Unexciting Shades of Grey

Posted on Thu May 6th, 2021 @ 12:27pm by Lieutenant Percival Bálor Ph.D & Lieutenant JG Elizabeth Stone

1,293 words; about a 6 minute read

Siren arrived on the USS Ontario with no duffle bag, but instead a full sized heavy punching bag strapped to her back, and a light punching bag hanging across her front. If all went well, she could find her quarters, unload her possessions and take a needed shower before checking in with the Chief Flight Control Officer. What she did not count on was getting terribly lost after her first turn. She looked up and down the corridor both ways. It was embarrassing enough to have to ask the computer for directions, she certainly didn't need the added embarrassment of being seen doing it.

"Walk of Shame!" shouted Percy with head poking out of one of the science labs watching the woman. Though upon closer inspection he noticed the punching bags and look of complete bewilderment. "Sorry," he said leaving the lab and trotting down the corridor, taking one of the bags.

"I thought you were someone else," he said with a snort. "You look like you might be new aboard. Trust me, it gets easier to navigate the ship. Where ya headin'?"

Siren chuckled, so surprised by the comment, that she didn't even fight the man as he took the small punching bag from her. "I'd have to be getting some for a walk of shame." She quipped. "It's fine. I am new on board. I was just trying to find my quarters before checking in. "Siren." She introduced herself, then shoved her hand towards him.

Percy scoffed. "You and me both," he said to her response and shook his head. He was still learning the finesse of socialization, he had not dared broach dating at this point. "Siren? As in..." Percy let out a harmonizing moan with theatrics and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and faked fainting to the deck below.

"As in sunbathing upon the rocks, singing a song that leads men to their deaths from insanity and drowning kind of Siren?"

"That's the one." She smiled, his theatrics putting her at ease. "So, who are you, and can you help me find my quarters while keeping the fact that I needed help under your hat? There may be Whiskey in it for you."

"Neato," he replied. "I wish I was named Siren. I'm Percival Bálor, Chief Mayhem Officer, but they just label me as Chief Science Officer. I think it's because I'd scare away the ensigns."

Percy smiled. "Just call me Percy. Where are your quarters located, Siren?"

She almost tipped herself over trying to get at her PaDD, but she managed, then spouted off the deck and quarter's assignment. "Well Percy, tell me about the ship?"

"She's 63 years old hull wise, but they gave her a hell of a facelift and upgraded her systems. She tries to act half, if not a quarter of her age," Percy said. "She's a fine ship, but you're aboard a living museum."

"That's ok. I once flew a Federation Fighter on a dare, the age doesn't worry me. The Ambassador is a fine class of ship. I do need to brush up on her systems though. I've never set foot on one before, and I'm pretty sure I fell asleep during historical ship classes."

Percy nodded. "You will want to meet with some of the engineers and operations personnel," the half Tellarite said. "She's Ambassador on the outside, looks fairly Ambassador on the insider, but she's been upgraded to serve into the 25th century. I shudder to even think what they did to make that happen."

"Well, I will be finding out. I'm sure it will be fascinating bed time reading in case of insomnia." They reached the lift and Siren plodded inside, taking the chance to lean the weight of her heavy bag against the bulkhead. "So, forget systems, is there a bar on this ship?"

The Chief Science Officer chuckled. "I knew I liked you," he said and nodded. "Not exactly a bar, but on deck eight. There's the primary lounge. It is called The Maple Leaf lounge, and they do have a few things they can serve that are not synthetic, but don't be tipsy while on duty. The First Officer has a bit of a reputation."

Siren looked legitimately insulted. "Like I'm some 2nd year cadet that can't control their alcohol consumption." But the latter part of his comment had her intrigued. "Reputation for what?"

"Being distant and professional," he informed her. "I think the adjective is prudish?" he said feeling fairly comfortable with the word choice. "Scuttlebutt is that she does not really socialize with the crew and she does not tolerate expressive language while on duty and in uniform. She sounds like she likes to maintain a proper Starfleet image, like we are on the brochure."

"Oh." Siren just shrugged. "I think that's a pretty apt description of Command teams in general. I'll see if I can make it two weeks before getting written up." She teased. "I hardly think either of us are going to make it onto any brochure. No offense."

"Hey," he said crossing his arms. "I clean up pretty nicely. I could model the hell out of a Starfleet brochure," he teased and smirked. "On the plus side I don't think the Captain is as prudish as the First Officer, but he's definitely not as calm as she is."

The lift stopped and the door opened. Siren peeled herself off the back bulkhead. "What about the Chief Flight Control Officer?" She asked as they made the final leg of the trip to her quarters. She was far more concerned with her direct superior officer than she was with the command team. Coming from the Marines, adjusting to the naval branch was a distinct challenge.

"Ah the ghost," Percy quipped and shook his head. "I don't know anything about him. I've seen him on the bridge, but we haven't actually spoken to one another yet. I'm still kind of new here myself."

"Ah well, I'll have to find that out for myself then." When she realized they'd reached her quarters she quickly keyed in a security code and entered, motioning him in. The place was....completely empty. "Well, isn't this charming." She dropped the heavy bag right where she was standing. "Starfleet grey, how chique."

Percy nodded "Yep, bland, boring, and unadventurous," he said shaking his head. "It could certainly use some help. I would recommend some artwork and maybe a few accent pillows with some color, a throw here and there. Just make it pop and give it a little of your zesty personality."

She looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "Artwork and accent pillows?" Then she started to giggle at the absurdity of the thought. "I'd settle for a bed and an engineer to make sure my punching bags get bolted to a support beam and not an access panel."

"Arin Merkara," he replied. "She's a propulsion specialist in engineering, but I am sure she'd help you out. Plus, she's your type. At least I think she is. She has a bit of an edginess to her. You can't miss her. She's half Orion so she is kind of that weird mucus color."

"I'll tell her you said so." Siren teased, but then she smiled genuinely. "Thanks for the suggestion, and for the help. I'd offer you a drink, but I have nothing. But if you'll take a rain check?"

Percy smiled. "All payments can be made in booze. Pleasure doing business with you," he said gleefully.

"Pleasure doing business with you." She replied in kind. "And it was nice to meet you." It had been nice to run into a friendly face first. Maybe this whole Starfleet gig wouldn't be so bad.

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