Ensign Amelia Semara - Step Into My Parlor

[Max]

(( OOC: And this is what happens when you don't double-check Memory Alpha before getting excited about ideas.  Thanks for rolling with it, haha.  Also, I did my best to stitch tags together... ))

((Simulated Bridge, Deck 1, USS Enterprise, NCC 1701-A, Fleet Museum Annex, Sol Station))

It was moments like this that reminded her why she stuck to her microbes and adorably fuzzy animals.  Every fleet officer knew the history of the Enterprise.  But apparently she'd been distracted in class when it had off-handedly been mentioned that the Enterprise-A was off in an entirely different system.  Knowing her, she was likely planning some kind of get-together with other cadets in the last five minutes where that odd detail was covered.  She suspected that the ad for this place was intentionally misleading, but they were here now.

Okay, it was a bit of a disappointment, but she refused to be down about it.  As long as no one said anything, everything was good.  Besides, the trainer was still all gear from the period.  In a quirk of history, the simulator was technically older than the actual Enterprise-A herself, and it still had made all the deliciously bloopy whirry noises, and all the nobs still had that certain je ne sais quoi of having been used by the greats.  It didn't hurt that this machine had minted its own fair share of greats, before holodecks were standard.

Fortunately, she'd arrived early as planned, and had an opportunity to look on the bright side and get everything set up for the exam.  At precisely 20:31, she stepped out of the old-school trainer and into the foyer, company awaiting her.

Hobart: I was beginning to think this was an elaborate prank, Ensign. ::beat:: And I see you brought friends.

Forza: Commander Hobart sir.

Matthews: The more, the merrier.

Amelia beamed, recognizing her fellow science officer from the handful of times she'd passed him the hallway.

Semara: Ensign Matthews!  Amelia Semara, how do you do?  We haven't met proper yet, but I've been so looking forward.  I'm glad you saw the invite!  I know it was a little last-minute...  :: She held out a hand ::

She turned toward the other two with a fusion-powered smile armed and target-locked.

Semara: Thank you all for coming.

Zerva: Response

Hobart: Are all of you short on your flight hours, too, or is this some kind of solidarity play?

Matthews: No, I’m a weirdo who’s just here for fun.

Semara: Why would wanting to have fun be weird? :: A curious smile. :: I thought y'all were here because I bribed you with drinks after, but that's better!

Earth was a weird place.  Nominally the center of the Federation, home to the dominant species in the fleet, home to the academy she'd spent four years at...  Yet it still felt completely foreign.  Others, she gathered, felt much more in their place, with all the spicy Jambalaya feelings of home brought up.

She caught Forza nodding his head out of the corner of his eye, a whiff of emotional something-or-other drifting her way like a bad fart.  She gave him a kindly smile, hoping just having someone happy to have him here might make him feel a little better.

Matthews: :: Shooting a real grin at the FO :: Glad to see I wasn’t the only one who dressed for the occasion.

She was glad she'd come up with this.  Something just silly enough to have a bit of fun with while finishing up one of the last bits of work she needed to do before enjoying leave fully.

Semara: :: To Matthews :: I almost replicated a riding crop for him...  :: A sneaky grin. ::

Zerva: Response

Amelia caught the commander's glance at the doors to the simulator, literally with her name on it.  Her eyes lit up: yes, I know time is ticking!

Hobart: After you, Mister Semara.

She tilted her head graciously.

Semara: Gentlemen, step into my parlor...

She opened the door, and welcomed them onto the training bridge of the Enterprise.  Unlike a replica, this thing had actually seen use by countless officers back in the day, and in fact had been constructed part-for-part a duplicate of the real thing.  It wouldn't do to have ye olde Ensigns go into space and go hunting for a button that wasn't in exactly the right spot when torpedoes were flying around them.

Forza: You know what’s sad? ::looking towards the group:: This ship is barely remembered but for the one big thing.

Amelia turned, catching the man in the act of caressing yet another console.  She grinned, a little self-proud she'd thought to invite the man.

Semara: But we still remember it.

Hobart / Zerva: Response

Forza: You know. Khitomer? Our ship's namesake? The only thing this baby is remembered for is saving the Khitomer conference. Even though it had seven years of service under its nacelles. I mean this ship was basically a giant thank you gift to Kirk and company for saving the Federation. It’s just-

Hobart / Zerva: Response

Amelia's eyes narrowed just a millimeter.  Was there some kind of personal problem here?  If so, she had a much bigger job cut out for her than pretending to order a ship around.  It certainly smelled like one to her empathic senses, but - with the exception of Matthew's free and easy quirky nature - everyone was keeping a tight lid on things.  Interesting.  She could practically hear the commander salivating at the idea of putting her through an especially challenging test that way.

Semara: I, for one, would enjoy a history refresher, but our time is limited.  Once we've relieved the Commander of his duties, perhaps you can tell her whole story?  :: A kind smile ::

Forza: Response

She stepped towards the captain's chair.  Sure, not the real thing, but with everyone in maroon uniforms, the lighting set just right, she was really getting in the mood now.  She experimentally swivelled the Captain's seat she'd be occupying for the duration of the test with a grin far too big for the situation.

All the bloopy and whirry noises were being made by the real audio readouts.  Ship noises were almost right - there weren't any warp engines, but the thing had the real power conduits still hiding behind every panel...  It was just about perfect.

By the comm station, she caught Matthews gingerly fingering a period earpiece as if he'd found something he might want to eat.  Fortunately, he seemed to know what to do with it, and put the earpiece in.

Matthews: I call dibs on communications — trying something new and all that. 

She threw a knowing glance at the XO.  Doubtless this would be part of her grading, to see if and how she took the reins even before the test even began.  From what little she'd learned of the man, he was totally "that" kind of officer.  Not to worry, she had things well in hand.  She smiled pleasantly at the man who, in other circumstances, would be the only person here with more than a single pip.

She stood next to the Captain's chair, and faced the viewscreen with an air of cheeky smirking melodrama.

Semara: Ensign Matthews, you may "dibs" comms.  Ensign Forza, a steady hand at tactical, please, and Ensign Zerva...  :: She considered. :: kindly man helm.

There really was no harm in being polite about giving orders, the way she saw it.  Not like she probably could have given any other kind of order anyway.  It had been drilled since before she could talk, and if this was a test to see what sort of team leader she was going to be under pressure, she might as well show Command Hobart exactly what she was made of.

Semara: Y'all have the fortune - or misfortune :: A grin :: - of having yours truly in the center seat this evenin'.  The test is simple.  We take 'er out, run a quick couple maneuvers, the Commander throws me a curveball to see what I do with it with your help, and next thing you know, we'll be kickin' back at the 602 and intimidating cadets with ghost stories.

She took two steps to hand the simulator control padd to Hobart, meeting his eyes dead-on with a grin that dared him to give her his worst.  A little overconfident?  Definitely.  But it was absolutely worth it to see the Commander in the "maroon monster".  Unlike him, she wore the color well.

Forza / Hobart / Zerva: Response

Matthews: :: Turning back to the console :: Will these do anything though? I always thought this sort of setup was just set designs. Set dressings?

Semara: It's all real Constitution-refit bridge hardware alright, but obviously there ain't a real ship to fly.  :: Beat :: I'll warn you, Commander, that a very serious-looking old-timer once told me these old trainer consoles really do still explode, but only when they detect senior officers.

There was no way she wasn't going to get the wrath of the Commander after this whole stunt, so she figured she might as well milk it for everything it was worth.  As if her tail-wagging emotional state and big sunny smile wasn't already begging the man for forgiveness and thanking him for his patience.

Forza / Hobart / Zerva / Matthews: Response

Semara: Well, gentlemen, we're on the clock.  Commander, if you'd please begin the simulation?

Hobart: Response

The lights dimmed.  The viewscreen came to life, and they were in spacedock.  The old screen was a thing of beauty, and the simulated shuttle traffic made it seem like they really were about to take her out.

Amelia eyed the Captain's seat, but decided to remain standing.  She channeled the best far-off Captaining stare she could muster

Semara: Matthews, get the dockmaster, request permission to depart.

Matthews: Response

Semara: Thank you Ensign.  :: Beat ::  Helm, clear all moorings.

Zerva: Response

She paused for a moment.

Semara: Feels like somethin's missing.  Anyone else feel like something's missin'?

Forza / Hobart / Zerva / Matthews: Response

Semara: That's it!  :: She snapped and grinned fiercely :: Forza, as our resident history buff, would you please select the appropriately majestic music for taking Enterprise out of space dock?

Forza: Response

Semara: Much better, thank you!  Helm, bring us about, then bring us out.  :: Smile spreading bigger, eyeing Commander Hobart. :: One quarter impulse power.

Forza / Hobart / Zerva / Matthews: Response

Tag/TBC...

Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0