Front Row Seats

Posted on 07 Feb 2019 @ 2:38am by Lieutenant Commander Rafe Cassidy (Jan 2389 - TRNSFR After Gorn War) & Ensign Arthur Jones, Son of Ruk (Jan 2389 TRNSFR After Second Battle of XFY)

Mission: Ka Hakaka Maikaʻi - The Good Fight
Location: Bridge
Timeline: Pre-Briefing

Starships might have been designed for sudden high demands upon their power and strains upon their infrastructure, but no amount of forward-thinking could leave anything or anyone fully prepared for combat. However much they'd manoeuvred away from oncoming fire, however much clever allocation of system power had mitigated damage, and however much the crew had all known they'd been due to face the Gorn anew, the aftermath took work.

But for the moment it was the technological aftermath, not the psychological one. That meant, as the Hawaii lurked and licked her wounds and the dust settled, and some officers got badly needed rest or medical attention, even though nobody was on the bridge barking orders it remained a quiet, buzzing hub of activities.

For his part, Cassidy had to run several hundred diagnoses to make sure the navigational commands were running properly. It was tiresome and yet necessary if nobody wanted the ship to careen straight into Xavier, and for now he sat with his chin in his hand, half-forgotten mug of coffee still steaming on the console.

"You know," he commented to his neighbour at Ops, voice a low, bored drawl, "they tell you at the Academy what it'll be like. Starfleet. Thousands of hours of mindless tedium punctuated by hours of sheer terror. Nobody never believes them."

Arthur chuckled, a deep, chesty sound much like a Klingon. "Then they get into the thick of things and run screaming. The first time, then they learn to deal with it. You hope." He said, running yet another diagnostic. "We took a beating, I can tell that without needing diagnostics."

"Could have been worse. Whole lot worse." Cassidy blew his fringe out of his face, styled hair losing any of its hold after the sweat and stress of battle, and now he was altogether floppier than he'd have liked. He cast the other officer a sidelong glance. "Look. Not trying to be difficult and all. But what the hell actually is your name? Because I've heard you called several different things and none of them seem to be right."

Arthur smile, "I was born Arthur Jones, and Starfleet requires me to list that, but its not my name anymore. Call me either Ruk or Arthur."

"Requires you to list that, huh? That's some bureaucrat with a stick up their behind. Arthur it is." Cassidy leaned back with a tired groan, rubbing his eyes. "I hate this part after serious flying. Every time I blink I'm imagining my displays are giving me fresh combat data."

"Same!" Arthur lamented, "I'm half expecting to have to adjust the dampening fields as we turn." He chuckled, a deeper bass than one would have probably expected. "My father always told me warriors go out with a blaze when they can't win. There were a couple times I thought this was our blaze."

"I'm traditionally more of a fan of living to fight another day," Cassidy drawled, but nodded up as if Xavier Fleet Yards were immediately beyond the viewscreen. "That wasn't much of an option with the base out there. Kind of made it the sort of fight you either win or don't walk away from."

"Living to fight another day is good an all, but you're right. When you have something that important to fight for, you either win or die trying." Arthur said with a smile. "I think that's somewhat a reason we all do this, we have something or someone to fight for."

A moment passed as Cassidy hammered at his console, the helm controls seemingly intractable on whatever he was trying to check. "Yeah," he said distractedly, then harrumphed at the panel. "I mean, right now I'd fight a whole lot for good maintenance." He clicked his tongue. "That why you ended up in Starfleet? Folks you want to do right by?"

"I ended up in Starfleet because the average career for a KDF officer is 2 years." Arthur joked, "but in all honesty, yeah. I have no memory of my parents, I was too young when they died, but I feel that by being in Starfleet I'm making them proud. Then there's the whole Sto'vo'kor issue I have to ensure they end up in."

"That's rough," Cassidy said. "No clue what my folks would think of me being in Starfleet. Federation mining regulations kept making the life hard for the family business, so maybe they'd wish I didn't help uphold those rules. But I'm doing alright for myself, perhaps they'd value that more." He didn't sound too worried; he'd have to be borrowing a lot of trouble to assume his parents would hate their son becoming a reasonably successful Starfleet officer.

Then he raised an eyebrow at Arthur, and when he spoke his voice was light, curious. "So serving in Starfleet is a means of getting your human parents into Sto'Vo'Kor?"

"You can ensure someone gets into Sto'vo'kor by doing great battle in their name. That is why I'm in Starfleet. Glorious battle will ensure they get in, course they're probably already in."

"Huh." Cassidy grimaced. "Few years ago I'd say you maybe chose the wrong line of work for glorious battle. I signed up to be an explorer, not a soldier. But I guess the Gorn have other ideas."

"Well next time the Gorn get on board, they're going to have a very angry Klingon to deal with." Arthur said, touching the Dk'Tagh knife at his hip.

"In that case," said Cassidy, "if they make it onto the bridge I'll let you take them down. You know. To be generous, and all." The wryness in his voice made it clear he had no expectations about actually being able to beat up a Gorn in hand-to-hand combat.

"I'd be more effective with my Bat'leth, but there's not much I can d to get authorized to have it with me on the bridge. Starfleet isn't fond of large stabby things."

"I mean, I'm not too fond of large stabby things, but if they gotta exist I'd rather they're on my side." His smile was lopsided, then his console blatted at him and Cassidy gave a low grumble of a sigh. "Oh, for - right. One of the navigational sensors could do with recalibrating." It was a frustrating job, a time-consuming job, but not a hard one. He still got to his feet.

"I'm going to get another coffee, and then I'm going to get started on that," Cassidy continued, pointing accusingly at the betrayal of a console. "You need anything?"

It was, pretty much, standard fare on the bridge after a battle. Fight. Almost die. Chat. Wrestle with technology. Chat. Get coffee. Starfleet officers took their socialising - and their coffee - where they could get it.




Rafe Cassidy, LT, SF
CONN

Arthur, Son of Ruk, ENS, SF
OPS