Ensign Mi'shune sh'Sonora - Crouching Logic, Hidden Pantser
d.reinhart
sh’Sonora: Hiya. Remember me?
Munshi: ::He blinked, the scrolling green code on his screen still dancing in his vision as he looked at Mi’shune’s grinning face. He let out a short, tired laugh:: Ensign sh’Sonora. Considering we just spent the morning playing 'Master Level' babysitter to a jelly-covered Lieutenant to stop a tornado, it’s going to take a lot more than a shift change to wipe you from my memory. Though I’m pretty sure there’s a Starfleet regulation about sprinting in the mess hall.
Mi’shune flushed blue with embarrassment. Apparently there were more annoying ways to be remembered other than acting like a teenaged twit. Part of her was flattered. The other part wanted to die. Such a contradiction, like how she was both intrigued by his stately manner, but repulsed by his repressed expression of self. Neither made sense.
Her silliness was, in retrospect, fairly pointed out. She had to concede the point to Munshi.
sh’Sonora: Well, I remember you, Mister Munshi, Sir. ::She tapped the side of the jumbo plate of Denebian chili cheese fries with her fork.:: And I haven’t forgotten our promise either. Barring any dietary requirements and all, but that’s okay this comes in vegan too, though technically all replicator food’s vegan if you ask me. Still down to share a meal and chat a bit?
Munshi: ::He stared at the mountain of fries, his mouth watering in a way that felt entirely undisciplined. He looked back at Mi’shune, a genuine, hungry glint in his eyes:: To be honest, my stomach has been staged a protest for the last three hours. Logic might say I should eat a salad, but my human side says a promise made during a weather crisis is a legally binding contract. I am... most definitely down for this. Though I suspect I’ll be paying for this at the gym tomorrow.
The excitable Andorian squeaked with delight. Her fork stabbed into the congealing mess, fresh steam rising from the hole she made in the mass.
sh’Sonora: Soooooo… wha’cha up to?
Munshi: ::He chewed thoughtfully, a faint, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he set his PADD aside:: I was trying to do a post-mortem on the environmental grid—seeing if the station is actually fixed or just pretending to be. But, ::he gestured with his fork toward the plate,:: I’ve decided that these fries are a much more interesting problem to solve for now. I heard they’ve got you chained to a desk at FLY-CON while the JAG office finishes their paperwork. How is the 'logistical life' treating our best pilot?
Munshi thought she was the best pilot? Based on what? Who cared! Mi’shune brightened up, a sucker for compliments, factually based or otherwise. It tasted almost as good as the mouthful of meaty, starchy grease she swallowed.
And like the alien mall food, it helped ease her mood and ease candor.
sh’Sonora: ::She pursed her lips as her antennae sagged.:: Let’s just say the bureaucratic necessities of interstellar flight are not nearly as interesting as actual interstellar flight. It suck, frankly. If I could chew through the restraint that keeps me desk-bound, I would.
Munshi: ::Taking a slow sip of water to wash down the heat of the chili, his expression softening into one of genuine camaraderie:: I understand. It’s hard to stay grounded when you’re used to the momentum. But, look at it this way—if you weren't there to keep the Pakleds from 'making it go' into a docking pylon, I’d be the one spending my evening in a space suit with an industrial welder. So, from a purely selfish engineering perspective, I’m very glad you’re at that desk.
sh’Sonora: Really? ::She cocked her antennae and tilted her head, a puzzling look.:: You’d think by the way my supervisor talks I was a curse to PADD and stylus alike. Oh well, it won’t be long… I hope.
He nudged a few more fries toward her side of the plate, his voice dropping into a more relaxed, conversational tone.
Munshi: Don't let the paperwork get to you, Mi’shune. The JAG inquiry will stabilize. Logic dictates that an accident caused by a station-wide memory regression is the definition of force majeure. You’ll be back in a cockpit soon enough. Until then... why don’t we have proper intro. Getting acquainted while baby sitting a manchild is hardly a proper introduction I guess.
A grin crept up on Mi’shune’s face. Her antennae bounced, a positive sign of lifting spirits.
sh’Sonora: Oh yeah! That guy! Ensign Zach Satriani. Ran into him a couple days ago. Apparently he’s still kind of a plasma leak when he’s an adult too! ::She laughs, shaking her head and antennae.:: I’m not worried. It’s a big station. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. ::She takes another stab at the chili cheese fries, spearing a dripping glob with her fork and extracting it off the plate, cheese trailing on exit.:: But yeah, I can do intros. Wouldn’t be here otherwise. I mean, I had to admit you were pretty cool. You didn’t seem overwhelmed and you weren’t bothered by me as a bratty teenager. It’s almost like… I don’t know… like you have a little Vulcan in you or something. What’s up with that?
Munshi: ?
Listening to Munshi reminded the Andorian ensign of her own encounters with the Vulcan species back at the academy. Until she saw a true cosmopolitan setting in the Academy, she’d only seen Vulcans in passing on Laibok, or in holoprograms. Vulcan represented an exotic species with an alternate way of thinking, all the things an impressionable young Andorian looked for and wanted to know more about.
Real Vulcans at the Academy were not nearly as curious or enthusiastic, disappointing Mi’shune every encounter.
sh’Sonora: I could never really do that ‘logic’ thing, to be honest. Bottled up all the time… I’d pop like a shaken Sluggo Cola! It’s like my old wing-chun teacher used to tell me. ‘Don’t think, feel!’. I think he was trying to impart a lesson about trusting one’s instincts and subconscious reactions to make the right decision or something. It’s all very esoteric when you talk about it. Not logical at all. But it works for me, you know? Even if I can’t always explain why.
Munshi: ?
TBC
Ensign Mi’shune sh’Sonora
Helm Officer
Starbase 118 - Ops Department
O240208MS1