Petty Officer Christopher Johns - Final Watch

[runlikeazombie]

(( Main Shuttlebay, USS Juneau, Mynok Spring Concerns ))

Johns: Do you really think no one is going to notice you with that moustache?

The Russian’s eyebrow escaped upwards as he folded his arms, skeptical eyes regarded the blonde officer in his immediate vicinity with the mirth she deserved. Camaraderie formed in the fires of another universe and four years of joviality and hilarity the likes of which had made their department famous on their starship made him wary when those orbs of summer blue sparkled with a plan.

Marshall: What? This thing? ::She pressed the fake fur back onto her lip, the glue detaching a little with the warmth of the ship.:: Looks better than your face fuzz. I’m surprised Sienelis doesn’t make you shave it.

Johns: I think she likes it.

That was to say she hadn’t explicitly told him she didn’t, either, so he went with the natural assumption his facial hair — and perpetual five ‘o’clock shadow regardless of whether he’d attempted to trim it that morning — was there to stay. The back of his fingers scratched beneath his chin, and then his cheek with short fingernails as the momentary itch inevitably moved. 

Johns: Why are you here, anyway? It’s not like the Admiral needs an entourage to present the Captain with a pat on the back.

The Gorkon flew into their space, flanked on either side by the escort vessels of Triumphant and Resolute, demonstrating the fire power of a flagship in full glory. It begged the question why the mousy-haired Admiral hadn’t brought the rest of the taskforce with her for a complete picture of paramilitary prowess in the wake of the Orion Syndicate shakeup, but Chris wasn’t disappointed. He missed his ship, Valesha’s bed, and the flowering plant in the Operations Office. 

Marshall: That, my dear Soup, is where you are indeed, quite incorrect. For you see, my interests lie singularly in the warp core. ::Her head tilted to the side.:: See if she glows in a deeper shade of blue while I turn a verdurous shade of green.

Johns: You’re really going to go traipsing about the ship in a counterfeit mustachio?

The grin he received from the blonde former Operations Chief turned First Officer of said taskforce indicated she was and, without question, had absolutely zero regrets about it. She had the clearance, she had the capability, and whether she lacked stealth or not, there were few situations Jo Marshall couldn’t talk herself out of. With a sweeping motion of his arm, Chris indicated to the turbolift.

Johns: Deck Fifteen. There’s a Brew Continuum in section four, as well.

And that was the last he saw of his First Officer, the doors swishing to a close as her eyes lit up. Chris shook his head as he traipsed back into the main shuttlebay, the ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes sought out Valesha from the throng of congratulating officers toasting their final moment on board the test bed vessel and he jogged across the ‘bay to snag two glasses of kali-fal, slipping one into Valesha’s hands.

Oddas: Attention, please.

The chatter among the staff died on lips as the Bajoran commanding officer took centre stage.

Oddas: A few years ago I was a young Lieutenant who did some math which didn't make sense and asked a mentor for advice. I didn't imagine it would lead me here, to a ship, an engine, and a crew redefining what the Warp Scale looks like.  Our voyage was meant to be a simple cruise but like all things, in Starfleet, it became something more, proof officers from across the fleet could be thrown together and perform under pressure, get the job done, and do it with a grace befitting and expected of the service.  I am proud to serve with you and to call you my colleagues.

A wave of applause rippled around the room, the congratulating in part to the Captain herself and to the officers who had undertaken the courageous and daring feat. Chris had likened the trip to what those first astronauts might have felt like; discovering new methods of propulsion, of going faster than anyone had ever gone before, hurtling into the unknown blackness of space. The Maiden Voyage Ribbon was awarded to celebrate that particular feat, and both Project Capstone and Warp XV Pioneers ribbons presented too.

Next was the Legion of Merit and the Orion Syndicate Service medal, but even with the added sentiment from the Captain, the awards brought a bitter taste to Chris’ mouth, and he looked down into the bottom of the kali-fal in his hand. Hard-won victories were rarely happy, and in the light of day, when the mist had burned off in the wake of the warp core nacelles jetting them back to this cosy location, he had to remind himself that nearly six thousand Vulcan people had almost lost their lives because someone was careless.

Mistakes happened and the only way to move on from it was to revaluate what went wrong to try better next time.

As the next award was presented to Peters, Valesha, Hyden and Captain Oddas, Chris gently squeezed Valesha’s shoulder through the yoke of her uniform. Injuries would heal; the physical would take less time than the mental, but it was yet another Purple Heart addition to the Romulan’s growing collection. He swallowed thickly, the memory of watching her fend off death in the biobed still fresh enough to fleece his heart in a fresh coat of thorns. 

And, on a happier note, Genkos received the Silver Lifesaving Ribbon for his efforts in keeping Ensign Dhawan alive. Without his timely intervention, the Ensign who had taken such a brute force attack to the face would have died of injuries sustained, or suffocation, or any number of wounds prevented by the kind heart and hand of the Gorkon’s Chief Medical Officer.

Kelrod received the Good Conduct Ribbon for throwing himself in harm’s way with all the bulwark stability of a drawbridge, and Captain Rahman was honoured with the Captain's Commendation for her efforts in bringing the project to life, providing much needed advice and assistance to the Captain.

Glasses lifted and the Juneau toasted, warm sentiments rippled throughout the gathered crew for the unforgettable time they had spent in one another’s company. Sometimes, at least for Chris, it had felt like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the mountain only for it to roll back down again. A swell of pride replaced the feeling as he glanced around at newly gained friends — in the bearded features of Peters and the smiling ginger never-seen-sunshine-face of Teller —and he flicked his eyebrows up at the latter. They had their own plan for an award to celebrate the Engineer’s ingenuity in keeping the warp drive going through perilous waters, and it may or may not have involved sea shanties.

Reynolds: There's one last award to present.

In true form of the Rear Admiral, Reynolds’ small smile remained on her freckled features, schooled in the art of performing rituals such as this where she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

Reynolds: The simple fact is that this project wouldn't exist without the intellect, dedication and courage of Captain Oddas Aria. From its foundation in her discoveries of additional subspace layers, to commanding the test flight of the USS Juneau in the face of sabotage and assault, she has been a driving force, pushing back the boundaries of our technology, knowledge and understanding. We are more than we were, and it's thanks to Captain Oddas. ::She paused for a brief moment.:: It's for this reason I am honoured to present her with the Distinguished Service Ribbon.

Her smile widened, and she slipped a small case out of her pocket, opening the lid and presenting it to the Bajoran. No handshake was offered, the half-Deltan always eschewing that particular human tradition, but she did offer a brief, congratulatory pat on the woman's bicep.

Oddas: Thank you, Sir. 

Reynolds: Congratulations, Captain. ::Her eyebrows quirked up, warmth on her freckled features.:: And very well done.

Another wave of applause sounded, with another toast and hollers of congratulations in the air. While the two women turned to speak to one another, Chris took a pull from the kali-fal in his glass and blew out a sigh on the back of it. Twelve weeks had flown by in a matter of moments, like someone had snapped their fingers in front of his face. They’d traversed the edges of their technology, tested the boundaries, worked their problems and found their solutions. He glanced to his partner and the ribbon boxes in her hands; small as they were, he could imagine how heavy they felt.

Johns: Is it a personal endeavour to earn enough Purple Hearts to sew a dress out of?

Sienelis: Response

Johns: At least it wasn’t so serious. ::He exhaled as the kali-fal swirled in the bottom of his glass.:: Marshall tells me the Gorkon picked up the Vulcan passengers. Dropped on a planet, given supplies, only the Fleet Commander missing in action. All heads accounted for.

Sienelis: Response

Johns: There’s the assumption it was a slave ship but, ::he shrugged, his lips thinning,:: we’ll not find out. I’m just happy they’re not dead. I don’t need that on my conscience.

Sienelis: Response

He smiled, neither of them given to displays of public affection when surrounded by officers of all shapes, sizes, ranks and responsibilities. Instead, he reached down to her hand and gave her fingers a soft squeeze, the promise of an unending cuddle later. Across from them, Peters and Teller had struck up a conversation and Chris thought nothing of dropping his hand onto the diminutive Engineer’s shoulder in a firm grasp of Russian congratulations.

Johns: You didn’t kill us after all. I never doubted you for a minute. Whole hours, maybe. Not minutes.

Peters/Teller/Sienelis: Response

Johns: Well, I for one think we earned it. Campfire on the beach, get some diving in, ::with those words, he stuck Valesha in the ribs with his elbow,:: enjoy the sand, sun and relax.

Teller/Peters/Sienelis: Response

--
Petty Officer Christopher Johns
Operations Officer
USS Juneau - NX-99801
G239304JM0