Ebb and Flow

Posted on Thu Nov 3rd, 2011 @ 9:30pm by Chief Petty Officer Naera Dantius

Mission: The Fate of the Swiftsure
Location: Deck 8
Timeline: MD09 0250

Naera had been promoted. Just a few short weeks after her initial enlistment (the Iapetus' Tactical department offered a tantalising choice), she had been bumped to the rank of Chief Petty Officer, and assigned direct charge of the ship's NCO personnel.

Her natural suspicions challenged her unprecedented ascension of the ranks; coupled with doubts of her superiors' motives, the recent catastrophic events of the last few days had rocked her to the core. As a member of one of the most elusive and isolated races of the Galaxy, Naera felt unaccustomed to level of tension and discord present throughout the ship. It was a tough time to live in, Naera reasoned... It would fare better for all if she simply accepted the status quo.

The Chief had spent the last few hours in her quarters, analysing a preliminary Tactical manual for the Iapetus' torpedo systems. The work was intriguing, but her spine quickly began to ache. Her duty finally paid off, however, at 0200, when her duty supervisor chimed in, announcing she was to switch from the arduous Gamma shift to a floating schedule - her new duties as boatswain, while it greatly weighed her down her workload, allowed her freedom to choose her own Bridge shifts.

With a grateful response to her supervisor, the Chief dropped her report and headed off for a walk.

Naera walked at length across the deck. By now, she was used to the stares - officers, mostly Human, took it upon themselves to stop whatever they were doing when she passed by. Initially, the reactions brought her great amusement, but as the weeks went by, the attention she received on a daily basis began to irritate her.

Indeed, she was blue. Or rather, a dulcet shade of cyan. In any case her appearance was unorthodox, and while she understood the apprehension she might have caused for showing her face in public, she found it hard to understand why a group of mild-mannered, tolerant Humans, most of whom spent their working lives with species of all shapes and hues, would feel uncomfortable around her.

Shrugging this thought for now, Naera walked at a brisk pace towards the cargo bay. Her free hours gave her a much needed period of time in which to extract a few more of her belongings currently vacuum packed in containers. The recent damage to the ship meant she had to fight through twice the number of officers to get through the corridors, observing with curiosity at the occasional blackened bulkhead. After struggling through a final clot of yellow-coated technicians, she pushed herself through the doors of the cargo bay.

The room was large, and the light danced incandescently across the shiny metal bulkhead of the bay. Ignoring the inevitable glances from a knot of officers near the door, she set off the the furthest corner of the room, clenching her fists in an effort to level her feelings.

The sight of her neatly backed luggage eased her tension slightly. A medium-sized container was tucked between two larger ones, a small access hatch with a coded numberpad blinked at her in welcome. Naera tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, and bent down to inspect the box. Naera reached out with an inky blue finger and tapped the hatch, "One... eight... nine... zero... nine..." She muttered under her breath. The hatch clicked open, and she prised the lid from the container.

Sealed within was a large stash of Hervidian Black ale. "My babies..." Naera crooned as she picked apart a faintly glowing bottle, nestled it in the crook of her arm. After a few precious moments, she re-sealed the container, and made to stand up. In that instant, a methodical buzzing filled the back of her mind; a few seconds later, a shadow fell over her. Without looking back, Naera ravaged the neural signals the figure was transmitted - they were soft, rhythmic, mild in colour. Reasoning that there was no threat, she turned on the spot, with a smile.

The figure turned out to be a Human, male... Naera noticed his lack of mammary glands and she sharp, stoic features of his face. His hair was a shock of blonde, his eyes a deep aquamarine. She was taken by him instantly.

"Good morning, Sir." Naera stated simply, maintaining her smile as she noted the single pip on his shoulder.

"Chief, hi." The man nodded, unsmiling. He stood with a portly gait, arms strapped behind his back, chest buffed out to the wind. "I have a message in regards to your recent promotion."

"Ah..." Naera nodded briefly, "What might that be?" Naera's jaw clicked slightly; the Universal Translator embedded below her audio receptors was a reminder of just how much she had underestimated the prowess of the Federation. Her vocal patterns, unintelligible by normal standards, was inflected almost flawlessly into Standard tongue (with a few malfunctions). The Translator also granted her an entirely new accent, one aspect she found both unnerving yet highly exciting - Naera's physician had described her new vernacular as 'Upper-class, faintly Greek with a definite Yankee twist'. She had spent the first few hours playing with her new ability to pronounce the letter 'x'.

"You're to report to the Bridge at fifteen-hundred hours tomorrow for an inspection." The Ensign stared unblinkingly ahead.

Stifling a smirk with her index finger, she nodded gratifyingly. "Might I ask who will be performing this inspection, sir?"

"There are no further messages."

"Well, I thank you Ensign... Apologies, but I didn't catch your name." Naera had spent enough time with Humans to observe and emulate their highly impractical social rituals, though having noted the Ensign's rigidity, she realised it might pan out as a futile exercise.

"Ensign Garret Iverson." Iverson nodded briefly, "Was there anything else I could do for you, Chief Dantius?"

"Nothing... for now. I appreciate the message," she held up the bottle of ale to the light, "but I have to take a friend on a tour. I do hope you'll excuse me."

Sidestepping the Ensign, she made a quick exit.

In the corridor, which was no mercifully empty, she heaved a sigh. She was unique among her species that, despite living for centuries, and potentially more, she felt a constant urge to see the outcome of a situation, small-talk included. It was going to be a tough ride, she remarked inwardly, as she headed back to her quarters. Working with Humans made her realise how ill-adapted her people were at reaching beyond their borders. Even so, Naera's racial-trait of practicality made her itch at their complacency.

As she approached the gunmetal grey doors to her quarters, she spied an open conduit; wires trailing, components blasted into lifeless, black husks. Her violently coloured eyes shone with resentment; she suddenly realised she had entered a new world, a world of danger and extreme odds. Be it a promotion, a damaged ship or a widespread loss of life, the unfamiliarity of chaos deadened her ancient heart. Lifting the bottle of Hervidian ale, she swirled the glowing mixture within. For now, Naera thought, she would indulge in a tantalising delicacy, and hope that the morning brought new light to her heart...

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A post by,
Chief Petty Officer Naera Dantius
Chief of the Boat