Ventris Returns and We're Going
Posted on Thu Jun 1st, 2023 @ 12:08am by Commander Ba'zra Channe
Edited on on Thu Jun 1st, 2023 @ 12:17am
1,181 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Mission 4 - Like a Thunderbolt
Location: USS Columbia-A, Private Quarters
Timeline: MD04 - 1800
Ronan exited the Captain's Ready Room and returned to the quarters he shared with his mate. After twelve years, the crew knew him well enough to keep interactions to a minimum as he strode down the corridor. The changes were subtle, the faster stride, the slight tic along the jaw on the left side, and harder light in his blue eyes. Still, even the most timid of the ship's complement knew they could stop him and ask a question and he'd respond reasonably; course, they also knew that there were times when the small stuff could wait and this, was one of those times.
"Baz," he called out as he entered. "You here?"
Ba'zra was sitting quietly. It was a rare thing for the woman that thought of herself as a Klingon, but in hers and Ronan's quarters, she occasionally let herself go. She was doing the one thing that she did when she was not flipping her Daqtagh, she was knitting. If anyone else knew of this habit, other than Ronan, she would likely skin that person alive and then make that person confess that they were lying. However, Ronan was her mate. He could see.
In what served for obedience, for her, she calmly called back, "In the bedroom. I was debating what I was going to do when you got back, but it appears that you beat me before I could decide."
"I beat you," Ronan asked as he stepped into the bedroom, pulling off his jacket as he went. "That would be a first." His lips quirked upward in an amused smile that faded almost as quickly as it came. "Cap called me in for a meeting." He dropped down into the nearest seat, holding a PADD out for her inspection, as he did so. "I have news."
Ba'zra put down her needles and her knitting at her side. "News?" she asked interestedly. She noticed her mate's smile and her eyes narrowed, "Alright, my mate, what do you have up your paws? I did not forget an anniversary, did I?" She took the PADD and her eyes enlarged.
An instant later, she launched herself at Ronan with an uncharacteristic squeal. Simultaneously her lips pressed against Ronan's and her arms wrapped themselves around her neck. She broke the kiss to say, "Now this is definitely good news. A space station and one on the frontier. Better yet, I get to be your XO?"
A low, enthusiastic, and amorous growl escaped Ba'zra's mouth. "Maybe this is a sign," she suggested.
Ronan nuzzled into the side of her neck, his breath warming her skin, as he asked, "a sign?" He breathed in the scent of her, the tension leaving him as it always did when he was with her. "They've already picked my replacement. It's Milo, Baz. Milo Ventris is going to be the new XO. Cap thinks he's gunning to get his old job back once he retires."
Ba'zra growled unhappily. "That idiot is going to get more people killed! How in the hell can Starfleet feel that he is rehabilitated and in any way competent to take on this position?" If Ronan had not been nuzzling into her neck, there was a high probability that she would have jumped off the bed and headed to the holodeck to kill things. However, Ronan was there and her anger was muted by the competing pleasure of her moving to a starbase with her mate.
The anger flowing away, she finally concluded, "Well, though it is of little comfort to me, we cannot clean up every mess that Starfleet makes. And, we will have our own Starbase." She kissed Ronan lightly on the head. "And if we get things worked out there...." She let the words dramatically hang, which was uncharacteristic for the half-Klingon, half-human woman.
Milo Ventris had been their commanding officer aboard the old Columbia; a closet alcoholic whose inept response in a crisis had cost more than fifty lives. Forgiving him, letting the anger, however righteous, go had taken Ronan a minute. Okay, more than a minute but he had. Tracking down those responsible had helped, talking to Baz had helped more. And while it rankled a bit that Milo was coming back, maybe he did deserve a second chance though, in the privacy of his own thoughts, Ronan was glad that they wouldn't be around to watch. He pulled her close and sighed softly as his thoughts ran their course.
"It'll be my first command," he said. "Very different than living on a ship and maybe, a bit of room to grow ..."
"That's exactly what I was thinking, Ronan," Ba'zra replied softly. "Neither of us are getting younger. We do not have a pack of our own. We get that station running well and perhaps...." She looked wide-eyed into Ronan's eyes, showing rare vulnerability. "If you want...."
He did not say, would never say, that among his people, at forty, he was considered a young adult. Commonplace was lost in the implications of what she offered and he smiled as a fire kindled from within, twinned around the love he felt for her, and an idea grew in his soul. For a Mesni, pack was everything and while he considered her pack, the notion that there would be others, like himself ... to not be alone in that way any longer ... "I want nothing more," Ronan said as he pulled her into a kiss. "And a station, well they would have acres of room for our cubs. Maybe you're right, this is a sign ..."
Ba'zra dug her nails into Ronan's back as she held him more tightly to her. She had never pictured herself as a mother. She was always a scientist or a warrior. But she had honor and did not honor deserve a legacy? The thought had been creeping in on her over the years. Of course, she battled the thought of her mother being ecstatic and her likely interfering and more numerous visits, but she loved Ronan with every fiber of her being and he deserved more. She broke the kiss and whispered throatily to him, "Let's practice now. Make sure whoever gets these quarters next knows what happened here."
"Not a lot of time," Ronan growled as he picked up her and carried her back to their bed. "We're being met by a transport vessel in about two hours ... but I do like a challenge."
"Of course you do," Ba'zra replied with a playful growl, letting herself be swept away by Ronan. "You would not have mated me otherwise."
"So true," he answered as he worked at relieving her of her clothing. "So very true."
Two hours later, they were ready to leave the ship. Their quarters were stripped of personal possessions; well, except for one thing. On the desk, where Ventris would see it first thing, Ronan had left a lucite cube. Inside the cube was a bit of the debris from the Columbia and a small plaque on the outside provided identification.
USS Columbia, 2381
"Never Forget"
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