Acting Command Meets

Posted on Sun Aug 19th, 2018 @ 11:16pm by Commander Abigail Prescott & Commander M'Mira
Edited on on Mon Sep 3rd, 2018 @ 3:21pm

1,236 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mission 1: The Return to Faltan
Location: Captain’s Lounge, Command Deck, Faltan Station
Timeline: MD04 - 1800

Mint paced the room, waiting for everyone else to leave. Once the doors closed behind the final person, she turned to M'Mira. "I have to admit," she flopped down onto a couch. "I am scared beyond belief. I'm not ready for this. What if..." she stopped before verbalizing the dreaded thought.

"There are no 'what ifs,'" M'Mira snarled. She sat down next to Mint on the couch and tried putting her arm around Mint. One of her nails caught on the couch's fabric and ripped it. She cursed, "I hope I didn't break a nail!" She picked her clawed hand up and inspected it carefully. "Chipped! Now I'm going to have to worrrrk on this all day. Damn Faltans! Look at what they made me do!"

She paused as she returned back to the topic, "And damn those that shot the Captain. Those sneaky so and so's! Why in the world did they not let me investigate? I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

Clucking again at her chipped nail, she put her slender arm around Mint. "The Captain is going to be fine and you'rrrre morrrre than rrready for this. Besides, how can you fail? You have your BFF with you, helping out, rrrright?" She frowned at her chipped nail that she saw hanging from around Mint's shoulder.

"Hah," Mint laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, I guess I do," she smiled at M'Mira. "Still, I fear this is going to get worse before it gets better. We still have no idea why they attempted to assassinate Refelian."

M'Mira answered simply, "That's easy. They think we intend to impose a dictatorrrship on them. They're crrrrazy. What's worse, is that they would not let us investigate. That morrrre than implies that they'rrrre in kahoots with the assassin."

Her eyes got larger and she looked straight at Mint, pulling her arm from around Mint. She insisted, "You need to send me into theirrr city to investigate. We need to know who did this. I hate agrrrreeing with that boneheaded Chief of Security, but we can't let this lie. We're not going to learn anything just sitting herrreee and waiting to find out what happened to the Captain and the prrrriorrrr crrrew. I could go on my own. If I am caught, you knew nothing about it." If there was only someone else. I do kind of stand out amongst Faltans.

"No," Mint's tone was stern, her face even more so. She narrowed her eyes at M'Mira. "I will not risk the lives of any more of our crew. No Starfleet officer will enter the city until we have reached a diplomatic agreement with the Governor. Most especially you, M'Mira, and I. We both stand out far too much," her face softened as she spoke. "And I am terrible at lying, they'd never believe I didn't know you went in."

"Terrrrrible at lying?" M'Mira was incredulous. "Didn't you get any Orion trrraits besides the skin color?" She paused and realized that she may have insulted her best friend. "That was meant in a complimentarrrry way, underrrrstand." Stopping again, trying to regain the ground that she lost, she tried, "I mean, rrreally? Not even to a guy?" She took on a tone of mock adulation, "Oh, boy! You'rrre the best I've ever had! Not even that kind of lie?"

"Nope, not even a little bit able to lie," Mint shook her head and gave a small laugh. "I usually start sweating or blushing, which then gets embarrassing because instead of going red like a human would, my orange blood and green skin cause me to turn brown. It's just a bad situation all around."

"Rrregarrrdless, Mint," she started playing with her chipped nail. "Damn it! I need a file! Damn Faltans!" She shook her head and then continued, "We can't just sit on ourrr hands. Someone has to do something but whatever you do, don't send in Damon. He thinks subtle is getting right in frrront of you and shouting." She purred and then laughed hard.

"As I said before, no one is going in. Especially not Damon," she frowned. "But, I realized something when I was asking you to perform a miracle with the power. Call me paranoid, or conspiracy theorist, but what if all of our faulty power relays were due to tampering by the Faltans? It would make sense if they're planning an attack. Try to keep our power flow unstable so we can't get our shields up properly."

The Caitian's eyes widened and her pupils narrowed. "Let's say that yourrrr theorrry is correct. Why? They say they have not been here. There was so much dust here, morrre than one would expect in six weeks, but this place was desserrrrted. How would they have access to the rrrrelays?" Suddenly, M'Mira's jaw dropped. "You'rrrre not going to make me get dirrrrty, arrrre you? Go through dank and dirrrrty conduits trrrying to find tamperrring?"

"That's my point. If the admin crew were here six weeks ago, why is there so much dust?" Mint rubbed her temples. "So much doesn't add up. And who knows when they tampered with the power cells. Maybe it was done before the admin team left, to try to force them to give up the station. But my gut says they were tampered with." She paused and looked at M'Mira. "Oh, don't give me that look. No I don't expect you to get dirty. You have subordinates. Get them to look."

"I do," M'Mira admitted. "But I don't know them well or how well I can trrrust them." She looked at her clawed hands. "I suppose that I can give them a try and if I suspect something wrrrrong, I could get dirrrrty." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "So what should I do in the meantime? My nails?" M'Mira's facial expression became torn. Half of it appeared ecstatic and the other half upset.

"I would suggest repairing that chipped nail before you go insane looking at it, at the very least," Mint shook her head. "And for now, assign a night crew to work on the power relays and shields, then get some rest. We're going to have a very long day ahead of us tomorrow. As it is, I have to make the announcement about Captain Refelian, and talk to Starfleet Command."

"I don't envy you on that, Mint," M'Mira sympathized. She looked at her nail and hissed at it before looking back at Mint. "Arrre you cerrrtain that you do not want my help with that - the announcement or talking to Starrrfleet?"

"I will be fine," Mint tried to not look as exhausted as she felt. "It won't take long to do either, there isn't much that I have to tell at this juncture. No, go get some rest and tomorrow, we'll try to take the diplomatic approach to investigating this incident."

A low, disgruntled growl escaped M'Mira, disapproving of doing things completely diplomatically. "Afterrrr this, we need to get massages and the full spa trrrreatment." She got up and looked at her friend. "He's going to be alrrright." Pausing dramatically, she exhaled, "If he dies, I'll have to kill him."

Mint laughed. "Not if I get to him first," she said and stood as well. "Now go. We've both got a lot of work to do. I'll see you in the morning."

 

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