Familiar Face

Posted on 12 Apr 2016 @ 6:44pm by Ensign Calin & Ensign Miraj Derani

1,972 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 11 - Divinum Mundi
Location: USS Galileo, Miraj's Quarters
Timeline: MD02

[ON]

The Galileo was underway. With no active investigations to look into, Ensign Calin browsed deck four armed with a tricorder which he meticulously used to scan for any anomalous readings. As the United Federation of Planets was not at war with any of its neighbors, and Starfleet was not aware of an credible threat to its fleet, starbases, or personnel, he had not elected to bring a phaser. Calin would have likely received an awkward glance or two had he done so.

Moving along a descending patrol which started from deck two and had brought him to deck four, Calin studied his readings of the corridors. Teasing atoms, energy signatures, and chemical compounds from its display, he had yet to identify anything peculiar. At least, not until he stood outside a set of quarters.

His tricorder responded with faint indications of sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate. With a raised eyebrow, the Vulcan double checked his readings and verified that they were emanating from the Lieutenant’s quarters. Once the implications of doubt were erased from his mind, he closed his tricorder and tucked it into his belt, then pressed the chime.

----

"'Sabatini! Turn us four points to starboard, get us the weather!' Bloodbeard screamed. A cannon ball, a typical Royal Navy twenty-four pounder whistled past his nose, and slammed through the stern rail, spraying splinters over the topsmen fighting to bring down the ruined spanker. Two died screaming, the other four carried on, stoic and steady in the face of fire and death "Master Clough, get those yards about, get us some damned wind. Roger, stop lollygagging and get those charges shared out or you'll be entertaining Commodore Hawke's tars before the sun is past noon!"

Another fusillade came from the ship hidden deep in the fog, chomping huge chunks from the rails and turning the top mizzen mast to so much matchwood. 'Avast!' a voice screamed, and a moment later the huge spike of oak tumbled down to the deck, pulling down canvas and rope and men without mercy. They needed to get away, out of range of those vicious guns. 'Run out the sweeps!' Bloodbeard barked, 'Then silence every last mangy dog o'you. Not so much as a-'"

Miraj looked up from where she had been reading Bloodbeard's Revenge to Galileo. "I'll be right back," she told the ship, and levered herself out of the crawlspace she had got into and back into her room, and opened the door.

Calin had already been standing straight, prepared to meet the occupant of these quarters with dignity and respect. When he recognized Miraj Derani standing on the other end of that doorway, her ridges and pink hair difficult to ignore, the presence of black powder made all the more sense. His eyebrow rose by two millimeters.

"Had anybody else answered this door, I might have inquired as to the presence of black powder," he began. "Considering my knowledge of your... interests... I should not be surprised that you would attempt to transport rudimentary chemical explosives on board a Starfleet vessel, Ensign Derani."

"Calin!" She jumped on the otherwise impassive Vulcan, squeezing him in an enthusiastic hug. "Oh wow. I never thought you'd be here! Did you chose it? Or were you assigned? Have you been here long?"

Calin heaved an audible sigh while the Human/Boslic hybrid wrapped herself around him, although the expression of his face was far from annoyed as far as Vulcan moods were concerned. "Miraj..." he allowed the individual syllables of her name to stretch longer than they needed to.

Chastened, she let him go, getting a little pink around the cheeks. "Sorry. Sorry. I know. I didn't mean to, with the hug and all. But I honestly didn't think I'd see you again." She stood back and indicated he should come in.

"It is alright," Calin said, his face softened. Several memories of their experiences together at the academy briefly came to mind, particularly after he transferred from piloting to security. "It is agreeable to see you again as well." The matter of the black powder fell to the back of his mind. He'd address it eventually, but social protocol seemed to require a distraction. "I expect you have been well?"

"Plomeek tea?" She offered as he took a seat on her couch. "or Rigellian Hot Chocolate."

"The latter, please." Calin replied. He started to look around, finding various décor and artifacts from what he could only presume was early earth history. He noticed the open panel at the wall. "You still prefer to read in the Jefferies tubes?"

Miraj ordered from the replicator, getting one for herself and sat don on the other end of the couch, legs curled up and angled towards him, then glanced guiltily at the open access panel. "Well, you know. Its more... shiplike in there. More to feel." She gave him an impish smile. They'd had this discussion many times. Baiting him with her beliefs about flying had been something of a spectator sport. At least it had been.

Calin pursed his lips in a loose approximation of a veiled grin. Or at least as close to one as he was willing to display. Some would suggest it were merely a trick of the light. "Indeed."

"Is that all I get?" she gave a tiny pout. "Not going to explain how illogical it is to anthropomorphosize inanimate objects?"

"You would prefer I elaborate?" He asked, pausing to take a sip of the mug of Rigellian Hot Chocolate. The temperature was near-optimal and the flavor quite satisfying. "I have come to to the stark and perhaps even unfortunate conclusion that some creatures are beyond hope in acquiring a logic-driven existence."

If they hadn't known each other, that might have been considered a slight.

"However, I am pleased to hear that you have expanded your vocabulary, Miraj." Calin added as he set the mug down on the small coffee table before them. "You are the Galileo's Chief Flight Officer, correct?"

Her jaw dropped in mock shock at his words and she gave him a very theatrical look of outrage, "You wound me!" She took a sip of her own chocolate, then nodded her answer to his question. "As of [however long ago it will be, when we set the date], I am in charge of flying this ship," she made a face like she'd been caught with her fingers in a cookie jar. "Can you believe it? I'm in charge. Of something. Including actual people. Who's bright idea was that?"

It was becoming clearer that despite the fact that they were now both ensigns that very little had changed between them. With that realization, something arose within Calin's gut that felt satisfying. "I do not believe Starfleet would have appointed you as Galileo's Chief Navigational Officer without careful consideration of your potential as well as your qualifications. Once committed, you are difficult to deter from your motivations."

"Hold the course; never surrender," she agreed and smiled at him. After the last week or so holding her breath and watching what she said so she didn't come over too weird with the otherwise normal people, it was so nice to be able to relax with someone who knew her. "What about you? Did you ask for Galileo, or was it luck of the draw?"

Calin gave Miraj a playfully skeptical look. "Miraj, you are well aware that Vulcans do not accept that there is such a thing as luck. Such a concept is merely probability." He took a last sip of his mug, finishing it. "That being said, I did not choose this assignment. It is, however, fortunate to be assigned to the Galileo. While on board, I will be serving as the Galileo's Special Investigations Officer."

"Luck," Miraj insisted. "luck, luck, luck. And if you say anything that sounds even vaguely like 'outmoded supersition' I warn you that the probability of me kicking your green-blooded arse becomes one."

Raising an eyebrow in Miraj's direction, Calin might have looked as if he were about to chuckle. At the academy, Miraj had demonstrated a severe lack of proclivity as far as basic hand-to-hand defense was concerned. It was how they met, since Miraj had asked Calin to instruct her in the art of Ponn-Ifla -- a form of Vulcan martial arts. While she managed to pass Starfleet's compulsory defense training in no small part due to his contributions, Calin had never considered her a worthy opponent.

His guise made a rather convincing interpretation that he didn't quite believe in her threat.

"What?" she asked the raised eyebrow. "I totally could. Given thirty or forty years of practise and some extensive gene therapy. Your boss is actually making me work out. Twice a week, I get to be beaten senseless by a training dummy. "

"Your ambition continues to impress me, Miraj." Calin replied. He recalled the original reason his attention had been brought to these quarters. "I am afraid that I will need to confiscate any explosive compounds you possess in these quarters," he said. "My tricorder detected dangerous levels."

"Explosive? I don't have any explosives." her brow arches squeezed together in confusion.

"I believe the component is what you would call black powder." Calin clarified, gesturing towards one of her ancient long rifles.

"Oh, those!" She slapped her forhead. "They're loaded. oops"

[tag]


"I loaded them to see how much they weighed, and forgot." she looked sheepish, then scrambled up to unhook one of the flintlocks and passed it to him hilt first. "The worm's underneath, you can just hook the wadding straight out." She took down the second and returned to the sofa.

Calin took the primitive weapon, studied it for a moment as though he were trying to understand the mechanisms, and then carefully extracted the part. The fact of the matter was that, while antiquated, he was less familiar with its operations than even a 22nd century phaser or disrupter. He held the charge in his hand. "Curious technology." Then, Calin looked back up to Miraj. "Is that everything?"

Miraj had dug the wadding out of her own, and tipped the ball out into her palm, before scraping out the black powder onto her coffee table. "No, just these two." A thought occured. "No, wait!" she dashed itno her bed room, and there was the unmistakeable sound of rummaging. She remerged with a flat, tortishell container, about 30 centimeters long, wide at one end, and tapering to a stoppered tip. "Powder horn." She held it out to him. "Supposedly it was Henry Morgan's, so I'd like it back."

The collection of items in Calin's possession were beginning to add up. Looking over the tortoise shell which had been turned over to his hand, he made a mental note to run his hands over a sanitize sweep once he got to security. Calin looked up, his face almost mimicking bemusement. "I shall endeavor to return it to you in the same condition." He considered asking once again if there was anything else, then decided not to. Much more and he wouldn't have enough hands to carry everything out of her quarters.

"Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?" He then asked.

"Sure." she twisted a strand of her pink hair around a finger, "But non of those shell fish thingies, they give me gas."

Calin nodded. "Very well." He said, deciding that there was little reason for him to clarify that he, like most Vulcans, was a vegetarian. "I will see you then. Have a good day, Miraj."

She saw him to the door, "Fair ye well, ye scallywag,"

[OFF]

Ensign Miraj Derani
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Galileo

Ensign Calin
Security Investigation Officer
USS Galileo

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