Under a Rock: Outliers

Posted on 10 Jun 2021 @ 8:57am by Commander Calliope Zahn & Commander Bruce Kensforth
Edited on on 10 Jun 2021 @ 9:16am

Mission: M2 - Sanctuary
Location: Loki System- enroute to outer ring
Timeline: MD05 1400 following Under a Rock: The All Clear
1372 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure

As fast as ships could slipstream nowadays, it felt like a real slog minding in-system speed limits. If she actually had seniority in the CiC she would have approved a micro warp jump for her trip within the Loki system. As it was, at full impulse, it would take the better part of the day to reach that rock in space. Not to mention the return trip. After a couple of hours, Calliope was surprised she wasn’t hurting. The chairs were very comfortable. It was like the little ship was engineered for this kind of jaunt.

She stretched her arms up and popped a shoulder into place before resuming what she had been doing for most of the trip so far— reading reports and working on the holographic projection of her virtual master-board. It was something she had learned to do first as Ops Chief and then as XO for Winters. Normally her master board was loaded with things like maintenance checklists, supply manifests, personnel listings, training schedules, team lead reports, regional updates, managerial checklists, special report requests, project timelines and the like. This board was unique compared to her others. She realized as she began it that it probably more resembled a police board or something an intel officer would assemble. Right now it was research heavy. As she combed through each action report, she made referenced links to interesting details and anything that stood out to her. She was pulling very old files as well, even things going back a century, to the founding of Starfleet’s initial post on Obsidian. She had made a series of reference flags on those historical files. Particularly anything that referenced any confrontations, hot or cold, with Romulan factions in the region surrounding Loki or in the system itself. Obsidian had something of a history of contests with various splinter groups from the former Star Empire. While that empire was no longer, Calliope wasn’t so naive to think their interests had ceased when Hobus had gone nova.

There were moments in her research when she came up for air, and for a glass of tea from the replicator. She’d unhook her cane from the arm rest, come to stand with the support of the edge of the flight console, and make some effort at turning around and getting to the replicator in the back.

“Black tea, hot, travel mug with a lid.” She ordered for the third time now, returning her last mug to the replicator. “And a croissant.” It was the first thing she would eat. With her sensitive stomach, she was afraid to have much of a meal on the trip, but she was getting hungry.

Bruce smirked at the soft-around-the-edges Fleet Officer on her third snack break for the day. He’d come up as a fighter jock, not only requiring that he be the tip of the proverbial sword, but that he’d have to do it with a startling lack of creature comforts. The only thing that was comfortable about a fighter cockpit was the seat itself. Everything else was spartan; especially if you were in one of the fighters rated for atmospheric flight. Every single inch of space was needed, so no room for replicators. The only snacks or beverages you had were what could fit in your flight suit pockets and what was in the emergency kit. He just smirked to himself watching the woman indulge once more. Just like the rest of the staff on the Ardeshir, the Captain included. It had taken him a while to get used to - seeing an officer on duty with a cup of coffee in hand. How many eighteen hour flight patrols had he done with a half liter canister of water and nothing else - including a way to evacuate the contents from his body in between.

“Should I talk to engineering about having the replicator moved forward?” Kensforth asked playfully.

Setting down the pastry, Calliope paused to sip from the mug and stretch her back. It let her conceal some irritation. “I’m sure it’d be Engineering’s top priority.” She let that read as sarcasm, though she meant it as fact. “You don’t want anything?”

“No,” he shook his head, tapping the console as if he needed to quadruple check that their course hadn’t changed. “I’ll survive until dinner,” he offered, just as he had any number of the staff on the Ardeshir that’d offered him the same. Maybe he was weird, comparatively, he just couldn’t get his head into it. In the same breath he asked, “How is it you’ve run across Doc Walker?”

“He was one of my Doctors, now he’s my shrink, I guess. I was transferred, but I’m still seeing him. He’s been helpful. I mean, at least he’s not got the bedside manner of a Klingon Lawyer. Obviously you know him from working together?”

“Been through a few scrapes together,” Bruce nodded in agreement. “He’s a good Doc. Good friend too,” he said seriously, settling a more profound expression on her. Bruce never thought he had it in him, but he’d discovered his inner grumpy old man since taking on the XO role. He could see that Ethan was trying to help the woman, he just hoped she understood that he didn’t just do that for anyone. It meant he had faith in her quality; and that she just needed a leg up. “Just remember who’s called in the favor, in case you want to push our luck out here with whatever it is you’re telling me without telling me.”

Calliope sucked in her top lip as she pulled her files back up, almost the same way he needed to keep rechecking the heading for something else to look at. She’d told him the mission. So it was about something else. “What do you want to know?”

“Doc says you need a pilot, that’s what I am,” Bruce grinned impishly back, “Might have come up as a fighter jock, but it doesn’t mean I’m simple. Just keep in mind who’s rep you’re coat tailing on,” he smiled, his smile far softer than his statement.

“Yeah well,” She tilted her head and let one hand sort of wave things into the wind. “You place your bets on outliers, you get disappointed more often than not.”

Bruce just nodded, that same cocksure grin on his face as it always was. Turning back to his console, he went back to work, doing what he always did on long flights - running another in a long line of passive diagnostics. The simple panel taps and thought process involved helped keep the mind occupied. When he was done with that, he’d rotate through all the modulations of the local scanners as a means of watching their surroundings. Maybe they saw a fleet vessel on approach to OC, maybe he saw some spatial phenomena Doc De La Fuente might be interested in when he got back. Point was, it kept his mind alive.

Between working on her research and reading, Calliope picked at the croissant. Looking down and focusing on reading, then looking back up and refocusing on her display image… the dry pastry became difficult to swallow. She tried the tea to get it down, but the gagging reflex started up without her permission. Finally sensing she was losing control, she scrambled to stand and grab the cane, making a very unstable rush for the washroom.

Bruce just chuckled and shook his head, wondering if she shouldn’t have stayed home and let someone else do this bit of work. He could understand being stir crazy and wanting to be on the move, but if you couldn't even hold down a croissant, maybe it was best you stayed home. He continued piloting the ship, rechecking their heading for the hundredth time this hour and just lounged back. Glancing left he saw the data PaDD he’d tossed when they started and leaned over to grab it, powered it back on and started reading again.