Foaming At The Mouth

Posted on Thu Apr 28th, 2011 @ 7:45am by Commander Michael Evans M.D. & Commander Fala Awen

Mission: Episode 2.2 - "Resistance"
Location: Orient Express Lounge
Timeline: Mission Day 00, 19:30hrs

[BACKPOST]

ON:
[[USS Pandora, Orient Express Lounge, MD00, 1930hrs (a couple of months into shoreleave)]]

Michael walked in and scanned the room. It was fairly busy tonight, just enough to give the place a lively feel, but the general buzz of conversation was somewhat muted by the continued moodiness of the crew. There was one group in a corner though that seemed to be having a good time, and laughter occasionally punctuated the conversational drone. Mike found who he was looking for and made for Fala who was sitting near a window.

Questions had been intruding into his contemplations for some time now: questions about what he wanted in his career, and what he wanted in his life; questions about who he was and, perhaps most disturbing to him, questions about command. He did his bridge duty and sat in command as Second Officer when it was his rotation, he had full command of his sickbays, but as he'd been thinking over his career and as he'd been mentoring the young cadet aboard he began thinking increasingly of his own role in command and its role in his life. It was now time to start addressing some of these questions and the best person to talk to about command was a Commander... right?

"Hi, Commander," he greeted as he approached. "Do you mind if I join you?" He was just a little nervous, and hoped it didn't show too badly.

Awen glanced up to find the doctor standing at her table, which was located near the back of the room. She'd purposefully chosen a table away from the other patrons, but apparently the Chief Medical Officer wanted to speak with her. The Bajoran motioned to the seat across from her, "Feel free, Doctor."

Michael took the seat and an attentive waiter stopped by just as he was pulling his chair in. "Uhh," he started, "I'll have an Umbrian Fizz," he said. For some reason his nerves caused him to deviate from his usual coffee.

Mike was initially tempted to start with the usual 'So, how have things been?' sort of small talk, but decided instead to start a little more directly. "Commander, I was wondering... well, I was wondering if I could ask you something... How long have you been a commander now, several months?"

Slightly raising her eyebrow, Awen inwardly sighed. Part of her duties as Executive Officer, she supposed. The Bajoran nodded, "Yes, since just after the trial." She was a bit curious as to why he was asking...surely the answer was something he could have easily found out on his own.

Michael asked, "Is... Why did you become a commander? Have you always wanted to command?" He looked at her as he asked the question, then contemplated his hands folded in front of him as he listened and thought.

Awen regarded him silently for a few moments before answering, "I didn't have a choice, Doctor. It's not something I wanted." She let those thoughts sink in briefly before continuing, "Would it surprise you to know that I was originally a Science Officer? The only reason I ended up in Security/Tactical was my experience with the Resistance on Bajor - I had skills that the ship I was serving on needed and they then offered me a position there. I didn't particularly mind that, but I was never interested in actual command - as Executive or Commanding Officer."

Michael looked up at her; his eyes widened slightly in frank surprise. He hadn't known she was a science officer and he had never heard of an XO who wasn't on a path to a captaincy. The helpful waiter swooped by just then and cheerfully deposited a yellow-orange drink with a garnish that bubbled energetically in the liquid. He dismissed the intrusively cheerful waiter with an absent nod. "A science officer?" he asked, leaning forward, his original line of questioning momentarily forgotten. "I never knew! What was your specialty? Geology? Astrophysics? Exobotany?"

"Spatial anomalies, actually," the Bajoran replied. "The Celestial Temple...wormhole...intrigued me. When I got off Bajor, I claimed asylum on a StarFleet ship and stayed with them while they finished a mission of exploration."

"Wow," Mike said, sitting back. His nerves seemed to have left him with Fala's revelation to him. "A science officer," he said mostly to himself. "And you found yourself in Sec/Tac, then as our XO," he said to her, "without so much as a 'by your leave.'" He sat up and took his drink. "You must miss the science department..." he said as a sort of open-ended question, or statement; however she chose to take it. He took a sip of the fizzy, fruity beverage as he played briefly and absently with the idea of leaving the medical department.

Michael removed the bubbly white stick garnish from his drink, then stuck it in his mouth to lick off any drink that remained on it. What he got instead was a mouthful of foam as the stick reacted to his saliva. He sputtered as foam poured out his mouth and dribbled out his nose. He threw the stick down on the table and immediately began mopping at the mess while still choking on the froth. "Sorry," he foamed as the commander looked on. "Er," he sputtered, "I'll just leave now." He turned towards the direction of his quarters as the helpful waiter took care of the rest of his mess.

As he walked absently down the corridors to his quarters he mused further on the question of Command and if it were possibly to be the next step in his career...

OFF

A join post by:

Commander Fala Awen
First Officer
USS Pandora

and

Lt. Commander Michael Evans
Second Officer / CMO
USS Pandora