[BACKSIM] Lt. Commander V'Nille - Morsels
V'Nille
(( Assembly Bay/Observation Bay, Starbase One ))
(( Overlooking both the USS Chin’toka and the USS Valkyrie-A ))
V’Nille was never quite sure what to expect from Grallator whenever he spoke and he certainly didn’t disappoint her here.
V’Nille: Ah, that makes sense. Parents can be … difficult, at times. I’m blessed with parents that are fully supportive of me being here. I think they’re more amused at the fact that I joined on impulse more than anything.
Grallator: Supportive parents, Commander, are rather like unicorns—everyone insists they exist, but you only ever hear about them in other people’s anecdotes. Mine prefer to express encouragement through ominous silences and the occasional eyebrow twitch, which in our culture is considered the equivalent of a twenty‑minute standing ovation. It’s a system that keeps me humble, or at least perpetually baffled, since one never quite knows whether the silence means ‘well done’ or ‘we’re drafting your obituary.
oO I wonder what a Bolian obituary would look like. Would it wax eloquent about the dead person’s taste in plastic plants? Oo
V’Nille: Oh yes, very much on impulse. I was walking around, as one does when they’re bored and seeking something to do, and ran into the Starfleet recruiting center. We got to talking, he offered to let me take the test for the Academy to see how well I’d do, annndd I failed. ::chuckles:: But I didn’t like that feeling of failing at a test like that, so I studied some more and retook it. I remember right, I got it on the third try.
She reached out for another piece of meat and popped it in her mouth, swallowing it in one bite.
V’Nille: And that’s how Starfleet got stuck with me!
Grallator: Impulse decisions seem to be Starfleet’s unofficial recruitment strategy. One moment you’re wandering past a recruiting center, the next you’re knee‑deep in exploding corridors and ghost ships. Personally, I joined because I thought the uniform came with pockets. It didn’t. But by the time I realized, I was already signed up, and bureaucracy has a way of holding you hostage. So here we are with one buffet table, and a future heavy cruiser to break.
V’Nille: But there are pockets… ::grabs another bite:: You know, I would have smoked this meat rather than grilled it, personally.
Grallator: I agree, Commander—I’d have done the same myself. A pity I never actually met the Captain, though; it feels rather like serving under a myth you only hear about in passing.
V’Nille popped the piece of meat into her mouth and swallowed it in one bite.
V’Nille: Hmm, she’s nice. A little awkward. Hellcat in a fight, though.
Grallator: Yes, I’ve heard that about her—though in Starfleet, ‘hearing things about someone’ usually means receiving three contradictory reports, a rumor involving time travel, and a footnote suggesting she might also be a figment of collective imagination. Which, frankly, makes her one of the more reliable captains I wish I’ve met.
She chuckled and shook her head, then tilted it slightly in thought. There was at least one rumor involving time travel with Serala. Maybe he was onto something.
Grallator: I should head to the Chin’toka now, Commander—time to prep for the transfer. Bob’s not going to take the move well; he treats relocation as a personal insult. I expect at least two full days of dramatic sighing, punctuated by the kind of soulful looks only a he can weaponize.
V’Nille: Of course. Good luck with that!
She waved at him as he left, then started walking down the table to find more morsels to eat.
oO Hmm, maybe I should get a pet before we leave Earth. Oo
[END scene for V'Nille]