Lieutenant JG Amelia Semara - Show's Over

[Max]

(( Indulgence of Chocolate-Coated Jama’haron, Faux Beach - "The Dairy Godmother" ))

Facing off with an enraged spoon-wielding Klingon wasn't exactly an everyday activity, nor precisely what Amelia expected to be doing over shore leave at an ice cream shack on a fake beach on an enormous floating mass of sentience contained in a preposterously large pleasure craft with an even more outlandish name in the middle of who-knew-where.  But that wasn't to say she wasn't equipped for it.  A loose grasp of the Klingon language had been gifted once upon a time, and now she deployed it with all the vigor she had.

Semara: :: Harsher :: meQtaHbogh qachDaq Suv qoH neH!

Only a fool fights in a burning house!

Knowing as little Klingon as she did, Amelia had no idea how to be more precise, but it had been taught to her as a proverb, anyway.  In this case, Kendrick was the burning house.  She could only hope B'Ella caught the point, or at the very minimum wasn't so senseless as to disobey a superior officer.

B’Ella: But she…

The confrontation teetered.  Amelia was stock still, giving no hint of backing down.  A Klingon would brook no weakness from a superior making demands like she did.

Semara: :: Evenly :: Release her.  Now.

At last, the words reached B'Ella, the sum of their meaning finally bringing her around.

B’Ella: I… ::grip relaxing on Tammy, pushing her away:: Go! ::blinking once as she turned around:: Lieutenant Semara?

The set of Amelias shoulders slid away with a breath, finally relaxing as B'Ella seemed almost surprised - like the environment had changed around her without any input from the Klingon.  Amelia reached out a hand to invite her away from the stand, voice softening like it might with a frightened animal.

Semara: :: A nod. :: It's over, Ensign.  Just take a breath for me.

B’Ella: Is ::shaking:: Is Kendrick alright?

She took B'Ella's arm to help steady her as the two slowly opened the space between them and the ice cream stand, allowing one of the guards to rush in to Tammy.  The realization of what B'Ella had just done was going to be a cruel jailkeeper.  Already, Amelia could feel she was piecing together what nearly could have happened.

Semara: We got him medication.  He's in sickbay now.

The mall cop reinforcements eased in just a little closer, their training clearly fighting to overcome instinct in the aftermath of seeing a bonafide Klingon bloodrage.

B’Ella: ::nodding, speaking softly:: That is good to hear. ::to the security officers in a defeated tone, arms raised:: I won’t fight.

B'Ella deflated with all the pomp of a farting balloon.  Amelia nodded, signalling it was okay to approach.  The guards didn't waste any more time restraining the woman.

Security Officer: ::to Semara:: Nicely done. You’re welcome to accompany us to the ships brig if you’d like?

She sighed, unsure about how to take the compliment.  She only wished it hadn't been necessary.  Surveying the crowd, there was still damage control to be done.

Semara: I'll be along.  I believe I owe some folks a replacement ice cream.  :: Turning back. :: I'll notify the proper channels on my side.  How soon can we visit?

Security Officer: That’s up to the Captain to decide.

Amelia's eyebrow crept downward, more than dissatisfied with the authoritarian answer, but then she realized that the grunt was probably just trying to reclaim some of the machismo she'd stolen away from him and harrumphed.  B'Ella would have visitors soon enough.

B’Ella: ::to Semara:: No. It is I who was the p'tahk. I have dishonored my House, my people, the K’prong, the Khitomer and my crewmates, and most importantly myself. 

A heavy sigh sunk her shoulders lower.  What to say?  B'Ella already knew she'd messed up.  More than that.  She'd grabbed a woman and threatened violence.  It wasn't something that could be swept away just like that.  Yet Amelia knew all too well she'd made her own mistakes.  She clapped the woman's arm firmly, almost in the Klingon way, and held her gaze.

Semara: Perhaps.  If so, perhaps you'll also find a way to restore that honor.  :: Beat :: We'll talk soon.  Be well, B'Ella.

In a shift, the thought came from a deeply Betazoid sentiment: reprimand the action, love the person.  No matter how infuriatingly dumb and dangerous B'Ella's actions were, Amelia had the sense the woman would take accountability and, in time, even learn from it.

The guards and B'Ella were gone, leaving the slowly dispersing crowd to contend with - and the Tellarite mother with her ice cream infatuated child.  Amelia put on her practiced happy face and got down to making amends best she could.

NT / END

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Lieutenant Junior Grade Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer - Special Projects

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0