[JP] PNPC Gila Sadar & PNPC Lt.Cdr. Gabriel Osuna - Why are you here!? ( Part I )

[LT Tamio K'Wara]

(( The Sadar-Aqila Quarters - Deck 176, Deep Space 224 ))

Gila slowly stepped out of her bedroom, dressed in a burnished bronze Yael-robe, her obsidian anxiety neatly set on her one finger, rubbed smooth from her constant use of it. The quarters were starting to come together - Kolya’s many artistic preferences were clearly telegraphed by the amount of throwovers on the black couch, the walls covered in gorgeous tapestries to give some color to the sterile bright grey of the space station. The artist himself, however, was nowhere to be seen. Gila shuffled uneasily on the spot as she looked at the door on the opposite end of the living area. Shut.

She took a deep breath.

It was possible Kolya was still sleeping. It was also equally possible he was waiting to exit his room until the sofarih had left. Gila walked quietly to the kitchenette area, accessing the replicator. She’d made sure to bring over a copy of the programming she'd made to her old quarter’s replicator to DS224, so she didn’t have to start from scratch in terms of getting it to replicate Mizarian food. She didn’t want Kolya to have to rely on alien food since he couldn’t eat any food she made anymore.

Sadar: Pudilah, family s- ::sigh:: Single serving, please.

Once the familiar chime of the transporter technology manufacturing her desired dish had ended, Gila took the cool glass container from the inset and took a seat at the dining table. The salted egg pudding wobbled slightly as she put her spoon into the container, thinking of the day ahead.

(( The Osuna Family Quarters - Deck 16, Deep Space 224))

Angelita: ::Giggling:: Tatay! You’re going too fast! 

Osuna: How else am I supposed to break the warp speed barrier, Princess? Or have you forgotten the Prophets’ mission for us?!

The Chief of Security, in his crisp black and gold uniform galloped nimbly around their quarters, deftly jumping over toys and running across the sofa cushions, despite the nine year old clinging to shoulders to keep from flying off. 

Sinya: *Tut* Careful! You’re going to break something!

Osuna: I’ve never broken a bone in my— ::wobbling as he found his footing atop an ottoman:: —life! I’m the pinnacle of athleticism!

Sinya: I mean something important, like the— :: running to catch it as it tipped:: —floor lamp!

Angelita: Aaaahhh! It’s happening! The gates to the Celestial Temple are opening!

The girl’s bedroom door slid open as her father approached. Coming to a sudden halt, he reached one arm up and over her back, grabbing her almost like a large football under his arm, and began swaying her forwards and back. 

Osuna: Activating launch sequence!

And with that, he chucked the squealing girl through the door, laughing wildly as she soared inelegantly through the room until she landed (flumpf!) in an explosion of pillows and stuffed animals. 

Osuna: ::Smiling:: Now get ready for school. 

Angelita: Okay, tatay. 

The door slid shut. Gabe turned to face his wife, a sheepish grin on his face. The Bajoran woman looked at him with a frown that could make even a Kai blush — but it didn’t last, and her face quickly softened into a begrudging smile. 

Sinya: You know I only let you get away with that because soon she’ll be too big for it. 

Osuna: ::Rubbing the back of his neck::  Or I’ll be too old and weak.  ::Chuckling:: But until that day… Thanks for indulging me, chesei.

She rolled her eyes playfully as her husband approached, his usual confident swagger replaced with an adorable bashfulness that always seemed to appear in her presence. They embraced, and Age thanked the Prophets he had decided to return to them after his time on the Artemis; A difficult time for the young family. 

Sinya: Alright, have a nice day at work today — and try to stay out of trouble?

Osuna: Hey, you know me. 

(( Security Checkpoint C2 - Second Promenade, Deck 227, Deep Space 224 ))

The Security Checkpoint barely stood out from the surrounding shops and businesses, perhaps by design. Located near the entrance to the Promenade, its facade was flush with the other storefronts and offices, save for an extra strip of duranium reinforcement around the sliding doors, and its front-facing windows subtly lined with shield emitters, in case of an incident on the station. Inside was an open lobby-like room with a seating area and, right in the middle, a reception desk with a Starfleet security officer at the ready.

Gila entered the room in quiet haste, eager to leave the Promenade behind. While the Artemis was no longer docked with the station, she still felt uneasy being on the Promenade for too long. Not that she was intentionally hiding from anyone, of course, her address was easily locatable so if someone really wanted to find her, they could, but meeting them in the wild like that? No, that was simply too awkward.

Not that what she was about to face would be less so.

The Crewman looked up from his workstation with a curious, but unassuming expression.

Security Crewman: Good morning, Miss. Anything I can help you with?

The kind manner of the clerk seated behind the desk made Gila wring her hands uneasily.

Sadar: I-I-I... I-I’m here to, uhh... Umm... I-I’m Gila Sadar? I-I was told to, uhh, ‘report’ here?

The expression on the crewman’s face changed slightly, though Gila didn’t know if it was because of her frankly abysmal attempt at explaining her reason to be there, or if it was because the crewman now knew who she was, and what she’d did. That thought made Gila want to turn around and flee the checkpoint, but to where? She’d run out of places to run to, to hide...

There was some poetic justice in the notion that she’d run so long and so far that she had now, effectively, run out of road and finally had to experience the consequences of fleeing.

Crewman: Of course. Let me just find the- ::rifles through PADDs:: ‘Gila Sadar, dishon-’ ::clears throat and mumbles quietly for a while:: Ah yes, here it is! ‘To report for her Disciplinary Criminal Correction Process - hereby referred to as DCCP - on Deep Space 224 per Stardate 240208.03 and until such a time as the process is deemed concluded by the assigned DCCP Registrar.’ Your registrar is... ::blinks:: Uhh... ::blinks:: That’s highly irregular.

Sadar: Wh-what is-

Osuna: Mangandang umaga, Petrov! 

Both the Crewman and Gila froze up at that unexpected voice, though for entirely different reasons.

The Crewman froze and immediately stood at salute, as the Chief of Security of Deep Space 224, walked in the door.

Gila froze because, against all odds, she remembered that voice. And her discomfort with the situation skyrocketed as a result.

Osuna: I hope you didn’t bring lunch today, because I brought a jar of— Oh! Miss Sadar. You’re here already. Well, good. Think fast, Petrov.

Smiling nonchalantly, he tossed a jar of mixed grains and vegetables to the surprised crewman, who caught it haphazardly. 

Crewman: What is it, Sir?

Osuna: It’s singangag. Garlic fried ri— Just eat it, Petrov. And tell me what you think after.  ::Turning to Sadar, gesturing casually to a glass door nearby::  There’s an office we can use right here. After you.

Gila blinked, her brain struggling to catch up with the situation at hand. She knew Lieuten- she noticed a hollow pip at that moment - Lieutenant Commander Osuna from his time on the Artemis. It was back when she had just joined as an Ensign that he asked to transfer to Deep Space 224 to be with his family, and so Gila had never really had the chance to work with him in any official capacity, but she recalled the others speaking of him.

She had always assumed their comments on his jovial and relaxed attitude were exaggerations.

They were not.

Sadar: Th-Thank you, S- L-Lieutenant Commander.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II

Gila Sadar

Civilian

DS224

As simmed by

LT Tamio K’Wara

Chief of Operations

USS Artemis-A

A240006GS1

&

Lt.Cdr. Gabriel Osuna

Chief of Security

DS224

As simmed by

Lt.Cdr. Robin Hopper

First Officer

Amity Outpost

V239806K11