Opening Ceremony - Part 2

Posted on Wed Jan 30, 2019 @ 11:43am by Commodore Kate Banninga & Captain T'Lisa Anderson & Lieutenant Kror Gar'Rel & Lieutenant Raleigh MacKenzie & Lieutenant Owen Reeves BA, BSci & Ensign Syam Ziath & Master Chief Petty Officer Charles Deadman & Anzhelina Walker
Edited on on Tue Sep 17, 2019 @ 5:35pm

2,614 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: First Unity
Location: Langley Station - Deck 38 - Function Room 1

ON:

Captain T'Lisa Anderson entered the Function Room. The Canterbury's CO was accompanied by her XO, Commander Kror Gar'Rel. The Commander towered over most people present and certainly got some interesting looks, essentially being a humanoid grizzly bear. Turning to his captain, he asked in his deep voice, "The food looks and smells amazing. Would you like me to bring you something, Captain?"

"Yes, but you choose, Kror, I trust your judgement," she replied. Her and Kror had been through a lot, and she considered him a good friend, but he insisted on calling her by her rank rather than her name. It just seemed to be his way.

Ceremonies weren't something Amelia outright disliked, but they weren't something she would have preferred to do instead of real work, and there was more than enough of that when you had what amounted to nearly an entire sector's worth of shuttles and other items to keep focus on. Still, there were things that could be left to subordinates, and while she never would've admitted as much, the most recent dress uniforms Starfleet had concocted were actually rather fetching. Be that as it may, she wore her near-perpetual scowl, doing her best to mask it into impassivity, and mostly failing. Still, she had to attend, and there were a few other people who looked about as happy to be here as she was. That being said, she quickly found herself in slow conversation with some random crewman. At least he wasn't hard on the eyes. So, she waited for things to kick off.

Charles entered the room, staying on the periphery. He didn't like these kinds of receptions, but as the Chief of Boat, the highest ranking enlisted, he was obligated to make an appearance.

Four Andorians entered the room together. They all looked very at ease in their dress uniforms. That was mostly Ishresse's fault. Being a diplomat, she often ended up with invites to functions which required dressing well, and she often took one or all of her bondmates with her. After a quick word shared between the four of them, they all split up to mingle with the gathering crowd. Ishresse made her way to a nearby seat and sat down. Her neatly tailored dress uniform had been slightly altered to accommodate her pregnancy and not make it too obvious.

Looking around upon entering the large gathering room Kate noticed quite a number of people had already arrived. She saw several people she would need to greet, being the CO of the station. She turned around to her date, Marc, and whispered, "I don't suppose there's a chance to escape this, is there?"

Captain Marc Mueller stepped into the large room through the ornate doors and took in the sight for himself. The Charon commanding officer quietly took a few paces into the room, his hands deftly swiping a drink from a plate one of the stewards held. He lightly sniffed the concoction and came to the conclusion that it was the garden variety white wine. He took a sip and confirmed his guess as he sauntered over to one side of the room to observe the others. This wasn't his station and so far he didn't recognize anyone in particular. However, he was excited to attend the event for Kate. She had earned this, and he was glad that he could be here to see it happen.

Owen didn't like crowds, but was it Langley Station's official opening, so he thought it best to make an appearance. The cultural specialist was well aware of the irony of someone in his line of work not liking crowds, but that was just one of his many contradictions.

Parties. The one word that didn’t go together with Starfleet. No good music, smoking, or hard liquor allowed. At least that’s what the person who just stepped out of the turbolift thought. Taking a moment to look around taking in the crowd, a quick crack of her knuckles, and taking a deep gasp of air, the woman in blue with a sword on her back and sidearms strapped to her sides, the woman who went against the rules, lit up a cigarette and had made it clear that she wasn’t there to party or mingle with the brass. No. Eliza was simply there by request and in function. To keep the peace and, like always, was secretly itching for a fight between the diplomats.

Repairs, repairs, and then an opening. All nice and pretty. And I'm prettied up as well, Rose thought to herself as she entered stiffly and looked around. She noticed lots of socializing and wondered how it would feel to have so much time on one's hands and quickly dismissed it as pointless. Things change. Once this event was over she'd be happy to change clothes and sleep for a week. Taking a deep breath, she walked in and prepared to be nice.

“You look like you could use a drink,” a handsome, dark-haired young man in Starfleet whites and lieutenant pips said. His blue eyes sparkled at Rose over a flute of champagne as he looked over the olive-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired woman. “Can I get you a drink, Lieutenant?” he offered. “Raleigh MacKenzie,” he introduced himself.

"Matematicamente exacto Fernet sounds good," she replied. This was not expected, but the test was on.

“Ah, an excellent choice,” Raleigh said with a smile. “I will be back in one moment.” He faded back into the crowd, backing away from her as if afraid she would disappear if his gaze didn’t linger on her for as long as possible, like some beautiful mirage.

The handsome young man was back momentarily with the drink Rose had ordered. “As requested,” he said with a handsome smile, holding out the glass.

Rose graciously took the glass and looked to the other hand before cocking her head to the side. "I do believe it is rude to have a lady drink alone? Or is it the smell has taken away your courage to partake?"

Raleigh turned and deftly plucked another flute of champagne from a passing tray, replacing it with his empty one. “Problem solved,” he said. “Salud!” He lifted his glass to the woman before sipping. “So I didn’t get your name, Lieutenant. Do I just remember you as that mysterious, lovely woman I had breakfast with?” He smiled teasingly.

"Rosilita," she said and held her glass up in a salute before drinking it. "Care to guess why I chose Fernet?"

“I assumed because you enjoy it,” Raleigh replied. “Is there some other reason?”

Rose smiled and took another sip. "Earthy to keep me level headed and bitter to counter your sweet words. You'll have to change tactics if you want to have breakfast with me, and strategy if you ever hope for anything before that." She moved away smiling while carefully over enunciating every word. "I'm not a conquest."

Ron finally arrived, a little later than he had hoped to be here. He had just spent the last half an hour wrestling with his dress uniform. He was adamant that it still fits, but truth be told he had grown out a little since the last time he had worn it a few years ago. Even now he was routinely tugging at the top of his tunic in attempt to stop it from strangling him.

He gazed around him and couldn’t help but smile. Other than on the battlefield this is where the station’s Executive Officer thrived. It was a place where his stern demeanor could be allowed to drop and for a more friendly and welcoming man to appear within his skin.

The three Caitians walked arm in arm together along the Strip, angling through the crowd, a male on each side of the female. One of the males, with blue-gray fur and white down his chin, throat, tip of his tail, and hands, was in Starfleet dress uniform and Ensign pips. The other male was yellow furred with white stripping and dressed in a standard civilian tunic suit in Prussian blue. The female between them was gorgeous by Caitian standards, all generous curves and calico fur in a low cut, flowing black gown. Their three tails were entwined together behind them.

The yellow male caught the arm of a passing server and gave an order, and soon the trio had glasses of milk and whiskey in their hands.

“It really is nice to get out without the kits,” the female said, sipping her drink. “Starfleet has really outdone themselves.”

“How are you liking the new quarters?” the Starfleet male asked. “Do we have enough room for all of us?”

“Yes. The kits’ room is big enough, with the stacked bunks. And Riqa and Nivar are settling in,” the yellow male answered.

“We should remember to get them some food to take back,” the female commented.

“And how are you settling into the infirmary?” the Starfleet male asked.

The female chuckled. “It has been a while since I had to deal with actual patients,” she admitted. “But it is like climbing a tree. You don’t forget.” She leaned into the Starfleet male and nuzzled her cheek against his. “Do not worry so much, Syam. We are all doing wonderful.”

Syam purred. “That is all I want, Asherah.”

“You too, Thom,” Asherah said, pulling the yellow male into the embrace. “Now which of you wants to get me drunk and take advantage of me tonight?” She giggled.

Kror passed the Caitian trio on his way to the bar. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. The aging Ursinoid had had a good friend at the Academy, a Caitian named S'Riri R'Noren. They'd kept in touch afterwards until R'Noren’s death aboard the USS Lexington when it was destroyed by the Borg at the Battle of Sector 001.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I was entranced by your beautiful laughter. I'm Commander Kror Gar'Rel, XO aboard the Canterbury, and it has been years since I have heard such beautiful Caitian laughter. I apologize, if I have overstepped my bounds," he said.

Syam, Asherah, and Thom both turned to the large Ursinoid.

“Not at all, Commander,” Asherah spoke as the socially senior member of the trio. “A pleasure to meet you. Dr. Asherah Ziath,” she introduced herself, extending her delicate, furred hand, “and my husbands Ensign Syam and Dr. Thom.”

The males nodded in acknowledgement.

"The pleasure is mine," Kror said with a smile. "I had a good friend at the Academy, she was a Caitian named S'Riri and she was always laughing and full of life." His smile faded as he he thought of what the Borg had done to her.

Asherah saw the fallen expression and smiled sympathetically. “Perhaps a drink in her memory?” she offered.

“You are on the Canterbury?,” Syam confirmed. “Then you know Lieutenant MacKenzie?”

"I would like that, ma'am," Kror said. To Syam he said, "Yes, I know the Lieutenant. He is a competent pilot, though like many of his occupation, he is somewhat cocky and vain."

Syam chuckled. “Yes, I suppose that does describe him.” The Caitian grinned. “As long as you don’t have beautiful daughters, I think you will be fine though.”

Kror laughed, a deep base sound. "Luckily, I have no daughters," he said.

Having looked around and seeing a lot of unknown and some known faces and making eye contact with a few of the brass to see if she could see the look upon their faces as they saw that she wasn’t dressed in the standard issue dress, the not caring Eliza decided to make her rounds amongst the crowd. But before she started the woman casually walked through the diverse crowd to a balcony, avoiding her coworkers as much a possible. She needed a smoke. Approaching the threshold of where the balcony, began Eliza reached into the inner chest pocket of her jacket and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

And as she avoided a few patrons the lady in blue went for an vacant area of the balcony where, before she reached her final destination, she took out a cigarette and after a few tries managed to light it. And even as the smoke was still in her lungs Eliza leaned forward on the railing, looking out over the large garden-like area and finally emptied her lungs by blowing the smoke upwards.

"Those things'll kill you," Anzhelina Walker said, stepping out of the shadows. She wore a green dress with a plunging neckline. "Nice costume. Do you have a pantomime to appear in later?" she asked.

Ignoring the obvious insult for the moment as it had been thrown her way, Eliza continued to enjoy her smoke as she kept looking at the view of the garden. “It’s not wise to insult an on duty officer,” the woman casually said while turning her head towards the woman, who looked like someone she knew, but at that second couldn’t quite place.

"You're not in uniform, how was I to know?" Anzhelina said. "I'm Anzhelina Walker, by the way. My friends call me Annzi, but most people just call me Ms. Walker."

“Not all officers like to wear their uniforms while on duty, Miss Walker,” the security officer explained while she took the opportunity to admire the woman’s figure, raising the corner of her mouth slightly as Eliza thought of a compliment before returning to gaze upon the garden once more and taking another drag from her cigarette.

"So what do you do on this station? The way you stare at that garden, makes me think you're the gardener," Anzhelina said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eliza responded as she placed a hand in the pants pocket, pushing her coat aside to reveal one of her side arms. “I’m not a gardener.” As if the sword on her back wasn’t sending a clear message on its own. “You get to deal with me if you cause problems for the rest of us.”

"Cool. I could use a sparring partner. I've been fencing since I was a child," Anzhelina said.

Visualizing herself face-palming as her message wasn’t an invitation, Eliza shook her head a bit then proceeded to stare out into the garden again, trying to get lost in thought.

Hawk approached the two women, looking very sternly toward Eliza. “Miss Diangelo, I am sure you are aware that you were expected in Federation Dress Uniform?” he said with a sigh. “Although I suppose none of us should have raised our hopes too high.”

Turning her head again as soon as Eliza heard the man’s voice, she gazed upon him with a devious grin. “Great, why if it isn’t our Ronnie boy. Beloved XO,” the woman replied as she rubbed the butt of her smoke out in an ashtray. “You know I like to dress to impress,” the woman added with a slight bow as she turned towards the man.

“Personally Lieutenant, I am more impressed by an officer in uniform,” Hawk narrowed his eyes as he spoke, to drive home the point that this was a form of reprimand.

"Commander, we haven't met. I'm Anzhelina Walker, civilian pilot attached to the station," Anzhelina said. "I thought Miss Diangelo was going to a pantomime when I first saw her."

Ron nodded toward Anzheliana, attempting to hold in a tiger of laughter at her remark. “Lieutenant Commander Ronald Hawk, Executive Officer of Langley,” he announced, proudly offering out a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ron," Anzhelina said, shaking his offered hand.

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