Do You Have to Go?

Posted on 08 Feb 2023 @ 12:10pm by Staff Warrant Officer Chadrin L'Orss

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: USS Chant de Nuit, Along the Romulan Border
Timeline: MD10: 1100 HR
1526 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure

“I looked up your guy.”

Captain Parker Downey was in her ready room aboard the USS Chant de Nuit, a Reliant-class ships posted to the Federation-Romulan border. For a ready room, it was a sizeable space. Inside a large overstuff couch – where Parker was reclined comfortably with a white cup of black coffee in one hand – coffee table, desk, a smattering of chairs, and a square table for small meetings were nestled into the space.

One entire wall was a fish tank filled with pale green water. Downey had grown up on along the coast on a colony world and she’d filled it with fish that were native to her home. Silver fish the size of her hand; red-and-blue-spotted fish barely the length of her long fingers and just as slim; dark orange fish with white stripes the shape of arrowheads darted between leafy purple aquatic plants. The small pebbles that lined the bottom came in every shade of the rainbow.

“Oh?” Staff Warrant Chadrin L’Orss hummed as sipped at her Yorlian tea in a pretty blue cup ringed with yellow stripes, as was traditional on R’ongovia. Despite their wicked appearance – blue-white striped skin, yellow and red eyes (mainly), and sharp rows of pointed teeth – R’ongovians were vegetarians and teetotalers. Their culture’s extreme empathy made anything else strictly taboo. If Chadrin was anything, she was traditional.

“Rubens asked for you personally. All these years and you’ve been holding out on me. That’s a highfalutin connection you have there. Or at least was.”

At the moment, the Captain wore her long white hair in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. The white hair deceived her age: it had gone prematurely white in her third year at the Academy eighteen years ago. On duty it would be pulled up into a tight bun; despite being in her ready room, she wasn’t on duty at the moment.

“I like to surprise. So, imagine my surprise when it turns out he was also a classmate of yours at the Academy,” Chadrin said into her cup as she took a sip.

Parker snorted. “I didn’t know him all that well. We had a couple of classes together. He was a loner.”

“All those forensic tournaments he beat you in and you didn’t know him all that well?”

“Someone has been snooping. Out with it: how do you know him?”

“You first. You’re dying to talk me out of this.”

The Chant de Nuit was a diplomatic vessel at its core and Parker, who’d started her career as a diplomatic officer, unapologetically favored her diplomats. She’d become good friends with the department head and a couple of others, including Chadrin. In private they dropped the formality of captain-crew and Parker wasn’t above begging her friends when they wanted to leave.

“Fine. Rubens was a brilliant and focused. Serious. While the rest of us weren’t above some hijinks during our time at the Academy, I can’t remember him ever getting a stern talking to, let alone a demerit. You can forget about sitting around with a cup of joe shooting the breeze. That’s for starters.”

“I think Academy was a while ago. So, maybe.”

“Maybe? Guy is a bureaucrat working Paris for the last four years, but okay, here’s another,” Parker put her coffee on a side table next to the couch and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Chadrin recognized the posture; it was time to get down to business. “I’ve talked to people over in Exterior and they were saying that if an election or two broke right for him, he would be Secretary. Not ‘could.’ ‘Would.’”

“Wow,” Chadrin blandly replied.

Parker’s eyebrows rose with the sarcastic dismissal, then she fixed the warrant officer with her best stern look, one that she had perfected not as a ship’s captain, but as a mother. “Now he’s ‘Chief Diplomatic Officer of Obsidian Command.’ How did that happen? Did you even ask before handing in your transfer request? You might be attaching yourself to a rapidly falling star. It could derail your career.”

“Since when have you cared about rising and falling stars? You’ve always wanted to be like the old breed captains. Do the right thing, to hell with what everyone else thinks.”

Parker looked like she’d been slapped.

Horrified by the words that had come out of her mouth, Chadrin quickly apologized before staring into her cup. They sat in silence for a full minute. Parker was trying to quiet the voice of her conscience; Chadrin was feeling her friend’s anguish. No one should’ve had to make that decision. No one should have ordered it to be done. Those poor people.

“I worked with him. On Vvanti,” Chadrin finally blurted.

“What?” Parker asked, startled from her disquiet.

“I said, I know him. We worked together for a year on Vvanti. He was the one who plucked me out from among the Starfleet personnel there and made sure I had all those opportunities.”

Parker sat silently for a moment, both trying to shove aside the remaining tendrils of guilt and processing this new information. “Okay. So maybe he has an eye for talent.”

“It was more than that. To me, he was patient and kind. He was a good teacher. I barely had to study in warrant school because of him and I’ve never forgotten that. Now, he’s asking for my help. I owe him.”

“I guess that explains why he contacts you and by the end of the day you're putting in for a transfer. Still, it hurts. You're abandoning us for a guy you haven't worked with in eight years? I like to think of this crew as a family.”

Chadrin drained the rest of her tea and set the cup aside on the Captain’s nearby desk and steadied herself. “It’s not just Rubens. Truth is, Vatili isn’t happy on the Toulouse and she’s putting in for a transfer, too.”

“Oh, God. Her again,” Parker ruefully shook her head, all thoughts of family vanishing in a flash. “I thought after she transferred that I was done with her antics. You’ll get nowhere trying to please that woman.” She stopped seeing the darkening look on Chadrin’s face. “Okay. The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“I know you and she didn’t see eye to eye…”

“I would’ve settled for chin to eye,” mumbled Parker.

“…but just because she’s really focused on her work, doesn’t mean she’s not kind and attentive. Plus, there aren’t that many other R’ongovians in Starfleet. We’re not like you Humans and seemingly ninety-percent of all other sentient life in the Universe. Our biology just isn’t compatible with other species, except for Bolians. And who wants to date a Bolian?”

Parker wanted to say that ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ was a terrible reason to be with anyone, but let it slide. This was an old conversation that wasn’t going to be settled today. She sighed. “Would it work for me to get down on both knees and beg you to stay? No? I thought not.”

She stood up and walked over to her desk, bringing up the controls and writing an order. “There are a few others who were heading out to new assignments when we rendezvoused with the Camelot in a few weeks. However, since I’m not above playing favorites, I can have our intrepid pilots take the Arrow you direct to Obsidian Command. It’ll be a bit of an extended journey, but our brand-spanking-new Arrow-class runabout should be comfortable at least.”

“When?” Chadrin asked.

“When do you want to go? Next week? Next year even?”
“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow! Good grief,” Parker touched her comm badge. “Downey to B’Tal. Move up the going away party for Ms. L’Orss for tonight. 1800 hours.” After a short pause, a hesitant voice affirmed the order.

“A surprise party?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. And it was supposed to be planned to the ‘t.’ B’Tal is a miracle worker, but not even he’ll be able to give it the justice you deserve. You know he’ll be complaining about this work weeks if not years. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You knew I was going to go no matter what you said, didn’t you?”

Parker shrugged. “If I’d know about you working with Rubens before, I’d have not bothered. Good information is the key. Remember that.”

Chadrin stood up and walked to her Captain and friend. There was no ‘traditional’ R’ongovian sign of affection; extreme empathy was their only tradition. How they showed affection changed depending on the individual. Chadrin knew Parker came from a long line of huggers, so she embraced her. “Thank you for everything.”

“Right back at you,” Parker told her, returning the hug with equal vigor.