[sb118-ronin] Ensign S'tek - "Do I Get To Choose My Chaperone, Lieutenant?"

[Shakeel Hussein]

((Security Complex, Deck 11, USS Ronin))

 

After the briefest of brief introductions with Captain Niac and Commander Raga, S’tek had travelled down from Deck 3 to Deck 11 and, as he entered the Security Complex, he very much hoped his concerns, questions and racing thoughts were left in the cylindrical pod that he had just travelled in. Now, despite not knowing all too much about anything – which often felt like his standard operating procedure, the twenty-three-year-old recently-graduated Ensign was soon going to be put to work. This was not the time to second guess himself, nor was it the time to shrink into himself; he’d always teetered on that fine line between confident and arrogant but, since learning of his assignment to the Ronin, that feeling had faded away. Instead, it was replaced with nerves, thoughts that jumped from point to point – some even cancelling out the one that came before it, and it was all getting on his nerves.

 

As he tugged at the tunic of his uniform in an effort to remove creases that just happened to be non-existent anywhere else but in his mind, S’tek glanced over at the hustling and bustling of the Security Complex; a place which he assumed would be his home away from home now he was on board. Or his home away from home away from home away from his real home, if you considered the Ronin, his quarters and the Complex extensions of home now he was away from his humble abode in Brazil.

 

With his arms crossed over his chest, his right forearm angled upwards and his thumb pressed against his chin, Ensign S’tek stood just inside the Security Complex. He had hoped the posture would help to steady him, to give him the chance to anchor his thoughts, but all it served to do was highlight just how out of place he felt. Everyone else – officers, support crew, all of them – were moving between offices, consoles and duty stations with that kind of confidence that he could currently only dream of. It was the type of confidence that was born from routine, experience, belonging; perhaps even a sense of camaraderie. He had none of it. S’tek was the stark contrast to the busy room; still, inactive, and roughly as much use as a potted plant. Even less so when you could consider that a plant at least provides oxygen.

 

Taking in a slow but steady breath, perhaps in the off-chance that the confidence in the air could be contagious, S’tek felt his brow flicker as someone – a senior officer with two solid pips on her collar – deftly picked up her PADD and approached him with more of the confidence that he seemed to be lacking.

 

T'Fearne: Are you lost, Ensign…? 

 

Ensign S’tek lowered his thumb from his chin – in fact, he lowered his arms and placed them behind his back as he so often did in the presence of a senior officer.

 

S’tek: Ensign S’tek. ::pause:: And no, Lieutenant. I’m… pretty sure I’m in the right place.

 

The way the unknown Lieutenant slanted her head made S’tek take pause. His interaction with Vulcans was limited to say the least. They were plenty of them at the Academy, he had his short stay on the hot planet, and he’d seen plenty on board the Ronin – even one that appeared to be half Bajoran, but he never knew what to make of a race that, as a rule, actively hid their emotions. He was also fairly certain that they, again as a rule, didn’t quite know what to make of him either – whereas some Human-Vulcan hybrids went the path of Ambassador Spock, S’tek had strayed far from that route. Apart from the slightly pointed eyebrows and ears, his name, and an untimely Pon Farr at seventeen, he was as Vulcan as a bowl of mocequa.

 

T'Fearne: ::nodding:: Ensign S’tek. The Ronin is your first assignment out of the Academy? :: A slight, fond twinkle in her dark eyes :: The Ronin is my first duty post also. 

 

Nodding towards the dark-haired woman, he held out his PADD and waited for her to take it.

 

S’tek: It is, Lieutenant. Assigned to Tactical and Security.

 

Almost as soon as the unknown superior officer had taken his PADD and scanned down it with dark eyes that seemed to twinkle like the starfield outside of the Ronin, S’tek felt his attention drawn to the pair of synchronised and chirping combadges – first his, then the one belonging to the woman opposite him.

 

Kessler: =/\= Kessler to Lieutenant T'Fearne, Ensign S'tek. Report to the Security Complex immediately. =/\=

 

T'Fearne: ::tapping her comm:: =/\= Acknowledged, Chief. =/\=

 

With the realisation that he had already been with Lieutenant T’Fearne slowly sinking in, Ensign S’tek kept his gaze on the woman as her eyebrow lifted in the quintessential Vulcan fashion. It was a trait he had not picked up – and not one that he planned to either – as he held an expression that Humans would refer to as a poker face.

 

T'Fearne: As it happens, I am Lieutenant T’Fearne. You are with me, Mr S’tek, until Chief Kessler arrives.

 

With not being given an opportunity to reply, he turned to follow the Lieutenant.

 

T'Fearne: ::continuing to walk and talk:: He is the department CO and you can present him with your orders confirming transfer to this department. Until then, I would prefer you not wander unsupervised until you get your bearings. Your arrival comes at an… interesting time. We have just transferred some mission specialists onboard. I anticipate a department briefing shortly. Until then—observe, assist where directed, and familiarize yourself with the Ronin’s specs. Any questions?

 

S’tek, keeping pace with the shorter officer fairly easily, felt his brow furrow.

 

S’tek: Do I get to choose my chaperone, Lieutenant?

 

T'Fearne: Your tour of the ship will have to wait till later. Or it might be sooner. That depends if we get boarded during this mission.

 

S’tek had purposefully softened the delivery of his question but, as they continued to walk, T’Fearne didn’t so much as shift. Did she know he was joking? Did she think he was capable of it? Did he think she was capable of understanding humour? How could he? They had only just met. There was something about her unreadable expression that the Ensign struggled with – perhaps it was the distraction of another person with Vulcan angles or the deep wells of her Betazoid eyes; he wasn’t sure. In truth, the freshly minted officer had expected a quiet dressing-down for the nature of his last remark. Instead, her reply was dry, deadpan, a straight-as-an-arrow tone that caught him off guard – he was positive that the Lieutenant had attempted to crack a joke.

 

Before he could analyse the interaction further or even reply with another effort at humour and see where it all led, there was a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the Security Complex. In the corners of his peripheral vision, S’tek noticed postures change – straighten – and his subtly pointed ears noticed the apparent dimming of conversations. After watching Chief Kessler, the man recognisable from his brief Starfleet bio, head towards the briefing room with someone he didn’t recognise, the Ensign found himself neatening his own posture as he fell in behind a beckoning Lieutenant T’Fearne.

[NO TAGS/TBC]

 

 

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Ensign S’tek

Tactical and Security

USS Ronin NCC-34523

A240012CM1