Heavy Lifting
Posted on 16 Jan 2024 @ 7:28am by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Christophe Leblanc
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Timeline: day 8, earlyish
2656 words - 5.3 OF Standard Post Measure
Calliope found herself checking and rechecking the status of delivery on a couple of larger items that Hokir had temporarily sent to storage until some other fixtures could be disassembled and moved out. She had the vanity unit outside of the bathroom door broken down and was carting the panels and shelves into the living room, wrapping them into one package to go to storage knowing, as she did from her years in Ops, that they would be standard fit to other quartering installations on the base, and they would store rather than de-materialize them. All she had to do was put it in the hall for pick up within the next ten minutes, so it could be taken away at the same time as her antique wardrobe arrived.
What she didn't prethink was that once she had them wrapped together, the combined weight would make getting them out into the hall something that she hadn't prepared for. She'd already returned the hover sled from her big moving day previously, and now she had only her wits and her brawn to make this happen. She started scooching it towards the open door by rocking the whole packaged unit from one corner to the other, but succeeded in making a tear in the rug.
"Damn it." She scuffed the floor with her toe, talking to herself in the open doorway. "Now I have to put in another work order. They're gonna get tired of seeing my reqs pop up on the list…"
The idea of moving across the Federation and getting a taste of frontier life was more palatable than the reality thus far, and Chris had only made the experience worse by packing everything he owned and bringing it along. He had been working for hours, moving the transporter possessions Ops had so politely brought to his quarters and taking them carefully from their packages. After moving for so long, his powder-blue T shirt was dark with sweat and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. Still, his mind was in everything else but presentation.
“Merde. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez moi?” He said under his breath, then allowed the heavy chair to fall back into its original position on the floor. It was time for a break. He stepped out into the Corredor, and started walking, his steps, heavy as the frustration of the move, started to melt away slowly, as if it were being deposited on the deck beneath his feet. He walked by the green woman in just enough time to hear her talking to herself. He eyed her quietly, seeing she too was struggling with something heavy. Then he paused.
“A bit of trouble, miss?” He asked, his accented voice colored with his slightly elevated breathing.
Figuring the damage had already been done, she’d just started to drag the entire thing, pulling up more of the carpet as she went along. “What—” She turned around and tried pushing it instead. “Gives you that impression?”
“The deep tracks in your carpet, maybe? The crazed look in your eyes?”
The corners of his mouth hinted at turning up, but never quite got there. His clear blue eyes moved up from the mess she was making to her face. It was certainly a funny sight to see her struggling, but he didn’t dare laugh. He noticed her pleasant features, despite the hard work she was doing.
“Crazed?” She dropped the whole assemblage with a thud, so she could point to her eyes with two fingers. “I’ll have you know this is my I-mean-business face.”
The smile came then, simply handsome and reserved. He crossed his strong arms under his chest, his sweat-soaked shirt presenting a less-than-established look.
“You should tell the vanity, I think.”
“I don’t think it recognizes my authority.” She huffed, as it was a common theme. “Seeing as you’ve already been—” She waved up and down vaguely at his shirt. “working up a sweat, you wouldn’t mind grabbing that end, would you?”
He raised his brow.
“Move a vanity for my neighbor, or go find myself a strong drink?” He asked before stepping up and picking up the end without much more fanfare. “I will help you, but only because you said the magic word.”
Calliope lifted on her side and up-nodded toward where they needed to maneuver the thing. “Magic word?” She didn’t remember saying please.
“Authority.” He said, resisting the urge to chuckle at his own stupid joke. He moved slowly in the direction she had indicated, being sure to match his pace with hers so they wouldn’t drop the damn thing. It was a much easier project with two people.
As they turned the corner to the designated pick up area, Calliope groaned. Her wardrobe was already sitting there. “I missed the delivery.”
She shuffled towards the wall and together they leaned the packed vanity against the wall, before she examined her cabinet where it stood. The wardrobe was still in its storage wrappings and in her name, ready to go, but having missed the delivery team, she had no cart still. “Hey, so, that strong drink you were after? I have a bottle of malt for the guy who can get this through the apartment door. Half a bottle, being honest.”
“Vraiment?” He smiled then, unperturbed by the problem. If anything, it was a goal to pursue, and he so loved the chase after any project. It helped that this one might even subtly impress a beautiful woman. “Ma fleur, those are the new magic words.”
She found a grasp on the packing straps and tested out trying to lift it, something she had never done while it was full of all the drawers. To her credit the two feet on her side did come up off the floor. As her neighbor took up the other end, it was clear that most of the weight was on him and she was just helping to balance it as they went. “My mom gave this to me, because you know, when your daughter graduates the Academy and leaves for ship assignments—” She grunted as she shifted the weight. “—you gift large items of pre-owned furniture. I think she won it in a raffle or a card game or something. She said she wanted to give me something nice.”
“It is nice.” He said as he wielded the majority of the weight without complaint or grunting. It was pretty unwieldy though, and certainly not an easy thing to transport. “And heavy.”
“I almost sold it out of storage once, but then I got that guilty feeling. Like, I should hang on to it until I’ve had the chance to give it a try. Then my last quarters I finally had it out and it just grew on me. It’s got these snarls in the wood grain, what do you call ‘em? Burls? And some of the drawers stick. Just character, you know?”
“It’s real. Most cabinets these days are made with replicated material and cheaply. As much as I love modern technology, it’s hard to beat something old like this.”
Once they had come to the door, they had to tilt the unit back to get past the door frame. Calliope motioned again with her chin towards the gap left by the removed vanity.Together they peeled off the packaging and set it into the wall recess. Calliope put her hands on her hips for a moment of triumph, before looking around at the rest of the place it was part of now. Her quarters were half put together, with some personal items— her picture frames, rotating through photos, and mix of decorative items filled the living room display shelves. There were some unwashed breakfast pans out on the kitchenette where she’d gone to the trouble to make her own fresh meal. The office area was piled with other crates and supplies, half sorted and there were still a number of boxes lining the room in other places.
“Sorry, it’s been a little hectic. Not settled in yet.” She dusted her hands off on the sides of her slacks and then offered him a handshake in proper neighborly greeting. He had said they were neighbors, she thought. “Calliope Zahn. Most of my friends call me Calli.”
“Christophe Leblanc. Most of my friends call me Chris.” He said, grabbing her hand and shaking it with a respectable firmness, yet gently enough to signal he recognized her as a woman and didn’t wish to challenge or hurt her. “Don’t worry; my quarters are worse than yours. I brought everything except the boat, I think.”
He dusted off his own hands on his jeans and then offered a thoughtful expression.
“Calli Zahn; grab that malt. I refuse to drink it all by myself.” He said calmly, his voice communicating a confident sureness.
She went around the kitchenette and, having not yet laid hands on any drinking glasses in her unpacking, settled for two teacups. She wiped them out with a dishcloth and decided to call that good before pulling down the half a bottle of amber spirit from the overhead shelf. She came back around the island, extending him an empty cup and then filling it while he held it out.
“All I could get away with taking in the divorce, what with the prenump I signed.” She muttered, holding up the bottle for a second before pouring her cup. “Figured he won’t need it any more, since I’m done driving him to it.”
“Ouch. Messy divorce, eh?” He asked, placing his tea cup gently against hers before taking a sip. He swallowed slowly, enjoying the burn as the liquid slid down his throat. “At least you got that far. My fiancé liked her life back on Earth. I let her keep my amazing apartment and my motorcycle. I didn’t think I could get those out here.”
“What is it about that planet people don’t seem to be able to leave? My ex is headed back there, too. Well. Soon to be ex.” She hadn’t heard back from the lawyers yet, after all. “He’s got all this family history and everything he hates, but it seems to dictate him anyway. I don’t know. It’s like the whole Federation revolves around Sol, sometimes.”
“It does, really. People seem to feel that something is special about the place. Not its beauty or its climate in my opinion; I’ve seen planets so gorgeous, they took my breath away. Maybe it’s the people.” He took another sip and, once again, enjoyed the sensations that came with it. “Where are you from, Calli?”
Calliope nodded along as he talked with one of those Earther accents that seemed to set them all apart even between other standard speakers. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed her years on Earth while in academy. And she didn't really think it wasn’t worth the hype. She knew she was just feeling like calling all grapes from Sol sour lately. “Novex system, Valus VI. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. It’s a small colony world. Settled for a couple hundred years, initially by Bolius. It’s probably less than seventy years since it secured a limited charter with the Federation. There is a lot of tall feather grass. But no tourists getting in the way.”
“Valus VI, eh?” He asked, seeming intrigued but not confused. He’d heard about it several times, but still knew very little. “I hear your weather is shit, is it not?”
Calliope chuckled. So he had heard of it. “The Bolians like it. So, lemme see. You say we’re neighbors, and everyone on this block is a senior ranking officer or senior level non-com…” Calliope sipped her tea cup while squinting at him. “Obviously you practice lifting wardrobes or something on the regular. You wouldn’t happen to be a new security lieutenant?”
“A security meathead? How dare you?” He asked, animated and smiling at that one. Despite himself, he laughed at his own joke this time. “No, Calli Zahn, I am no security guard.”
“Tactical?”
“Warmer, but still so frigid, you’re going to need two pairs of socks.” He said, winking at finishing the rest of his drink.
“You’re not a Marine.” Most of the Marines were issued quarters down on the Marine decks together like a whole camp, even if the Officers and family men could take exceptions. Then again, there was the sweat, the swagger, not to mention the aforementioned abandoned motorbike. She started to doubt. “Are you a Marine?”
Grabbing the bottle of amber liquid, he poured a few more fingers into his teacup. Then he tipped the bottle over hers as well until it was restored to its initial levels.
“A Marine?!” He asked, laughing. Most of his reserved attitude had melted once the drink was in him, and he was being more himself, “Mer et étoiles, Calli Zahn, what are you taking me for? I suppose it’s a physical complement, after all.”
Smiling, he took a sip and shook his head.
“No no, I am an engineer. Chief, actually, believe it or not.”
Calliope started coughing mid sip of her whiskey. She continued choking and sputtering, eventually waving to let him know she was still breathing. “Get out.” She managed to say.
When she’d started to cough, his smile faded and he looked at her with some serious concern in his eyes. When she’d finally managed those two words, he furrowed his brow.
“Pardon?” He asked, expecting he had just misunderstood what she had said.
Seeing as she’d promised it to him, she put the rest of the decanter in his free hand and motioned towards the door, still rasping. “Out. Get out.”
“Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?” He asked, and took a polite step or two toward the door, just to indicate he wasn’t planning on ignoring her if that’s what she really wanted. “Have I done something to offend you? Do you only enjoy the company of Marines and Security Officers?”
Waving and sort of shuffling him towards the door further, Calliope shook her head, still unable to clear the burning in her sinuses. “Just go. Nice meeting you.”
Chris saw that his efforts to figure out what was going on were largely futile. Unfortunately for her, he was the sort of man who couldn’t put a mystery or a problem down if his life depended on it. Even as he shuffled out the door with the bottle and tea cup in his hand, his mind was racing to figure out what he had done wrong. When he was standing outside the doorway straight in front of her apartment, he shook his head.
“Merde, I’m not going to be able to focus on my work until I figure out what the hell is going on.” He said, almost pleading by a shade, yet still managing to keep the desperation out of his voice. He decided to try the direct approach. “Tell me what has you so upset.”
Calliope stood for a moment, her coughing starting to settle, and for a moment she looked like she would say something. Instead she kicked the ruined carpet, then, reaching to the panel, she closed the door.
He blinked at the sudden movement of her foot. When the door was closed in his face, his frown deepened.
“Scandaleux,” he started under his breath sarcastically, “the pretty green woman isn’t as conventional as the rest.”
He turned and began to walk slowly toward his extremely messy apartment. He had no mind this particular puzzle would be on his mind for the next while.
