< circus announcer's voice >
And now, the continuation of 'Star Trek - Romulans: We've Got to Leave the Dock at SOME Point!'
< /circus announcer's voice >
Don't get your hopes up for this ep though... *grin* I just hope you enjoy the first part of this installment as much as I enjoyed writing it!
As always, comments are more than welcome.
Chapter Six
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0230 hoursKai tr’Raeteol focused his bleary eyes – as best he could after eight hours at a bar – on the chronometer above the racked bottles and glasses. “Well, whadyaknow?” he slurred. “You’rrrright, barman. It
is time f’r me t’ go. I have a transport t’ catch, t’ take me t’ the
glorious new career tha’ awaits me as Chief Adjutant and Rrrrrreceptionist on the… the police ship
Nerf… Nerf… Nevermind!” he stumbled out, voice rising with each word.
“Come now, Antecentur–” the barman tried, but was cut off again by a bellicose snarl from the drunken fool who’d already been rip-roaring drunk before the barman had come in for his shift.
“YES! ANTEcenturion, Barman!” Kai yelled, his words coming slightly clearer in his anger “I get t’ start my whole career
all over again, as if I hadn’t already spen’
eight fvadt
years on the Fleatraps of the Empire! I am
indeed fortunate! To be given such an opportunity as this! To begin ANEW! Unburdened by such trifles as mere
rank and
status! To REDEEM myself in the eyes of the Grand Flee–(hic) Grand Flee–(hic) Fleatrap!” he belched, but lurched to his feet anyway.
“I havta fin’ th’
Bor… th
Bur… Burlap! She’s takin’ me to ma DESTINY!” he yelled, flinging his arm wide in what was presumably a grand gesture, before tripping over a chair and crashing to the floor in a drunken heap.
“Get him up!” the barman shouted urgently. “Get that
imirrhlhhse drunken fool up and moving before he falls asleep and I have to drag his soggy arse aboard that
fvadt transport myself!”
The closest serving staff leapt to obey and they succeeded in propping Kai upright again. They even went so far as to guide him all the way out of the tavern and to the travelcar bank that would take him anywhere on the station he was authorised to go.
Then they left him there to find his way to the “
Burlap” on his own.
Kai glared blearily at the station directory, poking at it in a manner comically reminiscent of a Tellarite, and much to the amusement of the few late night/early morning crowd. Said crowd made sure to stay out of involvement range.
Finally managing to locate his destination, Kai took the appropriate travelcar shaft and was conveyed at high speed to the gargantuan bulk freighter
Borlak.
The crewman standing by the gangway onto the freighter was enjoying her quiet night so far. Though horrifically boring to just stand guard duty so that no one wandered onto the ship “accidentally”, Duthera t’Niall combatted this by submerging herself in the sports sections of the local updates, as well as the online gambling dens she could join in to from the access terminal incorporated into the gangway.
Her peaceful night of slowly losing money came to an abrupt halt as a snarling altercation sounded from the direction of the travelcar shaft. Listening more closely, it sounded as if there was only one voice causing all the ruckus and she craned her neck to see if whoever it was would make an appearance.
Duthera got her wish and far more besides. She’d been told to expect a Fleet officer who was boarding their freighter to make passage to their new ship, but that officer had yet to show. They had barely half an hour before to do so, and the
Borlak wouldn’t wait for them.
But when a staggering figure in a Fleet uniform all but fell around the last corner between the gangway and the travelcar shaft, she most certainly hoped she’d be waiting just a few tens of minutes more for
their passenger. She couldn’t stop her face from scrunching up in distaste.
An officer of the Grand Fleet should have more pride than to lurch around in public like the winner of a Klingon drinking contest! she silently lashed the disgrace that was unevenly but inevitably making its way toward her ship.
Her distaste turned to outright disgust and revulsion when the Fleetie fell to his knees and threw up violently and at length in the middle of the corridor.
I have to let this thing
aboard our ship? I’d rather have the drunken Klingon!After a few minutes of this – during which Duthera offered no assistance, sympathy, or even an indication of her presence – the wreck pushed himself up from the deck and stumbled unevenly toward her again. His uniform was now liberally splashed with generous amounts vomit.
Seeing her at last, he slurred, “This th’
Burlap?”
“This is the bulk freighter
Borlak,” she told him in icy, contemptuous tones she wouldn’t have dared use on a sober military officer. She didn’t bother to hide her disgust either, waving away the foul stench of vomit he’d expelled in her direction as he spoke. “You have the wrong ship. Leave now.” Duthera was emboldened to speak to the Fleetie in such an insolent manner because of her own outrage at what he’d done to his uniform – both literally and figuratively – and because she doubted the fool would remember leaving whatever hole he’d been expelled from, never mind who’d let him aboard his connecting ship.
“
Borlak, thash it! BORLAK!” he ended with another fetid belch. “M, I’m Centurion tr’Raeteol. You’re takin’ me to ma ship, the
Nerf-arrow. Polesh ship, the
Nerfblaster,” he insisted.
Duthera sighed. She’d almost gotten away with that. “Very well. Show me your authorisation and you can board.”
“Got ‘em. In my pocketsh…” he muttered, patting his uniform and smearing the vomit further.
“Nevermind!” she yelled at him in disgust. “Just… just follow me to your berth.”
“Okay,” he agreed, then squinted at her as if trying to see her properly for the first time. “Hey! You’re pretty,” he told her, oozing something he might have thought was charm. “My dad’s rich, y’know. How ‘bout you come with me to my bed, huh?”
Duthera was now speechless with outrage and revulsion. If she wouldn’t have covered herself in vomit in doing so, she’d have hit him. Anywhere. Instead, she spun on her heel and stalked along the gangway and into the ship then started closing the hatch, not actually caring if this disgusting ball of slime actually got aboard or not.
Unfortunately, he did. She promptly took off at a rapid pace through the massive freighter’s conversely tiny crew module, making sure she was always well out of his reach. The thing did a surprisingly good job of keeping up with her despite the pace, so maybe all that throwing up actually helped sober him up some.
Come to think of it, she realised with sudden relief,
it’s a damn good thing he threw up out there. If he’d done it in here we’d
be the ones to clean it up!Finally arriving at their passenger’s berth, she swung open the door to the cabin that the ship’s third mate had given up for the Fleet officer. Though they didn’t get on that well, she felt distinctly sorry for her superior now. The mess he’d have to clean up once this [i}thing [/i}had been evicted to its own ship was bound to be revolting.
The centurion stumbled straight in, managing not to crash into anything right away, and spun to face her as she stood outside the cabin.
“Come in, and we—”
She took savage pleasure in slamming the door shut in is face as hard as her Rihannsu strength allowed. His howl of pain through the hatch as she dogged it shut only made her pleasure all the sweeter, realising his hangover had already begun.
Imirrhlhhse
barbarian! she snarled to herself as she stalked away, heading to the bridge to inform the ship’s master that their ‘guest’ was finally aboard and they could get underway.
0600 hours“Commander, welcome to the bridge,” t’Kaldaith stated quietly as she got up from the command chair, offering it to him.
“Thank you, Centurion,” he returned courteously as he stood beside her. He wouldn’t actually sit until they were underway. “All is in readiness for our departure, I presume?”
“Yes Sir,” she responded, clasping her hands behind her back. “All crew are accounted for and the last supplies were secured aboard at 0427. All departments are fully operational and all sections show ready for departure. The logs are there to peruse if you wish.”
Her offhand comment amused him slightly. She probably still didn’t know what kind of an officer he was or what kind of commander he’d be, so she didn’t know that he’d already read the logs she was now referring to. Not letting her know either way, he acknowledged her blandly, “Very good, Centurion. Well. Since we are all ready right now, I see no need to wait another two hours before leaving dock. Let’s go, shall we?”
“As you say, Commander,” t’Kaldaiith replied briskly.
Hdeian couldn’t detect any sudden apprehension or alarm on her part, so it didn’t look like she was falsifying records and rushing to catch up. He was worried about what kind of officer and person
she was, based on the circumstances of their meeting. So far, it seemed like N’alae t’Kaldaiith was an efficient and effective officer when not confronted with personal or familial consequences to taking jumped-up supposed nobility to task.
“SubCenturion tr’Naekarin, hail Starbase Traffic Control and request an immediate departure,” the XO ordered.
“Aye, Centurion,” the new communications master acknowledged. Moments later, he responded. “Traffic Control acknowledges and informs were are clear to depart stardock for the next fifteen minutes. They require that we relinquish helm control to them.”
“Very good. Acknowledge and log our new departure time. Commander?” she prompted.
Hdeian was pleased. Some officers might have taken his earlier statement to mean they were clear to take the ship out themselves. As his first motive command on his first ship, however, Hdeian would have slit her throat first before he’d allow her to upstage him. He was pleased she had the brains to realise that.
“Thank you again, Centurion,” he told her with a smile in his voice. “Helm, clear all moorings and set thrusters to station-keeping. Transfer helm control to Starbase Traffic Control. Officer tr’Naekarin, further comms from STC on speakers.”
Several muted beeps accompanied Centurion Neeru tr’Foren’s actions. “All moorings cleared, Commander. Helm control transferred to the starbase,” he reported, sounding slightly put out.
Tr’Tyrava noted that and filed it away for future investigation.
“Starbase Traffic Control has authority. Prepare for departure, White Star,” a voice crackled over the bridge speakers.
“Confirmed, STC. Be gentle, our feathers are still wet,” Hdeian joked.
A new voice came over the speakers them.
“Fear not, White Star.
Prime hlai
meat is not handled as gently as you will be.” Hdeian grinned as he recognised the voice, and was further amused at the uncertain reactions of his bridge crew to the atypical banter as their ship slowly left the box star-dock. “My apologies, Admiral. I did not mean to get you up so early.”
Over in Starbase Traffic Control, Admiral Caedfael tr’Oroloth smiled.
You always were the first of the children to rouse from sleep and demand to be let out to play. Some things just never change, he thought with a smile but couldn’t say with so many subordinates listening in.
“Rest assured that your punishment will be swift and merciless, subCommander, unless your mission is successful,” he retorted good-naturedly. “It will give you some incentive to do well out there.”
“Understood, Admiral,” his distant cousin replied, the smile evident in his voice.
“White Star, you are free and clear to navigate,” one of his flight controllers interjected into the companionable silence.
“Thank you, STC. Fair morning, and Long Live the Empire!” tr’Tyrava proclaimed heartily.
“Elements safeguard you,
White Star, and Long Live the Empire!” Caedfael bade them farewell for eight years.
Fortune favour you, Tyrava. Return safely, tr’Oroloth added privately, watching the SparrowHawk until it disappeared into warp speed. He then turned his back on the stars outside and made his way to his office to begin another day at work.
As a further note, the dialogue was
not altered due toi the Guv's influence
in any way. 
Topic: White Star: Episode One - Brave New World (Read 27556 times)