Fly Me To the Moon

Posted on 05 Jul 2017 @ 6:19pm by Lieutenant JG Cameron & Ensign Miraj Derani

2,099 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Kralla's Song, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: Md 02 2000

Kralla’s Song, San Francisco

The young andorian stepped up to the microphone, her antennae twitching nervously even though she’d introduced her little gang of musical misfits several times over the past two and a half years. Taking a deep breath, Cora studied the audience; Kralla’s Song, a dingy bar and tavern on the corner of San Francisco Bay had attracted a reasonable crowd for what would undoubtedly be her band’s final performance now that one of its members had purchased assignment elsewhere.

She thumbed at the selector on the classically designed microphone, heaved another small audible breath, and tried to smile. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Cora, and we are the ‘Green-blooded-blue-skinned-spotted-toes-and-ridged-nose band’ – a mouthful, I know… but then so are we.” She introduced to a small chorus of laughter and polite clapping. That helped to ease Cora’s anxieties a bit. At least the crowd was willing to entertain them. She gestured towards her side. “To my left on drums, I have the very talented Rios of Trill, the exceptional Cameron on trumpet, and to my right,” she lowered one arm, extending the other to her opposite side. “-Ashildr of Bajor, who will be playing Sax tonight. As I said, my name is Cora, and I’ll be your singer. Now, unfortunately, as fun as it has been, this will be our last vaunt as a group as Mr. Cameron is about to leave us on another assignment, but we’ll be sure to make our last time the best. So sit back, relax, and enjoy a pick-me-up.”

Cora pulled the microphone from the stand and stepped back to rejoin the rest of the group.

“Our first number will be an old earth favorite,” Cora resumed. “Fly me to the Moon, by a funny little terran by the name of Frank Sinatra.”

As if on cue, Cameron and the rest of the band prepared their instruments. Cora counted softly, “one, two, one, two, three…”

And the music began.

Aren sat at a small table in the front row. Or at least it looked like that, the table was just off to the side, and only big enough for one, And she had occupied it, only in his imagination. She was watching, rapt, her huge dark eyes wider than ever, body swaying in time with the tune, before fully dancing in her seat when the trumpets came in. She gave Cam a thumbs up as Cora sang.

Miraj had found even a day confined to the hospital enough to give her cabin fever. She had a condition, but she wasn't an invalid. She'd begged a leave of absence from the consultant, who gave her a curfew, and let her go. She wanted to try out some of Marisa's suggestions for finding other outlets. So she'd dressed up in a version of her favourite lime green suspender hotpants, with the purple and white tights and black bandau top, and ventured out into the wilds of San Francisco.

She avoided all the hangouts she had been to last year where all the pilots, helm cadets, and space jockeys hung out. She couldn't face the pain of thinking she might never qualify as one of those again. Instead she found herself in the Castro, roaming amongst the bars and bistros there, until she passed one where ancient earth music could be heard. She liked live music, not that she could play anything that needed more talent than a stereo on-swtich. Liking the sounds of the mellow music, she ventured inside.

There the maitre'd found her the only single table they had, tucked between the stage and the archway to the powder room.

Aren was pushed out her seat rudely by the new comer, and she looked to Cam with indignant protest. She pointed at the invader, with her silly pink bunches and moutherd, "Do something!" at the half-vulcan.

At that point, the music struck a crescendo with the song of brass instruments permeating every inch of the bar as Cora sang the last rendition. Cameron pursed his lips tightly, ensuring that he was able to hold the elevation and tone necessary. They had played this particular song perhaps a dozen or so times since creating the band, and it was with no satisfaction that Cameron considered the likelihood that he'd never hear Cora's voice, Ashildr's sax, Rios on drums together ever again.

"Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, darling, kiss me
Fill my life with song
Let me sing for ever more
All I worship and adore
You are all I long for
In other words, please be true
In other words, in other words
In other words, in other words
In other words
I love you,

The music cut out. The quartet of musicians looked each either for a proud moment -- or at least in Cameron's case, a satisfactory one -- before agreeing to set their instruments down for a rest, and a chance to mingle. Cameron expelled what saliva had built up in his trumpet into a cup, then set it on the floor before moving towards the table Miraj... and coincidentally enough, Aren, sat at. He was met by a waitress who brought him a glass of what looked like bourbon.

"Good evening. May I join you?" Cameron asked Miraj with a near-miss of Vulcan stoicism while Aren stood quite exasperatedly.

Miraj looked at the man in front of her over the top of her large cocktail filled with umbrellas and fruit on a stick and a long dead sparkler. "Uh, sure." She looked around. "Not sure how though. No chairs." She gave him an apologetic look, as if it was her fault.

Cameron peaked over the table and realized that she was right. A brow rose across his forehead in what was about as close to an emotional response as most Vulcans got. "Ah, that would seem to make my request difficult to honor." He looked over, attracted by sudden motion as a couple stood from their table to leave, and quickly snatched the two chairs left empty, placing one across from Miraj before sitting. With a quiet glance, he gestured for Aren that a new seat was available.

"Problem solved."

Her brow ridges, more prominent than most humans, drew together when he brought two chairs over. That seemed odd. But maybe he had a friend coming. "Your playing is fantastic," she gushed, flattered he would come and talk to her. "You're all so talented!"

Cameron's eyes darted downward towards the table for a moment; a response that might have been regarded as reticence. In his opinion, it was the others who were talented. They brought originality and flare to their music; he merely knew how to closely mimic whatever he saw or heard, in no small part thanks due to his eidetic memory. Cameron glanced back to the other members of the ‘Green-blooded-blue-skinned-spotted-toes-and-ridged-nose band’ who were likewise mingling with the patrons -- some for free drinks, while others... namely Rios had already found a pretty girl to wrap his arm around, was likely more interested in a different sort of distraction.

“You are too kind.” Cameron replied, bringing his glass to his lips and appearing to savor, at least for a moment, the rich flavors contained within it. Cameron took the time to notice Miraj’s pink hair and forehead; she was Boslic, or at least part so. There was enough for him to notice that she likely had other genes mixed in as well, much like he with his part Vulcan, part Xenexian heritage. “It has been an agreeable experience… these past few years. I can only hope that my departure will not cause the others to… ‘break up’ the band.”

Miraj took a sip of her frilly pink drink with its plethora of fruit and umbrellas. "Break up the band?" she asked, eyes a little wide at the dramatic statement. "Why would you do that?"

Cameron had been certain that Miraj had been there when Cora had introduced the group, followed with the announcement that Cameron was being transferred to a new duty station; what or where that duty station happened to be, nobody quite knew yet. But from the sounds of it, it wouldn't be anywhere near Sol.

"Duty calls." Cameron pointed out, deciding to pretend that Miraj wasn't aware of this. "I am here at Starbase 001 on transitional orders, which anticipates that I have received a ship board assignment," he told her, letting one of his eyebrows rise in salute. "At this time, I am unaware of exactly what this transfer entails, but the odds of me being able to... stay in the band, are statistically low."

"Oh, no!" Miraj exclaimed with sympathy. "that's so sad." Then she brightened. "Maybe you'll find people who play on the ship you're assigned to. Lots of people are musicians." She took a long sip from her large rum-laced cocktail. "Though I can't play anything more musical than a stereo."

"A stereo is not an instrument," the Vulcan-part of Cameron clarified before the Xenexian half could catch up with it. Once his failure to interpret what was intended as an attempt at humor at Miraj's own expense was inescapable, the best he could do was attempt to recover from it. "Although, perhaps you are right. Music is as common as language." He rose his glass and took another sip, letting the pleasurable burn work its way down its throat before continuing. "Undoubtedly, there will be others."

Still, would it ever be the same? He wondered about that.

"So why did you pick the trumpet?" Miraj asked, taking another sip. "Aren't they supposed to be tricky?"

"All things take time to master," Cameron said, trying not to sound conceited. He couldn't tell whether or not he was successful. Looking towards his brass trumpet which was still on the stage for a moment, he thought about how long it had taken him to become proficient. "I suppose I became interested during my time at Starfleet Academy. A few colleagues encouraged me to join them at a jazz club off of Lombart..." Cameron paused, his eyes turning to the empty chair between he and Miraj, where his gaze met Aren's. It had been their second or third time meeting.

Mira looked to her side, saw nothing, assumed that the trumpeter was merely looking back through time. "I've never really been out to the music clubs here. I only graduated a few months ago. And before that there was way too much studying. No time to even try an instrument, let a lone master one."

Aren looked at Cam. "Third," she confirmed his guess, "Second was that horrible little place on Market Street filled with sweaty tourists with the terrible terrible jumja sticks."

Cameron nodded in understanding, doing so in such a way that it was clear he was acknowledging both women. "Indeed." He opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from across the room called out his name. Turning his head, Cameron saw that the band was starting to gather. Their performance would resume shortly. "I must be going. It was a pleasure speaking to you, Ms..." he stopped, they hadn't exchanged names.

"Miraj. It was nice to meet you too." She sucked on her drinks and grinned at him. "I'm going to enjoy listening to you play."

"Where do you think you're going!" Aren hissed. "She's still in my seat!"

Cameron gave Aren a warning glance, expertly disguising it as a look off to something distant and unseen so that Miraj or nobody else might become suspicious. "At least there seems to be plenty of available seating now," he started to say; the room had emptied out slightly, but with the band about to start, that would undoubtedly change. "Good evening, Miraj." He added before leaving for the stage.

"Break a leg!" the young pilot responded enthusastically, raising her drink in toast.

And as Cameron turned away, he could hear Aren making hissing sounds of faux outrage. "You're going to pay for this Cam!", she shreiked, but with laughter more than anything else, "♪I know a song that will get on your nerves!♪" she began, "♪Get on your nerves! Get on your nerves♪" And she kept it up all night.


[OFF]

Ensign Miraj Derani

Lieutenant (JG) Cameron

RSS Feed