Paying Up

Posted on Fri Apr 1st, 2011 @ 8:41pm by Lieutenant JG Malia Jacy

Mission: Episode 2.1 - "Unanswered Questions"
Location: Starbase 386; Flanagan's Pub
Timeline: Shoreleave 01; 1745 hours

ON: [[Starbase 386, Flanagan’s Pub, 1745]]

Terry was about fifteen minutes late getting down there. He had an enormous amount of paperwork and reports to file. Not to mention appointments to schedule with Captain Lange and Commander Richardson for he and Ensign Moretti. He had also gone out to help that maintenance crew with the two phaser pods that were jettisoned, not only on his watch, but from his fighter. He intended not to bring that up. Terry was the kind of person to let work, and it’s problems, stay at work. When he was off duty, it was time to relax, kick back, and let the good times roll where they may.

He strolled on over to Flanagan’s and saw that even a few of his pilots had yet to make it in. One of them being Lieutenant Arrendo. Terry shrugged; Arrendo probably wasn’t up to any relaxing after the events of the day. He scanned the crowd for Ensign Moretti.

Velia had been promptly on time and wasn't overly surprised to find that the Major wasn't. She considered that it may be the precursor to good fortune - maybe he'd gotten called away, or was currently not being allowed to roam the base freely, or he'd simply forgotten. Unfortunately she knew better - it was much more likely that he was just being pilot-like and fashionably late. Internally she was still struggling with her cut and run option fifteen minutes later when she happened to glance at the entrance and saw him. He was kind of hard to miss. Velia ducked her head and put her hand up to the side of her face. With any luck he'd be surrounded by pilots in just a few minutes and she could slip out.

“Hey Rocko!” Lieutenant Dorritt called out. “How was the flight with that Intelligence officer? I hear that’s who we owe our drinks to tonight!”

Terry walked over to the table where Dorritt and his buddies were sitting. “You knuckleheads just enjoy your drinks. You know the policy; work stays at work…and that also goes for work problems. Got it?”

Dorritt threw a sloppy salute and said, “Roger that, Rocko.” He took another swig of his beverage.

Terry stepped back and started looking for Ensign Moretti again. He stopped when saw a small figure at a table in the corner with her head ducked and her hand covering the side of her face. He shook his head. Just like an Intelligence officer, he thought,sitting in a dark corner observing everyone else. Well let’s see if we can’t fix that. He walked over to where she was sitting.

Terry stuck his hands into the pockets of his tan cargo pants. His brown, un-tucked t-shirt wrinkled a little as he leaned p against the wall. “Welcome to Flanagan’s, Sunshine. Why are you sitting over here by yourself?”

"Ugh," she dropped her hand and stared up at him. "Mapping out the path of least resistance between me and the door. Which, in case you're interested, you're currently screwing up."

He smiled at her. Ensign Moretti was fun to talk to, even with her snarky remarks. “Hey, it’s not that bad here. Why don’t you come over and join a couple of us? Pick your own drink. I’m a bitter coffee guy and on occasion, a nice wine.”

"Why do I think that everyone will decide to join us? Unless you left out the part about my buying," she shot him a dark look.

“Well if you won’t come, I’ll just have to pick the chair up with you in it and carry you to the table like that.” Terry clapped his hands together and started rubbing his palms back and forth. “Hold on tight.” He moved towards the Ensign, ready to hoist her and the chair to his shoulder.

"Major Walsh!" Velia exclaimed in disbelief. "Sir, if you'd like to have children ... or if you'd like to have *more* children, I suggest you do not put your digits on my chair." The ensign jutted her chin out defiantly.

“Aww, why do you have to take the fun out of it? It would’ve been great! Picture it, introducing, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Velia Moretti!”

Oh, that did it. Between the 'Sunshine' and the 'Queen', if she'd had a step stool, she'd have clocked him. "The way I figure it I owe you about five minutes. That's how long you had me trapped in that death machine, so it should make us about even," she stood up and pushed the chair in. "After you."

Terry led the way over to his table. On the way, he said, “Two things. Number one, I’m off duty and in civvies. My rank is back in my quarters. Call me Terry. Number two, I don’t have any children.”

Terry reached to pull out the chair for her. Although, he expected her to take it right out of his hands. “How about you? Children?”

"You found me out, Walsh. I must not have stuffed my blatantly obvious maternal instincts down deep enough," Velia returned dryly. She wasn't about to call her newfound torturer by his first name. And to prove her point, she pulled out the chair kiddie-corner to the one he'd moved and sat, looking up at him expectantly.

Terry shook his head and sat down as he waved a waiter over. "You don't ever take a break from the snarky comments do you, Sunshine?"

"Sometimes I do," Velia watched the waiter weave through tables on his way over to them, "but only if there's something of worth to say."

"So what do you consider worthwhile conversation?" The waiter was having a time getting through all the pilots.

"Not much, to be quite honest," Velia replied almost immediately.

The waiter had finally made it over their table. "The usual, Major?" he asked.

"No, I don't need any caffeine to keep me up all night tonight. I have a feeling tomorrow will be busy. I need something calming and relaxing. Bring me a bottle of Merlot and a glass." He looked at Velia, "And whatever she wants."

"I don't drink," she informed the waiter. At least, she didn't anymore. The counselor had cured her of that all too well.

"By the way, I buy my own wine," Terry said.

"Excellent," Velia glanced over at him. "The last thing I need is the rumor that the fighter destroying Intel agent then completed the day of destruction by getting you sloppy drunk and leaving you laying about on the promenade." She turned to the waiter. "I'll take water, with lemon."

Terry laughed and caught the waiter as he turned to leave. “Make that just a glass of Merlot. I’ve got to keep my wits about me with this one. She’s quick.” Terry smiled wryly at Velia. The waiter nodded and made the change.

“Admirable,” he said, “not drinking. I haven’t met very people who don’t. Wine is as far as I go. Too many times I’ve seen what happens to these pilots when they get a hold something harder. So, when did you make the decision?”

"When it landed me in sickbay." Velia glanced about the gathered crowd.

“Ah, I see.” He paused for a second. Something was still scratching at the back of his mind. “Sunshine, er, Velia, may I call you Velia…at least off-duty?”

Now she turned her eyes back to his. "Actually, you're welcome to call me Velia on duty. Sunshine was never acceptable, which you'd have known if you'd asked."

Terry smiled and nodded. “Out there in the fighter, your voice changed a little when I said I would take the heat from Lange and Richardson regarding the incident. That’s only time I’d ever heard you soften up a little. What changed in that instant?” Terry wasn’t a counselor, but he liked to get to know people. And from what he’d experienced with Velia, that softened voice was completely out of character. This made her even more curious to him.

"Well," she sighed. He was not likely to let her sip her yet to appear water in silence and he seemed persistent ... two qualities that drove her kind of crazy, without fail. "I just wasn't expecting it, I guess. I mean, it was my fault, technically and I'm not unaccustomed to owning up to my ... mistakes." 'Like getting in a fighter plane with a crazy giant man' she thought.

The waiter brought their drinks over. Terry took his glass of Merlot in hand and swirled the drink while gently taking in the soft aroma. He took a sip and swirled it around on his tongue. Then, contrary to the standard, he swallowed and let out a soft ‘ahhh.’

He leaned back and said. “We all make mistakes we have difficulty owning up to. But this one was ultimately mine. Hopefully, you’ll get to at least stay in Starfleet.” He lifted the glass to his lips and took an actual drink this time. He waited a few minutes so Velia could enjoy her water.

“So, Velia, what do you do to relax when the duty day is over? I like to big game hunt, grill, or listen to classical music. And since there’s no large wild animals or a charcoal grill on a Starbase, I usually end up falling asleep on the couch with Bach’s flute sonata’s playing in the background.”

Velia stared at him, her face ashen and her eyes unblinking.

Terry watched as the color sank from her face. He immediately leaned forward and said, “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

"Hopefully?!?" The thought of having to return home was too much to bear, even for Velia Moretti. The idea of having to face her brothers, her father ... no. Death would be a much better option. At least that pain faded with one's dying breath. Her brothers would make her live it forever.

Terry thought for a second. Hopefully…oh no, stay in Starfleet. “Velia, I’m sorry I said that. I had no idea…are you okay? Do you want some more water or something else? I said something that struck a harsh cord…I’m sorry. You won’t get booted out of the Fleet. I’m sure of it. It wasn’t that kind of incident.” Terry was stumbling over his words a bit. “Hey, what can I do, other than jumping out of an airlock, to fix this?” Terry seemed to breaking a lot of things today.

"Well," Velia began to tear slightly, her voice wobbly and her shoulders drooped. "If you could tell them you did it, and that I helped straighten things out before they got worse, and that I could have possibly saved your life and should be commended and given a medal ... that would work??" She looked up at Terry through her slightly fluttering eyelashes.

Terry had never made a woman cry before. He was wishing he had paid better attention in counseling classes at the Academy. “I’ll see what I can do to keep your record clean of this. But everybody over there knows what happened. And the reports I filed this afternoon corroborate.” He paused. “I promise that, within my power and conscience, I’ll do what I can. You have my word, Velia.” He smiled kindly and slid his glass of Merlot over to her, just in case.

She slid the glass back with the tips of her fingers, squeezed her eyes tightly and opened them to wink at him. "I'm a big girl Walsh; I can take care of myself. I'm sure they'll understand that I was under duress due to kidnapping and after a few sessions with the shrink it'll be acqua sotto il ponte." She wished she felt as confident as she sounded, but she wasn't about to underestimate the severity of losing a couple of plane pieces. He didn't need to know that though; the last thing Velia needed was a knight in shining armor ... or a pilot in crinkled tinfoil.

Terry leaned back and laughed loudly. “You, Miss Velia Moretti, are an excellent Intelligence agent! And I will sign an affidavit to that effect!” He lifted his glass, “To the ever effectual manipulator, Velia Moretti! May she live long and prosper in Starfleet!” He took a big swig of his wine.

Velia tilted her water glass before draining it, but not without an uncomfortable squirm. Flattery never set well with her; and while she agreed with him about her potential, she also knew it was a long way up and she was willing to make the climb.

“If you ever need someone to argue with, or return sarcastic remarks, when you’re here, look me up.” He paused. “Or just come snooping around the fighter bays.” Terry smiled.

“Maybe next time we can carve some time out of a holosuite and go on one of those big game hunts ‘eh?” The corners of Velia’s lips turned up a little. “I’ve never really had much experience with guns outside of fleet training, but I think I’d be capable enough of hitting something, don’t you?” She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “We may not even need to enable the safety.”

“Sounds good to me. And, I believe you could hit something. Especially if we go hunting for something big enough.” He noticed the raised eyebrow. “Not enabling the safety is pretty fun. Next time, remind me to tell you about the polar bear that was bleeding out while hanging from the oak tree.”

Velia rose from her seat and gave a half salute to the pilot. “Major, I’d love to thank you for a particularly dreadful day, but I’m compelled to be honest. I hope we never have anything close to that experience again.”

“I agree, Velia.” Terry would have stood to see her off, but he knew better than that now. “Let’s not do that again. Next time, no fighters; we stay base-bound.” He finished the last drop his wine. “Slán go fóill, Velia.”

“Ciao,” she threw back over her shoulder as she finally, thankfully, made her way to the exit and whatever fate had in store for her on the Pandora.

OFF:

A cross-simm post

by

Ensign Velia Moretti (PNPC)
Intelligence Officer
USS Pandora
Played by: Lt. JG Jacy

and

Major Terry Walsh
224th Dragonriders
Wing Vice Commander
Starbase 386