PNPC Astrid - Game Show: Deal or No Deal?
Cobalt Penumbra
((OOC “shin-vabh” is a Tellarite swear word. I made it up.)
((Brig, Security Complex, Command Module, Deep Space 33))
Pershan: Can I ask you a question, Miss Astrid? You make a big show of wanting out of Starfleet, but it isn’t easy, even for an enlisted, to get in. What made you do it?
Just as soon as he'd seen a glimmer of vulnerability, it withdrew in a flash behind a shield of audacity.
Astrid: Congratulations! You have asked the question almost correctly. It was who made me do it. I did not volunteer. Half of my family is very high up in Starfleet. And after I had some.. problems at home, I found myself shipped off from Luna to Starfleet Basic Training. You see now? I never raised my hand for ::gesticulates:: any of this. So it's all fun and games for me. If I stay in the brig until the end of time, it proves they made a mistake. Kick me out of Starfleet? No problem at all. It proves they were wrong to send me. Put me back on the ship? I'll do as I may and enjoy myself. And when I get into trouble again? I pay it no ::snapping fingers:: mind.
Pershan: Sad, sad story. A victim of circumstance!
Astrid: Make no mistake, I do the job. Such as it is. But my personality is just not containable. it bursts out like a supernova of joy and frivolity, bringing the laughs. So it's all the same, really. Send me home, keep me here, or send me back to the ship. Or if you have something even worse, that's OK too. I'll get a kick out of it when my family inquires and they see what's become of me. I'm like a casino, ::points at self, big smiles:: the house always wins.
Pershan: ::Nodding, perfunctory recap:: Joy, frivolity, house always wins. You find you share a lot of attributes with a casino?
Astrid: Listen, this is cutting into my personal time. I have several plots I'm hatchin' right now. But not only am I entertaining, I will also entertain. So if you have an offer to make, make it. If it sounds fun, I might be down. So whatcha got?
He set his plate down again and laced his fingers across his chest.
Pershan: For you?
Pershan: ::clicking tongue, looking at Astrid:: Nope, I got nothin’.
Astrid couldn’t stop the smile on her face. This was going so much better than expected. These officers were all the same.
Pershan: Nothin. I don't make offers. I make recommendations. ::pointing up at the ceiling:: To command, that's my job. And I can't make any recommendations when all I've got to go on are blatant lies. ::peering at PADD:: Seventy-seven minutes.
Astrid: Yep, all fibs. Yet somehow I am still in the fleet. Mind-boggling.
He shrugged, noncommittally and picked up the second half of his sandwich.
Pershan: I don't know exactly how much of that story was nonsense, but I know you're not a victim. Nobody forced you into boot camp, or forced you to finish it. That's all you, and you did it for a reason.
Astrid: All the Enlisted Training was simple and lame. It was easy.
Pershan shook his head. He eyed the sandwich with as much interest and care as he showed his patient.
Pershan: I asked. You don't have to tell me. You can keep lying to yourself and to me. That's an option. It'll buy you a one-way ticket to an indefinite stay on a penal colony, but maybe you will be happy. What you've got, Crewman, is control—over yourself and your circumstances. From that, you've got consequences, of one kind or another. What you lack is leverage, and you're not going to find any. ::holding the sandwich up:: I've got everything I need. So go ahead, tell me another story. Seventy-four minutes.
The counselor didn’t give off counselor vibes. He gave off vibes more like a reality show host. Do you want what’s in the box or behind door number two? But he was mistaken in thinking she wanted leverage. That would mean she was trying to get something from him, or get him to do something. She had no interest in whatever this counselor did or recommended.
But then another thought occurred to her. Maybe the easiest way to deal with Starfleet wasn’t to fight it, but to go through it. If she did get her 14 months done and got whatever terrible discharge awaited at the end, she could begin working on something she really cared about. Maybe that would be enough.
Astrid: Sure. All lies. And maybe this is a truth you’ll believe. The thing I really care about is interior decoration. My designs are bomb. The *most* bomb. That’s what I want to do and that is exactly what I’ll do when I leave Starfleet. I want to have a job where I don’t have to wear an ugly costume ::points to uniform:: to work each day. Something I’m really good at. My family will go no-contact but I don’t care.
Pershan: Responses?
Astrid: Alright. Maybe we can make some progress. ::ponders:: Here’s a promise I’ve never made to anyone. Feel free to check in my voluminous, ponderous, and stupid personnel file to verify. I’ll do my 14 months. I’ll stay out of all trouble. I’ll do my work. I’ll be so shin-vabh boring that no one will want to room with me. I won’t even give the Department Chief a hard time. ::shrugs:: He’s always running around like a person late for an unpleasant appointment anyways. Or you can ship me off. Maybe my family will spring me, maybe they won’t. I’m not sure how fed up they are.
Pershan: Responses?
Astrid: The penal colonies might need interior design too. The right color sets a mood. ::beat:: But I’m being a good little piglet and offering to eat my vegetables. That’s a 100% Astrid-approved real-deal super wham-o-dyne offer. And no one else ever got that much.
Pershan: Responses?
Astrid: I’ll be here. So no rush. ::pause:: Hey, do you want a design consultation on your office? There’s a shade of Rigellian Amaranth that is so hot right now. I could fix you up.
Pershan: Responses?
She shrugged.
Astrid: OK, then. Enjoy your beef.
And with that, Astrid sat down on the deck in the corner, facing away from the forcefield. She pulled off her left shoe and a preposterous amount of her leg hair spilled out. She had intended to get a trim after the sparring session with Zerva, but it had slipped her mind. But at least she could manage some hygiene on her large nails while she awaited her fate. She began to pick at them with a stylus while lightly humming one of her favorites from back home, "My Bowels Churn at the Sound of your Name," a love story in three parts.
TAGS/End for Astrid
PNPC C3 Chennit Astrid
Beta Shift
Security Department, USS Khitomer
As simmed by
LT Zenno