I Make No Promises

Posted on 26 Mar 2018 @ 8:44pm by Lieutenant JG Tris Shizn & Ensign Callin Mastrel

1,718 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Mess Hall - Deck 2
Timeline: MD 104 1330 hrs

[ON]

Ens. Tris Shizn entered the Officer’s Mess a bit blurring eyed and exhausted. He had just put himself through another 2 hours of Helm simulations in preparation for his new position on the USS Galileo-A.

As he made his way over to the food replicators, his highly skilled senses recognized 8 officers present in the Mess. 2 human females were in the corner with their heads close together as they spoke in whispers. Tris’ acute sense of hearing picked up that they were talking about one of the Lieutenants that were playing Tri-D Chess with a Bajourin Ensign.

3 Security Ensigns we’re sitting at a table, and must have just come off shift since each were drinking alcohol or intoxicants. He recognized their typical conversation to be about who had been coming on board the ship in the last 8 hours.

The last was a man with light brown hair, also standing at the food replicators. Tris stepped up to the panel and made his selection of green vegetables and steaming spicy red meat. Growing up with fish for a great portion of one’s diet made him want to branch out and try new things. Since becoming part of Starfleet, he has very much enjoyed trying different flavors of cultures across the galaxy.

Callin grinned as the Andorian glanced his way, and waited patiently for his turn at the replicator. Patient, though not unaware of what was going on around him. Callin was observing everyone and everything with obvious excitement to be there, and his mind was open wide to receive the baseline impressions from this crew he was joining.

The Andorian, in particular, stood out among the crowd in the Mess Hall. There was something about him that struck Callin as fierce, which wasn't odd really for an Andorian, but this was somehow more...refined. Controlled maybe. At least compared to most of the few Andorians he had met in the past. Thinking it over, in his own mind, Callin ordered seafood without noticing the idea might have had an outside source, "One plate of oscoid, and a glass of 10 degrees water with a jacarine twist please."

Lunch in hand, Callin glanced about for a spot to eat and had soon invited himself to the table the Andorian had chosen. "Hi." Callin set his things down, slid into the table on his chair, and started with his water.

Tris looked up from his plate to see a young human. Well, he looked human. Tris replied, “Hello,” and glanced about the room. He could see that there were other spaces to sit, but since this human had already set his tray down and sat across from him, the Andorian asked rhetorically, “Would you like to join me?”

"Yes," Callin nodded, sounded a little confused as if he hadn't made that clear already. But he grinned and set down his glass of water and said with a bluntness that the Andorian would eventually come to expect, "You seemed to stand out as someone it would be good to know as a friend." He speared one some of his food on a fork and took a bite.

Tris watched as the Ensign chewed his food for a second. He was about to say the appropriate response, ‘It’s nice to meet you’, but this Science Office just made an odd statement about him standing out. His antennae leaned toward this Ensign Mastrel, before a concerned look came over Shizn’s face as he turned and looked about at the other officers and crew sitting at the other tables across the room. He had no clue why he might seem to be one that was ‘good to know’.

A smile returned to Tris’ face and finally replied, “Alright. I think I will accept that as a compliment. I think this is going to be a very interesting lunch.” He then added, “I’m Ensign Tris Shizn. Helmsman.”

"Thanks," Callin paused long enough to take a bite, chew and swallow, not for the first time in his life thinking how inefficient speech was for so many species when eating. A silly arrangement, having one's only method of communicating being taken up by the same action as eating. "There's something different about you, from the usual Starfleet officer. Something...more dangerous maybe?"

Tris had just taken a drink of water and held the glass for a moment, pondering again words that were unusual to hear. He sat the glass on the table and commented, “Dangerous?” His eyes looked up and to the corners, then looked at his hands out in front of him. “What did you say your specialty was?”

Callin made a face at the question, and even with his different culture and ways, it was plain that he wasn't happy with the idea, "No real area of focus, there's just too much to see and learn, so I am a scientist for all of it. Though I guess I'm pretty good with languages."

The Andorian rubbed his chin with his hand for a moment in thought then asked, “Do not Scientists have a patterned form of questions to determine facts before making a hypothesis? And especially not a negative determination?”

That brought a laugh, cut off only as the blue-collared young man continued with his lunch. After a moment he added, "That sounds like the Human or Vulcan scientific method. Sure, it works a lot of the time, but some of us approach things from a different way, considering different sources of information." His black eyes sparkled with mirth as he studied the Andorian unperturbed. "That works too, sometimes."

Tris angled his head slightly to the side trying to understand this person that looked human, but by his comment made Tris believe he was something other than. He considered the last word Callin used; ‘sometimes’. He chose not to argue the point. He then recalled something Callin said earlier and asked, “What languages do you know?”

Callin made a muffled sound as he chewed and swallowed a piece of his shellfish dish, and spoke up once his mouth was clear again, "Standard, of course. Modern Betazoid, as well as an ancient dialect. And I did my Academy dissertation on a successful translation of Tamarian metaphor." He paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes slightly, but also with a slight grin, "What weapons do you know how to use?" Callin was intensely curious about that sense of danger restrained he'd gotten earlier, but limiting himself only to questions.

Tris again found it odd how this scientist just changed the conversation about languages to types of weapons to kill people. He then recalled the word ‘Betazoid’. The Andorian chose to broach his question instead of answering this scientist’s, “Are you Betazoid?”

With a slight frown, Callin nodded, "Yes." Part of his frown was because his people were so often mistaken for human; it seemed a little unfair at times the assumption, as the Betazoids had a history stretching back easily as far as humanity...though he had to admit they didn't quite have the numbers or influence. The other reason was because of the way the Andorian dodged his questions. He was intensely curious to find out just how accurate his low-level impression was, that this man was a warrior.

“Alright,” Tris said satisfactorily. “Things are making more sense to me now. And as to your question . . “ The Andorian turned his head left then right cautiously to see if anyone else might be listening. Then with his focus again on Callin, “I have experience with many weapons of war.” He paused again for a second, then asked, “Is there a particular reason you chose that question for us to discuss, to get to know each other?”

The response restored Callin's mood, and he nodded with receiving his confirmation, "That, and because you...stood out in a way." Callin set down his fork and offered a nod that was somewhat formal. Handshakes were a human thing. "I'm Callin Mastrel, of Betazed. Pleased to meet you...?"

Tris found that no hand extended toward him as a sign of mutual understanding. In response, the Andorian angled his head slightly to the left then nodded slowly in a casual way accepting the introduction. Looking again at the Betazed, “Yes. A pleasure to meet you.” He began to move the food about on his plate, stabbing an item and asking before putting it into his mouth, “By your question, I assume you enjoy simulated combat on the holodeck.”

"Oh, enjoy?" Callin chuckled and shrugged, amused by the non-answer and amused at himself. "I wouldn't use that word. Barely got through my self defense classes at the Academy, and I was a terror for the instructors on the phaser range." He was able to laugh at himself for his own shortcomings, honest with himself. "But I recognized that talent in you. Perhaps you teach as well?"

Tris chewed the food in his mouth and swallowed before he responded, “I think a trip to a holodeck with a combat training program could be quite . . . eye opening.” His left antennae moved toward Callin, pointing directly at him.

Callin wasn't exactly sure how to take that, the words or the pointed antennae, though he didn't try to pry with his mind either. Instead, he chewed his own food, giving himself time to think. Eventually he said, "I'd be willing to try - Divines know I need the practice - but um...I wasn't kidding. I'm terrible in a fight. Are you sure you'd be willing?"

Tris smiled in return, “We all have to start somewhere. It’s best to start, being honest at face value, and then build upon one’s strengths.”

Though still obviously concerned, maybe nervous even though he was getting himself into this, Callin's answering smile showed that he was game to try, "Sounds good then. Uh...something tells me you don't go easy on people though?"

Tris set his glass down after clearing his throat and replied, “I make no promises, . . but I never push anyone past their own capacity.” He shrugged slightly, “I do stretched it from time to time.” A big smile then came over his face.

Callin gulped.

[OFF]


Ensign Callin Mastrel
Science Officer

Ensign Tris Shizn
Helmsman

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