, “We were to have little to no contact with the ambassadors, at all, and Captain Jacobs and his crew were to be responsible for things such as this. Things veered from that course fairly quickly, though, as, much to Capt Jacobs’ consternation, Ambassadors Threel and D’Lar all but insisted that they be billeted aboard the ‘superior ship,’ as they put it. So, we find ourselves here, immersed much more deeply in the particulars of this mission than we were ever intended to be and, as result, having to, shall we say ‘support the mission’ in ways that we, perhaps, weren’t prepared for.

To that end, it’s my intent, at least, to use this occasion as an opportunity to try and guage the ambassadors’ levels of commitment and even interest in the summit to which we are escorting them,” he offers a roguish smile, “Reading the room, if you don’t mind us using yet another Terran euphemism. It’s not our intent to involve ourselves in their politics, of course, but a bit of diplomatic reconnaissance is certainly in order as any information we can glean from tonight’s reception could be of benefit to Captain Jacobs and any other Federation mediators with whom he might share that information.”

The Trill chuckles softly. “Not that we’ve exactly been asked to do so. And, we suppose, we’ve just told you all of that for no other reason than to talk with you some more because, really, we don’t believe we are expected to do much beyond play nice with the VIPs and see to it that they arrive safely at the Gamera system,” he winks. “So, Asovil, simply enjoy the evening and you’ll be doing your part.”



Posted on 2016-09-19 at 13:40:05.

Eol Fefalas
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6551 Posts


Silver Screen (again)

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Coronado; Deck 4; Corridor 04-1036A – 2215

It was time.

The corridors of the Coronadowere quieter, now, if not altogether devoid of traffic, but, if he was correct, in the next forty-five minutes or so, when the ship’s crew swapped one shift for another, there would be a flurry of activity that could benefit his cause to some degree. He imagined that the Minister, panicky as he was, might take some exception with the timing, but the Minister was not the one specifically trained in these sorts of things. It would be easy enough to convince him…

He cued the door, surprised but not displeased that it didn’t immediately slide away before him as it had last time. Still, he thought, his thumb moving to daub the key for the chime, now, it likely only means that he couldn’t keep his hands off of that case and is in there, right now, with the cursed thing wide open…
=/\=Yes?=/\= the Ministers voice warbled, =/\=Who’s there?=/\=

…and making sure he has the time to put it away before anyone interrupts him. He sighed, not quite inwardly. It was one thing to have boarded this ship under the guise of a lowly attaché – it made him easier to disregard, more of a figure likely to blend or better yet disappear into the background, thus, making his job easier to do – but, if he lived through this whole affair, he would never understand the insistence on his being assigned directly to the Minister. Dedication to the cause aside, the man was flighty, skittish, and not nearly as tactful as he liked to pretend – and that was a detriment much the same as being a simple attaché was a benefit. I rather hope he’s drunk.
“It is I, Minister,” he replied on the tail end of that sigh… Who else might it be, you quivering sack of…
=/\=Of course. Of course. Come in.=/\= The panel mounted next to the door chirped and the door shushed away to reveal the Minister standing immediately on the other side, fretfully wringing his hands. “Is it time?”

The Attaché tried not to roll his eyes but failed… miserably. He grasped both of the Minister’s hands with one of his own, laid the other on the Minister’s chest and, as gently as he could allow himself, pushed the man far enough back into the room that the doors closed. “Yes,” he growled softly through clenched teeth, “It is…” Just then, the Attaché’s gaze fell on the case, sitting there on the low table in front of the divan. His teeth clenched all the more and he thought he might actually crack one or two before he shoved the Minister aside (not at all gently, this time) and stormed across the room.

“I told you to leave this be!”

Taken aback, the Minister blustered incoherently for an instant, and then chased after his attaché, waggling a finger. “How dare you toss me around like some th’Loh schun,” he squeaked indignantly, “I am the Minister of…”

He swallowed whatever he had been about to say as his attaché, eyes snapping up from their inspection of the case, fixed him with an unsympathetic glare and said; “And I am not the simple attendant you pretend me to be, Minister! Remember that before you speak any further with the door closed as it is!” As the Minister flinched and nearly cowered back a step, the Attaché thrust a finger at the case and snarled; “These are crucial to what I… what we have to do, here, and the more you hover over them… GAAAHHH!!!

“Of course,” the Minister shrank, “of course. I… I am sorry… I just… it’s all so…”

“Please, tell me you did not touch them.”

“No… I… I just looked… again… Are you… sure that they’ll do what’s needed? They seem… so…. so small.”

“Have you been drinking,” the Attaché demanded, then.

Looking insulted, the Minister replied with an emphatic; “No!”

The Attaché clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes; “Why not?” He gestured sharply at the divan as he stomped away to retrieve the bottle he’d seen the Minister pour a drink from earlier; “Sit! Touch nothing! Nothing!”

The Minister nodded and tottered toward the divan to sit as he’d been told, folding his hands in his lap as, behind him, the Attaché poured an extremely tall glassful of the scarlet liqueur.

“And, yes, Minister,” the Attaché’s calmer, almost patronizing voice said following the slow trickling sound of liquid being poured, “I am entirely sure that, despite their size, they will do the job perfectly…”

There was the sound of the bottle being returned to the shelf… scarcely discernable footsteps… and then, the glass appeared from over the Minister’s right shoulder. Once he accepted the glass, he felt the Attaché move from behind him, and continue on in that supercilious tone; “…and, despite their size, in the next hour, they will no longer be of any concern to you. They will be far removed from your care and you can luxuriate in…” He sighed, emphasizing his condescension, and made an expansive gesture as he came around the back of the sofa, “…whatever all of this is; content in knowing you’ve done your part for the cause.”

“Of course,” the Minister blinked.

“Of course,” parroted the Attaché, sinking into a chair across from the other man, “Drink. And listen.”

The Minister pulled an overlong draught from the glass and, wincing as he swallowed the mouthful, nodded faintly as the Attaché continued; “In less than thirty kli, the duty shifts of this vessel will change. When that happens, you and I will mix into the crowds that will fill the corridors and find ourselves ‘accidentally misplaced’ on deck four. Once there, we will ‘wander aimlessly’ until the personnel surge has abated, at which time, we should find ourselves all but alone…”

The Minister paused himself in the midst of a second swallow, choked down the partial mouthful and started to question the Attaché’s plan; “But… won’t we…”

“I said,” the Attaché admonished, holding up a finger and fixing him with a no-nonsense stare, “for you to drink and listen; not speak…”

“Of… course,” the Minister nodded tautly, finding himself already mid-sip at the Attaché’s admonition.

If we are challenged,” the ‘junior delegate’ continued, “we simply got turned about in the confusion and, somehow, managed to step off the turbo-lift sooner or later than we had intended, and, not realizing it until we had wandered enough to get lost. Do you understand?”

“Mmm,” the Minister nodded emphatically, unable to voice a response as he had been caught mid-swallow, “mmmhmm.”

“Good,” the Attaché nodded curtly in reply, “should such a thing happen once I am already in the Jeffries Tube, you sent your attaché to find where you should be and are awaiting his return…”

“Of course,” answered the Minister, licking a trickle of blood red liqueur from his lips, “of course. Yes. I understand.”

“See that you do,” the Attaché counseled, “This should take no more than twenty kli… perhaps twenty-five. There is no room for nervousness and fidgeting lest you’d like to see us fail in our enterprise…”

“No. Of course not!”

“Good. Have another. We leave in fifteen kli… No! Leave that be! I’ll take the case… Minister.”



Posted on 2016-09-20 at 11:21:15.

Eol Fefalas
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A midnight visit

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine; Deck 2; Lt Zai’s Quarters – 0016


Tochi was tired; physically and mentally. Tired enough that he should have been asleep the moment his head had hit the pillow. It had been an extremely long and trying day, at least at the start; a long day that had developed into an almost equally lengthy (albeit significantly less stressful) evening… A day that might as well have been two, he thought, yawning as he blinked at the stars beyond the porthole above his bed, We’ll need to remember to never again complain about the lack of activity aboard ship. …His body had been more than willing to let go of the day by the time the reception had ended and, he had thought, so, too, had his mind been. Once he had settled into his bed, though, and the physical stresses had begun to melt away, his mind seemed to catch its second wind.

At first, the thoughts his mind chose to chase around were soothingly pleasant, at least… the unexpectedly pleasant dinner conversation with Asovil, the musical arrangement of Blue on the Bay, Risian sunsets. As peaceful as those thoughts were, though, Tochi found that it took very little for his brain to chase threads of them off into others that were more than a little vexing… the unexpected replacement of the Peregrine’s senior staff, Captain Jacobs’ animosity towards Silas and his elitism toward seemingly everyone else, Eric, the ambassadors…

“The ambassadors,” he murmured into the darkness, his mind choosing to latch on to Threel and D’Lar, just then, “Both more and less than what we had originally estimated them to be, aren’t they?”

Initially, when he had first been introduced to the pair of diplomats on Starbase 118, Tochi got the impression that the orange-skinned Rytain might have been the more politic of the two whereas the wolfish Kuldar would have been less inclined to the more passive resolution that the summit was proposed to fashion between their warring peoples. The more exposure Tochi had to them, though, especially having gotten to observe their interactions at the reception, the more he was starting to believe that the opposite might be true for each of them. Yes, overtly, D’Lar was brusque and belligerent but, during the course of the reception, Tochi had come to see that, despite the perceived brutishness, the Kuldaran seemed genuinely interested in seeing a truly diplomatic peace forged with the Rytain. On the other hand, Ambassador Threel’s behavior had provoked a bit of disquiet in the Trill’s ‘inner- consul.’ The man had professed his peoples devotedness to the Gamera Summit’s goals, more than once and, perhaps, more insistently than Zai was prone to believe given the long-standing troubles between the two societies.

Additionally, while D’Lar had certainly pushed the limits of decorum during the reception, he had done so with no small measure of mirth and self-deprecation, indicating a willingness to be as open and honest as need be to see that accords with the Rytain were reached. Threel, too, had affected an air of enthusiastic cooperation but, Lt Zai couldn’t help but feel that it was just that… an affectation. For the most part, outward appearances showed what he might have initially expected from the Rytain, but there had been numerous instances, tonight, in which some of those superficial appearances belied less than politic leanings… The forced smiles… the hard eyes that failed to soften even with laughter… the way he seemed to take almost every perceived slight personally…

Throwing back the covers, the Peregrine’s XO heaved an exasperated sigh and sat up on the edge of his bed. “Computer; Lights,” he demanded, rubbing at his bleary eyes with the heels of his hands as the room’s lighting waxed brighter. “It doesn’t seem we’ll be sleeping much, anyway,” he grumbled softly, “Kasru appears to be wide awake.”

Had Zai’s previous host been part of the Federation’s delegation to the Gamera Summit and subject to these same circumstances, she might have already gotten herself aboard the Coronado in order to gauge the states of mind of both Threel and D’Lar’s retinues, thereby painting the broader picture with finer strokes…

“Though, we doubt Capt Jacobs would appreciate, let alone approve, our intervention,” Tochi smirked, padding across the floor to the closet, “Kasru’s experience notwithstanding.”

…He dressed quickly, in casual clothing as opposed to a uniform, as his thoughts chased each other, and, affixing his commbadge to his shirt, abandoned the bedroom for the lavatory. He splashed some cold water in his eyes and checked his appearance before leaving the washroom behind, as well, and strode for the door to the corridor. “Computer,” he queried as the door slid away and he stepped into the hallway, “Location of Captain Drake?”

=/\=Captain Drake is in his quarters.=/\=

We hope you’re awake, Silas, Tochi thought, turning to make his way to Drake’s room, and that you won’t think this to be something that could have waited until the morning.

Situated as their quarters were, Tochi’s walk to Silas’ took less than a minute. The Trill used the remainder of that minute to try and put his thoughts into an order that was more succinct than stream of consciousness and, at last, tapped the call key next to the Captain’s door…

((OOC: Assuming some sort of response, annoyed or otherwise…))

“It’s Lt Zai, sir. We’re sorry to bother you, Captain,” Tochi replied to Silas’ acknowledgement over the comm, “but we made some observations at the reception, this evening, that we would like to discuss with you if you have a few minutes.”

((OOC: Tag, O’ Captain, my Captain! ))



Posted on 2016-09-21 at 13:04:50.
Edited on 2016-09-21 at 13:09:04 by Eol Fefalas

Bromern Sal
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Dinner Continued

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:02


Waiting, she decides, for everyone else to arrive is almost as discommodious as arriving in the first place. Taking time to visually investigate the work that Ops has put into these festivities, Asovil finds herself engaged with the curiosities of each cultural spread and only vaguely hears the swish of the hydraulics opening the doors far to her left. The table is set for nine; a little squishy with barely any elbow room in a space usually comfortably sitting eight, but it works.

The science officer is seated at the end of the left side of the table as is appropriate what with her being the lowest ranking officer amongst the department heads and this not being a science vessel. The delegates would be seated to either side of the captain’s chair at the head of the table, Toch’si—Asovil finds her cheeks warming involuntarily at the thought of the XO—position will be to the right of one of the ambassadors on the opposite side of the table from her’s while the 2nd in command (the Andorian woman struggles to remember the name of the Chief Operations Officer as she can’t recall having met him yet) would be across the table on the left of the other ambassador. Then the Chief Tactical Officer would be to Tochi’s right, the Chief Engineering Officer across from him, and the Chief Medical Officer across from where Asovil sits. The end of the table opposite Captain Drake’s chair is to remain empty.

“Good evening, Lt Sh’iraolnas. No bells?”

Asovil feels her shoulders tense up and the butterflies that had settled in her stomach now fly into her chest. Attempting to retain as much composure as possible, the blue-skinned young woman rises quickly from her chair and turns towards the handsome man addressing her. Offering a snappy salute, she barely constrains the smile she wishes to wear to the corners of her mouth and the light in her eyes.

“Lt. Zai,” acknowledges the lower ranking officer. “Unfortunately, the creation of bells to adorn my uniform is not part of my replicator rations. And, I could find nothing in the Starfleet manual about the placement of bells on a dress uniform, so I chose to disregard the adornment in favor of avoiding another reprimand on my record.”

“Not to worry,” Tochi chuckles softly, gesturing at the various wind-chimes overhanging the room. “Operations has seen to all the bells we may need. And, if we may say so, you look perfectly lovely without them…”

“You, sir,” Asovil can no longer keep her smile at bay and it erupts across her face lighting her from within. “Are incorrigible.” Though, you sure do clean up nicely, she finishes to herself.

“In some situations,” he responds, his own smile fueled by the freeing of her’s. “we suppose that’s true.”

“I must admit something, Lt. Zai,” the young woman adds with a worried tone. “This is the first time I’ve been invited to such an event. What is expected of me in my position and how best can I honor the Captain and this ship?”

“A good question,” Tochi says. “Let us begin our answer by saying that you honor our Captain and our ship simply by attending. In our experience, this sort of thing is little more than a formality, intended to make our guests feel welcome, to familiarize them with the command staff, and the staff with them. On the surface of things and, likely in Captain Drake’s intent, we suppose, it’s as simple as that; nothing more than a ‘meet-and-greet,’ as Terrans say, to show hospitality…” The XO pauses here and offers something of a shrug.

“…That said,” Lt Zai smiles vaguely. “and as I’m sure that you, as a scientist, are aware, things are often other than more than what the surface shows.” He gestures to her chair as he pulls out the one next to it and sits, inviting her to do the same. Asovil gracefully sinks into her seat and leans forward intently, delicate hands on her knees.

“Our initial directive in this mission was to function only as an escort for the Coronado,” Tochi explains once Asovil has retaken her seat. “We were to have little to no contact with the ambassadors, at all, and Captain Jacobs and his crew were to be responsible for things such as this. Things veered from that course fairly quickly, though, as, much to Capt Jacobs’ consternation, Ambassadors Threel and D’Lar all but insisted that they be billeted aboard the ‘superior ship,’ as they put it. So, we find ourselves here, immersed much more deeply in the particulars of this mission than we were ever intended to be and, as result, having to, shall we say ‘support the mission’ in ways that we, perhaps, weren’t prepared for.

“To that end, it’s my intent, at least, to use this occasion as an opportunity to try and gauge the ambassadors’ levels of commitment and even interest in the summit to which we are escorting them.” He offers a roguish smile. “Reading the room, if you don’t mind us using yet another Terran euphemism. It’s not our intent to involve ourselves in their politics, of course, but a bit of diplomatic reconnaissance is certainly in order as any information we can glean from tonight’s reception could be of benefit to Captain Jacobs and any other Federation mediators with whom he might share that information.”

The Trill chuckles softly and the science officer allows a small, soft smile to play across her lips as he continues, “Not that we’ve exactly been asked to do so. And, we suppose, we’ve just told you all of that for no other reason than to talk with you some more because, really, we don’t believe we are expected to do much beyond play nice with the VIPs and see to it that they arrive safely at the Gamera system.” He winks, “So, Asovil, simply enjoy the evening and you’ll be doing your part.”

The beautiful Andorian raises her eyebrows, the smile still on her darkening face as the blood rushes to her cheeks. Tochi has again intimated that he enjoys her company as much as she’s been enjoying his, and the thought warms her. “You make it sound so simple, and yet at the same time, so complicated.

“I will do my best to uphold the honor of this ship through my behavior. I’m afraid none of my training really prepares me to play at those political games to which it is obvious you’ve a talent. Perhaps it is from one of your past hosts? If so, I’d thoroughly enjoy listening to the telling of those tales. When appropriate, of course.

“Perhaps,” she continues, dipping her gaze just a bit and picking at some lint on her pant leg. “I will do as you’re planning on doing and observe.” Looking up and meeting his eyes, she broadens her smile. “I will likely learn a great deal just by watching your behavior.”

Sliding doors reveal the two ambassadors standing nearly shoulder to shoulder at the entrance. Just behind are two Ops personnel who Asovil assumes are their official escorts. The gray scaly one provides the universal signal for the orange fellow to proceed before him, but the other isn’t inclined to be even slightly indebted to his counterpart and offers the same gesture in return.

The science officer leans in a little closer to Lt. Zai and whispers, “Who is who?”

(OOC: Assuming a quick share of information…)

Rising, the blue-skinned beauty briefly touches Tochi’s forearm with the tips of her white-nailed fingers. “Thank you,” she states. “For everything.”

Straightening her uniform jacket, Lt. Sh’iroalnas follows the XO over to the door just as the stringy-haired, plain-clothed delegate shrugs and steps into the room.

(OOC: Introductions from Tochi, perhaps? I think that would be protocol…)

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Asovil intones using a pleasant voice. Terrans have a tradition of shaking hands between informal associates, but in this case the Andorian knows she represents Starfleet and on the way over to meet the delegates she searched her memory banks for instruction on how to address these men. Intuition—and the interaction between the two at the door—gives her the idea to address both of them together first in the hopes of avoiding any slight against the one addressed second. She hopes that their responses will eliminate any possible additional error on her part by allowing her some direction on who to speak to individually first.

“Heh, a tall one, aren’t you?” D’Lar chuffs with what passes as a smile. “Science officer, huh? I would advise you to be cautious with your declarations of pleasure, young lady. At least until you’ve had the chance to really engage with us. We are, after all, pure bred politicians.”

Threel clucks his tongue and steps closer to the Andorian. Standing shorter than Asovil, he looks up at her from beneath his brow. “Pay the Honorable D’Lar no mind, Lieutenant. I, for one, am pleased to be here and am intent on being an enjoyable dinner companion.”

“Who’s to say that watching politicians at work isn’t enjoyable?” D’Lar adds and hooks his thumbs into his belt. “I find it very entertaining.”

Asovil smiles tentatively, not sure if the men are bantering playfully, or engaging in a sparring match. In either case, she quickly finds herself in a position where they expect some kind of interaction.

“There is no doubt that this evening will be entertaining no matter the camp you find yourself in, I’m sure.” Glancing at Tochi for moral support, she continues. “And I’m certain you will both be excellent dinner companions.”

“Confidence is certainly high,” D’Lar grins wolfishly. “I can appreciate that. And why not? I’ll not complain should I have a good drink in hand and fresh meat on my plate.”

“And I,” Threel adds, not to be outdone. “Will enjoy what I anticipate to be smart conversation from officers of such a fine ship.”

The gray-skinned delegate laughs loudly at this and looks past Asovil and Tochi to the table. “Are the drinks served, then? I could empty an entire barrel of Kuldarian Forsh.”

Uncertain as to whether D’Lar has insulted them by laughing at Threel’s comment, Asovil follows Tochi’s lead, greeting those who enter and politely introducing herself to those she has not yet had the opportunity to meet. Her best behavior is very well behaved, indeed, and when dinner is served, the young scientist finds herself looking forward to the reprieve from polite talk that the consumption will provide.


Posted on 2016-09-21 at 15:09:14.

HaemisMcTavish
Occasional Visitor
Karma: 2/0
27 Posts


A little late... but present.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Jefferies Tube, 18:45

Haemis laid back sprawled out in the jefferies tube, his feet up on an ODN junction box. He could feel the gentle vibrations running through the plating under his back. It always felt great. Reminded him that there was a place in this world that was somewhat tranquil. Reminded him that the ship was alive and purring like a Kitten. It was reassurance that at the moment he needed. The day had been long and certainly not without it's oddities. This was what he needed. He shifted his body and managed to knock over the couple of PADD's he had brought along to read. He had given up on those a bit ago and now just laid there relaxing to the rhythmic thrum of the ships pulse.

"The time is eighteen hundred forty five hours." his comm badge called to him.

Haemis let out a sigh as he sat up and collected the PADD's he had brought with him. He didn't really like diplomatic ventures but the ships current mission meant he was not likely to avoid such things. "Did anyone truly like diplomatic functions?" he thought to himself. The only thing that really made it worth while to him in the past had been the food. But not always. His mind immediately drew back to a diplomatic function he had attended just prior to his assignment on the Coronado, those people ate primarily molds and fungi. It was not his best memory of a diplomatic function to say the least.

He pulled himself up right in the Storage area off main engineering, and pulled his cloths tight before stepping out into Main Engineering. He nodded to the duty officer and exited heading back towards his quarters. One thing he would come to appreciate he knew already was the size of the ship.

He passed another familiar face from the engineering crew as he moved down the corridor and nodded as he passed. He would eventually get everyone's name down. Normally he would have a few weeks to get that or even a few years of working with people before being promoted. Not just being thrown into a position like this. He would most assuredly make the best of a bad situation.

Stepping through the doors to his quarters, Haemis began stripping off his casual ware cloths tossing them on is bed, and pulled a dress uniform out of his closet. He really hated this thing, he felt it looked wrong. Especially for his size. He begrudgingly pulled it on, slipped on his shiny boots and ran a comb through his hair. Nodded to himself in the mirror in approval and departed his quarters all the same.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Jefferies Tube, 19:11

Haemis stopped at the door to the Captains Mess, glancing up and down the corridor. Part of him was hoping that the ship would go to red alert, or something in engineering would fail but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Not really having been briefed on this, he waded in pushing through the doors as they opened. He pulled his dress uniform tight stopping to survey the small room noting the setup.

Taking a moment he picked up a glass of something from one of the tables that was set up and walked over to the table looking down at the chair that he was assigned. He stared long and hard at the chair. He wasn't sure if it would be bad form for him to sit or wait. He decided that sitting wouldn't hurt for the moment so he settled down in the chair and took in things listening to the conversations going on around him. His mind wasn't really here it was still back at the Starbase all of the sudden. Something about that whole situation still preoccupied his mind.



((I made a post a few days ago but apparently it never successfully posted. This one's a bit better anyhow.))



Posted on 2016-09-21 at 18:25:05.

Bromern Sal
A Shadow
RDI Staff
Karma: 124/10
3092 Posts


Engage in character play! Make it so, number one.

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:11


Sipping with gentile etiquette from a glass containing a Rytainian berry wine, Asovil remains mostly a quiet observer of the interactions between the dignitaries and the other officers who have arrived and engaged in polite conversation. Deciding to follow Tochi’s sound advice, the young Andorian woman uses scientifically analytical skills to assess the disposition and behaviors presented. Two Cycles of Sociology and another of Anthropology had been required for her education at the Andorian School of Science and Arts. Applying the principles she learned from those classes to her study, the willowy woman finds herself feeling more at ease.

From this observation standpoint, she has watched the arrivals of each of the officers she is to serve with, made their acquaintance as they joined the group Tochi has initiated, and been able to come to minor conclusions about their person by the way they are interacting. This is the position she finds herself when into the room strides a large man with neatly combed hair wearing the gold of either Ops, Security, or Engineering. He pauses at the entrance, making a quick decision, and takes determined steps to the chair Tochi had been sitting in minutes before while talking with Asovil before the delegates arrival.

Odd that he has chosen to sit instead of introduce himself, the Andorian notes. Azure eyes glance at Tochi, but the Trill is laughing at something she has missed and doesn’t seem to be aware of the new officer’s arrival.

One of the Ops personnel acting in a server capacity approaches the large man and bends just enough to better be heard while asking, “Would you like a drink, sir?”

(OOC: McTavish’s response…)

Lt. Sh’iraolnas runs through the list of officers aboard the Peregrine and their ranks to determine who he is. Seated next to her at the table, that would make him a department head of a lower rank and the uniform colors… she squints just a little as she looks to his Starfleet insignia and the symbol within. Ah, Engineering! she immediately recognizes. That would make him Lieutenant McTavish, as new to the ship as I am.
Feeling an immediate empathy for his reticence to join them, the beautiful scientist wonders if she should excuse herself from the conversation and invite him to over. Surely, he’ll feel as out of place as she, and were it not for Lt. Zai’s friendliness she would likely be seated at the table in awkward loneliness as well.

“Is that security that has just arrived, Lieutenant Zai?” D’Lar shifts his weight to his right foot and looks past the Starfleet personnel to where McTavish is now alone while the Ops server moves off to fulfill his order. “Are you expecting trouble?”

(OOC: Tochi’s reply)

“Engineering?” the Kuldarian expresses his amazement by blowing air through loose lips. “It would seem that he is the entire Engineering department!”

“His size is impressive,” the Honorable Threel of Rytain notes thoughtfully. “Would he not be better suited a combat position?”

Asovil returns her attention to the conversation and considers the implications behind their observations. On one hand, they are both from a culture that is (from what she’s been able to gather) perpetually at war. It stands to reason that their thoughts would immediately turn to the combat readiness and fortitude of an individual, but throughout her training at the Imperial Academy she was always taught that the front lines were nothing without their support staff. So, in her opinion, engineering was a vital aspect of any military organization and they should surely recognize that value.

(OOC: Tochi’s reply)

“Interesting,” D’Lar mutters while still looking towards the Chief Engineer. Quite suddenly calling out, he attempts to get McTavish’s attention. “Lieutenant McTavish! Please join us, I would enjoy learning more about this vessel we are guests upon.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Asovil absent-mindedly brushes her hair over her right ear and awaits the officer’s response.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 3 - Chief Petty Officer Quarters – 18:11


Lauren sits at the small nook that contains her desk, a PADD before her, the personal computer screen on the desk showing a series of on-going reports concerning her various projects. The brunette slowly spins the PADD about with one finger, absently and unconcernedly using the corner as an axis. Her mind is replaying the events of the day over and over again without mercy and her disposition is dark.

In an act of defiance upon arriving in the quarters she shares with Chief Petty Officer Dana Cook, Lauren tore the badge from her uniform’s chest and tossed it to the ground before stripping out of her blues and changing into a pair of lightweight dark gray loose-fitting pants that she is forced to roll at the waist in order to keep from falling down, and a dark purple, slightly oversized v-neck short sleeved shirt. One bare foot is now tucked under her, the other barely skimming the rough gray carpet with white and yellow speckles.

He had the Captain’s approval, she argues fruitlessly once again. I couldn’t have gone to the Captain. Should I have gone to Lt. Zai? But he’s always on the Captain’s side. Thoughts such as these keep her gaze unfocused a slight frown on her mousy face. She wants to cry but the tears have dried up since her meeting with the new science officer. Who is she to come in and just assume Horatio is a bad guy! The irony that it had been her, Lauren Crane, who had turned Horatio Tesenblen in to Starbase 118’s security does not escape her as the defensive thought flitters across her mind. Imagery of Horatio sitting alone in a cell separated from the world by a force field, his career—his work—on the line because of her causes her to sob suddenly and squeeze her brown eyes shut as though it will dispel the vision.

A chime sounds overhead indicating someone is at the door. Lauren’s right hand clenches and she whispers, “Go away.” The alert sounds again, and once more the science chief utters her command, “Go away.” She knows that the command is quiet enough that the computer won’t transmit it, but she doesn’t want to face anyone at the moment. She hates herself too much to see the disgust from a fellow shipmate. That would undo her, she’s confident of that. The visitor is persistent and the chime rings yet another time.

Frustratedly spinning about in her chair to face the door only a few meters away, she practically yells, “Who is it?”

“Crewman Smith, Chief,” is the response through the intercom system. “With Security—” Lauren’s heart skips a beat and she freezes. “—I’ve brought you dinner, by order of Lt. Sh’iraolnas, Chief.”

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Lauren takes a halting deep breath and closes her eyes to calm her nerves. For a moment, she had thought that they were to take her away for a court martial. That stiff and insensitive Andorian officer had made it known that under the best of conditions her behavior had been deserving of discipline. Chief Crane can still see those sapphire eyes looking across at her from the other side of the desk hungry for Lauren’s dismissal.

Swallowing the venom she feels, Lauren slips from the chair and hikes her pants back up a bit from where they’d slipped on her slim hips. Walking to the door, she pauses before pressing the button that opens the portal. Standing before her is a security crewman she’s seen about the ship before, but never really spoken to. Thin in the face, blonde hair combed from the left to the right and trimmed neatly in a fade about his ears, the man is in his mid-thirties but bears young features. His athletic build and slim waistline fit well with his height and broad shoulders, and in his large hands he holds a tray with a covered plate and a metal lidded cup. Utensils are wrapped in a white napkin to the right of the square-shaped, off-white plate.

“It’s nothing special,” he says as he hands her the tray. “But the Lieutenant wants you to have your meals, so someone will be back with your morning meal at oh-six-hundred, Chief.”

She nods sullenly and accepts the offering. “Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

He nods and turns to his left with a smartly executed spin on his heel. The door closes as he walks away, returning to whatever duties he has been assigned outside of food delivery. Scents of roasted chicken, potatoes, and green beans waft to her nostrils resulting in her stomach complaining of its mistreatment.

Trodding back to her desk, Chief Crane sets the tray down and lifts the metal lid allowing the built-up steam to rapidly escape. Her nose has not lied. A single chicken breast sits atop a small mound of leafy spinach next to a mound of garlic mashed potatoes and a pile of steamed green beans. Removing the lid to the cup, Lauren takes note of the water with a frown before setting the lid aside and removing her silverware from the napkin. There’s no doubt that she’s hungry, but her appetite is reserved solely for self-loathing. She picks at the food with her fork, sampling a bit of it, but really leaving most of the morsels untouched. What she consumes is just enough to settle the grumbling in her tummy, nothing more.

Replacing the lids, Lauren pushes the tray to the far side of her desk and stares for a moment at the blank computer screen. She’s certain that big changes are forthcoming but doesn’t know how to prepare for them. Captain Drake is a man of principles—a good man, but a strict leader. Lt. Sh’iraolnas is new and doesn’t understand the Captain. Not that I do, she adds bitterly. That Silas Drake wouldn’t have seen the potential dangers associated with having Wolfsbane on board at the same time as combatting delegates from warring cultures absolutely baffles the scientist. The force fields Horatio had in place would not have been enough to keep one agent from getting at the poisonous plant if they’d so wanted, and there weren’t security personnel posted. The Andorian had flat out accused Lauren of insubordination, but Chief Crane still feels that she had no other choice.

“Computer,” she snaps at the defenseless artificial intelligence. “Explain Starfleet’s Chain of Command regulation.”

=/\= The Chain of Command serves everyone. There are situations, such as emergencies or when the next senior is not available, when bypassing the chain is unavoidable. However, intentionally bypassing the chain may cause several detrimental results.

Division Officer’s Duties: The division officer reports to the department head on assigned duties. The objective as a senior or master chief assigned as a division officer is to help fulfill the mission of the command. To fulfill that objective, you must use your leadership and management skills to ensure the goals of your department and your division are met.

Policies are conceived by the senior leadership as a statement of what action is to be taken under a predetermined set of circumstances. Policies govern the affairs of Starfleet. Policies state requirements that are not open to interpretation. You can translate policies to your division and assure compliance with set policies by doing the following:

Knowing which policies are in effect and enforcing them.
Setting an example.
Explaining policies to your division in simpler terms at division training sessions or at quarters.

The division officer is accountable for managing the affairs of your division to successfully accomplish the mission of your division. You are responsible for all activities of your division, like training and maintenance. You are also responsible for managing the many types of correspondence, reports, and records required about your division’s performance and achievements— =/\=

“This isn’t telling me what I need to know.” Frustrated, Lauren stands and folds her left arm under her breasts, rests her right elbow on her left forearm, and tugs at her bottom lip while considering how better to phrase her query. “Computer, under which circumstances can the chain of command be circumvented?”

=/\= Article 138 complaints can be used in a variety of situations. Perhaps you are being forced to to violate your physical profile, or your chain of command is turning a blind eye to harassment against you by your peers or NCOs. Maybe you've been refused the opportunity to see a doctor or mental health counselor, or you've filed an application for a hardship discharge that hasn't been forwarded to the appropriate authority. Article 138 complaints are appropriate whenever you feel your rights are being violated by someone in your chain of command. Because your CO is responsible for you and your well-being, you can approach him or her for assistance even when the problem lies with your NCOs.

The process for filing an Article 138 complaint is— =/\=

“Computer,” Lauren interrupts, hope fluttering to life in the hollow of her chest. “In the case of a ship’s captain being subject to question, would Article 138 work to absolve an NCO from potential insubordination or circumventing the chain of command charges?”

=/\= Such actions could be subject to in-depth investigation by a Starfleet Personnel Rights Committee should the NCO be found guilty of stated charges and seek to retain the services of a SPR Advocate. However, under the Personal Authority of a Captain regulation, the starship captain maintains full authority aboard the vessel and there are only a handful of case files in which the captain’s decisions have been overruled by the SPR committee. =/\=

“In those situations,” Lauren’s face screwed up with concern. “What were the results for the charged?”

=/\= Three such cases resulted in the charged personnel being transferred to a different post. Two cases resulted in the charged personnel receiving an Other Than Honorable discharge from Starfleet. Four additional cases resulted in the charged personnel receiving a demotion— =/\=

“So, nothing good.” Pacing, Chief Crane continues to pull at her bottom lip. “Computer, is it possible to invoke an SPR Advocate’s services while the ship is underway?”

=/\= Affirmative. Such proceedings would take place with the advocate being represented by a hologram. =/\=

Burning a path in the small quarter’s carpet, Lauren Crane continues her pacing as she grills the computer for more and more information that might help her not only endure this situation, but perhaps even come out basically unscathed. Her scientific mind is put to use gathering the data and looking for patterns or components that will add to her armor. She has no delusions as to her success percentage should she attempt to go directly against the Captain, but the information she is gathering does provide her with hope. The SPR has always been in the wings, never something she thought she would ever have to call on. She’s only ever heard of one situation years ago where a crewman felt it necessary to call upon the SPR and she never did hear what became of that. The ship’s computer is very forthcoming, revealing that she is due representation in her defense from a senior officer—likely even the XO—which both concerns her and provides her with some hope. Lt. Zai is rumored to be quite the diplomat, and he has always been friendly towards her. Still, he is the Captain’s right hand man…

Thoughts of these sort carry her through the evening, and it is with her PADD in hand taking notes on her findings that Chief Cook finds her upon retiring to their quarters.


Posted on 2016-09-22 at 13:12:04.

Eol Fefalas
Witless Protection
RDI Staff
Karma: 427/28
6551 Posts


Receptive receiving... would you like a receipt?

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine; Deck 2 - Captain’s Mess – 19:02
“…It’s not our intent to involve ourselves in their politics, of course, but a bit of diplomatic reconnaissance is certainly in order as any information we can glean from tonight’s reception could be of benefit to Captain Jacobs and any other Federation mediators with whom he might share that information.”

The Trill chuckles softly and the science officer allows a small, soft smile to play across her lips as he continues, “Not that we’ve exactly been asked to do so. And, we suppose, we’ve just told you all of that for no other reason than to talk with you some more because, really, we don’t believe we are expected to do much beyond play nice with the VIPs and see to it that they arrive safely at the Gamera system.” He winks, “So, Asovil, simply enjoy the evening and you’ll be doing your part.”

The beautiful Andorian raises her eyebrows, the smile still on her darkening face as the blood rushes to her cheeks. “You make it sound so simple, and yet at the same time, so complicated.”

“Such is politics,” he grins, offering a shrug, “a complicated means to solving simple problems.”

“I will do my best to uphold the honor of this ship through my behavior. I’m afraid none of my training really prepares me to play at those political games to which it is obvious you’ve a talent. Perhaps it is from one of your past hosts? If so, I’d thoroughly enjoy listening to the telling of those tales. When appropriate, of course.”

His smile only growing as she continues to speak, Tochi nods, a playful spark flashing in his eyes; “Of course.”

“Perhaps,” she continues, dipping her gaze just a bit and picking at some lint on her pant leg. “I will do as you’re planning on doing and observe.” Looking up and meeting his eyes, she broadens her smile. “I will likely learn a great deal just by watching your behavior.”

He nods again, his smile mirroring hers. “Observing is what we do in Starfleet,” he says, his point proven by just how long he’s allowed himself to swim in the sapphire of her eyes. His smile takes on an impish quality, then. “Be warned, though, Asovil,” he grins, his voice dropping to a mock-conspiratorial tone, “watching me too closely might result in more trouble for you than it’s worth.”

Sliding doors reveal the two ambassadors standing nearly shoulder to shoulder at the entrance. Just behind are two Ops personnel who Asovil assumes are their official escorts. The gray scaly one provides the universal signal for the orange fellow to proceed before him, but the other isn’t inclined to be even slightly indebted to his counterpart and offers the same gesture in return.

The science officer leans in a little closer to Lt. Zai and whispers, “Who is who?”

“The elegantly dressed fellow with the orange skin is Ambassador Threel of the Rytain,” Tochi whispers in reply just before he starts to get to his feet, “The other is Ambassador D’Lar of Kuldar.

Rising, the blue-skinned beauty briefly touches Tochi’s forearm with the tips of her white-nailed fingers. “Thank you,” she states. “For everything.”

Even as he tries to ignore the tingling that the brief contact brought to his skin, Tochi’s own hand rises to rest atop hers for an instant. “You’re very welcome,” he smiles before letting his hand fall away, “It’s been my pleasure.” He straightens his tunic, then, and puts on his best XO-face as he turns to greet the two diplomats.

Straightening her uniform jacket, Lt. Sh’iroalnas follows the XO over to the door just as the stringy-haired, plain-clothed delegate shrugs and steps into the room.

“Ambassadors,” Lt Zai smiles in welcome as he moves to intercept the pair, “Good evening and welcome.” He stops his advance at a respectful distance and, in lieu of offering a hand to either, offers the diplomats a short bow.

“Salutations, Lt Zai,” Threel replies, offering a shorter bow in return. His eyes look past the Trill to survey the, as yet, relatively empty room; “Will the Captain not be joining us?”

“Captain Drake is on his way, Ambassador Threel,” Tochi replies smoothly… Riva is probably wrestling him out of his Ready Room at this very moment… “It’s been quite a busy day aboard ship and our Captain, unfortunately, has found himself mired in the tedium of administration as a result. We expect him at any moment.

In the meantime,” he continues, making a respectful gesture to indicate the lovely Andorian flanking him, “Allow me to introduce Lt Asovil Sh’iraolnas; the Peregrine’s Chief Science Officer. Lt Sh’iraolnas, this is Ambassador Threel and Ambassador D’Lar,” he indicates each in turn with the same respectful gesture.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Asovil intones using a pleasant voice.

As Asovil greets the diplomats, Tochi answers a questioning glance from one of the ambassadors’ escorts with a faint nod and the two gold-shirts disappear back into the corridor. He turns back, then, and watched Asovil interact with the diplomats…

“Heh, a tall one, aren’t you?” D’Lar chuffs with what passes as a smile. “Science officer, huh? I would advise you to be cautious with your declarations of pleasure, young lady. At least until you’ve had the chance to really engage with us. We are, after all, pure bred politicians.”

Threel clucks his tongue and steps closer to the Andorian. Standing shorter than Asovil, he looks up at her from beneath his brow. “Pay the Honorable D’Lar no mind, Lieutenant. I, for one, am pleased to be here and am intent on being an enjoyable dinner companion.”

“Who’s to say that watching politicians at work isn’t enjoyable?” D’Lar adds and hooks his thumbs into his belt. “I find it very entertaining.”

Tochi grins in the wake of Asovil’s tentative smile, just then. For all her professions of not being quite prepared to deal with the likes of Threel and D’Lar, she appears to be holding her own quite well.


“There is no doubt that this evening will be entertaining no matter the camp you find yourself in, I’m sure,” Asovil says tactfully. Her eye flit briefly to Tochi and he offers her an encouraging nod along with a reassuring smile as she continues. “And I’m certain you will both be excellent dinner companions.”

“Confidence is certainly high,” D’Lar grins wolfishly. “I can appreciate that. And why not? I’ll not complain should I have a good drink in hand and fresh meat on my plate.”

“And I,” Threel adds, not to be outdone. “Will enjoy what I anticipate to be smart conversation from officers of such a fine ship.”

The gray-skinned delegate laughs loudly at this and looks past Asovil and Tochi to the table. “Are the drinks served, then? I could empty an entire barrel of Kuldarian Forsh.”

“Indeed they are, Ambassador D’Lar,” Lt Zai says, turning in the direction the Kuldaran’s eyes had travelled. He gesures to the table bedecked in Federation Blue tones; “Please, help yourselves, and, if you don’t find something to your liking,” he indicates the Ops crewmen manning the other two stations, then, “Mr Pierce or Mr Suder will happily assist you.”

D’Lar issues a pleased grunt and a curt nod then trudges for the drink table. Similarly, Threel offers a brief bow, a faint smile, and a “Thank you, Lieutenants,” before following suit with his counterpart.

As the Ambassadors move to select their drinks, Tochi draws up beside Asovil, and resting a hand on her should for an instant, and whispers, “Well done.” He gestures toward the drink table again and smiles; “Might we buy you a drink, Lt Sh’iraolnas?”


((OOC: And that catches me up with one part... another post in the works to address the "character-play" entry. ))


Posted on 2016-09-22 at 14:54:51.

   


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