Intermission – "Bad news invariably comes in the middle of the night."
by
Post Details
OOC: Not wanting to mess up any of the new mission stuff I thought I'd run along with a sub-plot in the meantime: anyone feeling interested please feel free to jump in and set up a JP.
ON:
Relma always enjoyed the quiet of Charlie shift. There were always fewer things happening, people weren't normally quite as stressed, and there weren't normally so many officers rushing around barking meaningless orders. He actually had the time to sit in Operations and catch up with things. Life as the Boatswain was much more relaxed than he'd been used to as Chief of Operations. He still had all of the authority of a man of his experience, but could now focus on training the youngsters a lot more. Getting out and about in Operations was much more something of a luxury for him now. A change is as good as a rest, as they say. Many of the Ensigns and younger enlisted personnel he had been training seemed to be assigned to Ops in that particular shift, so it was also a good time to supervise their work and make sure the training was being acted upon.
From the Operations console he had a good view of the room and was watching and listening intently one of his more troublesome Bolian Ensigns grapple with the complexities of dealing with flippant freighter captains. When the youngster snapped and shouted, disrupting the whole room, =/="Look you pompous ass, what I say goes and you're third in line for docking so deal with it or I'll push you so far back down the line you'd do quicker to go and annoy your beloved SB65 instead!"=/=
Stepping quickly across the room, Relma nudged the man with his arm, moving him away from the console gently and receiving a sigh for all his effort. =/="Sorry about that, Captain," he said in a calm voice "I apologise on Captain Tahir and the Ensign's behalf. I am Chief Relma: how can I help?"=/=
=/="Ahhh finally a man of experience and impeccable good taste." replied the Trill with a huge smile on his face "It's serendipity that I would speak to you. I have a passenger aboard who is specifically here to see you."=/=
Relma couldn't help raise his eyebrow. =/="For me?"=/= He asked instinctively.
=/="Yes, he said he was your nephew."=/= the Trill replied with a smile.
Relma seemed stunned and highly confused. "Meryn, Kivan, or Rupal..." he muttered under his breath. He was about to ask the man when suddenly the freighter captain moved out of the way and was replaced by the face of a young Bajoran, with a very similar cut of jib to Relma. =/="Sorry to appear out of the blue, Uncle Meryn. We need to talk... but not over an open comm-line."=/= The youngster hurriedly said.
The older Bajoran nodded slowly and replied. =/="I would agree, Nephew Meryn. I'll meet you at Docking Port 4 in 10 minutes."=/= He quickly turned to his console and, pressing a few buttons, cleared the ship for immediate docking. =/="DS5 out."=/=
Turning to the Bolian, Relma glared at him for a moment. "We'll talk about that later, Ensign." He turned to walk away "Oh, and I never want to see you doing anything like that, Understood?"
The blue man nodded hurriedly before cautiously returning to his station.
Nodding in the direction of the Ensign who was his back-up at the Operations station he spoke quietly as he passed them "Be back shortly."
With that he exited Ops and took the turbolift to the docking ring, making a beeline for the docking port. The situation ran through his head as he moved... but still none of it made sense. He hadn't heard from his nephew in months: not since he he had begun his new assignment on the McKinley. None of it made sense. Even if his nephew had wanted to visit him, why hadn't he contacted him over subspace before arriving: and why was he travelling on a bucket of a Xepolite freighter which had half-a-dozen flags for possible smuggling activity. These matters weighed heavily on the Bajoran's mind as the turbolift finally decelerated and opened a few sections away from the Docking Port.
As he arrived there he saw that the docking sequence was just completing and stood back to allow the crew to conduct their work, though again took the opportunity to, ostensibly seem at least, to be overseeing his pupils' training in practice. In fact, however, he was still searching his mind for some explanation as to why his nephew was arriving so unexpectedly. He was so deeply in thought that a few minutes passed and he hardly even registered the fact that one of the crewmen was trying to catch his attention at the airlock.
"Yes, sorry, Crewman." He finally replied, stepping forwards "What is it?"
"One of the magnetic seals seems partially out of alignment, but within safety tolerances, Chief."
The Bajoran smiled "No problem, Crewman," he replied swiftly "we're due to run maintenance here next week so such things are likely to be expected. Go ahead and just make a note in the log."
"Aye, Chief." replied the man as he opened the airlock.
At the far end was the Trill Meryn had been speaking to previously. He smiled broadly and greeted the Bajoran like a long lost brother. "Ah, Chief Relma, how wonderful to meet you in person. I can tell you're a man of exceptional character. Ex-Militia and Resistance, am I right?"
Meryn nodded to the man "Thank you, Sir, yes... on both counts as it happens. I didn't catch your name, I'm afraid."
The Trill smiled broadly "Amblitsio, Berant Amblitsio, at your service. CEO of Amblitsio Freight Corporation, Captain of the Xepolite Freighter Jian'Karra." He paused for a second and leaned in to whisper in his ear "Any time you need something slightly less than strictly legal supplied: I'm sure we can help there. Tastes of home, or something more exotic. The former CO here was very fond of a nice glass of whiskey as well as good vintage Romulan ale."
Relma returned the latter comment with something of a blank stare. "And is this... generous service connected to how my nephew, a promising young officer, ended up aboard your ship, Captain?"
Berant chuckled jovially and, with a tap of the side of his nose, replied "I cannot comment as to the motivation of my customers. I would like to think our excellently appointed accommodation and speedy service is the reason many of our clients choose our humble ship as a means of passage as well as a freight service. I'm even thinking of diversifying into cruise liners: taking those on the frontier to such delights as Risa and Casperia Prime. I'd be delighted to offer you a discount on our debut voyage if you'd be interested."
Meryn was surprised that the man segued so easily into the sales pitch. If it weren't so annoying he'd almost have been impressed, but too many dealings with Ferengi had robbed him of the ability to admire such behaviour. "I'm sold, I'm sold, Captain." He joked in reply, before turning very serious and asking "But I need to know: where did you pick my nephew up?"
The Trill smiled initially, before his face, like Relma's, turned very serious as the question was asked. Hearing footsteps behind him he sighed with relief and, turning, answered "Ah, well, I don't want to involve myself in family affairs. I'll let you ask him that yourself."
Relma saw his nephew step through from the ship into the airlock. He was dressed in clothes which were definitely far from standard issue, which were obviously designed to be nondescript. It immediately didn't sit well with the older Bajoran. Managing to smile through the unease, he waved to his younger namesake as the man approached the inner airlock. It was at that moment that he heard a very high pitched noise. Almost like a slightly misaligned relay. On the other hand it could just be the tinnitus from which he'd suffered for years.
At that moment though, just as his nephew stepped through the airlock, the small noise became a sudden screech, and the air seemed to superheat without warning.
Before Relma had even become aware of these things, or the earsplitting roar of an explosion, he was sailing backwards through the air, red alert klaxons and lights sounding and flashing as Amblitsio and the crewman were also slammed into the far bulkhead. Microseconds seemed like minutes, seconds like an eternity, as he tried to sit up and survey the scene. Between the smoke and dust filling the airlock, the ringing in his ears, and he dizziness from being thrown head-first into a bulkhead, that was easier said than done, however. Finally managing it he stumbled back towards the airlock to check on his nephew. The acrid smoke hurt his eyes as he tried to peer through it. Finally he saw a lump on the floor. Slumping down under the smoke to try and see it he saw the charred, lifeless, face of his nephew.
His hand fumbled for his commbadge and, spluttering from the smoke and dust, he finally managed to croak =/="Relma to Infirmary. Medical Emergency, Docking Port 4."=/=
As moments passed waiting for a response he tried to press his fingers to the youngster's neck to check his vitals, but could feel the carbonised flesh crumble away as he tried to press his fingers against it. In vain, he pressed his lips to the blackened mouth of the body and attempted basic resuscitation.
OFF:
Tag anyone interested in a sub-plot.
CWO1 Relma Meryn
Boatswain
DS5
by
Post Details
| Title | "Bad news invariably comes in the middle of the night." | |
| Mission | Intermission | |
| Author(s) | ||
| Posted | Sat May 17, 2014 @ 12:50am | |
| Location | Main Operations | |
| Timeline | SD82, 2030 hours | |
| Tag | Any interested in sub-plot |
ON:
Relma always enjoyed the quiet of Charlie shift. There were always fewer things happening, people weren't normally quite as stressed, and there weren't normally so many officers rushing around barking meaningless orders. He actually had the time to sit in Operations and catch up with things. Life as the Boatswain was much more relaxed than he'd been used to as Chief of Operations. He still had all of the authority of a man of his experience, but could now focus on training the youngsters a lot more. Getting out and about in Operations was much more something of a luxury for him now. A change is as good as a rest, as they say. Many of the Ensigns and younger enlisted personnel he had been training seemed to be assigned to Ops in that particular shift, so it was also a good time to supervise their work and make sure the training was being acted upon.
From the Operations console he had a good view of the room and was watching and listening intently one of his more troublesome Bolian Ensigns grapple with the complexities of dealing with flippant freighter captains. When the youngster snapped and shouted, disrupting the whole room, =/="Look you pompous ass, what I say goes and you're third in line for docking so deal with it or I'll push you so far back down the line you'd do quicker to go and annoy your beloved SB65 instead!"=/=
Stepping quickly across the room, Relma nudged the man with his arm, moving him away from the console gently and receiving a sigh for all his effort. =/="Sorry about that, Captain," he said in a calm voice "I apologise on Captain Tahir and the Ensign's behalf. I am Chief Relma: how can I help?"=/=
=/="Ahhh finally a man of experience and impeccable good taste." replied the Trill with a huge smile on his face "It's serendipity that I would speak to you. I have a passenger aboard who is specifically here to see you."=/=
Relma couldn't help raise his eyebrow. =/="For me?"=/= He asked instinctively.
=/="Yes, he said he was your nephew."=/= the Trill replied with a smile.
Relma seemed stunned and highly confused. "Meryn, Kivan, or Rupal..." he muttered under his breath. He was about to ask the man when suddenly the freighter captain moved out of the way and was replaced by the face of a young Bajoran, with a very similar cut of jib to Relma. =/="Sorry to appear out of the blue, Uncle Meryn. We need to talk... but not over an open comm-line."=/= The youngster hurriedly said.
The older Bajoran nodded slowly and replied. =/="I would agree, Nephew Meryn. I'll meet you at Docking Port 4 in 10 minutes."=/= He quickly turned to his console and, pressing a few buttons, cleared the ship for immediate docking. =/="DS5 out."=/=
Turning to the Bolian, Relma glared at him for a moment. "We'll talk about that later, Ensign." He turned to walk away "Oh, and I never want to see you doing anything like that, Understood?"
The blue man nodded hurriedly before cautiously returning to his station.
Nodding in the direction of the Ensign who was his back-up at the Operations station he spoke quietly as he passed them "Be back shortly."
With that he exited Ops and took the turbolift to the docking ring, making a beeline for the docking port. The situation ran through his head as he moved... but still none of it made sense. He hadn't heard from his nephew in months: not since he he had begun his new assignment on the McKinley. None of it made sense. Even if his nephew had wanted to visit him, why hadn't he contacted him over subspace before arriving: and why was he travelling on a bucket of a Xepolite freighter which had half-a-dozen flags for possible smuggling activity. These matters weighed heavily on the Bajoran's mind as the turbolift finally decelerated and opened a few sections away from the Docking Port.
As he arrived there he saw that the docking sequence was just completing and stood back to allow the crew to conduct their work, though again took the opportunity to, ostensibly seem at least, to be overseeing his pupils' training in practice. In fact, however, he was still searching his mind for some explanation as to why his nephew was arriving so unexpectedly. He was so deeply in thought that a few minutes passed and he hardly even registered the fact that one of the crewmen was trying to catch his attention at the airlock.
"Yes, sorry, Crewman." He finally replied, stepping forwards "What is it?"
"One of the magnetic seals seems partially out of alignment, but within safety tolerances, Chief."
The Bajoran smiled "No problem, Crewman," he replied swiftly "we're due to run maintenance here next week so such things are likely to be expected. Go ahead and just make a note in the log."
"Aye, Chief." replied the man as he opened the airlock.
At the far end was the Trill Meryn had been speaking to previously. He smiled broadly and greeted the Bajoran like a long lost brother. "Ah, Chief Relma, how wonderful to meet you in person. I can tell you're a man of exceptional character. Ex-Militia and Resistance, am I right?"
Meryn nodded to the man "Thank you, Sir, yes... on both counts as it happens. I didn't catch your name, I'm afraid."
The Trill smiled broadly "Amblitsio, Berant Amblitsio, at your service. CEO of Amblitsio Freight Corporation, Captain of the Xepolite Freighter Jian'Karra." He paused for a second and leaned in to whisper in his ear "Any time you need something slightly less than strictly legal supplied: I'm sure we can help there. Tastes of home, or something more exotic. The former CO here was very fond of a nice glass of whiskey as well as good vintage Romulan ale."
Relma returned the latter comment with something of a blank stare. "And is this... generous service connected to how my nephew, a promising young officer, ended up aboard your ship, Captain?"
Berant chuckled jovially and, with a tap of the side of his nose, replied "I cannot comment as to the motivation of my customers. I would like to think our excellently appointed accommodation and speedy service is the reason many of our clients choose our humble ship as a means of passage as well as a freight service. I'm even thinking of diversifying into cruise liners: taking those on the frontier to such delights as Risa and Casperia Prime. I'd be delighted to offer you a discount on our debut voyage if you'd be interested."
Meryn was surprised that the man segued so easily into the sales pitch. If it weren't so annoying he'd almost have been impressed, but too many dealings with Ferengi had robbed him of the ability to admire such behaviour. "I'm sold, I'm sold, Captain." He joked in reply, before turning very serious and asking "But I need to know: where did you pick my nephew up?"
The Trill smiled initially, before his face, like Relma's, turned very serious as the question was asked. Hearing footsteps behind him he sighed with relief and, turning, answered "Ah, well, I don't want to involve myself in family affairs. I'll let you ask him that yourself."
Relma saw his nephew step through from the ship into the airlock. He was dressed in clothes which were definitely far from standard issue, which were obviously designed to be nondescript. It immediately didn't sit well with the older Bajoran. Managing to smile through the unease, he waved to his younger namesake as the man approached the inner airlock. It was at that moment that he heard a very high pitched noise. Almost like a slightly misaligned relay. On the other hand it could just be the tinnitus from which he'd suffered for years.
At that moment though, just as his nephew stepped through the airlock, the small noise became a sudden screech, and the air seemed to superheat without warning.
Before Relma had even become aware of these things, or the earsplitting roar of an explosion, he was sailing backwards through the air, red alert klaxons and lights sounding and flashing as Amblitsio and the crewman were also slammed into the far bulkhead. Microseconds seemed like minutes, seconds like an eternity, as he tried to sit up and survey the scene. Between the smoke and dust filling the airlock, the ringing in his ears, and he dizziness from being thrown head-first into a bulkhead, that was easier said than done, however. Finally managing it he stumbled back towards the airlock to check on his nephew. The acrid smoke hurt his eyes as he tried to peer through it. Finally he saw a lump on the floor. Slumping down under the smoke to try and see it he saw the charred, lifeless, face of his nephew.
His hand fumbled for his commbadge and, spluttering from the smoke and dust, he finally managed to croak =/="Relma to Infirmary. Medical Emergency, Docking Port 4."=/=
As moments passed waiting for a response he tried to press his fingers to the youngster's neck to check his vitals, but could feel the carbonised flesh crumble away as he tried to press his fingers against it. In vain, he pressed his lips to the blackened mouth of the body and attempted basic resuscitation.
OFF:
Tag anyone interested in a sub-plot.
CWO1 Relma Meryn
Boatswain
DS5