Revenge is a Dish... But I'm On a Diet

Posted on Sun Jul 3rd, 2022 @ 1:28am by Lieutenant Timmoz & Lieutenant Margarar

Mission: In the Aftermath
Location: Sojourner, after the return from Talbeethia
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1900

[Sojourner; Departing Talbeethia]
[Day 1]
[1900 Hours]

As far as Timmoz could tell, the Talbeethians were the perfect bedmates for the V'Draysh. And they could have one another. When Beige meets Greige. A bland canvas of fragile, overhyped technology which faulted upon presentation. Good ideas- perhaps- poor execution. And how neatly;y it fits into the Human obsession with living in their past. Ah well. Ferengi Rule of Acquisition number nineteen seemed like a good, sobering synopsis. Satisfaction is not guaranteed. Words to live by, the Orion thought. Of late he'd felt... unsatisfied. Certainly. And not only. Restless.

The distance to Pathfinder Station and the petite Brazilian-Vegan Engineer was more closely measured in kiloparsecs than parsecs now. Time apart is measured on the drought scale. Timmoz's eyebrows flexed. Were his affections for him fading? Drying? He blustered out a breath between olive lips, soberly annoyed. It was difficult to say. Certainly in the reconcilable category but... too long felt too long.

Timmoz had ceded the honor of pulling their little ship out of orbit, setting a course for a pocket of gas and dust that occasionally burped out a new massive nuclear engine. As aesthetically pleasing as they could be- or how challenging they were to navigate- he was simply not in the mood. So he'd designated Lieutenant Irynya to the Bridge.

The Orion flexed his hand: fingers curled, fingers extended. It was like he could feel the broken hand he'd sustained on Chargh'vor-chal all those years ago. Stiff. Arthritic. It was probably the temporal and quantum shift. That Tellarite had done it. Broken his hand. A shiv later into the Tellarite's side and Timmoz learned what Tellarite hemerytherin smelled like. Felt like, goopy, on the fingers. He'd hid in the Klingon Jefferies and eventually, they'd escaped.

Swaynn. Commander Swaynn. Commander Donald Swaynn. First Officer of the Thunderchild. Syndicate Breaker. The Karashu- meaning something akin to 'Wolf' in their tongue. Bunjeezu, take Swaynn, Timmoz thought. Timmoz snorted derisively.

He uncrossed his ankles and righted himself from the bulkhead behind him. It had felt V'Draysh cool against the skin under his uniform and he'd had enough of it. Timmoz decided he needed some relief. Timmoz decided it was time to leave the Shuttlebay. He carried himself the span of the ship to the Waverider's Docking Bay, and to the Waverider itself where he retrieved some relief. From his belongings, he acquired his long, tapering copper-colored holder and plant sublimator,- a Horgl- and a dose of Horx- snakeleaf.

To Humans, it induced paranoia and an out-of-body experience somewhat like psychedelic mushrooms. But Orion physiology was different. More complex. He walked, thinking about where a good destination could be but he decided outside the runabout was as good as any place. "Computer, disable smoke detection in this zone for ten minutes."

Margarar did not enjoy being out of control. She was not permitted to try and find a solution and even if she could have tried, she was insubstantial on her recent adventure. That lack of control was precisely what made Margarar decide to regain her bearings. She never wanted another unexpected surprise on her ship.

The wiry Antican did not want her crew to see her upset or disconcerted. Half of them probably would have thought that she was being unfairly cranky, so she took herself and her mood to the shuttle bay. Perhaps she could work on the Waverider, improve its efficiency. However, when she got there, she smelled something foul - something like burning leaves. Was someone cooking? In the Waverider's Docking Bay?

Investigating the scent, she found herself standing in front of Timmoz. " You? What are you doing here?" she inquired brusquely.

With a squish and a hiss, Timmoz sublimated the snakeroot; he glanced at the diminutive Antican and her abrupt posture. "Hello to you as well," He greeted with his Cluros smile and a nod. "I could ask the same." The Orion was leaning into the Waverider's bulkhead with his lankiness. He brought the Horgl up, tucked his lime lips around its mouthpiece and drew in. A faintly bluish-white smoke lazily teased out his nostrils.

"Work," Margarar answered evading the meaning of the question. "I'm doing work," she insisted. "But you are creating quite a foul stench." She put her left hand to her nose and with her forefinger and thumb pinched her nostrils closed. "Is this something that you do often?" she wondered aloud, her voice becoming more pinched and nasally from her pinched nose.

Timmoz's devilish features quirked with amusement, almost irreverent as a spin of the smell wafted in a coil out of his nose. "Work? I didn't put any repair orders in for the Waverider," he said with a chuckle of curiosity. "Isn't a repair job like this well below your pay grade? I would think this would be a Mulhern or Parsons job." The Orion smiled with Cluros, wide and sly and yet clearly alert. He addressed what she called a stench, "One person's stench is another's ambrosia." He was careful to utter the smoke upwards and away from the diminutive Antican's face.

"You did not put in any orders for repairs, that is true," the nasally Antican admitted. "But routine checks are also necessary and I want to make sure that none of that foreign technology affected anything else. The last thing that this ship needs is something unknown to cause a problem. I could do nothing while we were trapped. This," she said gesturing with the hand not pinching her nose, "I can do." Her canines showed a little in a hint of a smile when Timmoz tried to keep the stench further away from her.

Timmoz chuckled and gently shook his head. His Horgl-holding hand gestured back at the Waverider. "By all means, Lieutenant. Please examine this unused, un-launched, and mostly pristine vessel if it pleases you." He turned and, as a courtesy, inputted his security code. The exterior hatch doors hissed open and a ramp rolled out for her. His bemusement had him follow her inside, ducking his height through the entry space more out of habit than necessity.

The sterile and open bay before them had a small two-person transporter to port and a compact and deployable console and roll-out bed as a Sickbay to starboard. In the middle, stairs headed for the sleeping area, the lounge, the dining area, and eventually the cockpit. "I will be up there," he gestured vaguely toward the stairs. His lankiness swung into relaxed movement as he began to disassemble his Horgl pipe. "If you find anything particularly interesting I will be in my bunk."

Margarar looked up at Timmoz and finally admitted, "I do not understand you."

Timmoz smiled into a lean cheek again. He blinked, bemused brows raised. "Seventy-odd crewmembers on this ship would agree with you." He leaned into the bulkhead. "What about me so perplexes you?"

"May I speak freely?" she asked, reminding herself that she was on duty right now. Her tricorder lowered in the hand not plugging her nose as she stared hard into Timmoz's eyes, appraising him.

The Orion stared back. "You can if I can," he replied evenly.

"Of course you can," Margarar answered. She remained "on duty," while waiting for the Orion's permission.

Timmoz assented with a nod- and then spit on the deck plates as a form of vow or promise. "Speak."

Margarar noted the spit. It reminded her of an ancient Antican custom to show that whatever was said would be of no consequence. However, this was not Antican, so she stared at it for a moment before deciding that she would do the same. Her spit, however, was frothy as it left her mouth, small bubbles piling as a bit of drool hung from the side of her mouth after the gesture was completed. She took her arm and wiped it away without apology.

"I do not understand you. When I was moved into my new quarters you were downright rude. I was prejudged, or so I believed. It is not unusual and normally I do not care. I'm here to serve. This is where I..." She struggled to find the next words but finally settled on, "belong for now." The Antican took a breath, "My opinion has changed but I cannot explain why. On the away mission you did not allow me to utilize my knowledge or strengths. You kept me away from anything remotely scientific. I thought you were punishing me more. However, you took the time to learn about me. And now I find you here, away from everyone. Why? Why to all of these things?"

Timmoz nodded with a slight pout of his bottom lip. "You treated your cadet subordinate poorly, both on duty and off duty. Referring to a junior officer of this fleet as something beneath your notice." Timmoz said as bluntly. "Demonstrating your poor initial approach to leadership, and given that Lieutenant Irynya was on the second team, I chose to keep you close to me. Rather than risk a potential incident between you and her. You offended her with your behavior that night. And I did not think putting you in a position of leadership- and where your or her leadership would be questioned- was the right decision."

Timmoz raised a finger, "But I recognize that you are different than our V'draysh allies. So I have some empathy. If you are going to thrive here, you are going to have to put aside some of your less... V'draysh-accepting... instincts." He smiled. "Like I do. And before you, Commander Lenek did. This leads to your second query. Why am I here?" Timmoz gestured that she could follow and he led to the small bunk quarters that he'd decorated in his style. "My partner is Human and he is on Pathfinder Station. As an Orion, we keep separate places for privacy and sleep than we do social communing... and intimacy." He smiled some, "Even with our mates. Here, I can be an Orion."

"The cadet was incompetent and did not want to learn but was insubordinate to me. You chose to listen to others and not me. My leadership was not an issue. And yes, I do not care for the fact that he is a weakling that cries the moment that someone points out his problems. That will not assist him in the future. It is obvious that crew is overly protective of him for reasons that I cannot understand," she growled in annoyance. "I have no issue with Irynya but clearly she has one with me and again, apparently because of said cadet. However, the more you try to protect from an incident, the more special treatment that I receive, the more it erodes my authority. Then again, it is new to me. I was raised to follow, not lead. I have never had a desire to lead. I wanted, maybe even still want pups of my own someday. But I am old and you are young."

She looked at Timmoz questioningly. "And you are not an Orion everywhere? I am confused. How could you be anything else?"

Timmoz chuckled and shook his head with his Cluros smile. "Fine. You see it that way. Starfleet will see it differently. And they outrank this," he fobbed a finger at the phantom pips not currently pinned to his chest. "As a leader, your job is to inspire and help direct. Not to micro-manage. Your people are competent, regardless of your personal opinion. Starfleet Academy has a high bar of washing out the ones that shouldn't be here. Are you saying you are better at determining the worth of a cadet than an entire school?" Timmoz challenged, albeit with an easy air.

He moved to put away his Horgl in a drawer. He grinned back over his shoulder. "Of course not," he said with an irreverent amusement in his voice. Timmoz started to comb out his curls. "We assimilate into this stew of brotherhood and respect, just like the Humans, Andorians, Betazoids. Do you see offended Andorians running around blustering and demanding Ushaan at every perceived slight? Are Betazoids poking around in your thoughts and speaking blunt honesty?" He switched hands to comb out the other side. "I follow their rules and align to their command structure and way of dispensing justice. Instead of taking the pleasure for myself."

He set the comb down and picked up a scent diffuser. He gave it a squirt at his neck. "So. Why are you here?"

"I needed something to take my mind off the away mission," she admitted with a disgruntled growl. "I do not like being helpless. I am here to be able to solve problems, not let someone else solve them for me or hope that someone does. And ultimately, that is what happened. I could do nothing to fix our problem."

"It was not what I'd hoped it to be either," Timmoz admitted easily with a shrug of a single shoulder. "We were all helpless. All we could do was wait. But its behind us. Let's not over-dwell on the past and our own inabilities. It is over and there was no harm done. No revenge needed today." He smirked to himself. "Another Orionism I suppress. Missing out on a good opportunity for revenge. Like slapping a Human's parent. But. Urqinzhe decided it was for us to escape, not for me getting revenge."

Timmoz moved to a small table. "Do Anticans drink?" He asked as he opened a ceramic decanter and poured a drink. But he bobbed his head in a note of understanding, "I assume not on duty. So, do you take a break, or do you go without?"

"No harm done," Margarar repeated with the tone of someone who was uncertain. "Orionisms are definitely unique," Margarar replied more thoughtfully. "Perhaps that is more integrated into your society. In mine, revenge is not something utilized often. We take care of our problems immediately. Of course, we tend to rely on our clans heavily and have a simple leadership structure."

"Similarly," the Orion said. "We have our Caju. Our Caju have Tahedrins and Kaheedi. But senior members with enough social weight have a say."

Obediently, Margarar moved to the small table with Timmoz. "Some do, some do not. It is an individual preference. Being on duty can be very taxing," she admitted. "Off duty, I admit that I take a good deal of time to rest to recuperate. When I'm not doing that, I have holodeck programs for home, hunting, and fishing. Being on a ship can be confining and," she said hesitating, "unlike you and so many others on this ship, I'm old. I spent a fifth of my life in the Academy. If I live an average Antican lifespan, I will have spent a little over a twelfth of it there. So, on that depressing thought, a drink would be appreciated."

Timmoz tipped the ceramic decanter into a small ceramic cup and passed it to the Antican. "Live fast, die fast?" He stated. He tipped the cup to his lips and downed it. His long throat undulated in the pleasing, savory burn. He paused. "But no taking time to enjoy things like good, well-planned revenge?" He looked at the Antican like she was possibly missing out. And he explained. "Orions don't like karmic imbalances. Debt of any kind is a social snag. So revenge rebalances the social contract and saves karmic face." Timmoz shrugged.

"So," he sat down. "You've put away a fifth of your life for the V'draysh. But why? Why strap yourself into a tiny ship as the only Antican, that's been shot into the ass-end of the Delta Quadrant." His eyes danced under his curly hair with a dark bemusement. "Full of the moldy bits of Borg and diseased Vidiians wearing the skins and faces of others?"

Margarar took the proffered cup and took a drink. "We live as long as we live. I believe the Terrans believed in something called elves that lived thousands of years while the Terrans lived a hundred or so. Now they're up to two hundred. Perhaps the same will be true of me and my kind. But mine is not to wonder why."

She took another drink before continuing, "I cannot say that I understand everything that you're saying. But if you're wondering why I came here, some might say it was a whim. Back home I was a tinkerer. Perhaps those interests kept me away from finding a mate. Or, maybe I'm just ugly. I don't know. But at 14, with no mate on the horizon and my interests being more mechanical in nature, I wondered if there might be something more for me. Antica did not hold enough, so I filed an application with Starfleet and somehow, I was accepted. The transition has been," she paused, searching for an appropriate word, but finally settled on, "difficult."

Timmoz leaned easily against the bulkhead with a slight hunch as the bulkhead began an arch near his mid-spine. He crossed his ankles and smoothly delivered a sip of his second drink to himself. "Well. The one thing I was not looking for when I joined Starfleet was a mate. But it happened repeatedly regardless. So," he gestured with a broad shrug of his arms, "There's hope for everyone. Humans enjoy mating."

He folded his arms back around his chest, "You're probably going to have to make peace with the acute personnel conflicts. That is if you want to make friends. Considering your interests, I would start with the people you can relate to the most. There are a lot of tinkering types on the ship."

"I am certain there are. I know not where to find them." She sipped more of the drink. "And it is difficult being alone, the only one of your kind." She leaned back a bit, squirming a bit in her seat. "Of course, it is very important, as well. It opens up more opportunities. But all being said, prowling on the holodeck for prey or fishing is the best I can do for relaxation now."

"It is difficult," the Orion agreed with a slow bob of his head. "But that is the hand we've been dealt. So we either assimilate somewhat or we get very comfortable with being alone." Timmoz smiled amiably and raised his cup to her, "Make the choice that suits you in the years you have left." Timmoz put his hand under his chin and gently cracked his neck. His eyes flinched at the satisfying pop. "Hunting and fishing could be group activities. Working together. Yes?"

"They often are back home," she answered simply and with a slight nod.

"Could be an inroad to making friends out of colleagues," Timmoz suggested with a brow lift.

"You want to hunt and fish with me?" Margarar asked tilting her head, not fully understanding Timmoz's suggestion.

Timmoz's subtle headshake rustled his hair coils. Brows lifted, and he chuckled in his throat. "The closest I get to hunting is Tatharoc. Are you asking me to hunt and fish with you?" he turned it back. With a hand shrug. "I'm saying seek out friends who share common interests." He explained. "I won't keep you any longer Chief. Please. Feel free to do your diagnostics. I will be here if you need my expertise."

A Post By:

Lieutenant Margarar
Assistant Chief Engineer

Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Flight Controller