(OOC - This takes place after the sickbay sessions
- and anyone/anyone's pnpcs not already over on Raft-one that wishes to join, please do!)
((Corridors, USS Arrow))
If there was something Vincent had learned about death
over the years, it was that in it, life should be celebrated. He'd not been the commanding officer, nor the one writing letters home to those who had lost the most, but he had stood by and watched it happen. He'd watched those who remained suffer, he'd watched
those who had gone beyond go in some of the most peaceful ways, and some of the most gruesome. He'd watched things like the Gorn tear people he'd known quite well apart, he'd held the hands of those who had been racked with illness as they fell into their
final slumbers, and he'd said his goodbyes through the transparent aluminium windows of massive Vesta-class starships as they shot into unknown voids in last-ditch attempts to (successfully) save the galaxy.
The differences over the years, he'd learned, were
staggering, except for what came after. Yes, everyone would deal with it in their own ways, with their own tools and their own coping mechanisms, but ultimately, everything would always coalesce in one final focal point in the thereafter.
He could recall more than one instance where the Marines
would gather and talk about what came after. 'Have one for me when you get back.' It
was always something they'd say. Or 'Make sure not to let So-and-so get away with whatever that was...'.
There was always talk about what came later, even when later never came for everyone. Life, like the march of time, moved on. And perhaps, in a way, Vincent had long ago come to terms with the idea that while their deaths would hurt like a broken rib for a
very long time, moving forward was not an option. Either he would do it on his terms, or the universe would ensure that he did so on someone else's.
As he passed sickbay, he nearly bumped into one of
the newer officers. Newer, he knew, based on the fact that he hadn't seen him before, and he'd picked up on it when going over the ship's roster. That was one of few perks in working with SAR and having to know who might at some point need some rescuing.
Jones: Excuse me, sir. I was a bit lost in thought
With a nod, Vincent snapped his boots together. After all, this was an officer and he remained a non-com. Such was the
Jones: Chief Warrant Officer Vincent Jones, sir. Actually headed off to this new station everyone's talking about. You
are more than welcome to join me, if you're so inclined. I could use the company.
It was an admission he didn't make on the usual, and not one he made lightly, but given recent circumstances and the
fact that he was so new to the ship, it was one that he was willing to concede in that moment.
He nodded ever so
slightly, and then thought about the trek to the station before tapping his badge. Perhaps he was not the only one that needed to partake in something new in the way of scenery.
Jones: =/\= CWO
Jones to Lieutenant Commander Serinus =/\=
Serinus: =/\= Response?
The marine shot
a look to the Ensign that said 'who knows?' but gave it a try.
Jones: =/\= A couple
of us are headed over to this station for a change of scenery...I was wondering if you wanted to join us. =/\=
Serinus: =/\= Response
With a bit of a
nod, Vincent accepted that.
Jones: =/\= Very
well. Thank you sir. =/\=
There was always
that fine line between him as a non-com and the officers, but he'd had plenty of experience given his time with the Ambassador and those she surrounded herself with. It required unique navigation, to offer support, comradery, and still maintain that line,
but he managed it alright.
Jones: Well, this
sounds like the beginning of any good adventure.
what that could mean was up for interpretation, as was the smirk he shot the Ensign as he moved on down the corridor towards the transporter room.
Chief Warrant Officer, First Class Vincent 'Jonesy' Jones
Starfleet Counter Intelligence Specialist/SFMC SAR Team Leader
As simmed by:
Commander Ash MacKenna
Chief Intelligence Officer