Stardate 2365.02.08

USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge - 1612


"Please," Miraan said finally, "Eat. I have almost finished so I thought you might like to sit with me a few minutes and talk."

"Ah.. yeah," Crewman Myers responded, "I mean yes I would like that." He finally smiled at her and then picked up his utensils and began to eat as Miraan sipped her juice and watched him.

"So Clint," Miraan said after letting him get a few bites into his meal, "what do you do in Security?"

Clint hurriedly finished the bite he was chewing as he prepared his answer.

"Well ah.. I mostly man the security console," he said with a shrug, "I don't do much other than that unless I am needed on some sort of urgent call. Which doesn't happen all that often.. well hardly ever." He said with a disappointed sigh.

"Oh?," Miraan asked with a faint smile, "you would prefer to go on ‘Security' calls? To face danger maybe?"

"Well yeah," Clint said as he straightened himself up a bit, "It's what I do and what I went to the Academy for so I would like to be more useful."

"I bet you would be good at it," Miraan said as her smile brightened a bit as she watched him as he went back to eating, "you seem to be big and strong."

Clint blushed a bit as the woman before him smiled at him. He took another bite of his meal to stall having to say anything just yet. Normally he was a shy person, a quiet one that keep mostly to himself. He had no real friends outside of security and few inside either. He was barely a year out of the Academy and still trying to figure his place out in Starfleet. Being assigned to this ship was a great opportunity, at least he thought so.

"Yeah well," he finally said after a long silence.

Miraan smiled at him and then drank the last of her juice and sighed, "Well it was nice to meet you Clint. I hope to see you again sometime." She said as she rose to her feet.

Clint looked up at her and anyone could see the disappointment in his face at her leaving; the disappointment changed into resignation and he sighed and gave her a return smile.

"It was nice to meet you too Miraan," he said, "I'm sure we will meet again. It's a small ship after all."

They both chuckled at that and Miraan nodded to him and left to the lounge on her way back to her quarters.

(Edited to fix tag line)

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1605-1710
While Crewman Adler tended to his diagnostics, Chief Cook nodded to Yeoman Toriak, "Thank you for your assistance Yeoman." As the Vulcan left, the Chief went back to PO Adama and though she kept her voice down, the security and the Engineering Crewman could catch an occasional word or two. "Inexcusable ,. disgrace , unacceptable," among others.

Wow, the computer specialist thought, trying very hard not to so much as glance in the direction of Cook and Adama lest he get dressed down, as well, What a hard-ass, Mr-Look-at-me-I'm-smarter-than-everybody-on-the-boat gets a little tingly and poor Pete takes the heat because he wasn't here to witness it? He shook his head faintly as he went about his work, trying, now, not to meet Chief Cook's eyes as she passed by on her way to her desk. I hope we never get a drill instructor in Engineering,
Lincoln had gotten the necessary access panels pulled from the med-station and, as he had done moments ago with the exterior of the unit, he gave the interior workings a thorough, eyes-only, once-over before even thinking about putting his hands inside. Following the visual inspection, of course, there was a quick level 5 scan with the tricorder, and, only when that revealed nothing of immediate concern did the young crewman reach inside to begin disconnecting the station's processor from the Sickbay's sub-node. With those ODN lines pulled, he shunted them through the Reserve Control Generator, bypassing the Secondary Frequency Sequencer, and, in a few minutes, had the entire unit isolated from Peregrine's network, running in stand-alone mode.

"All right," he murmured to himself, cueing up his tri-corder, again, to initiate yet another level 5 on the sequestered station, "what've we got now?"

The tricorder beeped, whistled, and pinged as he guided it through the internal workings of the station, but, again, the scan didn't expose anything requiring immediate attention, let alone reveal any evidence of an EM discharge. There was a somewhat strange reading from the unit's Emergency Molecular Confinement Regulator - a brief overspike from the multiplexer that was gone as quickly as it registered. "Hmm," Lincoln mumbled, re-scanning the EMCR, the Negative Molecular Containment Multiplexer, and the connections between them, once more, "Yeah, That was kind of weird. Don't remember seeing that, yesterday."

The re-scan returned another report that omitted the previously registered overspike, yet, still, indicated higher than normal processing loops. "Yeah, okay," he nodded, flagging those modules for a more invasive inspection once he powered the unit down entirely, "those might need to be refurbished or replaced, Shouldn't have produced a shock, though, should it? Yeah, no,"

It took him another forty-five minutes to complete his scans of the med-station's internal components, and, aside from a few minor oddities (that should have shown up when he'd run his diagnostics yesterday), Lincoln could find nothing so off that Bachmann should have gotten anything but some minorly skewed bio-readings and, maybe, a brighter display output from the console. He sighed, rubbing thoughtfully at his jaw while he blinked in puzzlement at the station's internals. Then, after a moment of mumbling contemplation, he tapped his commbadge; "Adler to Engineering."

=/\=Engineering,=/\= Lt Sa'eridon answered, =/\=What have you got, Lincoln?=/\=

"Nothing too out of the ordinary, el-tee," Lincoln responded, getting to his feet, "a couple of odd readings, but nothing that indicates there was any sort of surge or short through the unit. I think it's going to need the EMCR and NMCM pulled and maybe replaced, there's a transition dampener that's running about two degrees hotter than it should, other than that, this thing is only slightly less green than it was twenty-four hours ago."

=/\=Understood. Power it down, pull the modules, and bring them to The Pit. I'll get fabrication working on the regulator and multiplexer. Advise Medical that it will likely take a few hours to have the station back online.=/\=

"Aye aye, el'tee," Lincoln answered before closing the channel.

((OOC: And, we'll loop it back to the rest of you, here. Not sure if Chief Cook will still be in sickbay at 1710 or not but, regardless, Crewman Adler will either find or contact someone "with authority," and advise them of the situation - "nothing too out of the ordinary, definitely nothing that should have zapped Bachmann, but there are some issues that could bear looking at, so, yeah, we're gonna shut it down and pull the doo-ma-flotchy and the whatchahoozit, have it up and running again in three hours or so", Feel free to posses Lincoln, if you like, if not, here I am!

Next up - continuing with Asovil and Tochi.))

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1710

"Adler to Engineering."

=/\=Engineering,=/\= Lt Sa'eridon answered, =/\=What have you got, Lincoln?=/\=

"Nothing too out of the ordinary, el-tee," Lincoln responded, getting to his feet, "a couple of odd readings, but nothing that indicates there was any sort of surge or short through the unit. I think it's going to need the EMCR and NMCM pulled and maybe replaced, there's a transition dampener that's running about two degrees hotter than it should, other than that, this thing is only slightly less green than it was twenty-four hours ago."

=/\=Understood. Power it down, pull the modules, and bring them to The Pit. I'll get fabrication working on the regulator and multiplexer. Advise Medical that it will likely take a few hours to have the station back online.=/\=

"Aye aye, el'tee," Lincoln answered before closing the channel.

Chief Cook still sat at her desk looking over something; she just seemed to be waiting around to see what the Engineering Crewman found out. Plus she was keeping an eye on PO Adama more than anything. She figured her presence would make him realize that she was still unhappy with his lapse in judgment. It wasn't such a bad thing to leave sickbay when on duty but he should have gotten her or another Nurse to spare him. Yeoman Toriak had done a great job but he wasn't a certified Nurse even if he had learned a lot about running the medical diagnostic equipment.

Hearing Crewman Adler reporting to Lt Sa'eridon about the issue, she rose when he signed off and met him halfway.

"Well Crewman," She said in a calmer voice than she had used earlier, "I heard your report to Engineering. Do what you have to do to get it up and running properly again. I don't understand how you didn't find anything that would cause a severe shock, when PO Bachmann clearly shows signs of receiving one. Maybe he got it elsewhere; we will have to question him further when we can."

"Aye Chief," Lincoln responded, "I'll let you know when it is up and running again." He didn't comment on her problem with how PO Bachmann had been shocked; all he knew is that there was nothing in that station that appeared to cause it.

"Thank you Crewman," Chief Cook responded, her anger appears to have been vent now and her tone was normal and even a bit civil with him; well as civil as Chief Cook was known to be that is.


((OOC: She will stay in Sickbay for now, doing some minor work at her desk. I'm kind of waiting to do a report to the Doctor. I hope she shows up soon. )

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1611
When, some forty-five minutes ago, Lt Zai had stepped into the newly appointed CSO's office, his intent had been to offer Lt Sh'iraolnas a more fitting ‘Welcome Aboard' than she had received upon taking her post (and, of course, to apologize for the frenzied and indecorous manner in which it had happened). Since Silas' had returned to his ready room once the ambassadors left the bridge, and Tochi hadn't seen him emerge before the shift was finished, the Trill naturally assumed that the justifiably fuming Captain was still wrapped up in dealing with the recent turmoil and, had yet to officially welcome the Andorian scientist. To that end, he felt, it was only his duty as XO to, at the very least, play the middle-man, as it were.

In all truth, when he had first set his mind to it, Tochi hadn't expected the entire encounter to have lasted more than a few minutes. He would deliver a more proper greeting than she had initially been afforded, offer his mea culpa for the less than dignified manner in which she had been forced to board, and explain to her that, while Silas was very busy, Tochi was certain that the Captain would be calling on her soon. Of course, he had planned on extending the dinner invitation, as well, such a thing was only polite, after all, but he had fully expected her to politely decline. Not once, in the span of minutes leading up to his entering her office, did he imagine that he would have spent the better part of an hour in her company, nor did any part of him imagine that their conversation would have taken the course that it had in that time. The welcome and the apology had gone as he had expected and, also as he had anticipated, Lt Sh'iraolnas had raised some questions and some concerns in regards to her transfer. That purely professional discussion, though, had led them into topics of conversation that, Tochi felt, were best left for the Captain to address and, as such, he had diplomatically diverted the dialogue.

So it was that the Peregrine's XO and her newly posted CSO had come to share dinner at ‘The Aerie.' As it evolved, their conversation, surprisingly enough, turned easily from the innocuous sort natter common among shipmates who had just been introduced to more personal and, in some broad sense, intimate topics and, in so doing, had found quite a bit of common ground. She had even expressed an exhuberant interest in, possibly, taking up a foil and learning to fence, at some point,

Between myself, Ensign Thomason, and, now, Asovil, he had thought, we might just get a fencing club started on this ship.
,The bit of their tête-à-tête that had quite possibly surprised him the most, though, was when the young Andorian had actually inquired as to his joining. There had been only a handful of people with whom he had served over the years that had bothered to even broach the subject (outside of medical necessity), but Asovil had approached the topic with unabashed curiosity. It had been a refreshing change from the norm and, as a result, Tochi found himself reliving and relating more details of his coming to host Zai than he had in several years.

",From there," he said, flicking a playful wink and, at last, taking up his cutlery, as he came to the end of that particular tale, "We just get into the tedium of my career. You likely don't want to hear any of that. Besides," he added following a bite of the dinner that had slowly disappeared from his plate as they had chatted, "We believe it's your turn."

A smile lit up Asovil's face, then, and she shook her head in wonderment, "How, in all the Universe, can I top a story such as that, Tochi? My life story pales in comparison. I believe the the only thing I could have done with my life that would have been more pale by comparison is to have joined the Pa'lek Tov and been a monk my whole life."

"Somehow, we find that hard to believe," he chuckled, reaching for his glass. "Every life story, in some way or another, is a light in the dark of the void, Asovil," He tipped the glass to his lips, draining the remains of the beverage and, returning the glass to the table, offered a wry grin. "Trust us; we've got five," he winked. "We know beyond a certainty that yours shines as brightly as any."

The Andorian woman dropped back against the rest of her chair, then, her fork still jutting up from the unfinished bit of her chicken, her turquoise eyes slightly hooded as she gazed at him from across the table, the hint of a smile on her full lips. "That," she said after a moment, absently chewing on her bottom lip, "is pure unproven theory, Tochi. For all you know I am a drab, boring scientist. However, for the sake of continued conversation, I will share with you an experience of mine from the Imperial Academy.,"

"For all we know, you are a scientist, yes," the Trill, settling back, himself, retorted with a grin, "We've eliminated drab and boring."

"I was nineteen cycles by the time I made the decision to leave further scientific pursuits through the School of Science and Arts," she began, "To be accepted into the Imperial Academy, and to eventually serve in the Imperial Guard, that's an honor for the recipient and the recipient's family. One would expect such a duty to fall on the eldest child, but my brothers had no such desire. So, it was left up to me."

Tochi arched a brow at that. From all he knew of Andorian culture, it was a little unusual that neither of her brothers had opted for the path she chose. He didn't inquire about it, though. Rather, he nodded and allowed her to continue her tale uninterrupted.

"I wasn't there for more than a month before I received my first dressing down. I've since come to appreciate just how impactful it was in my career, but at the time, I was mortified.

Zero four-thirty and I've just woken up to prepare for the day when the barrack doors burst open. It's a raid—another ship ransacks your ship and attempts to take the Regalust, which is a trophy made of crystal representing the actual starship your training ship is named after," she explained. "These cadets are flowing into the dark quarters like water through a cracked ice dam and skirmishes are breaking out all over.

I am a modest sort," there was an undeniable tinge of self-consciousness in the expression when she smiled and offered a disheartened shake of her head. "So, I struggle to get my jumpsuit on and am knocked unconscious while focusing on getting my feet into the leggings. I wake up with my Master Chief standing over me, furious. He hauls me to my feet—mind you, I still had my jumpsuit around my ankles—and yells at me, telling me I was dead."

Tochi's brows lifted, then, and his eyes widened as she related that. So that's where modesty plays into the whole thing, he thought, unable to keep an amused, yet somehow still sympathetic grin, from playing on his lips as he imagined the scene playing out.

Asovil adopted a mock gravel-filled voice to perform an entertaining impersonation of her Master Chief; "You're dead, Crewman First Class Sh'iraolnas, and for what? Your vanity? You're dead, your shipmates are dead, and you have your pants around your ankles to show for it!"

The visualization of the events she was describing, along with the impression she had just peppered into it made it nearly impossible for Tochi not to laugh. He tried to suppress it as best he could but wasn't quite able to keep from his grin broadening all the more and a snort of a chuckle to escape his lips. "Oh no,"

Looking up from beneath her long lashes, the increasingly endearing CSO quickly added, "Don't get the wrong idea! My underclothing wasn't immodest in and of itself—Imperial Guard Issue, I assure you. Still, the thought of my underclothing being revealed was, at the time, very embarrassing. I was a young girl, mind you."

"We have no doubt," Tochi beamed with a mix of mirth and empathy, "We're sure it was horrifying and don't mean to laugh but,"

,but we're trying not to imagine you in your underclothes,
",Sorry," the Trill said, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the table and cover his mouth with one hand as the other tried to wave away the humor he was finding in the story. "Please, go on."

"In any case," Asovil continued demurely after another moment spent chewing on a lip, "I spent the next forty-eight hours performing every task with my jumpsuit around my ankles wearing that tank top and those shorts until our ship was able to successfully perform a raid that returned the Regalust to its rightful place above the Chief's door."

Tochi was slowly shaking his head as the Andorian, her antennae shrinking backward a bit in embarrassment, dropped her fork on the edge of her plate and reached for her ale. His hand still covered the lower portion of his face, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed the grin masked behind it.
"Not my finest moment," she admitted before taking a sip. "Funny though. That story has allowed me to break the ice with every Starfleet bunkmate I've had."

"We can't imagine why," Tochi snickered, the hand masking his grin falling away from his face to clasp with the other that rested on the table before him. "That, Asovil, has got to be one of the better tales that we've heard in quite some time, and you said you couldn't top ours," Still chuckling softly, Zai leaned back in his own seat again, eyes twinkling; "We think, in exchange for that one, we'll have to share some of Dirven's stories."

Leah chose that moment to return to the table, her smile bright and friendly as her eyes danced between the Trill and the Andorian. "Still doing all right, over here, luvs," she asked, nodding towards the XO's empty glass, "Another one for you, Tochi?"

"Please," Tochi nodded, reaching out to slide the glass to within easy reach. He gestured at the remains of his meal, then; "We're finished with this, also. It was delicious, as always. Thank you."

"Well, of course it was," Leah chirped as she gathered up his plate in one hand and his glass in the other, "it's my recipe, then, innit?"

"It is at that," Tochi nodded, his eyes turning back to his dinner companion, then. "Anything else for you, Lieutenant," he asked,

((OOC: And, tag! As usual, interjections, continuations, interruptions (*cough*OLAN*cough*) are always welcome,

,and, it looks like I may be skittering back to Medical and/or Engineering. ))

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room, 13:30

Initially, Silas had immersed himself into the tedium of paperwork as a way to divert himself from the stress of the current situation. The fact remained, thought, that there WAS a lot to be done - cadets might dream of glory in a Captain's chair, but the reality was that there was a shocking amount of busywork associated with the office. Silas had a bad habit of occasionally putting off certain mind-numbing administrative tasks, but for the moment, he was thankful for them.

Indeed, the time flew, and Drake found himself glancing at a chronometer in surprise at just how many minutes had passed; at least he had been productive. Alpha shift was over, though, and it occurred to the Captain that he owed his new Chief Science Officer an apology - or, at the least, a proper welcome.

"Computer," he spoke, "please locate Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas."

=/\=Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas is currently located in the Observation Lounge, =/\= the feminine voice replied.

Silas put his PADD away and sighed. Time to play nice, he thought.

*********************************************************

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine, Observation Lounge, 16:15

Drake strode into the lounge, quickly spotting the Andorian woman seated at a table across from none other than his executive officer. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Always the envoy, eh Tochi? he mused.

Taking a breath, Silas covered the distance to the table and cleared his throat. By the expressions on each of their faces, it would seem that these two had relaxed a bit in each other's presence. "Lieu... er... Tochi and... Asovil, is it?" He fumbled as he gestured to an empty chair. "Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?"

((OOC: assuming that he isn't told to shove off))

Drake pulled up a chair and arched an eyebrow at the food. "A bit early for dinner, isn't it?" he asked in a bit of a playful tone.

((OOC: whatever response...))

Leah chose the moment to appear. "And what would you be having, Captain?" she asked with a smile.

Silas returned the expression. "I haven't quite worked up an appetite of my own yet, Leah... a ginger ale will do just fine for now, please. And in here, you may call me 'Silas'."

She gave a mischievous grin. "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she was gone.

Drake shook his head and gave a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva - I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Focusing on his companions, he continued. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil - please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extended his hand.

((OOC - assuming a handshake and some sort of polite response))

"Please bear with us," he continued. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced - some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed - please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

((OOC - any response))

Leah materialized with Drake's drink, and he took a sip before letting a grin play at the corner of his lips. "If the tales I hear are correct, I understand that you made quite an entrance today. If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

((OOC - any further dialogue))

Silas stood, drink in hand. "Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much. Again, welcome aboard, Asovil." The Captain took a step, then stopped and turned back. "Ah, yes... there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited - though not required - to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome." The captain raised his glass in a final toast, then walked away.

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday)
USS Peregrine - Deck 5; Observation Lounge, "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1613

Tochi slowly shook his head as the Andorian, her antennae shrinking backward a bit in embarrassment, drops her fork on the edge of her plate and reaches for her ale. His hand still covers the lower portion of his face, but the sparkle in his eyes betray the grin behind it.

"Not my finest moment," she admits before taking a sip. "Funny though. That story has allowed me to break the ice with every Starfleet bunkmate I've had."

"We can't imagine why," Tochi snickers, the hand masking his grin falling away from his face to clasp the other that rests on the table before him. "That, Asovil, has got to be one of the better tales that we've heard in quite some time, and you said you couldn't top ours," Still chuckling softly, Zai leans back in his own seat again, eyes twinkling. "We think, in exchange for that one, we'll have to share some of Dirven's stories."

I hope that Dirven can be more embarrassing than me, Asovil leans forward to reply with grateful interest when Leah slides gracefully up to the table. Her smile bright and friendly as her eyes dance between the Trill and the Andorian, she asks. "Still doing all right, over here, luvs? Another one for you, Tochi?"

"Please," Tochi nods, reaching out to slide the glass within easy reach. He gestures at the remains of his meal. "We're finished with this, also. It was delicious, as always. Thank you."

"Well, of course it was," Leah chirps as she gathers up his plate in one hand and his glass in the other, "it's my recipe, then, innit?"

"It is at that," Tochi nods, his eyes turning back to his dinner companion, then. "Anything else for you, Lieutenant," he asks and Asovil shakes her head.

"No. I believe that I'm going to pass on the dessert as well, Leera."

"It's Leah, deary," the hostess smiles broadly and winks. "Did ya enjoy the meal?"

"Oh, yes!" Asovil remarks, her antennae emphasizing her enthusiasm while her cheeks flush a darker blue with a rush of blood at having called the woman by the wrong name. "It was delectable."

"Good," Leah spins away and glances over her shoulder as he makes her way back towards the bar. "You should try the duck next time."

The Andorian scientist presses her lips together in thought. What's a duck? she wonders, and then with a slight shake of her head, places the mug of ale on the table and retrieves her knife and fork.

"I'd very much like to hear more about," Mouth slightly agape, the science officer is caught off guard by the sight of Captain Silas Drake approaching from the door. Quickly setting her utensils back on the edge of her plate, she sits up straight and quickly (if somewhat unconsciously) brushes her hair behind her right ear with the first three fingers on her dainty right hand.

"Lieu... er... Tochi and... Asovil, is it?" Captain Drake fumbles a gesture towards an empty chair. "Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?"

"Not at all, Captain," Lt. Sh'iraolnas pushes her own chair out with her legs and rises, pulling downward on the waist of her uniform. "Please."

Drake pulls up a chair and arches an eyebrow at the food. "A bit early for dinner, isn't it?" he asks in a bit of a playful tone.

Now that the captain is seated, Asovil returns to her chair and scoots it in. Glancing uncertainly towards Tochi, the scientist shrugs. "I suppose under normal circumstances,"

Leah chooses that moment to appear and save the flustered Andorian woman from feeling it necessary to explain further. "And what would you be having, Captain?" the hostess asks with a genuine smile.

Silas returns the expression causing Asovil to surmise that he isn't so severe looking when he does so. "I haven't quite worked up an appetite of my own yet, Leah... a ginger ale will do just fine for now, please. And in here, you may call me 'Silas'."

Leah gives a mischievous grin, "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she twirls about on her heel and flits away from their table once more.

Drake shakes his head and offers a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva—I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Is Riva his daughter? His wife, maybe? Asovil considers the possibilities. She's not considered what it would be like to be the wife of a starship captain since she was a little girl. She doesn't imagine being married to a man with such a temper would be dull. The color nearly returns to her cheeks as she considers the possible conflicts between a strong-willed captain and a combative Andorian female.

Focusing on his companions, Drake continues. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil—please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extends his hand.

Caught off-guard by the awkwardness of the gesture, the Andorian woman looks at the hand for the briefest of moments before startling herself into conscious response and clasping his much larger hand with hers. "Thank you, Captain," Asovil remarks with a dry mouth, forgetting herself and maintaining formality.

"Please bear with us," he continues. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced—some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed—please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

"That's very kind of you, sir," Asovil acknowledges. Should I bring up the situation with Chief Crane, or wait for the formal briefing? The Andorian hesitation presents Leah with the opportunity to sidle up next to the captain and place his drink before him.

He takes a sip before letting a grin play at the corner of his lips. "If the tales I hear are correct, I understand that you made quite an entrance today. If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

"I wish I could say that this afternoon's circumstances were the most embarrassing I've experienced, sir. But then," she tentatively tries out a toothy smile. "I couldn't be so lucky."

Silas rather abruptly stands, drink in hand, giving the scientist reason to immediately and hastily rise from her chair. "Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much. Again, welcome aboard, Asovil."

"Thank you, sir."

The Captain takes a step, then stops and turns back. "Ah, yes... there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited—though not required—to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome." The captain raises his glass in a final toast, then walks away leaving the Andorian woman standing with a perplexed expression on her beautiful face.

"Captain Drake doesn't appear to be the social sort," she concludes out lout while sliding nimbly into her chair and taking up her utensils once again. "But that was kind of him."

"Now," Asovil addresses Tochi with a stern stare. "About Dirven,"

(OOC: Tag!)

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Wandering through Desk 2 - 1655
Louise frowned in thought as hails went unanswered. Then she looked at the time on her PADD. "Great ghost, woman, they are at their dinner. And they need it. A report won't be the worst thing ever received. Lords and ladies, they have enough to handle with ambassadors and-- what in the devil is that alert? Security to medical?"

Tugging herself at a quickened pace, she sought out the nearest turbo lift to hit deck 4. She tapped at the PADD as data started flowing across the screen in a flurry of hues, some little war of alerts and scan updates from sensors in use. "Seems never a dull moment. At least nothing is amiss here in the ambassadorial area. Deck 4." The turbo lift doors closed as she stared back hoping they would stay that way.

A report sent along to Zai and Drake over the blight of their previous Chief Thorson. He was in stable condition, suffering from a strange nano command issue as code and synapse algorithm were constantly rewriting themselves, causing increasing issues between mental commands, nerve impulses, and encode responses of the cyber limb.

If I didn't want to be called a looney, I'd say it was as if the limb had come to life and was either trying to live from the cranial commands or it got a strange case of AI infestation. Is that even possible in a limb? The notes continued with a list of specialists and further information that he was in the best of care for determining and remedying the issue.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Wandering through Desk 2 - 1705
The lift opened to deposited the good doctor on deck 4, Louise exiting and still reading over charts and sensor scans as she went. Members of security and Crewman Adler passed her without much acknowledgment. Then she noticed the name of the incident report. Bachmann."What in the blazes did Ryan do...?"

=/\= Petty Officer Cook to Dr. Moore,you are needed in Sickbay. =/\=

Rather than click the comms, she quickened the pace until the Sickbay doors swished open.

((OOC she'll enter right after BooBoo's 1710 post))

Dark brown hair with peppering of white and grey in a loosened bun gave the entire mess of folk from Bachmann laid out in a medical bay, Adler at work with diagnostics over a bulkhead and nearby sensor equipment, and a few security personnel caught between questioning anyone in sight and standing down. As always, the dutiful Chief Cook was right in the center keeping the storm in order.

Nearing the chief at her desk, she kept her look and tone even, eyes filled with questions. "Dana, I've come quick as I could." She held up the PADD, voice tilted to keep their conversation between them. "I started receiving the sensor scans and updates. Is this right? Ryan Bachmann was hit by a malfunction or some such from Station Two?"

((OOC assuming some responses from Cook, description of things ))

Louise gave a nod, giving Dana her full attention. She lifted the PADD again, swiping across to locate more of the live recorded sensor scans, comparing them to the first. "His adrenals are in far better levels. But these readings give me a bit of pause. I wonder, they look a tad like Thorson's, though perhaps off due to the lack of cyberization."

((OOC assuming Cook has the same thoughts and conclusions))

"Well, having engineering look over the bay is important. And Thorson was in that bay. Far too close to be a coincidence. Have you completed medical scans of the bulkhead he came into contact with?"

((OOC more interactions as you like! I'll respond back as you do. ))

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday!)
USS Peregrine; Bridge - 1630

Lt Lasad took special care to introduce himself to the Beta shift as they trickled in.

The vertically imposing but friendly Ensign Thomason was on Helm for the evening. Petty Officer Miahaya Amai was equally prompt, and the enchantingly dark-eyed petty officer who sat down at Operations had a voice his father would have called 'smokey'.

Alas, is every pretty face on this ship in my command structure? I think my only hope left is Medical. Fate, thou art the cruelest bitch.
Thomason seemed surprised by the new face in the center seat, but after friendly introductions were exchanged, he settled into work the helm station. The three on duty for Beta shift seemed content to pass a quiet evening. Dio had a double espresso at hand and a pad full of logs and information to read through while he monitored the ship.

=/\=Lt Moriden to Bridge, Lt Lasad=/\=

Never had the simple sound of communications caused so much dread. Lasad put on his bravest face on as he tapped his badge.

"Yes Lieutenant?"

=/\=I neglected to inform you *wheeze* earlier. There is a Ambassadorial reception at the Captain's Mess at 1900 hours. Department heads have been *wheeze* cordially invited to attend.=/\=

Dio's temples throbbed. His R&R had ended in a beating, a very uncomfortable day unconsciousness in a cargo container, a mad dash onto his new assignment, disconcerting revelations, ambassadorial preparations on the flt, second officer, and a command shift. The last actual night of proper sleep for the Risan was over 36 hours passed and he still had the eight hour shift to get through before he could get real rest. The mere idea of having to conduct ambassadorial pleasantries in his current state was mortifying.

"Uh, that's very thoughtful of you Lt Moriden. Thank you to the utmost for remembering to include me but I have the command shift tonight and couldn't possibly leave the bridge."

=/\=That is no problem *wheeze*, I would have no problem taking over Command you so that the *wheeze* Operations Chief *wheeze* can attend this *wheeze*important event....=/\=

...if she was human, I'd swear that was sarcastic.
"Lieutenant Moriden!" Dio interjected hastily, almost dropping the coffee cup in his hand. "Please, I appreciate your offer, but it would be remiss of me as your Chief to allow you to miss out on your downtime. I'll reach out to hospitality to make sure they have organization of things well in hand, but please, enjoy your evening."

There was a pause before Moriden replied =/\=Understood *wheeze* sir. Pleasant evening. *wheeze*
"And you as well Moriden."

(Next time, Event planning!))

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1712


Rather than click the comms, she quickened the pace until the Sickbay doors swished open.

Dark brown hair with peppering of white and grey in a loosened bun gave the entire mess of folk from Bachmann laid out in a medical bay, Adler at work with diagnostics over a bulkhead and nearby sensor equipment, and a few security personnel caught between questioning anyone in sight and standing down. As always, the dutiful Chief Cook was right in the center keeping the storm in order.

Nearing the chief at her desk, she kept her look and tone even, eyes filled with questions. "Dana, I've come quick as I could." She held up the PADD, voice tilted to keep their conversation between them. "I started receiving the sensor scans and updates. Is this right? Ryan Bachmann was hit by a malfunction or some such from Station Two?"

"It appears so," Cook replied, "the scans speak for themselves. PO Bachmann says that the station ‘attacked' him. Those are his words. He called security and well he was so irrational and irritated when I arrived that I had him sedated to keep him from harming himself further."

Louise gave a nod, giving Dana her full attention. She lifted the PADD again, swiping across to locate more of the live recorded sensor scans, comparing them to the first. "His adrenals are in far better levels. But these readings give me a bit of pause. I wonder, they look a tad like Thorson's, though perhaps off due to the lack of cyberization."

"My thoughts exactly," Dana nodded, "I don't see any evidence of an ‘attack', which to me implies intent, but I do believe he has received a serious shock from something. But, Crewman Adler over there insures me that there is nothing wrong with that station that could have caused such an event."

"Well, having engineering look over the bay is important. And Thorson was in that bay. Far too close to be a coincidence. Have you completed medical scans of the bulkhead he came into contact with?"

"I agree," Dana replied, "I don't believe in coincidences of this type. I think that Chief Thorson may have received a similar shock and that caused his malfunction. What puzzles me is that his incident occurred in Engineering and PO Bachmann's happened here in the exact place where we treated Chief Thorson. I didn't do a medical scan of the bulkhead as our medical tricorders are not designed for non living things. That is why I summoned Engineering."

Dana struggled for a few seconds and then threw caution to the wind and spit out what she was wanting to say, "Do you think.. maybe .. that whatever shocked Chief Thorson was still within him until he rested on that medical bay and then it left him and found PO Bachmann once he was working with it?"

She knew it sounded preposterous; more like science fiction, but it had been running around in her head since she had gone over the sequence of events in her mind.

"I know it sounds crazy," Dana went on quickly, "but I think it bears thinking about. But I have no way of proving anything either way. Medical scans show nothing that I can see in PO Bachmann and Crewman Adler has found nothing in the work station. So, I don't know." She sighed her frustration.

"Do you think it safe to to wake PO Bachmann?" Dana asked, "He might be more lucid now and be able to provide incite into what happened to him." She knew it was a long shot, but thought it worth a try.


(Edited: to add the last paragraph. This would invite Brom back to fill us in on PO Bachmann's take on things. )

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine ; Deck 5; "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 1613
Tochi takes advantage of the brief moment of interaction between Asovil and Leah, his mind turning away from trading tales with the Andorian and, instead, contemplating what tasks he had yet to accomplish before he could, at last, put this day in his wake. The time he had planned in the gym notwithstanding, there were departmental reports to be reviewed, log entries to be made, and a litany of other administrative minutia that, as part and parcel of his position as XO, need to be attended. In addition to those items, Tochi was anxious to converse with Dr Moore, once again, in regards to Eric's status; given that the relative chaos of the past several hours had kept him busy in a professional capacity, he'd not even had a chance to wish his old friend well before they had relegated him to the Medical facilities on Starbase 118, We suppose we should also collect his things, the Trill sighs inwardly, and make arrangements to have them returned.

"Good," Leah spins away and glances over her shoulder, making her way back towards the bar. "You should try the duck next time."

The self-appointed hostess' departure calls Zai's attentions back to the here and now, his gaze flicking toward the departing Leah, and then back to Asovil, her lips pursed in contemplation before a shake of her head chases the thought away. Returning her mug to the table, the petite Andorian retrieves her cutlery and begins to rejoin the conversation; "I'd very much like to hear more about," She stops, there, her mouth slightly agog and eyes widened as if something had just caught her by surprise.

The Trill's eyes track her gaze toward the door and catch sight of Silas. Tochi's easy grin matches the Captain's own but, in that moment, Asovil seems to be more than a little anxious,

Her first exposure to the Captain was that tirade on the bridge, he reminded himself, Her first exposure to us wasn't dissimilar, either, come to think of it, and, yet, here we are,

,Setting her silverware back on the edge of her plate, the Andorian scientist assumes a more rigid posture in her seat and, somewhat nervously, tucks her silver hair behind her ear as the Captain draws nearer.

"Lieu... er... Tochi and... Asovil, is it?" Captain Drake fumbles a gesture towards an empty chair. "Would you mind if I joined you for a moment?"

"Hello, Silas," Tochi grins, rising from his seat (albeit with not quite the urgency in the motion as is evidenced in Asovil's similar gesture),

"Not at all, Captain," Lt. Sh'iraolnas pushes her own chair out with her legs and rises, pulling downward on the waist of her uniform. "Please."

,"Please," the Trill choruses, gesturing to the empty chair before settling back into his own.

Drake pulls up a chair and arches an eyebrow at the food. "A bit early for dinner, isn't it?" he asks in a bit of a playful tone.

Asovil waits for the Captain to be fully seated before she follows suit. Glancing uncertainly towards Tochi, the scientist shrugs. "I suppose under normal circumstances,"

"Fuel for a workout to come," Tochi grins and shrugs, tipping his head at the duffel bag on the floor beside his seat.

Leah chooses that moment to appear and, fixing Silas with a genuine smile asks; "And what would you be having, Captain?"

"I haven't quite worked up an appetite of my own yet, Leah," Drake smiles back, "a ginger ale will do just fine for now, please. And in here, you may call me 'Silas'."

Leah gives a mischievous grin, "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she twirls about on her heel and flits away from their table once more.

Drake shakes his head and offers a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva—I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Having witnessed (and, on a several occasions, experienced) interactions with the Captain's Yeoman, first hand, Tochi chuckles at that; "They'll mutiny before long, we're sure," he jokes.

Focusing on his companions, Drake continues. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil—please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extends his hand,

The Trill nods silent confirmation of Silas' assumption but offers little else, at the moment. Rather, he simply sits and watches with some amusement as the apparently awestricken Science Officer gets her first "true" introduction to Captain Drake. She blinks at Silas' proffered hand for an instant before clasping it with her own; "Thank you, Captain."

"Please bear with us," Silas continues. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced—some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed—please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

Tochi offers another nod of silent validation, here, his gaze slipping away from the Captain and the new CSO to regard Leah as she glides back toward their table, drinks in hand.

"That's very kind of you, sir," Asovil acknowledges.

Wordlessly, Leah places the Captain's ginger ale on the table, followed by Tochi's refreshed ice-berry juice, and then, with a wink and a smile, takes her leave, once more. Silas lifts his glass and indulges in a sip before continuing.

"If the tales I hear are correct," Silas says, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, "I understand that you made quite an entrance today,"

A somewhat sheepish grin creeps across Tochi's lips, then, his green-gold eyes flitting between Asovil and Silas. "That might have been our fault," he chuckles softly, lifting his own glass, now.

",If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

"I wish I could say that this afternoon's circumstances were the most embarrassing I've experienced, sir. But then," she tentatively tries out a toothy smile. "I couldn't be so lucky."

For whatever reason, Tochi's mind chooses to entertain him with an imagining of Asovil diving through the hatch and onto Peregrine's deck with her pants around her ankles; a mash-up of her frenzied arrival to the ship and the story she had just related moments ago. The thought, of course, prompts him to start to chuckle, again, but, with the glass tipped to his lips and being mid-swallow, it escapes him as more of a choking sound. The glass is quickly returned to the table and, just as quickly, a hand clapped over his mouth before the reaction can evolve into a full spit-take. Having managed to choke down that mouthful of juice, Tochi chuckles behind the hand for another second and, then, offers a rueful shrug and a knowing glance to Asovil as Silas, rather abruptly, rises from his seat, drink in hand.

"Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much," the Captain says, "Again, welcome aboard, Asovil."

Wiping his hand with a napkin, Tochi gets to his feet in concert with Asovil (though, again, not quite as rapidly as she).

"Thank you, sir," Asovil says as Tochi nods a friendly farewell before Silas turns to go.

"Ah, yes," the Captain only gets a step or two away before stopping and turning back to them, "there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited—though not required—to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome."

"We'll be there with proverbial bells on, sir," Tochi replies, returning Silas' toast with a tip of his own glass. He glances sidelong at the mystified Andorian as the Captain strolls away, and then sinks back into his seat just ahead of Asovil retaking hers.

"Captain Drake doesn't appear to be the social sort," the lovely scientist concludes, settling into her chair and taking up her utensils, "But that was kind of him."

"He has his moments," Tochi smiles before sipping at his juice. Silas was something of a private man and, Tochi knew, there were some very specific reasons as to why, but those details were not his to share. So, rather than add anything else, he simply relaxes into his chair a bit and turns his eyes back to Asovil.

"Now," she says, fixing him with a demanding gaze, "About Dirven,"

Tochi's face lights up with a smile tinged with reminiscence and, perhaps, a bit of embarrassment, as well. "Ah, yes," he chuckles softly, "Dirven," His eyes dip to study the ice cubes bobbing on the surface of his beverage for a second and, then, he lifts the glass and takes a sip before going on, ",where even to begin with Dirven?"

He seems to seriously ponder his own question for a moment before deciding on the best, most obvious starting point. "Dirven was our third host," Zai begins, the smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes taking on a notably roguish cast as his mind sorts through those old memories, "A musician by profession and more than a little bit the scoundrel.

Some of our best memories of Risa are his," he continues, perhaps blushing a little, "He was something of a playboy, we imagine that's probably the best way to describe him, and, we suppose, too, that's the way musicians of his caliber often were, in those days, and, as such, was caught with his pants around his ankles more than a few times."

A playboy with a penchant for Andorian women, his mind decided to prompt, just then, harkening back to memories of Dirven and Veala's grandmother Talla. His blush might have deepened a bit, too, but, in spite of it, the mischievous expression on his face never waivered nor did his eyes break from hers for a long moment, Incredibly passionate, those Andorians, and so deeply emotional, how many songs did we write for,

He blinks then, realizing he is probably letting himself slip too deeply into Dirven's memories than might be appropriate. Following a shake of his head and a decidedly nervous chuckle, he steals a quick sip of his beverage and forces himself to disengage from those intense, sapphire eyes peering at him from across the table for an instant.

"Anyway," he grins (colored more sheepish than wicked, now) , having feigned a surveillance of the room before letting his gaze frame her, once more, "What, were we saying?"

((OOC: Not exactly where I was planning to go with this, but it hit me somewhere around the spit-take and I ran with it, no regrets! Tag!))

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 5; "The Aerie," Tochi and Asovil's table - 16:13

Leah gives a mischievous grin, "One ginger ale coming up... Captain." With that, she twirls about on her heel and flits away from their table once more.

Drake shakes his head and offers a rueful grin. "That woman knows full well that I have to consciously think about not being so formal in here... and so she makes it a point to never use my name. I think that she must be in league with Riva—I don't get an ounce of respect from either of them."

Having witnessed (and, on a several occasions, experienced) interactions with the Captain's Yeoman first-hand, Tochi chuckles. "They'll mutiny before long, we're sure," he jokes. Asovil notes the XO's mirth and tentatively smiles as well, though she isn't sure as to what the joke is.

Focusing on his companions, Drake continues. "Now then, while I could share the contributing factors behind my behavior this afternoon, I do not wish to come across as making excuses. Lieutenant... er, Asovil—please accept my sincere apologies for slighting you earlier. While I am certain that Tochi has already done so, please allow me to formally welcome you aboard the Peregrine." The Captain extends his hand,

The Trill nods silent confirmation of Silas' assumption but offers little else, at the moment. Rather, he simply sits and watches with some amusement as the apparently awestruck Science Officer gets her first "true" introduction to Captain Drake. She blinks at Silas' proffered hand for an instant before clasping it with her own, "Thank you, Captain."

"Please bear with us," Silas continues. "In the last twenty-four hours, literally every department head outside of Tochi has been replaced—some under some very odd circumstances. As a scientist, I would wager that you likely share my lack of confidence in multiple coincidences... though I suppose that is neither here nor there. Regardless, we'll get you fully briefed and up to speed—please let me know if you need anything to get settled in, or if your department is lacking anything."

Tochi offers another nod of silent validation, here, his gaze slips away from the Captain and the new CSO to regard Leah as she glides back toward their table, drinks in hand.

"That's very kind of you, sir," Asovil acknowledges.

Wordlessly, Leah places the Captain's ginger ale on the table, followed by Tochi's refreshed ice-berry juice, and then, with a wink and a smile, takes her leave, once more. Silas lifts his glass and indulges in a sip before continuing.

"If the tales I hear are correct," Silas says, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, "I understand that you made quite an entrance today,"

A somewhat sheepish grin creeps across Tochi's lips, then, his green-gold eyes flitting between Asovil and Silas. "That might have been our fault," he chuckles softly, lifting his own glass, now. Asovil's flat azure gaze indicates that though she has apparently forgiven him, she hasn't forgotten.

",If nothing else, I imagine that this will go down in your career as a rather memorable first day."

"I wish I could say that this afternoon's circumstances were the most embarrassing I've experienced, sir. But then," she tentatively tries out a toothy smile. "I couldn't be so lucky."

For whatever reason, Tochi's mind chooses to entertain him with an imagining of Asovil diving through the hatch and onto Peregrine's deck with her pants around her ankles; a mash-up of her frenzied arrival to the ship and the story she had just related moments ago. The thought, of course, prompts him to start to chuckle, again, but, with the glass tipped to his lips and being mid-swallow, it escapes him as more of a choking sound. The glass is quickly returned to the table and, just as quickly, a hand clapped over his mouth before the reaction can evolve into a full spit-take. Having managed to choke down that mouthful of juice, Tochi chuckles behind the hand for another second and, then, offers a rueful shrug and a knowing glance to Asovil as Silas, rather abruptly, rises from his seat, drink in hand. The Andorian woman's eyebrows rise slightly at his antics, but she believes she knows why he's finding the conversation so humorous and cannot deny him the laugh. After all, she had been the one to share the other experience with him.

"Well, I don't want to distract from your conversation too much," the Captain says, "Again, welcome aboard, Asovil."

Wiping his hand with a napkin, Tochi gets to his feet in concert with Asovil (though, again, not quite as rapidly as she).

"Thank you, sir," Asovil says as Tochi nods a friendly farewell before Silas turns to go.

"Ah, yes," the Captain only gets a step or two away before stopping and turning back to them, "there is one more thing. If either of you are available, we will be having a reception in the Captain's Mess for our diplomats this evening at nineteen hundred hours. All department heads are invited—though not required—to attend. So if terribly polite conversation and native cuisine from the Rytain and Kuldar peoples sounds enticing, by all means, please feel welcome."

"We'll be there with proverbial bells on, sir," Tochi replies, returning Silas' toast with a tip of his own glass. He glances sidelong at the mystified Andorian as the Captain strolls away, and then sinks back into his seat just ahead of Asovil retaking hers.

"Captain Drake doesn't appear to be the social sort," the lovely scientist concludes, settling into her chair and taking up her utensils, "But that was kind of him."

"He has his moments," Tochi smiles before sipping at his juice while relaxing in his chair and considering Asovil with an indecipherable look on his roguish face.

"Now," she says, fixing him with a demanding gaze, "About Dirven,"

Tochi's face lights up with a smile tinged with reminiscence and, perhaps, a bit of embarrassment, as well. "Ah, yes," he chuckles softly, "Dirven," His eyes dip to study the ice cubes bobbing on the surface of his beverage for a second and, then, he lifts the glass and takes a sip before going on, ",where even to begin with Dirven?"

He seems to seriously ponder his own question for a moment before deciding on the best, most obvious starting point. "Dirven was our third host," Zai begins, the smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes taking on a notably roguish cast as his mind sorts through those old memories, "A musician by profession and more than a little bit the scoundrel.

Some of our best memories of Risa are his," he continues, perhaps blushing a little, "He was something of a playboy, we imagine that's probably the best way to describe him, and, we suppose, too, that's the way musicians of his caliber often were, in those days, and, as such, was caught with his pants around his ankles more than a few times."

Asovil has never been to Risa, but has definitely heard the tales. She considers the sudden flush of Tochi's cheeks as indication that there are many of the same sort of sordid stories floating around his mind as those which she has heard from various personnel she's interacted with in Starfleet. Risa's pleasure cruises, Risa's famous spas, Risa's massages, the list of "Oh, I've heard about" Risa experiences is long and most aren't appropriate for polite conversation.

Tochi blinks and offers a shake of his head accompanied by a decidedly nervous chuckle. He steals a quick sip of his beverage and looks down at the table for a moment before continuing. Having not witnessed this behavior in the lieutenant before, Asovil narrows her eyes just a bit in study. What's going on in that head of yours, Tochi Zai? she thinks suspiciously.

"Anyway," he grins (colored more sheepish than wicked, now), having feigned a surveillance of the room before letting his gaze frame her, once more, "What, were we saying?"

"You were speaking about Dirven's auspicious Risa memories and playboy mannerisms," Asovil reminds him without so much as a hesitation. Forking a cooling piece of chicken into her mouth, the Andorian puts a hand up to cover her lips as she speaks around the food, the thought just popping into her head. "We are to wear bells to the reception tonight?"

(OOC: Tag, yes, Asovil is that oblivious when it comes to male behavior.)


Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42135.5)
USS Peregrine - Deck 4; Science Lab 1- 10:13

Chirp went the door chime. Ensign Dalia Maize feels a momentary annoyance at the sharp distraction from her biochemical analysis of protein conductivity between species DNA or RNA. The open nature of Federation medical studies has opened many a door into the passage of disease from one organism to another resulting in many past theories being debunked and new theories born. Newly introduced DNA from a species of bovine found on Icor X found spontaneously propagating PrPSc molecules that resist thermodynamic nucleation, mutating to not only endure the treatment, but to thrive within it. This discover met immediate concern within Starfleet's Sciences Division and a committee was formed. Lieutenant Tesenblen had received a request from Dr. Maddock Spangler within the Division's representatives on the newly originated project asking him to head up a portion of the research. Ensign Maize received orders to take on the brunt of the work three weeks prior and, frustratingly enough, has found nothing to counter the stimulus effect of the nucleation.

"Ensign Maize?"

With a heavy sigh, Dalia turns away from the conn screen to look askance of the unfamiliar gold-shirted man whose question interrupts her work. He's a tall sort, broad in the shoulders with a craggy face and a shaved head that gives him the look of a bald eagle. With him are three additional security personnel, all of them men with varying degrees of brute worn proudly in their countenances.

"Yes—" she pauses to register his rank. "—Chief?"

"I'm asking you to step away from the conn," he points to a space near the door his team had just entered through. "You can stand here while we conduct our business."

"What business are you referring to, Chief?" Dalia's brow furrows and she slides from her chair while gripping the back with her left hand.

"I'm afraid that's classified," floats the reply.

"So are half of the projects in this lab, Chief." Ensign Maize feels her heart start to beat faster and her stomach turn, a sure sign that she's not relishing the coming conflict, but positive that it's unavoidable. "I'm afraid you're going to have to see Lt. Tesenblen before you can have access to anything."

The man raises his eyebrows and peers down that beak of a nose with superiority. "Lt. Tesenblen is well aware of the situation, Ensign. Now, please step aside."

"I'll see for myself, Chief," Dalia responds with a tremor in her voice and a frown on her face. Striking her badge, she calls, "Lt. Tesenblen, this is Ensign Maize. Are you available?"

The chief motions his men forward and the three immediate and aggressively stride towards the small scientist. Panic sets in and Dalia taps her badge again, "Lt. Tesenblen!"

"Remove her from the lab," the chief orders harshly. "You. Take her into the office there and make sure she doesn't touch anything. And remove her badge for the time being. We don't need her muddying the waters by calling whomever she pleases."

The sound that escapes Dalia's lips upon feeling the steel grip of the security crewman upon her bicep is almost a squeal. She's easily guided past the other two gold-collared crewmen and walked towards Tesenblen's office.

"What's going on? This isn't right!" she cries out, wincing a little as the grip tightens.

"This could have gone much easier for you, Ensign," the chief states calmly as she passes by. "Do yourself a favor and sit quietly for a bit. We'll be out of your hair shortly."

Dalia Maize is the type of person who finds tears welling up in her purple-colored eyes when she grows angry. Rage Crying, she calls it, but it is nonetheless an embarrassment to her. Especially in her capacity as the assistant head of the department. Thrust towards the chairs in front of the desk, Dalia feels tears start to form as her offense at the way she's being treated grows. Spinning about so that her ponytail stings her flushed cheeks, the ensign grips the back of the chair behind her with both white knuckled hands and stares violet daggers at her captor. Gritting her teeth, she feels the first of the tears roll down her right cheek further enraging her. He shows some decency by holding out his hand for her badge instead of tearing it from her chest. Slowly, deliberately, she removes the device and places it in his outstretched hand.

"Does Captain Drake know what you're doing?" she demands, wiping the tear away with a jerk of her hand across her cheek. The barrel-chested man stares blankly at her as though not understanding what she's asking. Pursing her lips, Dalia deliberately looks away from him and studies the artistic rendering of some of the rarer Terran plants that her boss takes an interest in. Where is he? she wonders furiously. Another tear tumbles down her left cheek. This time, she ignores it.

"At least you can tell me how long this is going to take," she argues while still staring emptily at the picture. Again, he doesn't reply. Turning to face him once more, Dalia swallows and studies his face. I haven't seen this one before, she concludes. I'd remember that mole. He's got to be from the starbase. Either that, or he's new in security. But what would security be doing in the lab? Images of the new plant Lt. Tesenblen had brought aboard and the previous night's discussion about securing the specimen come to mind in answer to her questions. But that's in Lab 3, not here. Turning her gaze back to the picture on the wall she wonders, What have you done Horatio?
Forever might be a theoretical space of time, but Dalia feels that she can certainly add credence to the theory while waiting on the base security team to do what they needed to do in the lab. She's not sure how long she waits. The office door slides open and the chief enters with an additional three security personnel who hadn't been with him when she had been relegated to Tesenblen's office. A anti-grav-sled hovered between two of them with two large storage crates on the flat bed.

"Everything that's not secured to the bulkhead or floor, boys," the chief instructs his team. Looking directly at her tear-stained face, he tells her, "Stay out of their way, Ensign Maize. This will be over soon."

Lifting her head defiantly, Dalia doesn't respond. There's nothing for her to say. She's surrounded by base security personnel who obviously have no qualms about manhandling her and at five three and barely a hundred pounds, she knows there's not a thing she can do about the situation.

"Good," the chief steps back through the door and the ensign looks past him to where the other two men who had first arrived with the bullish man are working at the conns.

The next few minutes consist of the three additional personnel stripping the office of everything; pictures on the walls, desktop accouterments, random decorations, personal items, and even the PADD that Horatio kept on the desk. All of these items are placed in the crates until they are stock full and the office is bare. The crates are closed and sealed, and the team takes their impersonal leave of the chamber, the anti-grav-sled being towed behind them. Peering past them as the door opens again, Dalia witnesses the chief in conversation with one of the crewmen who had been operating a conn. Then, the chief looks her way and their eyes meet for a moment before the door slides shut.

Scanning the office that had once been an extension of Lt. Horatio Tesenblen, Dalia feels the anger begin to subside, overtaken by confusion and hurt. With these emotions she can control the waterworks. The last time she cried because of emotional pain was a few weeks after her parents' death. Experiences such as that harden a person. She has been told by the Starfleet counselor she'd seen some time after the loss that her body's way of coping with the close off emotions is to perform Rage Crying. For her part, Dalia doesn't believe that nonsense. Psychology is a soft science, and the ensign is a disciple of hard science. Besides, she's been Rage Crying since she was a little girl growing up on Starbase 833.

A familiar chirp sounds again just as the door to the office opens admitting the chief. Pointing to the chair, he moves towards the desk. "Have a seat, Ensign Maize."

"I prefer to stand—"

"That wasn't a request, Ensign." His trajectory takes him around the desk to sit in Horatio's chair. "Sit down."

She complies if reluctantly, and shows her disagreement by making her motions stiff and hard while keeping her jaw clenched. The chief leans forward and laces his fingers on the desk before him.

"This is how this is going to work," he says as though reciting a regulation. "I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them. You're going to cooperate, or you'll be joining us back on the base for further interrogation. Do I make myself clear?"

Still clenching her teeth, Dalia nods once.

"Good," he replies and abruptly sets into the questions.

The interrogation session lasts fifteen-, maybe twenty-minutes before the chief seems satisfied and rises from the chair. The questions he had asked had all been regarding Tesenblen's activities, her involvement in experiments, her knowledge of projects and ways Horatio had gathered his specimens. Not once did they dig into her past, or her affiliations, and never were they directed at any of the projects she headed up. It is very apparent to the ensign that Horatio Tesenblen is being hunted, and by the time the chief finishes, she is experiencing a severe dislike for the man, and a distrust for all security personnel.

"We're through here, Ensign," the chief informs her. "You'll remain in this office for the next twenty-minutes. There's a security protocol on place keeping you from accessing the computer, or communicating except in a situation of emergency during that time. Your badge will be on the table in the lab when the protocol ends. I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

Fuming, scared, confused, and worried sick about the kind, affable Horatio, Dalia Maize watches helplessly as the room empties of base security and the door closes behind them.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Holosuite 1 - Deck 5 - 1925

WHAM! The punch landed squarely on Chief Reginald Brooks jaw causing him to stagger back a step before recovering. His opponent paused and grinned at him for a second while he shook his head.

"You okay over there, Reg?" Chief PO Dana Cook said as she looked over her raised boxing gloves at him.

Chief Brooks shook his head again and then returned the grin, "That one hit the spot for sure!" He raised his gloves again and they went at it again.

They went back and forth for several minutes, with Brooks trying to return the favor by landing a solid blow but most were blocked or only glancing shots on the exceptional skill of Chief Cook. Brooks jabbed a couple of times and then tried for a right hook to only have Cook slipped under it and landed a solid blow to his midsection, "Oomph," which knocked the wind out of him.

"Oookay," Brooks managed to wheeze out as he stumbled backwards, "I'm done." He chuckled as Cook lowered her gloves.

"Awww Come on Reg," she said with a grin, "I'm just beginning to work up a sweat here." She had shucked her uniform and was in loose knee-length shorts and a tank top. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into a small ponytail with only a few stray hairs that had managed to escape during the workout.

"Hey you're welcome to continue, Dana," Brooks said pointed to the heavy bag hanging in the corner of the Holo boxing gym, ‘there's your next partner."

He climbed out of the boxing ring and began to untie his gloves, "You know Dane, that I appreciate you teaching me to box, I just didn't know it was going to be a painful learning experience." He chuckled as he sat on a bench as she climbed out of the ring putting a confused expression on her face.

"Painful?" she said as she plopped down next to him, sweat running down her body, "I don't recall experiencing any pain at all." They both broke out laughing at that.

"Yeah well," Brooks went on as he removed his gloves and began working on the tape, "you're just too good for me Dana, and you know that."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Reg," Dana said as she started on her tape, "You're doing much better than a couple weeks ago.  You ‘almost' landed a solid blow this time."

Brooks chuckled and shook his head as he stood up and tossed the tape in a trash bin and hung his gloves up on a hook on the wall and grabbed a towel to dry off the sweat.

"You coming to the game tonight?" He asked.

"Tonight?" Dana asked as she stood up and followed him to hang up her gloves and grab a towel, "Who all is going to be there?"

"Well you know V'lur wont be," Reginald said with a smile; everyone knew the Vulcan Master Chief PO in Flight Control didn't gamble. "and the 'Old man' said he isn't up to it tonight."

Dana nodded her head as he mentioned the 'Old man', that was MCPO Davis in Engineering who was the oldest person that either of them had ever seen still serving in Starfleet. He had to be close to 80 or more at least.

"I'm going to miss him," Dana said then grinned, "but not his stories." They both laughed as they knew that Davis loved to regale them with tall tales from his youth. Dana thought it was just a distraction to take people's mind off the game. He was quite the poker player and often hard to beat for sure.

"Let's see," Brooks went on, "Tara said she could make it. Kook too, but he has the Gamma shift tonight so he is out before 2300. Oh, and Seto is out too; apparently he partied a little too much on the Starbase."

CPO Tara Palmer from Personnel was a pretty good player. Kook, or CPO Marti Lukkonen, was an exceptional card player and was one of the frequent winners. CPO Seto Yasuo was an occasional participant who was a mediocre player. Dana thought it was because he didn't apply himself to Poker. He preferred to study every aspect of Flight Control Systems and often didn't do much else for days.

"Well," Dana said, "that will only give us a couple hours to take Kook's money." She and Brooks both laughed at that, the opposite was true most time, though Dana was also an exceptional card player if she would say so herself.

"What about Lauren?" Dana asked. CPO Lauren Crane was a Geneticist; smart as a whip but not very good at poker. She got too anxious and it showed; she was horrible at bluffing and everyone too advantage of her many tells.

"Afraid not," Brooks said as he shook his head, "apparently she is confined to her quarters. Something to do with that mess of the Science officer, Lt. Tensenblen."

Dana frowned and wondered what was going on there. It was the talk of the ship how Starbase Security had apparently come aboard and arrested Tensenblen and then confiscated most of his lab. It was being kept hush hush as to the reasons, some scuttlebutt said it was illegal experiments he had been conducting. She thought that strange, as she always thought of the Captain as being a man who kept his ship in order and she couldn't see how something majorly illegal could be kept from him.

"Well that should be plenty," She nodded as she finished wiping down with a towel and rose to her feet, "The usual time and place?"

"Yep," Brooks nodded as he rose as well, "2100, usual place."

"I'll be there," Dana said as they walked towards the exit, "Computer, end program." The boxing gym disappeared to be replaced by patterned gray walls.

Dana could he heard saying as the left the suite, "You sure you don't want to come down to Medical and let me patch you up. You don't look so good." Laughter followed them as the Holosuite doors closed behind them.

(OOC: Hopefully I have properly edited this to account for my errors with CPO Crane. Sorry for any confusion. Now to editing the Poker Night scenario.)

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Deck 5 - Shuttle Bay 2 - Maintenance Locker 3 - 2105

CPO Dana Cook had managed to shower and grab a small meal in the Mess Hall before time for the Poker game. Everyone was seated and the chips were handed out and the cards being Shuffled. The game was Andorian Hold-em, and the object of the game was to be the one with all the money at the end of the night. There was no real money at stack; the same amount of chips, small rectangular bits of metal in the different colors of precious metals, was given to each player.

In Andorian Hold-em, two cards, known as the hole cards or hold cards, are dealt face down to each player, and then five community cards are dealt face up in three stages. The stages consist of a series of three cards ("the flop"), later an additional single card ("the turn" or "fourth street") and a final card ("the river" or "fifth street"). Each player seeks the best five card poker hand from the combination of the community cards and their own hole cards. If a player's best five card poker hand consists only of the five community cards and none of the player's hole cards, it is called "playing the board". Players have betting options to check, call, raise or fold. Rounds of betting take place before the flop is dealt, and after each subsequent deal.

Individuals compete for an amount of money or chips contributed by the players themselves (called the pot). Because the cards are dealt randomly and outside the control of the players, each player attempts to control the amount of money in the pot based either on the hand they are holding, or on their prediction as to what their opponents may be holding and how they might behave.

The game is divided into a series of hands (deals); at the conclusion of each hand, the pot is typically awarded to one player (an exception in which the pot is divided between two or more is discussed below). A hand may end at the showdown, in which case the remaining players compare their hands and the highest hand is awarded the pot; that highest hand is usually held by only one player, but can be held by more in the case of a tie. The other possibility for the conclusion of a hand occurs when all but one player have folded and have thereby abandoned any claim to the pot, in which case the pot is awarded to the player who has not folded.

The objective of winning players is not to win every individual hand, but rather to make mathematically and psychologically better decisions regarding when and how much to bet, raise, call—or fold. By making such decisions to place influential bets, one can non-verbally represent or suggest holding or not-holding a certain or possible hand by either betting or not-betting pre-flop, and by venturing smaller or larger bets or raises at possibly more advantageous times, throughout the stages of the hand being dealt. One's pattern of betting may encourage opponents to bet or to fold (in this complex process, called bluffing), without verbalizing a discouraging or dishonest word. The winning poker players know how to enhance their opponents' betting and maximize their own expected gain on each round of betting, to thereby increase their long-term winnings.

As the players settled in to play, Dana took up the cards first as the dealer. The others all finished stacking there chips and getting some drinks to sustain them during the game; Dana had, of course, a glass of real scotch before her.

"Ok," she lead off and began dealing the cards, "as usual progressive blinds, we don't want to be here all night do we?" The progressive blinds, Big and little, were so that each hand the Blinds, or ante, by the 1st and 2nd player to the dealer's left, made the betting for each hand progressively larger wins. This made it more interesting and a quicker game as the losing players tended to go 'all-in", betting al they had left, in an attempt to stay in the game. This allowed a potentially long game to only last 2-3 hours; a more manageable amount of time.

"Yes please," Kook, or SCPO Lukkonen replied, "I want to get all your money before I go on Gamma shift at 2300." The others laughed and cries of "you wish" and "not tonight" among others were traded back and forth.

The cards were dealt and the game was soon underway. Dana pulled out a cigar from he pocket and lit it up; clouds of smoke rose to be quickly be taken away by the ventilation system. At one point in the past, her cigars were frowned up and almost banned at the game, but due to her bickering MCPO Davis had seen too it that the ventilation system in their Poker Room (Maintenance Locker 3) had increase power to handle the smoke and make everyone happy.

The game went on with polite and not so polite banter for the next hour or so and CPO Tara Palmer was the first one to be taken out. Tara was a good player but a little too analytical sometimes. She also had a 'tell' where she would absently brush her hand through her hair when she was trying to bluff. Everyone knew this, but they weren't going to tell her. Dana won that hand and took all of her last remaining chips along with a sizeable chunk of Brooks money as well.

The cards were dealt out again and the game continued till almost 2300. Reg and Tara were out and sitting there drinking, talking and watching the standoff between CPO Lukkonen and CPO Cook. Their chips were about evenly matched with Cook perhaps having a slight advantage; The bets had been going back and forth, and with Kook needing to be on watch soon he was pressing the bets in an attempt to win the game before his shift began.

"Ok," Kook said and looked at the community cards after the river had been dealt, "Time to end this I think. I think we are pretty evenly matched Dana, so I'm All-In. You care to test your luck?" He grinned knowing that he had the winning hand. He was confident as he won more than anyone, Dana was the close 2nd but he just knew tonight was his night.

Dana looks at her cards and appeared to be sweating a little. She kept looking from her cards, to the Pot, and then to her chips. Finally with a sigh she nodded and said, "I'm all-in. What you got?"

MCPO Marti Lukkonen smiled as he laid out his hole cards.

(Hole cards): 8-C &10-C

(Community cards): 5-C, 10-C, J-H, J-C, A-Sp

This game him a Club Flush. Dana sighed and lowered her head dejectedly, then tossed her cards down.

(Hole cards): 10-H, J-Sp.

She had a Jacks over 10s Full house. Kook sagged in his chair for a minute and then chuckled as Dana grinned broadly. "Come to mama." She chortled as she racked in the pot containing all of the chips now.

They all laughed together for a few minutes and put away their gaming things as they talked for a couple minutes. MCPO Lukkonen, Kook, took off for Gamma shift promising that he would get revenge next week; Dana replied with a 'bring it on'. The game done, they soon broke and went back to their own duties, or bed, whatever be the case.

Dana had the morning Alpha watch so she headed to her personal quarters on Deck 3 to turn in for the night. She found PO2 Leah Finnley there reading on her PADD already in her usual sleeping attire.

"Hey Leah," Dana said as she stepped in.

"Hey Dana," Leah responded in her typical jovial manner, "How did you do tonight?"

"Cleaned them out," Dana said with a big grin, "Of course."

Leah chuckled as that wasn't always the case. She was glad that Dana had won, when she lost she was in a bad mood for a few days. Heaven help her Medical staff when that happened. Leah foresaw maybe a few quiet days in Sickbay this week.

"I'm turning in," Dana said as she headed to her own bedroom, "Have a good night Leah."

"You too Dana," Leah said, "I wont be long. Just finishing up this Chapter then I'm off too."

Dana nodded knowing how Leah loved these trashy Romance novels that she got from Earth; she had tried reading one once and found it to be boring and too fantastical of a tale. Real life didn't work the way it did in those novels, in her experience. Maybe that was the point, she thought as her bed chamber door closed behind her, to escape the real world with fantasy. To each their own she thought. She changed into her sleeping attire and then crashed on her bed. She had to be up early so she could grab a bite and then report for the Alpha shift at 0700.

(Edited to remove references to CPO Crane.)

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 5; "The Aerie", Tochi and Asovil's table - 1613
"Dirven was our third host," Zai begins, the smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes taking on a notably roguish cast as his mind sorts through those old memories, "A musician by profession and more than a little bit the scoundrel.

Some of our best memories of Risa are his," he continues, perhaps blushing a little, "He was something of a playboy, we imagine that's probably the best way to describe him, and, we suppose, too, that's the way musicians of his caliber often were, in those days, and, as such, was caught with his pants around his ankles more than a few times."

Asovil has never been to Risa, but has definitely heard the tales. She considers the sudden flush of Tochi's cheeks as indication that there are many of the same sort of sordid stories floating around his mind as those which she has heard from various personnel she's interacted with in Starfleet. Risa's pleasure cruises, Risa's famous spas, Risa's massages, the list of "Oh, I've heard about" Risa experiences is long and most aren't appropriate for polite conversation.

Tochi blinks and offers a shake of his head accompanied by a decidedly nervous chuckle. He steals a quick sip of his beverage and looks down at the table for a moment before continuing. Having not witnessed this behavior in the lieutenant before, Asovil narrows her eyes just a bit in study. What's going on in that head of yours, Tochi Zai? she thinks suspiciously.

"Anyway," he grins (colored more sheepish than wicked, now), having feigned a surveillance of the room before letting his gaze frame her, once more, "What, were we saying?"

"You were speaking about Dirven's auspicious Risa memories and playboy mannerisms," Asovil reminds him without so much as a hesitation. Forking a cooling piece of chicken into her mouth, the Andorian puts a hand up to cover her lips as she speaks around the food, the thought just popping into her head. "We are to wear bells to the reception tonight?"

Wear bells? What?
Tochi blinks, his brows knitting in momentary confusion at that question. As realization of what promted her question dawns on him, though, the befuddled expression morphs into a slow smile and he chuckles a bit. "Oh," the Trill says, shaking his head, "No, not actual bells. It's an old Terran expression. We're not precisely sure of the origins of the phrase, but it's intended to indicate that we'll happily attend."

((OOC: Presuming an "Oh" or a nod or something similar))

Bemused, and, also, somewhat relieved that her intergogative has rescued him from his Dirvenesque musings, a grinning Tochi arches a brow; "You really haven't spent much time in the company of humans, have you?"

((OOC: Presuming, again, that there's a bit of back and forth here in regards to that before Asovil nudges him back towards the promised Dirven story))

",Right," the Trill grins in response to Asovil's prompting, "Dervin and his embarrassing tale.

Well, as we told you, some of our best memories of Risa come from him, and that's probably due to the fact that he visited the place quite often. His lascivious nature was a contributing factor, to be sure, but, more than that, it was the beauty of the planet, itself, that called him back time and time again; the certainty that he'd be able to find some lovely little thing with whom he could, ahem, enjoy that beauty was, typically, just an added bonus. Now, we say typically because, a good portion of the man's daliances were just that, brief flings that ignited quickly, burned hot, and then flickered out in a matter of weeks or days, but there was one woman that we can say Dirven fell madly in love with and, in his attempts to woo her, is where we find an embarrassing moment that may come close to matching yours."

Tochi sips at his juice, then, and smiles as he continues; "Her name was Talla and he met her at Temtibi Bay. We think he was initially drawn to her, not just because of her beauty, but because he had never seen an Andorian enjoying the warmth of the Risan suns the way she seemed to be. To him, there was something undefineably magical in her very presence on that beach, and he was smitten with her just as quickly as he was inspired," the Trill chuckles at that, adding, "And it was really quickly. We think he had the first three verses of Blue on the Bay written before he had so much as introduced himself.

At any rate, Talla wasn't as instantly impressed by Dirven's charms and musical talents as many of his previous paramours were - a fact that made her all the more intriguing, we think - but she was gracious enough to entertain his company. That first day, they simply walked along the beach together and talked for an hour or so. Any attempts he might have made to seduce her, subtle and cunning as they may have been, fell completely flat but, surprisingly enough, he was undeterred in his pursuit. At the end of that encounter, Dirven returned to his rooms alone without even the thought of seeking out anyone else to share the rest of his night. Rather, he spent that night with his piano," he nods at Asovil's mug where it sits on the table, "some Andorian Ale, and thoughts of Talla. He had all but completed Blue on the Bay by the time morning came.

As smitten by her as he was, of course, Dirven retruned to the beach in hopes of finding her there, again," Tochi sips at his juice, smiles a bit, and setting the glass aside, continues on, "and he did, if not as quickly as he might have liked. Again, she showed fairly little interest outside of polite conversation. They chatted for a short time, that morning, but were interrupted (as Dirven recalled it) by a group of Talla's friends who had come to collect her for a trip to the Subterranian Gardens. As she and her friends took their leave, Dirven asked her if she might like to meet on the beach that evening if he promised to play a song for her that he'd written. With a bit of coaxing from her friends, and to Dirven's delight, Talla agreed and a time was set to meet. Dirven knew that the song would have to be something truly special and, even as quickly as he'd composed Blue on the Bay, he was sure it would be. However, he couldn't very well bring his piano to the beach, so, the hours that Talla and her friends spent in Risa's gardens, Dirven spent in his rooms rehearsing the piece on his mandolin.

So, the time came and Dirven returned to the beach. He found Talla and (to a disappointment that he hid fairly well, we think) her friends at a spot that was just a bit more crowded than he might have hoped. Sea turtles were supposed to be coming into the bay and onto the beach around moonrise, that night, and as it turned out, the resort staff had organized an impromptu party to entertain the guests who had gathered to await the spectacle. When the staff saw that Dirven had arrived with his mandolin in hand, they were overjoyed, thinking, perhaps, that he had showed up to entertain all of the guests rather than just the one, he'd been hired to play Temtibi Bay, more than once before, you see," The Trill offers a faint shake of his head, dismissing that last as being unimportant to the story.

He sips, smiles, and, then, continues. "Anyway, as he was truly trying to impress Talla, and refusing the staff's requests for him to play would likely have been considered rude, Dirven gave in to the coaxing and launched into a set that he had intended to end with the song he'd written about her. Being the showman that he was, the farther he got through his set, the more people were drawn from other parts of the beach and, by the time he'd gotten to the point where he was going to wrap the unplanned concert up with Blue on the Bay, there was quite a sizeable crowd. During his performance, as the crowd grew, he had strolled out onto the trunk of one of those Sakanar Palms that leaned over the beach, using it as a makeshift stage as it would let him better see his audience and vice versa.

So, he's standing there on the palm, and when finds Talla in the crowd he announces the song. ‘Thank you, Thank you,'" Tochi imitates Dirven's voice, "‘You've been a wonderful audience. The turtles will be coming into the bay, soon, I think, and I know most of you came here tonight for them and not me. If you good people don't mind, though, I'd like to play you one last song,'" The XO grins a bit, almost chuckling but not quite. "At this point, Dirven is moving to actually sit on the palm's trunk," he explains before continuing with his impersonation of the past host, "‘I was inspired to write this, on this very beach, just yesterday, ladies and gentlemen, by a glimpse of beauty so magical and pure that it spoke to my very heart and soul,' He's got himself seated, now, and he's locking eyes with Talla as he shifts his weight and readies his instrument, ‘I call it Blue on the Bay and, I humbly dedicate it to Talla zh'Tisia.' He strums out the first few chords and is just about to start singing when he makes the mistake of shifting his weight, again," Tochi's grin has broadened and there is the hint of a blush showing just at the edge of his spots, "He'd shifted just a bit too much, we imagine, and found himself slipping off of the trunk. He was already rather embarrassed that he was about to fall off the tree and onto the beach, of course, not the ideal way to end a concert, but as he slipped, his swim trunks caught on a jutting piece of bark. So, slip, rip, and flip, and there's Dirven, tumbling to the beach, wearing nothing but his spots and an abashed smile."

Tochi does chuckle, now, the blush blooming a bit more as he recalls feeling that embarrassment. "As humiliating as it was, though, we believe it was that moment that, finally, for whatever reason, endeared him enough to Talla that he and she went on to have quite a passionate relationship that lasted years as opposed to the days or weeks."

He shrugs a bit, still smiling, and regards the Andorian sitting across from him; "So, embarrassing enough to count, Asovil?"

((OOC: And, again, I've gotten kind of longwinded, Not bad for having to make up that story on the fly, I suppose. I kind of figure that these two will be getting around to wrapping up their conversation at this point, Tochi going off to get his workout in and Asovil going to tend to other matters (or continue following along with Tochi if that's her preference). So, interjections, interruptions, and what have you, at your discretion, Brom. ))

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Deck 4 - 1615

"Appears to have been an equipment malfunction in sickbay. I'm having Ensign Williams follow up and Engineering to address the equipment. The odd thing is it was the table the Chief Thorson had been on,Ensign Williams will fill the report,.Reid out."

John stepped to the Turbo, "Deck two." Finally John hoped to get some rest before his shift on the bridge.

Walking down the passage Reid regretted having so little information to give Lt. Berk. When security answered the call there wasn't much they could do. "I wish Cookie hadn't over reacted to Bachmann's rant." John thought to himself. John respected the CPO but had found her to be a bit heavy handed. "With her experience and time in Starfleet you'd think she'd been more aware to a security call during a yellow alert with the Ambassadors on board. But they weren't in her sick bay so they weren't her concern.

Reid ambled from the turbo to his quarters. He still had a chance to get some solid rest.
Checking the com for current notices he saw, "An Ambassadorial reception at the Captain's Mess at 1900 hours. Department heads are cordially invited to attend."
"Great..right in the middle of Berk's shift." Checking the duty roster John sighed. "It's me or the new guy."

Tapping the comm, "Reid to Lt. Berk."

(assuming a "Berk here.")

"The Captian's reception is at 1900, your relief will be there at 1830. That should give you enough time to prepare. It's important you attend as the Ambassadors respect strength, not having the senior Tactical Officer there may be taken as in insult. "

(assuming something like a "Thank you,")

Setting his alarm, "Well so let's try a power nap."

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Bridge - 1830

The turbo opened and John stepped out on to the bridge. Walking the Tactical console, "I'm here to relieve you Sir."
(assuming something like, "But aren't you in the Command chair next shift?"

"Yes sir, it was me or the new Ensign and as you said I'll need to be here gamma anyway,.if I need help Sir I'll call for it."