Stadate: 2366.10.21 USS Discovery, Ten Forward – 2055
Kelsey entered Ten Forward with the air of a man refreshed and ready to face another shift. His uniform was clean and pressed, his commbadge and pips polished to a near ridiculous sheen, his hair combed and his mustaches and goatee trimmed. All of this was a far cry from the disarray churning within.

At the end of his shift, Kel had immediately returned to his quarters. It had become a habit of his after Kaila was born to rush straight home, as it were, almost frantic inside as though something could have happened to her in the time he was on shift and he not be informed. Inevitably, the little infant was sound asleep and he’d resist the urge to pick her up and cradle her within his arms. In fact, he had hardly held her since her birth, and though he recognized it he hadn’t rectified it. This particular night he’d come in to find Sherry sitting at a table set with fine glassware and lit by candles. Having been trained for anything space might have to offer, Commander Gavison had been completely off guard. He’d paused in the doorway and stared at his lovely wife with his eyebrows raised—not his typical ‘one-eyebrow quirk’, but a full on, “Uh… huh?” Sherry hadn’t been too receptive, he’d had a hard time recovering, she’d become frustrated with him, he’d become frustrated with her being frustrated with him, and dinner was spoiled. How could he not have told her he was going to have to dine with the senior staff? Kelsey had, of course, been completely apologetic and then the bomb was dropped: Sherry asked if he’d seen her yet. ‘Her who?’ he’d responded innocently enough. ‘Her the new chief engineer, that’s who!’ This tipped the XO off that she’d known all along they’d be picking up new personnel and senior officers at that; which, of course, meant that extended duties would be required of him! Well, that was certainly a mistake to point out… It didn’t help when he’d said that he had and why the devil did she care anyway? Needless to say, he had a long time before the dinner to get ready as Sherry wound up not talking to him and he wound up in a confused silence.

Now, arriving at the table, Commander Gavison silently filed the episode away and seated himself to Blair’s right, leaning back comfortably in his chair and resting one arm on the table’s surface. He gave a smile and a nod to each individual by way of greeting, but otherwise waited for the evening to progress in its customary fashion. He smiled at each of the new officers and joined in the toast with all of the respect appropriate his station. The information Noah delivered concerning their mission seemed extraordinarily mundane, but not unworthy of the Discovery’s attention and since the official briefing had yet to be held, Kelsey filed that information away as well. He listened in part to the conversations going on about him, but was mostly self-involved, reliving the evening’s events and trying to figure out what had set Sherry to acting so strangely. He wasn’t completely stand-offish, responding to conversation as required and even elaborating on a bit of word play as appropriate, but otherwise he dined on the meal Raines had arranged (have to commend him on the details later) and nursed his wounds with the brandy he’d received from Noah’s niece… how did she know what’d hit the spot every time?

---

USS Discovery, Ten Forward – 2113
We haven’t had a candlelit dinner in ages… why the devil would she whip one up tonight of all nights? Kel pushed a Cardasian rolled something-or-other in plum sauce to the side of his plate as he considered the possible implications, oblivious to the change in venue for MacTavish until the man was looming over him.

“Beg yer pardon, Command… er.. Kel,” the Scotsman stuttered. Gavison blinked, momentarily off guard--Happening a lot tonight, Kel! Wake up! He opened his mouth a little, but found himself (in his momentary confusion) just tilting his head slightly to the side and giving the TAC officer a bit of a strange look.

“I realize tha’ there be a… a difference in our ways o’ doin’ things, sair, but all tha’ aside, I dinnae wan’ ye ta think ol’ Jack’s a complete bastard, aye?” MacTavish slipped a box from beneath his arm and held it out like a prize at a carnival, nearly in Gavison’s face. Having regained much of his composure Kel allowed the blank look to be replaced by a smile as he accepted the gift. “So, I jus’ wan’ed ta extend me congratulations to ye and yer missus onna new addition ta th’ family.”

Kelsey chuckled as he looked down at the box and registered that they were cigars. “Thank you, Jack,” he said, standing so that he wasn’t craning his neck to look up at the man. “Your congratulations are much appreciated, and twice returned on your promotion. Captain Blair sure knows how to pick them. I’m pleased as to how things are turning out.”

“Aye, yer proud an’ wi’ good reason, I’m sure. Extend me congratulations ta the missus, aye?”

“I will,” Kelsey responded while giving the Scotsman a friendly pat on the shoulder. When the man walked away, Kel slowly returned to his seat, placing the cigars next to the plate and glancing at Noah with his signature, one eyebrow cocked and an expression that read: Whooda thunked it? He’d never tell Jack that he didn’t smoke. The man had obviously made a huge effort.

---

USS Discovery, Ten Forward – 2243
“…Napoleon’s downfall,” Kelsey chuckled as he ended the explanation, as he saw it, for the historical figure’s demise accompanied by the slight shake of his head. He’d finally been able to release himself from the shackles of confusion shortly after MacTavish’s presentation of the cigars and had quickly found himself engaged in philosophical discussion with Noah and Lt. Arevaci that had lasted well into the evening. Most of the conversation was fairly light-hearted and filled with speculation; some of that at the humorous expense of various notable figures in human military history. The XO kept his brandy full, but didn’t indulge enough to lose his edge, and always made room in the conversation for others to join, interrupt, or inject commentary should the need arise. Now, however, he was feeling a bit worn and as the conversation was dying he could likely find a way to politely excuse himself from the table.

Commander Waldgrave is definitely an attractive woman… Mother of Pearl! That’s why Sher was so worked up! Kelsey nearly smacked his forehead as the realization struck him. He also very nearly broke into laughter at the absurdity behind the incident. The whole candlelit dinner episode had been about the insecurity of a woman who’d just given birth and had yet to regain her figure. With a slight shake of his head, Kel gave the edge of the table a slight tap and said, “It has truly been a pleasure, and I am very pleased to have you aboard,” he made it so the statement addressed both of their new officers. “But, I am getting precious little enough sleep as it is with my daughter’s feeding schedule so I have to beg your indulgence as I retire from the festivities.

“Captain,” he stood and gave those who still remained a smile as he slipped away. Tomorrow was likely to be filled with intelligence briefings, preparations, and a whole lot of reading, not to mention reparations for his ill-prepared response to his wife’s cry for affection. Kel had to be well-rested and attentive. Slipping up as bad as he’d done all evening, and being befuddled like he’d been all day, was unacceptable.

OOC: Assuming no one stops his exit…

The room was dark, the soft glow of the overhead rail lights was barely perceptible after walking the brightly lit halls of the Discovery.

“Sher?” There was no response. Kelsey moved through the room to the baby’s room and found it empty as well. Momentary panic set in before he realized that Sherry wouldn’t really have anywhere to go should she had felt slighted enough to want to walk out on him--ridiculous as that idea is he thought as he turned towards the bedroom. There he found Sherry asleep with little Kaila snuggled against her chest. Leaning against the doorframe, Kel paused for a moment to look upon them and a soft smile played across his lips. There wasn’t anything anyone could say to change his mind; Sherry Gavison was the most beautiful woman alive, and little Kaila was the epitome of the word, “angel.” Releasing a satisfied sigh, Kelsey prepared himself for bed, slipped into the light covers next to his wife, and gently kissed her neck before lying back and closing his eyes—which popped back open almost immediately.

Sitting up in bed, he stared at the arrangement of flowers on the table in the corner for a moment before rising and padding over to them. There, on the table at their base, was a note that read:

Congratulations on your new arrival. Best wishes, Jack MacTavish

“I’ll be damned,” Kel muttered, shaking his head once more before setting the card down and returning to bed.

OCC: I'm thick at times....

Stardate: 2366.10.21
USS Discovery Ten Forward – 2056
Katrina smiled as she took a seat to the left of the Captain at the exquisitely set dinning table in a cordoned off area of Ten Forward.

"Good evening, everyone, and thank you all for coming. I believe that you all know me, but this meal is of course for the benefit our new senior officers." Captain Noah Blair. Lean and strong he had kind blue eyes and short light brown hair. Kat had heard of his heroic achievements with the USS Osprey (she wondered if there was anyone in the quadrant who hadn’t!). He seemed an easy-going well-liked commander. More than can be said about her last captain.

"First of all, allow me to introduce our new Chief Engineer. Everyone, please welcome Lieutenant Commander Katrina Waldgrave," Captain Blair said, nodding towards Katrina.
She smiled, raised her glass and inclined her head slightly in a gesture of acknowledgement. “Thank you. You are all making me feel very welcome,” she said.

"Also, we have a new Ship's Counsellor,” Blair continued. ”Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Christoph Arevaci." She glanced down the table toward the well-built man; his long slim fingers the most startling thing about him.

"Now then I believe that you both met Commander Gavison, my XO. Next we have Lieutenant Jack MacTavish, our Chief Tactical Officer and Second Officer. Next to him is Lieuteant Tuvar, our Chief Security Officer."

Introductions take so long, Kat thought to herself idly, keeping a pleasant smile on her face as the introductions continued.

She’d not served with any of the staff sat around the table, which wasn’t surprising considering the size of Starfleet. She did, however, recognise Lieutenant Benjamin Raines, the muscle man with fair hair and blue eyes, although she didn’t know where from. She had a vague recollection of him from somewhere, but couldn’t place it.

"As you may know, we not only picked up new staff from the Valmont, but a doctor Joseph Milkens, as well. Doctor Milkens is carrying the supplies to manufacture a critically needed vaccine for Aldor V, to which we should arrive in a little less than four days. In theory, this is a simple delivery job; our task is merely to drop the good doctor and his materials off at the federation complex planetside. "

This was standard stuff, and an excellent opportunity to get familiar with the Discovery’s systems inside and outside Engineering. Unfortunately being good at your job wasn’t enough; you needed to play the political game on ships like these.

"Enough shop talk for now. Let us properly welcome our new comrades with an excellent dinner and a toast. To the Discovery!"

Katrina smiled and duly raised her glass of chardonnay. “The Discovery!” she chimed with the other officers around the table and sipped from the wine glass.

She was pleasantly surprised when she discovered the meal prepared had seemed to be in done so in her honour; a traditional English Sunday roast dinner, complete with Yorkshire Pudding and gravy. Unfortunately, she was unable to say that it was ‘just like mother used to make!’ since she had no recollection of ever having a mother. She’d figured it out years ago, the reason she thrived in Starfleet; the regimented organisation of your life was like a substitute for a family although sadly, Kat had never had a crew that felt remotely like a family.

“Commander Waldgrave,” said Lt. Raines.
She snapped out of her reverie and focused on the Lieutenant.

“I noticed in your file that you graduated from the Academy back in ’58. I’m class of ’61. I remember your Senior Engineering Project was amazing.” He smiled and poured himself another drink.

Katrina blushed slightly and grinned back remembering where she knew his face from, “Well I’ve always been interested in Warp Core Technology. It was the culmination of an idea I’d had during my first year and a result of the lecturer drumming stability into us during the first lecture.”

“It was risky, but the results were worth it.” She took a sip from her wine, looking over the rim of the glass at Ben Raines. There had been an attraction there, more one-sided (on her side) she’d thought at the time. And it wasn’t the done thing… and if she was honest, which she usually was, relationships had always scared her so she’d never taken the steps to get to know Raines.

OCC: any response? I’ll add to it if need be.

“So,” she said taking a sip from her glass, “I understand you are responsible for this fabulous Sunday roast?”

((Apologies for preemptively ditching out on the XO's conversation. Depending on how this plays out, I may be back in time to catch Napoleon's downfall))

Stardate 2366.10.21 Ten Forward

Nothing screamed at him during the introductions, but the Bajoran pulled his attention soon after the meal was finished... Wandering off on her own, but projecting no desire to be alone that Christoph noticed. The small talk around dinner was enlightening and fascinating on levels unappreciated by those in other fields, telling Christoph much of his fellow officers – probably more than they realized or intended. Psychologists are known for seeing to the heart of matters, though, and it would be little surprise to any of them, he was sure, that he had deducted much from their casual conversations. However, for all the layers of information to be found mingling socially, there would be time enough for Arevaci to come to know them. The sooner he familiarized himself with the peculiarities of this Damali Zara, the more effective he would be, both to her and to the crew as a whole.

Walking casually over to the bar, Arevaci nodded to the Chief Helm Officer, “Lt. Damali, was it not?”

((OOC: Assuming something to the affirmative.))

“Christoph Arevaci. Two a's, one e, and an i, although I prefer Christoph to formalities in most cases.” He smiled gently, keeping the tone light and hoping that she would perceive him merely as a newcomer trying to be sociable, rather than a professional head shrinker – and in truth, at least as much of the former as of the latter.

((Again, assuming something other than “Piss off!”))

“I couldn't help but notice that the welcome party wasn't exactly your cup of tea, so to speak. Personally, I prefer a smaller, informal sort of socialization as a general rule. Much more personal, less cluttered, if you take my meaning. I hope you don't mind if I take a seat...”

((Once more, running on the idea of not being completely rebuked))

Taking a seat near the woman, but not so close as to cause undue discomfort, Christoph smiled and gestured around him to the ship. “So, what can you tell me about the Discovery? I've read the files, of course, but they can only tell you what a ship had done and what she's constructed of. They can never really tell you who she is, if you take my meaning.

((A one-sided conversation pretty well falls apart at this point. Arevaci either holds a conversation or sits quietly, leaving Mali with her thoughts. The ball's in your court, suicidolt.))

Stardate 2366.10.21 Ten Forward

Sitting at the bar, sipping her drink, Zara noticed one of the newcomers approaching. It was Lieutenant Arevaci, the counselor. "Lt. Damali, was it not?"

She stood up out of courtesy. "Yes, sir."

“Christoph Arevaci. Two a's, one e, and an i, although I prefer Christoph to formalities in most cases.”

She grinned, "Pleasure to meet you Lieutenant"

“I couldn't help but notice that the welcome party wasn't exactly your cup of tea, so to speak. Personally, I prefer a smaller, informal sort of socialization as a general rule. Much more personal, less cluttered, if you take my meaning. I hope you don't mind if I take a seat...”

She suppressed a giggle by taking another sip of her drink. "I don't mind the welcome party, sir. It's the numbers that bother me. Like you said, smaller is better." She took another sip and took the seat next to him.

“So, what can you tell me about the Discovery? I've read the files, of course, but they can only tell you what a ship had done and what she's constructed of. They can never really tell you who she is, if you take my meaning."

She nodded, straightening out her face to show him she was serious when it came to ships, despite how easily delighted she was that someone had followed her to the bar. "This ship is a beauty." She motioned at the air around her, almost smacking the bartender. "She's strong for her size. She can take quite a beating, even by planet standards, and still be just as manueverable as she would be otherwise." She nearly leapt off of her barstool, still motioning widely. "I should give you a tour, show you how you can almost feel each room in this ship from the deck..." She stopped, her smile subsiding, and looked at the counselor.

"You're no pilot." She sighed, reaching for her drink, but realizing it to be empty. "Bartender, that was a fine drink. Can you impress me again?" She smiled down the bar at the dark gentleman cleaning a glass. She looked back at the counselor, her smile fading again. "Why do you want to know all of this? My job should be of little interest to someone in your field. The way the ship handles won't change the placement of your sofa." She looked at the floor, the weight of her last statement hitting her quickly. She stared at the floor waiting for his response.

((OOC: balls in your court.))

Ten Forward – 2224 hours

What Jack considered the “official” part of this soirée – the sit around the table and have polite dinner conversation with the new staff bit – had come to an end a short time ago and, since then, the thing had turned into the usual get chummy gab fest. Reminiscences of Academy days and previous tours were batted about, personal tales and philosophical discussions drifted across the table and, as such, the small group of officers had become several even smaller groups. Smokin’ an’ jokin’, MacTavish smirked as he let his gaze wander from one knot of people to the next, et’s time ta go. He drained the remnants of his glass, flicked a meaningful glance in Chantelle’s direction, pushed away from the edge of the table where he had been perched, and clipped off the short distance between himself and the senior staff’s table.

“Well, ladies an’ gen’lmen,” he rumbled, doing a fairly decent job of offering a smile, “et’s gettin’ ta be past me bedtime an’ I’ve go’ a lo’ ta do come marnin’, so I reckon I’ll be off.

Commander Waldgrave,” he nodded to the dark-haired woman, “Welcome aboard. I look farward ta servin’ wi’ ye.”

His eyes ticked to Raines then and he clapped a hand on the OPS Chief’s meaty shoulder; “Ben, me lad,” he said, “as usual, ye’ve outdone yerself onna dinner.”

The TAC Officer continued around the table, offering each that remained there something in the way of a ‘good night.’ He congratulated Kel, once more, on the birth of his daughter; thanked the Captain ‘fer ever’thin’’, and even made a quip to Vic about how he’d managed to stay injury free for longer than two weeks (Mac still wasn’t too happy about actually engaging the safety protocols on the holodeck, but between Vic’s consternation and Chan’s subtle pleading, he had finally complied to a certain degree).

((responses if you wish and replies as necessary…))

When he got to Tuvar he nodded. “Yer Betas’re startin’ their phaser qualifications fer this quarter inna marnin’, aye?” Ye a’least gotta pass tha’ file on ta her, lad, he had told himself earlier in the evening, whether yer brother’s name’s onnit er no’.
((Vesper, we spoke about this file via PM, I believe… regardless of response to the phaser quals…))

“A’right then,” he nodded, “If ye dinnae mind, I’d like ta have me gamma group from sensor support test in wi’ yer lads. Ach,” he blinked as if he’d just remembered something else that he wanted to tell the SEC chief, “I’ve go’ a file tha’ I’d like ye ta have a look at, as well. I’ll be sure ta have it shunted ta yer office afore I tairn in fer th’ evenin’.”

Mac shook the half-vulcan’s hand, nodded at her again, and then strolled in the direction of the bar to bid his farewells to Zara and Arevaci. “Mali,” he grinned, addressing the bajoran by her nickname as he slid his empty glass across the bar to Issac, “I s’pose I’ll be seein’ ye on shift, lass. Have a good night, aye?”

The bartender retrieved the empty tumbler and offered the TAC man a wide smile as Jack turned and extended a hand to Cristoph. “Counselor,” he nodded, “pleasure ta make yer acquaintance, sair.”

With the farewells out of the way, Jack made his way for the door. The thing had no sooner whooshed open than he detected the faint scent of apples and Chantelle appeared beside him. “Evenin’, Lieutenant Hemlos,” he smiled softly, “care fer an escort home?”

Ian was still on his mind and he was still more than just a little tense at the implications of the files he had reviewed on the bridge earlier, but he had slowed down on his consumption of the Glenlivet after Chan had approached him earlier in the evening and pointed out that it might be obvious that he was distracted. He hoped that his actions since then and the “promises” made at that time had helped dispel the concerns she had had. Perhaps they would just spend the night as Jack had promised and that would be the end of it; he wouldn’t have to try and explain anything about Ian tonight…

But I bloody well doubt it…
((OOC: Ding! Next…))

Stardate 2366.10.21 Ten Forward

“So, what can you tell me about the Discovery? I've read the files, of course, but they can only tell you what a ship had done and what she's constructed of. They can never really tell you who she is, if you take my meaning."

She nodded, straightening out her face to show him she was serious when it came to ships, despite how easily delighted she was that someone had followed her to the bar. "This ship is a beauty." She motioned at the air around her, almost smacking the bartender. "She's strong for her size. She can take quite a beating, even by planet standards, and still be just as manueverable as she would be otherwise." She nearly leapt off of her barstool, still motioning widely. "I should give you a tour, show you how you can almost feel each room in this ship from the deck..." She stopped, her smile subsiding, and looked at the counselor.

"You're no pilot." She sighed, reaching for her drink, but realizing it to be empty. "Bartender, that was a fine drink. Can you impress me again?" She smiled down the bar at the dark gentleman cleaning a glass. She looked back at the counselor, her smile fading again. "Why do you want to know all of this? My job should be of little interest to someone in your field. The way the ship handles won't change the placement of your sofa." She looked at the floor, the weight of her last statement hitting her quickly. She stared at the floor waiting for his response.

Arevaci smiles and rested a hand on her shoulder in mock sterness. "Young lady, I'll have you know that I've been a spacer as long as I've been alive. I was born between the stars, and with luck I'll die out here as well. In my life, I've been aboard more ships than the total number of days I've been planetside."

Ducking down a bit and leaning to the side in an attempt to catch her eye, he continued. "More to the point, I love ships of all shapes and sizes. If that was a serious offer for a tour, I'll gladly take you up on it."

((OOC: Up to you))

Stardate: 2366.10.21
USS Discovery, Lt. Ames quarters– 2200
Bob dealt the cards to the players at the table. They were playing a version of poker called Texas Hold’em, and since Bob liked to deal and wasn’t into the gambling, he had volunteered. Caleb, his new bro was on the short stack, Ensign Gates, a human navigator Bob just met was doing better with a seemly stack in front of him. Next to him was Petty Officer Brunson, a grizzled older man with a medium stack and a bemused expression. Bob liked Brunson because he was cool about things, and rank meant nothing to him. Then there was Lt. Ames, sitting with the large stack and enjoying every minute of it. Bob wasn’t sure he liked Ames yet, but he was willing to keep the jury out. The young man had been discussing his girlfriend Liza with the table, using words like choking, stifling and boxed in his discourse. It was obvious to Bob that Ames didn’t realize he knew Liza and was a confidante to the fine lady.

“I hear what you are relaying dude, but I don’t see the picture. You talk the R, E, S, P, E, C, T, but you are missing the tune, Dig?”

Thomas Ames looked at Bob for a few seconds, then turned to look at Caleb. The Risan translated for him, “He thinks you aren’t respecting Liza enough.”

“I do!” Ames denied, “But she’s choking me. I need my space.Can’t spend every waking minute with her.”

“Positivelymondo dude, space is the final frontier, but while you should be playing federation, you seem to do the Romulan shuffle. It is give and take Bro, not the quid pro quo.”

“You are worrying more about your space, and not enough about hers.” Caleb added.

Gates piped in, “How do you do that?” he asked Caleb, “You two know each other long?”

“Nah,” Caleb laughed, “Not until tonight. I find the more I drink, the easier Bob is to understand.”

“Shields down dude. Only way to parley.”

Gates and Brunson exchanged glance and chuckled. Ames looked disgusted. “What are the blinds now?” he asked, wanting to change the topic.

“10/20 to you Mister Gates?”

The ensign looked at his cards. Bob knew he was going to fold before he said so, This dude shouldn’t play poker. Face’s a billboard “I fold.”

“I’m out” Brunson tossed his cards back to Bob. “Anyone need a refill?”

Ames looked up, “I’m a bit peckish, actually.”

“Anyone into nachos?” Bob asked.

“What are Nut chews?” Brunson asked.

“Nachos. They are like corn chips and cheese and all sort of good stuff.” Bob rubbed his tummy to express the goodness. ‘Sheila? Could you please ship up some Nachos, Bob style, extra grande. Thank you my dear.”

=/\=Accessing=/\=

The replicator in the room suddenly hummed and activated. Everyone in the room exchanged glances as Brunson opened up the unit to see a heaping plate of cheese covered nachos.

‘How did you … ?” Ames started.

“Smells good!” Caleb commented.

“Did you just call the Replicator Sheila?”

“No dude.” Bob laughed, “Why would I name the replicator? That’s just weird, dude.”

“Who’s Shelia then?” Ames asked.

“My pet for the Discovery Computer, dude. I thought of using DC but DC is way too impersonal. So I looked closer and found her name was Shelia. Dig?

“You talk to the Computer?” Gates asked in a cautious tone.

“I talk to Sheila, she answers, and we get each other. It’s casual, dudes. Now dig in the munchies dude and let’s get this game going. I need to get some sleep tonight.”

OOC: My apologies if I took any character too far.

Stardate: 2366.10.31
USS Discovery, Bridge - 1845

“Damage Report!” Vic screamed out to the TAC station as the red lights flared around the back of the ship, indicating a direct hit.

His response was not friendly. “We lost a good chunk of the hull. Engineering is on it now. All weapons still go”

“Like hell we’re on it! we’ve lost half our crew, we can’t keep the weapons and shields up, plus repair the fraggin ship at the same time!” came a quick response from the Engy station.

“Cut it out, we’re on the same team.” Vic responded, grabbing the intercom. “Anyone whos passed an engineering course in their life go down and help repair the hull!” The sensors on the ship showed a good deal of people responding. He knew he was leaving most of the ship unable to function, but a mostly-useless ship was still a ship.

Another minute of firefighting went down between the still unidentified hostile and the Discovery.

“Anyone know what the hell this thing is yet?” He yelled out, but received only a slew of negatives in response.

“Weapons down sir! We can’t return fire” TAC called out.

“How long until we can fix them?” White responded.

“Sir, unless you plan on ramming them, we have to run.”

White got an idea. “What’s our shields at?”

“40% sir. I’m trying to route power from the guns to strengthen them now. Give me 30.”

White wasn’t happy. “You have 15. Another hull breach and we’re dead. Does that ship have any shields?”

TAC sighed… “No sir, it’s just jamming our fire and intercepting our missiles.”

“That’s good. Get all shield power to the front of the ship. Helm, route a course straight at it, ramming speed. See if it can intercept a missile this size.”

“Sir, we’ll die, the hull can’t take it!” came the cry from Engineering.

Victor nodded. “We’re dead anyway. We have no weapons and we can’t make a jump. Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure serving with you. Engage at my mark.”

“5…”

“4…”

“Shields routed, sir. Godspeed.” Came the voice behind him.

“3…”

“2…”

As he was about to utter the final count, everything went black, and the normal lights of the holodeck flickered on.

“Dr. White, it is currently 2030 hours. Your presence was requested in exactly 0030 hours, sir. I shall record your progress for this session.”

Vic pounded his palm with a fist. “Damn! I was so close. Thank you computer. That is all.”

The door to the holodeck slid open, and Vic quickly left the area. He had to make it back to Sick Bay and check up before he went to the dinner. Vic walked in to see Cinna still on duty.

“Take a break once in a while Cinna, you’re making me look bad.” He chuckled, but with a bit of seriousness.

“I suppose you’re right. Nothing interesting has happened all day. I might go play around a bit in the holodeck. They have a new parasailing sim over there.”

Vic cocked his head. “You into parasailing?”

Cinna laughed, “Lord no, I hate heights. That’s why I use the sim…” he smiled a bit, but couuldn’t hold it back anymore and started laughing. Vic rolled his eyes.

Well, anyway, it was time to change and meet the crew. Vic had briefly caught a glimpse of the new counsoler, and told him they’d talk business tomorrow. Nobody in sick bay has seen him yet, so it looks like he agreed to the deal. He passed on control of the ward to one of the resident physicians, and saw Cinna off to the holodeck. Time to eat! He thought as he left for the shindig.

USS Discovery Ten Forward

Vic stayed quiet during most of the night. He would have plenty of dealings with the new CEO during her physical, and he wasn’t really in a rush to talk to the guy who would share the medical workload for the next few months or more. There would be plenty of time for both.

Instead he just eyed all the other officers, noting how little he has really gotten to know them all in the past. Lt. Raines was perhaps the one he’s spent the most time with, but he was reluctant to count that since it was spent in an away shuttle over the unconscious body of Lt. Keely.

One thing White did notice was how quiet everyone was. MacTavish seemed to be distracted, Gavison was no better (although he had a valid excuse in his little girl), and Mali even ducked out to find herself some space. Can’t say I blame anyone. Life has been in a rut recently….
“Well doctor, at least your services will be in high demand over the next week or so” he wispered under his breath, in the general direction of Chris as he left the table to chat with their pilot.

The food was wonderful. Raines definitely went to some effort. Everyone knew Waldgrave was English, but it was sometimes forgotten that Victor grew up in London as well. His accent was almost entirely faded, although he did sometimes let it slip back during long conversations with his Celtic charge nurse.

Victor nodded to Ben. “This is wonderful! I do hope that all of our future crew additions include a Brit if it means a feast like this.”

The night passed rather slowly, much like all of his nights without third shift duty in the medical ward. He contemplated leaving, but decided to wait until others had left. He had a long day ahead tomorrow… might as well relax and enjoy the night while he can.

After the majority of the crew left, Victor took a seat in one of the large easy chairs, and ordered some old Earl Grey. The food had brought back his desire for a late night tea, and he planned to indulge himself… as a reward for not getting the ship blown up within ten minutes this time, he justified it to himself.

He will remain in Ten Forward most likely until late in the night, or until someone calls him to do something. There are a lot of things to think about and equally many to not think about. Tonight was a night where the “not” category was particularly large.

Stardate 2366.10.21 Ten Forward

Arevaci smiles and rested a hand on her shoulder in mock sterness. "Young lady, I'll have you know that I've been a spacer as long as I've been alive. I was born between the stars, and with luck I'll die out here as well. In my life, I've been aboard more ships than the total number of days I've been planetside."

Zara suppressed a giggle with a wide grin and peaked up at the Lieutenant.

Ducking down a bit and leaning to the side in an attempt to catch her eye, he continued. "More to the point, I love ships of all shapes and sizes. If that was a serious offer for a tour, I'll gladly take you up on it."

She looked up, smiling. "Alright," she tried to put up a mock stern attitude also. "But we can have none of this young lady business. You can call me Mali." She extended a hand toward his, shaking it firmly, "I would be happy to give you a tour." She grabbed her glass from the bar and stood up. "Do you think it's too late to do so now?" She looked about at the still collected staff as they had begun to weed out.

((wow that was short. Um...you're not supposed to get along with me!!! That's just wrong! You were supposed to hate her! *mutters*))

((What's to hate? A lifelong spacer and a starship pilit - plenty of common ground to work from))

Stardate 2366.10.21 Ten Forward

She looked up, smiling. "Alright," she tried to put up a mock stern attitude also. "But we can have none of this young lady business. You can call me Mali." She extended a hand toward his, shaking it firmly, "I would be happy to give you a tour." She grabbed her glass from the bar and stood up. "Do you think it's too late to do so now?" She looked about at the still collected staff as they had begun to weed out.

"Fair enough, Mali," Arevaci responded with a smile, rising to his feet. "And it's never too late to take a tour of a ship like Discovery." Holding out an arm to indicate that she should lead the way, he hoped that all of his initiations with the crew would go as smoothly... Although the odds of each person on the Discovery sharing in one of his hobbies or having a similar background were long indeed.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Christoph accepted his good fortune in beginning his tenure this time so fortuitously. Following Mali's lead throughout the ship, he walked alongside her, close enough to indicate comraderie, but not so close as to make her uncomfortable, listening closely to her descriptions of the various areas of the boat and her experiences aboard ((OOC: whatever she cooses to share, of course)). Nodding appreciatively at the wonders of a Galaxy-class vessel, and adding his own experiences in space to her anecdotes, he soon found himself capivated by the ship... She was truly a marvel, and Arevaci thanked his good fortune for bringing him aboard.

((OOC: feel free to go into whatever details you like of the tour, I'll be away until Monday, though))

Stardate 2366.10.21
Ten Forward 2230 HRS

The evening was winding down and Chan was ready to go.
Her social skills were getting better she would admit but had a long way to go to catch up to Benjamin Raines standards. She smiled inwardly…”the only person I’m totally comfortable with is Jack” she thought as her gaze fell on him just in time to see him cast a meaningful glance in her direction. He downed the rest of his scotch…which she noticed he had slowed down on since her gentle chiding earlier and made his way around the room to say goodnight. Following his lead, she did the same, inevitably meeting at the door at the same time.

As she stood beside him she saw him inhale softly as if trying to preserve a favored scent for later. She smiled, knowing he would swear it was apples.

“Evenin’, Lieutenant Hemlos,” he smiled softly, “care fer an escort home?”

“I would love one, thank you Lt MacTavish” she said as he ushered her through the open door into the hallway .

There were still a few people mingling about near Ten Forward as they walked toward the lift. Some were just getting off a split shift and heading in to unwind before retiring and some who were there simply because they didn’t want to face their lonely quarters until they absolutely had to. She was happy that she didn’t have that dilemma. Since she had met Jack, they had been almost inseparable. At first she thought that might end up being a problem, but lately she had relaxed more and was enjoying the company he provided.

She was lost in thought when an intoxicated ensign who, apparently having never been on the receiving end of one of Jack’s tirades had made a deragatory comment under his breath as they passed.

Chan held her breath as Jack stopped abruptly a few feet from him. She could feel the anger emanating from him.

“Jack, don’t.” She said as he turned around to confront him.


The calming effect that Chan always seemed to have on him had just started to take hold as they walked side by side along the corridor. His gaze had already skimmed over the few crewmen outside the door of the lounge and he had been prepared to make a comment on the evening when an apparently tipsy ensign in golds shuffled past them and slurred; “Hey Mac! W’sup Bones?”

Bones?! Jack stiffened and stopped dead in his tracks. That calming effect apparently getting tossed right out the hatch when something offensive is said to Chantelle.

“Jack, don’t,” he heard her say as he turned and stormed after the man.

Don’t what? Kill th’ bastard? “I won’t,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Oy,” he snapped as he came within a few steps of the staggering gold-suit. The man turned and was greeted by the sight of Mac’s palm as the TAC officer’s hand closed over his face and he was shoved roughly into the bulkhead. The only thing that Mac could see of the ensign’s face was one bulging, bloodshot eye and a pair of dark eyebrows that were raised so high in surprise that there were more ridges in the kid’s forehead than an elderly Klingon’s.

“Wha’ th’ hell did ye jus’ say, ensign,” Mac snarled as he pressed the man against the bulkhead.

Whatever the man’s frenzied response might have been it was muffled by the presence of the TAC officer’s hand pressed painfully against his face. “Mmphd’dmphphammphnmph,” was the answer he gave, quickly sobering up.

“Aye,” Mac sneered, pulling the man a few centimeters away from the wall only to smash him into it again, “tha’s wha’ I thought ye said.” The blood was pounding in his temples, now, and as he glared at the pinned ensign he could’ve sworn that the man was Ian. “Lemme tell ye somethin’, lad,” he said ominously, “If ye e’er open yer bloody gob ta a lady like tha’ agin, I’ll be findin’ ye an’ guttin’ yer arse wi’ a fargin’ shoehorn,” Mac’s freehand clenched into a fist, relaxed, and clenched again, obviously wrestling with the urge to punch a mudhole in the ensign’s chest, “Are ye un’erstandin’ me, boy?”

The ensign didn’t try to vocalize a response this time, instead, he nodded enthusiastically and didn’t stop until Jack finally let go of his face and let him off of the wall. “Grand,” Mac huffed, “Now get yer monkey-arse oota me fookin’ sight afore I lose me temper!”

He watched the man scurry off down the hall for a moment before turning back in the direction of the turbolift. His face was an angry shade of red as he strode back up the corridor muttering in Gaelic under his breath…

The few members who had been milling about stared in disbelief as Jack’s repressed anger exploded. Chantelle stood frozen and gasped as she watched Jack shove the ensign into the wall with a force of a man harboring an inner grudge. There was no need to tell him to stop. It was doubtful he would have heard her anyway. Once that Scottish temper was raised there was no going back. She had learned quite quickly to just stand back and let it play out. It seemed an eternity until he released the drunken ensign and when he did, Chantelle released an audible sigh. She rushed to his side. His face was red with anger and she was afraid to even touch him. She had seen Jack angry before but there was something quite different about this incident. She felt that whatever had been bugging him all night had a lot to do with the intensity of his actions, that and all the Glenlivet he had consumed.

“Are you ok?” she asked anxiously
He snorted something under his breath and allowed her to lead him into the turbo lift.

Leaning against the cool stainless steel of the wall he closed his eyes, his fists still half clenched. Chantelle took his hand and gently pulled open his tensed fingers.
After kissing each one she placed it on the side of her face. Her skin was soft and warm and a bit damp. Was she crying? He opened his eyes and looked into hers.
Raising his other hand to her face he wiped away a stray tear with his thumb and pulled her to him and gently kissed her lips.
“I’m sorry, Chan-luv,” he said, her face still cradled in his hands, “I…” he paused for an instant as if truly unsure of what to add, “…I’ve go’ a bloody, shootle-load o’ haggis in me ‘ead an’… an’ none of et’s anythin’ I care ta think aboot…”
She laid her head on his chest and sighed.
“Then let’s not think about it” she said. “Deck Two, Officers Quarters” she commanded, prompting the turbo lift to begin is ascent to the upper levels of the ship.
“at least not tonight”

((OOC: Fade to black ))

Stardate: 2366.10.22
USS Discovery, Lt. Ames' Quarters - 0025

"Okay boys, that's it," Caleb stated with finality as he stood from the table. Despite being a reasonably competant player, he had quite simply lost his shirt tonight. Sometimes you win, sometimes you skip the niceties for the next pay period.
He had really hit it off with Lieutenant N'doog - the two of them really seemed to understand one another. Which was made even more interesting, Caleb mused, considering the fact that virtually no one ever seemed to understand most of what came out of Bob's mouth.

The thing was, the catullan was completely non judgemental, and easily one of the most open-minded people that Caleb had met in starfleet. The man did his thing and was happy with it; if you did your thing and were happy with it, then he was happy with it, too.

Caleb winced and rubbed his head. The combination of the booze and the attempt to follow such a Bob-esque thought process was making his head hurt.

"Lab shift again tomorrow," he announced, "so I have to get up early. Bob's been grousing about sleeping for the past hour, and it's past time that I agree with him. Enjoy my money!" he added with a chuckle.

As they stepped outside, Talda and N'doog realized that their quaretrs lay in opposite directions. "Bob, you are hilarious, man..." Caleb started, "but seriously... well, I don't want to sound like a moron, but you are... I dunno. Grounded? Don't sweat the small stuff that seems to bother most of the rest?"

Showing some rare awkwardness, Caleb chuckled. "Anyway, I hope we can hang out again. I've got decent balance - maybe we'll do some of this 'skateboarding' on the holodeck sometime?"

OOC: any reply...

Caleb nodded. "Okay, then, cool. Talk to ya later!" With that, he turned and headed toward his few hours of sleep.

Stardate: 2366.10.22
USS Discovery, captain's ready room - 0710

As Noah sat at his desk, reviewing a preliminary report from the science labs, the chime sounded. So it starts early today, he grumbled inwardly.

"Come in," he spoke, and the hatch slid open to admit Commander Gavison. "Good morning, commnder," he spoke by way of greting. "You're here early. Did Kaila keep you from sleeping?"

The serious look on Gavison's face ended that line of conversation. "No sir, she slept fine," Gavison replied, placing a PADD on the captain's desk. "I thought that you should see this."

As Noah read the contents, his expression darkened. Disciplinary matters were usually handled internally, or the most senior department head would oversee matters involving more than one department. However, the ship's executive officer had sole discresion on unusual cases. For a moment, Noah wondered if Gavison were perhaps politicing, but the man's eyes said otherwise.

"Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I will deal with it."

"Aye, sir." Gavison replied. With nothing else to say, he turned and left the room.


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

Captain's ready room - 0840

Blair sat down at his desk and tapped his commbadge. "Blair to MacTavish."

=/\= MacTavish here. What can I do fer ye, captain? =/\= came the reply.

"Lieutenant, report to my ready room," Noah ordered.

=/\= Aye, sair. I'm on my way. =/\=

Blair placed two fingertips on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. He was not looking forwad to this meeting.

Presently, the door chimed, and Blair admitted MacTavish and instructed him to take a seat. There was no need for preliminaries.

"Jack, I think that you know why I've called you here." The captain's voice was dead, holding none of its usual life and humor. "It seems that there was an altercation outside of ten forward last night. Ensign Drummond has filed a complaint, stating that you attacked him. Several witnesses observed the incident, and agree with his claim. Obviously, this reflects very poorly on you."

Blair left it unsaid that the incident reflected very poorly on him, as well. The captain had made some exceptions when appointing MacTavish as second officer, and this sort of thing brought his judgement into question.

Noah shook his head. "I suppose that if you are going to beat up an ensign, you might as well pick a good target." He casually indicated the PADD on the desk. "Ensign Anthony Drummond. Nephew of Admiral Nathaniel Drummond." The captain sighed.

"Jack, you are an excellent officer. You run an outstanding department. When it really counts, you are always there to meet the challenge, always making the right decisions. And yet, your record is spotted by incidents like this."

Noah shook his head. "Jack, you should be wearing three pips right now, but as is, there are only two on your collar, and it will be some time before you have the seniority to be considered for another. You will make a fine captain someday, but at the rate you are going, your career will never advance beyond looey. You are your own worst enemy!"

After a long pause, the captain fixed gazes with the TAC chief. "This morning, I convinced Ensign Drummond to drop his complaint. I pointed out to him that were he to pursue it, he would be earning his own reprimand for insubordination and conduct unbecoming once everyone's testimony was made official."

"By the way," Blair added, "Chantelle is a big girl - I'm sure that she can handle a little name calling without your help. Oh, don't look at me that way, Jack," he spoke, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you two aren't nearly as subtle as you might like to think. Escorting the lieutenant to her quarters, indeed!" He snorted. "It seems that you seem to be escorting a certain lieutenant to quite a few places of late. Even so, I don't see her as the kind of girl who should have to come and visit you in the brig."

"Jack," he continued, hoping that his attempt at being droll had softened things a bit, "the way I see it, you have a choice to make. You can choose to continue to periodically become a violent ass, and to make sure that your career stagnates and your health suffers. Or, you can choose to do something about it, and become the kind of officer - the kind of man - that you are capable of being."

Noah leaned back in his chair. "I'm not going to order you to do anything. A person can only change if they want to change. If I force you to seek help, it will only waste everyone's time, and cause every one of your future COs to spend even more time reading the added entries in your jacket for no good reason." He shook his head. "No, but I'm going to ask you, as a friend, to go and see Counselor Arevaci. He may surprise you, Jack - this man is not the typical, run of the mill head-shrinker."

OOC: insert responses anywhere as they are needed.

Blair stood and extended his hand to MacTavish. "All right, Jack. Like I said, the choice is yours. Think on it, and make it."

OOC: assuming nothing major to be added....

Noah nodded. "Dismissed, lieutenant."

Stardate: 2366.10.22
USS Discovery; Deck 2, Lt Hemlos’ quarters – 0348

Jack’s eyes opened and he blinked at the darkened ceiling of Chantelle’s bedroom. He sighed softly, lifting his head off the pillow to glance down to where Chan’s head rested on his chest, and a smile played on his lips for a moment. She squirmed a little, snuggling closer against him when he lifted a hand to brush a spill of her dark hair away from her face, one slender arm sliding across his stomach and one of her naked legs moving to curl around both of his in an effort to keep him close. “G’mornin’ me bonny apple blossom,” he whispered, letting his eyes close again for an instant after he softly kissed the top of her head and wrapped her up in his arms. As he pulled her naked form closer, the entirety of their lovemaking replayed in his memory and, for a moment, the thoughts that had awoken him so early were displaced by the beautifully warm memories. No matter how pleasant those memories were, or how much he wanted to hold on to them and think of nothing else, though, Jack’s mind couldn’t help but track back to the intelligence reports that had alluded to Ian’s presence on or near Aldor V. Nor could they escape the recollections of the events that had transpired between the time he had reviewed those reports and when Chan had led him, still in a near uncontrollable rage, to her room just a few, short hours ago.

Laird, he thought, remembering the young ensign (and all the witnesses) outside of Ten Forward, I reckon there’ll be hell ta pay fer tha’… Ye’d think ye’d’ve lairned by now, idiot!
He moved a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as the possible implications of last night’s actions started chasing around in his skull. Whether it was because of a dream or because the tension that had started to rise in Jack already was a palpable thing to her, Chantelle muttered something in her sleep, wriggled a bit and then rolled over onto her other side. He watched her sleep for a few moments but, when he found that it wasn’t helping to dispel the irritating thoughts that had prodded him into wakefulness, Jack decided that there was a lot to do before Tuvar’s lads came to toss him in the brig. Gotta get tha’ file dumped ta her terminal, wake Jeffrey an’ tell him ta be expectin’ an appointment ta CTO… Jayzus, I ‘ope they gimme until a’least eight-hundred hours…
Jack rubbed his eyes and blinked at the ceiling, again, then turned to regard the still sleeping science officer next to him. Et were gettin’ too good ta believe fer ye, anyway, Jack-lad, he mused as he reached out and feathered a hand delicately over the woman’s slight frame. When his hand reached the flat of her belly, he scooted closer, just for an instant, and kissed her softly on the shoulder, neck, and cheek. “I’ve go’ ta go ta wairk now,” he whispered, “I luv ye, me bonny apple blossom.”

He had to physically force himself to do it, but Jack finally managed to leave Chantelle alone in her bed and follow the trail of their discarded uniforms into the next room. “Coffee,” he requested as he prowled past the replicator, “Blue Mountain, double black.” The computer responded with a soft blip as it started to produce the drink. As he tugged on the crumpled uniform, he realized that he would have to stop by his quarters for a clean one; “Computer. Time?”

=/\=The current time is zero-three-five-five hours. Stardate…=/\=

“The time’s enough, thank ye…” Four o’clock, he nodded, I s’pose I c’n get ever’thin’ done ef they lemme slide ‘til eight… plenty o’ time ta slip on a’least one more clean uni in yer career. He had gathered Chan’s clothes, as well, and having folded them semi-neatly, he left them on one end of the couch in her living room before he retrieved his coffee from the replicator and, allowing himself one more moment of diversion, stood in her doorway and watched her for a minute longer. “I’m truly sorry, lass,” he muttered sipping away the first sip of coffee, “fer wha’ever comes o’ this…”

TAC Office, Deck 8 – 0800

“…so ye jus’ be ready fer when et ‘appens, aye?”

Lt (JG) Mueller shook his head in disbelief. “Dammit, Mac,” he said, looking across the desk at the Scot, “y’know, everybody jokes about anger management and stuff when it comes to you… Hell, I started half of those jokes… but I figured you’d gotten past that, by now. Sure you’ve gone off on your rants and slapped a few heads but… damn, another fight?”

“I would’nae call et a fight…”

“Whatever, man,” Jeff interrupted, “you palmed the guy’s face and bounced his head off the wall! Just because he didn’t take a swing at you doesn’t mean the brass isn’t gonna call it a fight! Y’know, Mac, I’m beginning to believe that you’ve got serious issues. I mean, come on, so some drunk doofus calls your woman Bones! Big friggin’ deal! What’s more important to you, man…”

“Tha’s enough, Jeffrey,” Jack said.

“…your career or the fact that some mouth-breather might have insulted your girlfriend?!” Mueller finished, ignoring the look of irritation on the CTOs face.

“Are ye done?”

“No,” Jeff snapped, suddenly reaching across the desk and snatching the coffee mug from in front of his mentor, “I’m not, you smarmy, skirt-wearin’, son-of-a-bitch! And don’t you friggin’ look at me like your gonna haul off and kick my butt, too, cuz you know I’m right about this. If you do get tossed in the brig, Jack, I’ll run your friggin’ department for however long I need to, you know that, and I’ll turn it back over to you the minute you get out, but I ain’t gonna be happy about it. The way you’re going, my friend, I’ll be a friggin’ fleet admiral and you’ll still be gettin’ busted down to friggin’ junior looey on a regular basis!” The aCTO stomped over to the replicator and shoved the half-full mug of coffee back into it. “And even if they don’t court martial your dumb ass and toss you in the brig, I’d seriously recommend that you switch to friggin decaf!”

“Are ye done, now?” Mac asked. The Scotsman was eerily calm, his hands folded on the desk in front of him and his eyes trained on Mueller just as they had been through the duration of the younger man’s withering chastisement.

“Yeah,” Jeff scowled, “if that’s all I’m gonna get out of you, I guess I am.” Man, does he look tired. What the hell is going on with him?
“Grand,” Mac nodded as he shoved a PADD across the desk, “then I reckon ye c’n take tha’ doon ta Tuvar for me. I’ve go’ some thin’s wha’ need ta be finished up around here an’ I shoulda had tha’ ta her las’ night.”

Mueller shook his head, at once irritated and weirded out that his tirade hadn’t prompted more of a reaction from his long time friend. “What’s this,” he demanded, snatching the device from the desk and turning it around to get a look at the data.

“Some files tha’ may ‘ave some bearin’ on this lit’le jaunt ta Aldor V,” Mac responded, “There’s a’ready a copy on yer terminal, as well. You make sure tha’ Tuvar digests tha’, aye?”

Jeff was striding for the door, his scowling gaze focused on the information that he had already called up on the PADD – Tuvar would expect a little more from him than a simple ‘Here. Mac says read this’ when he dropped the thing off – when a certain section of the first file caught his attention and, at least to him, explained why Jack’s temper had gotten the best of him last night. The door had slid away into the bulkhead but Jeff didn’t step through. “Is this for real, Mac,” he asked after a moment, “Ian? Seriously?”

“Aye, lad,” Mac nodded, “et’s real enough…”

“Damn, Mac. I’m…”

“Shaddap, Jeffrey. Get th’ file ta Tuvar.”

“Yeah… I’m all over it, boss.” The brass may not buy it, Mueller thought, but I’ll bet they don’t know half the story behind this, either… Jeffrey knew all about Jack’s younger brother; more than had even made it into Starfleet’s Intel database over the years. If Mac’s finally catching up with the little… He shook his head and broke into a run toward the turbolift… Oh damn!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

0840

=/\=Blair to MacTavish=/\=

An’ here we go… I go’ an extra forty minutes a’least. Mac logged out of his terminal and made his way around his desk before tapping his combadge; “MacTavish, here. Wha’ c’n I do for ye, Cap’n?”

=/\=Lieutenant, report to my ready room.=/\= It was obvious from the tone of Blair’s voice that this was the moment that Jack had been expecting and dreading all morning.

“On my way, sair.” There was a sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach as he exited what he was sure would be Mueller’s office within the next few hours and passed through the larger part of Tactical’s offices.

“Mester Mueller’s go’ th’ shift ‘til I return, Chief,” he rumbled to SCPO Zamudio as he strode by… if I return at all.

“Yessir,” Zamudio answered. “You okay, El-tee?”

She couldn’t believe it when the man actually stopped, turned and offered her a weak smile; “I doubt it, Zamudio.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Captain’s ready room – 0844

"Jack, I think that you know why I've called you here." The captain's voice was dead, holding none of its usual life and humor.

“Aye, sair,” Jack answered, “Unfortunately, I believe I do.”

"It seems that there was an altercation outside of ten forward last night. Ensign Drummond has filed a complaint, stating that you attacked him. Several witnesses observed the incident, and agree with his claim. Obviously, this reflects very poorly on you."

“Aye, sair.” Drummond, was it, Jack nodded, I reckon tha’ I’ll need ta remember tha’ afore this’s all an’ done.
Mercifully, Blair left it unsaid that the incident reflected very poorly on him, as well. Unlike any of the other, similar incidents that had pockmarked his service record over the years, the Jack knew that this one was completely his fault and that the guy on the receiving end hadn’t deserved even half of what he’d gotten. To that end, there was nothing he could say in his own defense and, so, didn’t add anything more.

Noah shook his head. "I suppose that if you are going to beat up an ensign, you might as well pick a good target." He casually indicated the PADD on the desk. "Ensign Anthony Drummond. Nephew of Admiral Nathaniel Drummond." The captain sighed.

Ach, a fargin’ Admiral's nephew, Jack’s shoulder slumped, then, and he hung his head for just a second, tha’s jus’ fantastic innit? “Sair, I’m apologize,” he said, straightening in his chair again and meeting the captain’s disapproving gaze, “There be some extenuatin’ circumstances ta th’ lot, but I c’n make no excuses fer me actions an’ I accept full responsibility…” Oy, ye jus’ kill tha’ extenuatin’ circumstances bit, aye? Yer s’posed ta be a Starfleet officer, fer the luv o’ Charlie, no’ some vengeful starhopper.
"Jack, you are an excellent officer. You run an outstanding department. When it really counts, you are always there to meet the challenge, always making the right decisions. And yet, your record is spotted by incidents like this."

Noah shook his head. "Jack, you should be wearing three pips right now, but as is, there are only two on your collar, and it will be some time before you have the seniority to be considered for another. You will make a fine captain someday, but at the rate you are going, your career will never advance beyond looey. You are your own worst enemy!"

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. The captain was right, of course. Had it not been for his lapses in judgment over the years, especially where his temper and sense of honor were concerned, Jack MacTavish most likely would have already pinned on his Commander’s pips and likely would have been well on his way to having his own command. It was at this point that Jack seriously considered tendering his resignation, if for no other reason than to save Blair the embarrassment of a full tribunal on the matter and save himself all the “I told you so” testimonies that were sure to accompany such a proceeding.

“Aye, sair,” Jack replied again, nodding slowly and falling silent as he tried to force the words I’ll submit me resignation right away an’ remand meself ta th’ brig until we reach Aldor V past his lips.

Just at the instant that Mac had found it in himself to utter the sentence, though, and had lifted his gaze to meet the Captain’s again, Blair pulled yet another surprise out of the bag. "This morning,” he said, regarding the TAC officer evenly, “I convinced Ensign Drummond to drop his complaint. I pointed out to him that were he to pursue it, he would be earning his own reprimand for insubordination and conduct unbecoming once everyone's testimony was made official."

Wha’?!? Jack’s eyes almost bugged out of his head and, though his lips were moving in and attempt to form a ‘thank you, sair’ no sound came out of his mouth and all he could manage was a slow, dumbstruck nod.

"By the way," Blair added, "Chantelle is a big girl - I'm sure that she can handle a little name calling without your help. Oh, don't look at me that way, Jack," he spoke, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "you two aren't nearly as subtle as you might like to think. Escorting the lieutenant to her quarters, indeed!" He snorted. "It seems that you seem to be escorting a certain lieutenant to quite a few places of late. Even so, I don't see her as the kind of girl who should have to come and visit you in the brig."

The TAC man’s cheeks flushed a little at that and he offered another nod, along with a somewhat sheepish smile, to the Captain. “Aye, sair,” he grinned, “I was thinkin’ tha’ vera thing meself, this marnin’.”

"Jack," he continued, hoping that his attempt at being droll had softened things a bit, "the way I see it, you have a choice to make. You can choose to continue to periodically become a violent ass, and to make sure that your career stagnates and your health suffers. Or, you can choose to do something about it, and become the kind of officer - the kind of man - that you are capable of being."

Noah leaned back in his chair. "I'm not going to order you to do anything. A person can only change if they want to change. If I force you to seek help, it will only waste everyone's time, and cause every one of your future COs to spend even more time reading the added entries in your jacket for no good reason." He shook his head. "No, but I'm going to ask you, as a friend, to go and see Counselor Arevaci. He may surprise you, Jack - this man is not the typical, run of the mill head-shrinker."

Friend? Jack was both surprised and humbled all in the same breath. The entire outcome of this meeting had surprised him, of course, but nothing in it had hit him quite as hard as the captain requesting, as a friend, that Jack seek counseling. Sure an’ this is th’ craziest fargin’ cruise ye’ve e’ver been on, then, innit? He wasn’t entirely sure that the new counselor would be able to do anything about anything that was going on in his head but, if Noah could stoop to considering him a friend, then Mac figured the least he could do was give it a try… not because the Captain of the boat had ordered him to but because a friend had asked him to...

“I’ll…I’ll do tha’, sair,” MacTavish nodded, “an’ I’ll be sure ta pop in on Ensign Drummond an’… ah… extend me apologies.” For some reason, Jack was having a bit of difficulty meeting Noah’s gaze at the moment. “I appreciate yer…” Ach but this’s bloody odd! Wha’ do ye say when ye don’ get reprimanded fer bein’ a dumb haggis? Jack sighed then but the sound of it was unlike any other sigh he had ever heaved in the presence of any CO in all of his career; rather than an expression of disgust or aggravation, it sounded as if it might just be a mixture of disbelief and relief. “Thank ye, Noah,” he said simply after a moment, “I appreciate tha’.”

Blair stood and extended his hand to MacTavish. "All right, Jack. Like I said, the choice is yours. Think on it, and make it."

There was no hesitation as Mac followed the Captain’s lead, accepting the offered hand gratefully. “Aye, sair,” he said, “I’ll do tha’. An’ agin, sair, I’m vera sorry fer embarrassin’ ye.”

Noah nodded. "Dismissed, lieutenant."

Mac withdrew his hand then and rendered perhaps the most respectful salute of his life; “Aye, sair. Thank ye, sair.” Without another word – but not foregoing another strangely surprised look at the Captain – Mac turned on his heel and strode from the ready room.

((OOC: An’ there ya have it… one “turning point”… … Mac will head, first back to the TAC office, where he’ll seriously consider making an appt with Chris… Feel free to step into his path, if you like….))

-En Route to Captain's Ready Room
0847 hrs-

Keely had a report on the current state of progress the Xenobotany lab was making in their search for the cure. She could have sent it via inter-ship communications, like she usually would but she had needed to get away from the lab for a moment or two to work out some sceintific quandries they had come across in their work so far that morning and taking a break seemed the best way to relax and think it through on the way so she was bringing her report to the Captain in person for a change.

But as she turned the corner a body hit her solidly and knocked her off her path, also knocking the data padd from her hands with a loud 'ooofff' and then a familiar spattering of brogue apologizing. Natalie rose up off of the deck and brushed herself off, looking up at Mac with a shy smile. No harm done, she was alright. "Sorry too, I should watch where I'm going." she said.

Tag: MacTavish