Ensign Miaxdiso Avoi - Story Souvenirs
Doz Finch
((Transport Shuttle Akari, en route to the USS Gorkon))
Cain launched into a story first, giving a grim recount of an event that she had called “hazing”, a terrible sport in which cadets tormented each other for a spot of light entertainment. Yet as grim as it was, she seemed to enjoy telling it, her tone more syrupy than sour. Ylvor wasn’t surprised at all by the story, feasting on it as any freshly graduated officer would. Avoi, however, was just shocked; her posture had stiffened ever so slightly, but had also tipped forwards with wild intrigue, betraying her reproach with her desire to hear more.
Cain: See, apparently they had this thing, hazing—at least, they did when I started at the Academy. Woke up a bunch of the security cadets in my hall first year, middle of the night, worn out from moving and everything, and marched us on an unofficial tour of campus in our pajamas.
Ylvor: Well I am sure glad I was in Flight Training in my first year and missed that!
Avoi: That’s absolutely preposterous! I’m afraid if it had happened to me, I would have marched straight up to the superintendent's office.
Cain: In hindsight, it was all really harmless, except for this one Bolian upperclassman who started yelling at my roommate because she wouldn’t move fast enough. You know, because she was damn tired? Even his friends thought he’d lost it a bit, but I decked him. One thing, then another, and we’re both getting medical treatment at 0300 hours.
Ylvor: ::Torvi's eyebrows raised in surprise:: Decking a Bolian is relatively easy to do, you just have to make impact near their central vein on their face, any interruption to the blood supply even for a moment. ::Torvi thought about it:: Oof poor blue guy.
Her lips curled disapprovingly as the two security officers discussed skirmishing, and the weak points on a Bolian’s face. Thankfully her own time at the academy hadn’t been quite as treacherous, aside from the usual silly squabbles during late night parties and the occasional disagreement over who wanted to date who. That said, she did wonder if perhaps the knowledge of interrupting a Bolian’s blood supply would prove quite useful later on in her career. They did frequent diplomatic shindigs, after all…
Avoi: I for one think that this “hazing” business could do with an overhaul. Turn it into something more congenial, more universally enjoyable, like a midnight bonfire, or an afterhours swim in the local bay. It would have be approved first, of course, ::hair primp:: but is far more pleasant an idea!
Cain: Anyway, reprimands, official warnings, et cetera. The look of shock on his face was so worth it. ::She chuckled.:: What about you, Torvi?
Ylvor: I did only have 2 years within the Security division section of campus, so not that many wild stories on my behalf. We did a force on force training exercise with some Marine cadets. They were the opposing force, and we had to defend a fortified position.
Avoi’s eyes brightened with a sheen—it sounded similar to an activity that she had participated in during her educational years prior to the academy, in which she and another opposing group had been tasked to debate the ethical implications of wearing caged birds as hats. Perhaps it wasn’t as physically demanding as Ylvor’s exercise, but it still felt like a huge triumph when her team had won. After all, fashion, among other things, was her forte.
Ylvor: The marine platoon advanced on us, taking casualties as they went. Obviously Phasers on stun only, but they overran our position quickly. They were playing by the opposing forces playbook, to be aggressive and they were all keen to test their mettle. A marine fireteam entered the fortification at my location, I happened to be alone by that point. Two carried on into the base, two stayed to deal with me. I managed to stun one of them, the second managed to disarm me of my rifle. So I reflexively punched him in the nose, breaking it. We ended up going hand-to-hand for a bit, he got me a good couple of times, until some idiot let off a fully charged Isomagnetic Disintegrator into a building! The exercise was called off. Dalton and I called a draw ::she smirked, going slightly red in the cheeks::
Cain: That’s impressive, on your part! Letting something like that onto a training range, though… ::She shook her head.::
Avoi: I agree with Ensign Cain! How, in the name of the Four Deities, was an Isomagnetic Disintegrator allowed onto that training range!? ::lips pressed together:: And what were the repercussions?
Ylvor: No one was badly injured, a couple of the range staff got singed. Not sure how there was one fully charged on the range, there was an investigation however and one Security cadet was expelled.
Cain: ::With a firm nod:: Good.
Avoi: Quite! I am very glad to hear that the correct action was taken. ::pulling out her mirror:: Weapons are not toys simply to be played with.
Ylvor: Surely you had to do some defensive training Miaxdiso?
She paused for a moment, her glinting mirror in one hand, and a powder brush hovering steadily in the other, ready to coat her cheeks at a moment's notice. As she considered the question, her glossy lips twisted around each other like a pair of pink slugs entwined. It was an obvious question with an obvious answer—of course she had had to do defensive training. But the instructor in charge of the class had made it quite clear indeed that she was far too prissy and fanciful, and had made a point of deliberately pairing her with the biggest and most brutish of opponents imaginable. It was not therefore one of her fondest memories.
Avoi: Naturally, though—if I’m being honest with you—it wasn’t exactly my métier.
Cain: Never know when it might come in handy. If you ever want to brush up—
A voice spoke through the speakers of the transport shuttle, startling them all to attention.
Pilot: On Final approach to Gorkon, passengers prepare to disembark.
Avoi: ::clapping excitedly:: Oh, we’re here, at last!
As if she had just been injected with a restorative analeptic, she instantly sprung into action. The finishing touches to her face had been made, and scrutinised, and admired, and the brush stowed carefully away into her Starfleet standard handbag, alongside her mirror. As tempting as it was to throw on her byzantium ring, with its ladybug-like design and fulgurating nature, she left it in there, closing the bag off with a resounding zip and click.
Her new colleagues teetered about as well, collecting some bags and bits, though Ylvor herself didn’t seem to have that many at all, which perplexed Avoi. She wondered how a person could travel so light, and not bring with them the hordes of clothes and jewellery and shoes and ornaments and everything else a person managed to amass during their lifetime. Perhaps she wasn’t sentimental, or attached, or as aesthetically driven as Avoi was. It baffled her mind, but the truth was that some people like that did exist in the universe… and that indeed was one of its many mysteries.
Cain delightfully offered a spare hand to help collect together the many, many, many bags that she had insisted she brought along with her inside the cabin, despite the pilots initial protestations. A small percentage of rare items, both purchased and given to her as gifts over the years. Custom-made gloves, crafted using the silk of a uvrali flower, shoes in all different shapes, sizes and shades, from the places Idridi and Rixx, one or two hairpieces, wavy and curled and crimped and some doused with glitter, and a collection of cabinet-ready ornaments, a few made from the classic clay found on her homeworld, and others simply carved from glass and stone. Some bags she reluctantly agreed would have to be transported over, but her prized possessions deserved so much better.
Ylvor: Is my uniform good? ::She said, smoothing out wrinkles and adjusting her collar.::
Avoi caught Cain’s wide smile, and let out a gleeful exhale in response.
Cain: Pristine.
Avoi: Wonderful! Now remember, ladies. Stand up straight, shoulders back, and remember the protocol! ::beaming:: And be yourselves! Well, unless you get the urge to “deck” someone, that is.
TBC