Ensign Doz Finch - Clawing the Moment

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Doz Finch

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Jan 22, 2023, 1:01:54 PM1/22/23
to sb118-...@googlegroups.com, Doz Finch

((Cyrithra Forest, Palanon))



A clement breeze sifted through Doz’s speckled hair, gently caressing it and the conversation it flowed upon. Doz–disenchanted by her sour tea–had suggested getting another one, decidedly blacker than her previous one, and Alieth had enthusiastically agreed, if enthusiastic was the right word to use given the woman’s genetic predisposition. Had Ernie or Wallace been there, they would have suggested she plopped a bit of whiskey into her tea, to help take the edge off. Only they weren’t there, and were swanning around doing their own things for Starfleet.



Ernie–short for Ernest–was probably somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant, scheming up ways to improve the velocity of the phasers of the assault ship he had worked on these last thirty something years. That was Ernie to a T. Once he loved a thing, he loved it for life, even in the throes of adversity. And that ship had his name all over it. Probably literally, too, engraved under a piece of plating on every deck.



Wallace on the other hand preferred the less than usual postings offered by Starfleet. A lover of secondments–an experience Doz would never try again–he had taken a position as a Test Technician, working for Tellarites at a robotics institution in Agora. And what he was doing there of all places she would never know, because his argument skills were about as sophisticated as scallops.



As for her other brother Arthur—God only knew. He had settled down with his wife decades ago, and rarely made contact with any of them, the miserable old sod that he was.



As the trees of the clearing swayed coolly around them, firmly coiled into the earth despite the stresses put upon them by the Rogue World, the thought of her brothers being there tickled at her mind; like the feather of a dove brushing against one's skin in that strange way were comfort and discomfort are at odds; a gentle gaiety, marred by the truth of the matter—and what was the truth of the matter? That somewhere over the years, the Finch’s had all fallen apart? That she was on her own? An old engineer, out of her depth?



Alieth’s voice thankfully cut through her transitory thoughts:



Alieth: An outstanding idea.



T’Lar: Response



They each moved over to a different table, around which other officers milled and chattered; Alieth was clutching onto a special sort of mug, Doz noticed, which she imagined contained a bit of that secret elixir those Vulcan’s must have swigged on the sly—liquid youth. Probably prohibited from Starfleet, but glugged by the pointy-eared lot nonetheless. Vulcans always did get away with everything.



The thought gave her a chuckle, and she poured herself another tea, this time bitter and without the curdled Vulcan milk, whatever it was. Squeezed from the udder of a desert snake, probably, though she dared not think too much about it.



Standing beside them was a Caitian woman. Doz straightened her back and threw a wrinkled smile at her.



Alieth: Lieutenant L'rann, it has been a long time since we last met.



L’rann: Hello, Commander. Nice to see you.



T’Lar: Response



The Vulcan nodded briefly as she poured water into her unique mug. Finch sipped her own and looked up at the head of the canopy, and her beady eyes seemed to scintillate a deep brown beneath it. Somewhere in the boughs lodged a whistling bird, and beyond it was another, whistling back. The disaster, it seemed, hadn’t put off the local wildlife, who’s warbling songs carried on in defiance. They were marvellous little things, birds.



Alieth: I see. ::turning to her two companions::  Let me introduce you to two of the new additions to the crew, Ensigns Finch and T'lar.



L’rann: Hello.



Finch: ::putting her tea down, and stretching out her small hand:: Hello, love! Now, Lieutenant, before you say anything, it’s only Finch. ::she licked her teeth animatedly:: Binch isn’t even a real person. Nothing more than a silly rumour. ::her lips inverted amusedly::



T’Lar: Response



Alieth: I recall that in Darime you talked about being the caretaker of an infant from your family. Did she accompany you to the surface today?



L’rann: Yes. She was just here…



L’rann called over to M’Rish, who had been enamoured by a bread selection, the sight of which made Doz’s noses undulate with curiosity.



L’rann: M’Rish! Come here, I’d like you to meet some people.



The younger felinoid darted over to them with a gob full of wheaty goodness, and a look of endearment washed over Doz’s features.



L’rann: M’Rish, this is Commander Alieth, and Ensigns Finch and T’Lar. They work on the ship like me.



M’Rish: Hello. ::She said quietly.::



Finch: Hello little one. Got a taste for the hearty stuff, I see. If you can find any, it’ll be even better with marmalade spread all over it.



Alieth/T’Lar: Response



L’rann: Sorry, she’s quite shy and wary of strangers; even if she’s seen them around the ship.



Finch: Oh, don't worry at all! ::she waved her hands dismissively:: I knew a Caitian who had the opposite issue actually. M’oa was her name. Had a gregarious son who didn’t know how to retract his claws. Ruined every bit of fabric he laid his paws on. I told her he had better learn how to control them before he’s a teenager, or it’ll be goodnight Irene to everything and everyone he touches. ::her harrumphed and took a swig of her tea::



Alieth/T’Lar: Response



L’rann: It’s a long story. How much time do you have?



Finch: As long as it takes, L’rann. I don’t know about these two, but I’m all ears.



She looked around; the Admiral and her bondmate Brunsig were in conversation with the mellow looking woman she had yet to formally meet. Nearby, the red-headed trill continued on her conversation with the man known as Cory who was now an unwitting candidate in the Chief Science Officer's apparent side-hustle: the Alieth Dating Agency. Chatting away with them was Neathler, who Doz knew to be a regular runner through the corridors of the ship, and a potential power-walk-partner. In another circle stood a younger Bajoran woman, tentatively looking at the darker haired man who she couldn't properly see from her angle, visage hazy through the crackle of burgeoning campfires.



Alieth/T’Lar/L’rann/M’Rith: Response



Finch: That’s a shame, that is. But it does unfortunately happen sometimes.



Alieth/T’Lar/L’rann/M’Rith: Response



--

Ensign Doz Finch

Engineering Officer

USS Gorkon

C239809SH3


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