pNPC Provisional Ensign Janul - Golden Pip

[Iain Turnbull]

(( The Dungeon, SB 118 - Dilithium Dreams))

His drink had been vile.

But he was determined to get used to different things and so Janul had grabbed a pitcher from behind the bar and had the staff brim it with the same awful drink

Janul: It is not what I had expected.

Andrews: Hey, let's grab a table where it's more of a dull roar, huh?

Andrews picked up his drink, and a bowl of some kind of nuts and made for a table. It was set into a booth that was set far enough to the side to allow its occupants to watch the bar, the dancefloor, the entrance. Pretty much the entire place was covered with little more than a casual turn of the head.

Janul rumbled approval deep in his throat. Andrews sat and gestured, and Janul took a seat opposite. He braced himself as the massively upholstered seat tried to swallow him.

Andrews: How's this?

Janul: This? ::He glared down at the seat.:: This is unusual.

Andrews put down the nuts and his drink, before leaning back in his seat and tossing a grin at him.

Andrews: This is the part where you tell me of your struggles and hopes and dreams and aspirations. Or maybe about your pet tribble. Or whatever. What's on your mind lately? If you need a little more ah- ::He raised his own mug:: lubricant before you start talking, we can arrange that, too.

Janul: I do not have a pet tribble.

The response was blunt, just like Janul himself.

The art of casual conversation still seemed to elude him, although he was finding more of the station's senior officers were inclined to push on regardless.

Andrews: ?

He took a mighty swig from his drink, almost quartering it.

Janul: Then I would say it is to earn my pip.

Janul was quietly and privately proud of the grey lozenge of a Provisional Ensign that adorned his uniform. But for him to truly forge a career and a new life for himself, he wanted that single golden pip of a fully-fledged Starfleet Ensign.

Andrews: ?

He drummed the fingers of his free hand on the table as he listened.

Janul: I believe :::He glared for a moment as he sought the human phrase.:: "walking my beat" is sufficient for now. But perhaps one day I shall command a ship again.

Being in a position to have to turn over his ship to another - even if it was his loyal cousin Tahl - still burned within, but the memory of the depth that the Cult of Molor had burrowed had forever left a stain upon his love for both his House and the Empire.

Andrews: ?

~tbc~

Janul.

Provisional Ensign.

Security Department.

Starbase 118.

Simmed by;

Lieutenant-Commander Arturo Maxwell.

Chief Tactical Officer / Second Officer.

Starbase 118 Operations.

O239311AM0

Get Outlook for Android