Calm Before the Storm

||Starbase 12
||Mess Hall East
||July 27, 2387
||1844


Lieutenant Lillian Crae took a deep breath before she downed a shot of good old alcohol, letting the liquid wash over her tongue so she could savor it, before swallowing it down. She could care less about the burning sensation that it caused in her esophagus as it slid down either, shaking her head a bit and letting her dark curls bounce as she did so. She also stuck her tongue out in a rather amusing fashion and squeezed her black eyes shut as she realized just how much this particular alcohol made her insides cringe, real alcohol or no.

It had been a long shift and she just needed to unwind a little bit because it had been a particularly long and emotionally draining day. As a Betazoid, the 26 year-old also took on more emotions than just her own and so she was feeling particularly exhausted even though she felt fulfilled. Lillian had only been CMO for a good three weeks now and it was only due to a death and she was next on the food chain--she was going to have tprove she had it in her if she didn't want the CO to instead just hire someone else to fill out Sickbay. She was movngup in the world and she liked that, even though it gave her less time for dancing and experimenting...she just needed to focus on her damn job before she lost it.

Besides, Doctor Cornell could always relieve her of duty if he saw fit an since she wouldn't: problm solved.

Smiling a bit at her own cleverness of this situation, Lillian decided to get one more shot and drained the shot glass dry, making a disapproving sound and yet grinning. Nodding a little bit and feeling just a tiny buzz as that was her fourth one, she decided that it was time for pretzels aater because alcohol on an empty stomach was a really terrible medical decision and she needed to stay hydrated as to not have a hangover the next morning. As a doctor--a good one at that--she couldn't be seen making unsound medical decisions in public and there were a lot of people chatting and drinking and flirting tonight that could easily see their new CMO making such a mistake...and also seeing their CMO drinking. Perhaps that was just as bad as seeing their CMO make bad drinking calls.

Actually, to be honest, Lillian wasn't too worried about the being judged part and if anyone gave her grief, she could just read their minds and send them on their way. Didn't matter what species you were, everyone had something to hide that they didn't want to have aired out like dirty laundry for everyone to see. Being a Betazoid sometimes had its perks, but Lillian also respected the privacy of her crew and would only do something like that if it was absolutely necessary for her to. Looking around, she couldn't find a single person to really care about what she was doing, so she unzipped her duty jacket and let her teal shirt show.

Right now, she just kind of wanted to drink a Marine under the table...


OOC: And off we go...

||Starbase 12
||Taylor's Quarters
||July 27, 2387
||1905


Lillian had enjoyed her few shots but when she was paged, so to speak, to get a couple of things out of the way, the Betazoid sighed and walked to the turbo lift. Once inside she fluffed her hair, letting it fall against her shoulders before she got out of the lift and went to Sickbay to grab her medical bag. Just one more little task before it was time to tke the night for her own and she went out the sliding doors and down the corridor before stopping at a wall panel. Once she was there, she looked up the quarters she was supposed to go to and then headed straight there.

When she got to the looming doors before her, she reached out to touch the door panel, signaling that she was outside and ready to get right down to business. There were new recruits and for some reason she was being told to make a 'house call' because it was important and she took a deep breath. She was perfectly able to do her job here and then she got to call it a night for a little bit, but she also felt like maybe the man would think she was prying. Wait, she was the new CMO...who cared what he thought? This was her job.

"Delivery!" she called out merrily, not even bothering to zip up her duty jacket or pull her hair back again.

There was a groan from behind the door from Taylor as he sat at his desk pouring over reports. He and his squadron had been on the station within hours, he had managed to give them a small briefing before unpacking. It was moments before he had to read flight status reports, fighter status reports, pilot medical checks. His brow was raised at the call for a delivery since he didn't remember ordering anything.

He lifted himself from his desk and walked towards the door, opening it and then standing back like there was a Jem'Hadar solider at the door. Medical staff had come to his door. Why? It was better than sickbay but still. He hated medical staff. "I, um." he said to the woman as he stepped forward now that he was a little less surprised. "What are you doing here exactly?"

Lillian found herself looking the man up and down very obviously, smirking and nodding in approval. She hadn't been expecting to see such a young man appointed to the position of Squadron Commander, but then again after the last tragedy around here, lots of younger individuals were getting a rare chance to shine. So instead she tried to focus on the fact that as the new CMO, it was her duty to make sure the young man was fit and conditioned...oh the ways she could think up to do just that...

"House call," she put simply as her eyes met up with his finally. "You need a thorough exam..."

She moved to get in his room, shooting him a smile and digging into her bag to pull out a tricorder so she at least looked professional. Lillian had a feeling this would be interesting and she wondered what was going on inside of his head at the moment. Either way, she was here to do her job and smiled at him again to try and show him that she was friendly.

"I need an exam." echoed Taylor with a look at showed he was less than impressed about the situation. His reaction to the tricorder was one of annoyance but he let her inside his tidy, somewhat bare quarters before sitting down on the couch. "Let's get this over with." he groaned, looking up at her. Medical exams were more of an annoyance to him than a factor for fear. Sickbays themselves, well, that was another story.

For some reason the words 'thorough exam' caused all sorts of connotations within his male mind but he held his tongue on the matter. "Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Helpless fighter pilot who really doesn't want a medical exam?"

Lillian looked around the quarters before speaking up. "Coffee and your shirt off will do just fine."

She smirked gently at the request and found herself entertaining a number of lewd thoughts and flirty banter as well as dirty medical jokes in her mind before focusing on the matter at hand. He was annoyed and while she doubted it was with her personally, he probably didn't want her here longer than she had to be and so she needed to do her job. Still, didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the situation at hand and so she'd make the best of the situation as she always did. That in mind, she took her duty jacket off and let her medical bag slide onto the floor, out of sight and out of mind until she needed it, if she even did--it was more for show than use with a simple check-up.

"I'm Lilly, btw--or Doctor Crae," she introduced herself, fluffing her soft locks flirtatiously. "I'm the CMO, I just need you updated in my files. What's your name, Handsome?"

There was a small groan in Taylor's throat as he walked over to the replicator and ordered a coffee with cream and sugar. After all she looked the type. All happy and bubbly which caused Taylor to pinch the bridge of his nose and squeezed gently. "Can't the tricorder scan through the shirt?" he asked with a raised eyebrow before placing the coffee down before he took off his jacket and green shirt, grumbling with each movement.

"That would be Lieutenant Handsome." pointed out Taylor who wasn't using a flirtatious tone. "I'm Taylor Lucas. Callsign Iceman. I'm the squadron leader for the station since all the other senior pilots are dead or promoted. Lucky me." Taylor's upper body was muscled, but not in an obscene sense. Obviously the fitness factor was there and there were the tattoos on each of his biceps.

Lillian smiled despite his uninterested behavior. "It'll scan you just fine, but I want to see that your lungs are expanding correctly. Thanks for the coffee, Lieutenant."

She winked, trying not to look him over too much, motioning for him to sit on the couch and scanning him. Lillian stepped up close and rested her hand on his chest, looking at her tricorder readings as she told him to take a deep breath. This was as good a time as any to initiate small talk, and smiled at him sweetly.

"So, any health issues I should know about?" Lillian asked, cocking her head to one side a moment.

He breathed slowly, making the woman's hands rise and fall on his chest as he looked at her, pondering her question. "Nothing that prevents me from flying." he told Lillian with a faux smile. Taylor hated those questions because it felt like medical officers were trying to figure out his pedigree rather than make a medical record of it all.

"I mean I like a cigar now and again...a good drink but nothing that'll stop me from being on duty."

"Of course not," Lillian assured him, absent-mindedly running her thumb back and forth. "I like a drink or five now and again too. What you do off duty is no one's business but your own--unless you make it their business, Flyboy."

She looked him in the eye. "You do anything other than piloting? Play an instrument? Dance? Spend time with the lady or ladies? A handsome man like you must keep himself pretty busy. Plus I see you work out, but you're a marine--I suppose you have to. Do you enjoy it?" she asked him as she eyed his tattoos.

Taylor stammered at the torrent of questions as he tried to pluck one from the selection and answer them. He felt lost if nothing else as Lillian bombarded him. "I...paint." he said finally. "I paint pictures. Not many ladies now these days since I've been on deployment for so long. And yes I work out. I have to. I hate it...others feel the burn but I feel like I'm on fire." he answered swiftly as he shifted uncomfortably.

"What about you? Does your hobbies include shots of Saurian Brandy?" he asked with a sniff. "Molesting pilots? Asking questions?"

"Painting is impressive--I'd love to see something you've done." Lillian said genuinely before listening to his questions. "Obviously all of the above," Lillian laughed, taking more calculations. "Sorry for assaulting you with questions, I just like knowing my crew but we just met. I should casually introduce myself, make up a reason to run into you later and only then should I ask you about any potential free nights."

She smiled at him and pulled her hand away, putting some information in the PADD she was holding before sheturned back to Taylor. Nothing really got her down easily and she knew she was being just a tad invasive in less than desirable ways so she needed to tone it down. Besides, he'd asked her questions about herself and if Lillian liked anything it was talking.

"You can take brandy in shots?" Lillian asked before laugghing because you could take anything in shots. "I am a big fan of enjoying the moment. Seize the day, carpe diem, go with your gut, and dance it out. I also do love molesting pilots--if they ask nicely." Lillian winked even though she was clearly kidding about the last part. "I don't know...maybe that's a typical Betazoid response."

"Yeah. I spent some time on Betazed during the war. I know the typical responses." he said flatly as he looked longingly at his desk, wishing he could finish off the reports so his day would be his own. Of course right now the Commanding Officer of the station had yet to ask for the reports and he was beginning to wonder if he or she ever would.

Of course Wing would want to see the reports too and they were more active in chasing paperwork. It came with the rank. That was all there was to it. "I uh...haven't got any paintings with me. Had to leave them back on Risa where I've got a small apartment where I live when not on deployment. Kinda far from Risa now. Hoping the station would have a few views I could get on canvas."

"Nothing a girl likes more than being called 'typical'," Lillian said as she put away her tricorder.

She shrugged because while she wasn't used to rejection, she certainly had been rejected before so it seemed that she should just be on her way. Besides, he obviously wanted her gone and she shouldn't be overstaying her welcome with her job now done, so she pulled on her duty jacket and slipped the medical bag over her head to rest the strap on her shoulder before she gave him a little salute. Lillian figured that at this point she still had time to maybe hit on someone responsive, so she'd bother Marlo and get Marlo to have a few drinks with her...it was better than getting rejected by the hot new pilot by a long shot.

"I see you have better things to do than occupy your time with the chick that keeps hitting on you even though you're clearly disinterested," Lillian said giving him a laugh to show good will still between them. "I'll let you work and I hope I never have to see you in Sickbay, though I'm sure that your profession will send you there. Have a good night, Lieutenant Handsome..."

She nodded gently as she backed up toward his door. "You'll find something to paint. This place is always really busy and there's beauty in every corner. Just hang in there and I think you'll enjoy yourself, Lieutenant Handsome."

"It's Luc-" he started before the door close. Really? Lieutenant Handsome? That was going to be his nickname? He couldn't wait to do damage control with the squadron. Lieutenant Handsome indeed.

JP

Lilly Crae

&

Taylor Lucas

||Starbase12
||Sickbay
||July 27, 2387
||1930


Lillian made it back to Sickbay to drop off some things, freezing when she saw Cecily Branton sitting on a bio bed unattended. The two didn't get along regardless of their departments working so close together on so many different things. It was hard when the Chief of Science and the CMO didn't get along, but they were managing and Lillian knew that she had a job to do, so if Cecily needed a check up, Lillian would personally get a nurse to do it.

Cecily knew that Lillian had been appointed to do a house call and she smiled even though it was laced with hate. She was being assisted, the nurse was just taking care of a thing or two while Cecily waited patiently...now Lillian was back and Cecily was feeling less relaxed. Not that she ever was in Sickbay anymore, but that was because she knew this was Lillian's place to call her home away from home.

"How is the patient?" Cecily asked as Lillian slowly stocked some things.

Lillian shrugged nonchalantly. "Alive..."

"Good to hear," Cecily replied with a gentle nod. "Would be a shame if your first month of being CMO was marred with losing a patient."

"And there it is--brought up in record time too," Lillian told the woman bitterly.

Ever since she had been promoted, Lillian had found that the rivalry between her and Cecily had gotten deeper and deeper. Cecily resented not being picked as 2XO given her age and 'proper' command training and while Lillian understood, she honestly couldn't be bothered to care. Cecily was going to have to simply grow up and right now Lillian had to distance herself from the woman and relax...her night was weird enough.

"I'm just being observant," Cecily countered as she shrugged, the nurse coming out.

Lillian scoff/laughed. "What you're being is a pain in my ass."

"How is the MCO?" the nurse asked to try and change the subject, but Lilly was out of Sickbay when Cecily made a comment about how Lillian should know.

For a moment Cecily felt like she had been childish, but she was now done with her check-up and returning to the Science Labs. In fact once she got there, she looked up Taylor's file and smirked a little: very handsome indeed. He seemed just Lillian's type too, and Cecily suddenly wondered if there was more going on than she knew...the 2XO certainly shouldn't be fraternizing with the MCO. A lowly Chief of Science though? She could have at him all she wanted and the added bonus of Lillian potentially being annoyed was well worth it.

"The spores you wanted..." Ensign Harris said gently.

Cecily smiled and looked at him. "Thank you, Ensign. I want them set up in the proper dishes, properly labeled."

"Yes, Ma'am," he responded as he saw her close the files down and move to get gloves. "Off duty planning?"

"Just new crew acquaintance," Cecily shrugged before giving him a look. "Proper eye protectants, Ensign...maybe this is why I was passed over for a promotion."

||Starbase 12
||Promenade
||July 27, 2387
||2022


Lillian wanted more than anything to just spend some time with her best friend, Bakel Marlo. She was in that space where she was in need of letting loose, so on the Promenade she was after leaving a bunch of annoying messages for Marlo to check. Marlo would show, it was just a matter of when and Lillian was certainly buzzed, hitting on the bartender for lack of something better to do because she was conflicted with her feelings right now…very, very conflicted.

“What was this again?” Lillian asked him, holding up the shot glass. “It was very bad.”

The bartender smiled and nodded. “You really think you should have anymore?”

“Probably not, but tonight is a Girl’s Night,” Lillian told him matter-a-factly. “I plan on getting almost drunk and dancing around the dance floor with my best friend, if little Carrots gets here any time soon…”

"Your messages are annoying, and I've been telling you for eight years to stop calling me Carrots. My hair is not that orange." Marlo muttered as she slid into the seat next to Lillian. "Good thing you're not a pilot...I'd worry about you sending someone into a wormhole to the Delta Quadrant."

The bartender was right and Lillian had probably had too much, but with the death of more than one officer in charge, she was pretty sure no one cared right now. everyone needed to blow off some steam after the accident, and MArlo herself even planned to imbibe tonight, though normally she obstained, because if she came to work drunk or hungover, things would go from bad to worse. She didn't plan to have any deaths on her hands, by sending the Starbase crashing into a nearby planet. She looked at the bartender.

"Romulan Ale."

Though illegal in most places, she was dead serious--seeing as how she was now Chief Engineer. Though if they didn't have it she'd settle for something almost as strong.

"I don't thnk you can just wander up and order that," Lillian said with a gentle laugh, looking at the bartender and throwing a smile his way. "Strongest thing you have for Carrots here..."

Even though Marlo had asked her not to, Lillian had called her by the nickname and looked at her friend with a giant smile on her face, shrugging a bit playfully. Marlo would forgive her and right now Lillian was trying to let loose even though she knew she needed to be a bit cut off so she could work well tomorrow...maybe water was in order. If she stayed hydrated and didn't consume anymore alcohol, then she was sure to not have to deal with a hangover. So she took a deep breath and looked at the bartender again as he got Marlo her alcohol, ordering some water and then biting into a pretzel to keep food in her stomach.

"At some point, Marlo, we are going to dominate the dance floor..." Lillian warned with a grin.

Marlo shook her head. There were things in this world she just didn't do...and dancing was one of them--it was so not going to happen. She was already drinking alcohol, what more did Lillian want her to do? She loved her best friend, she really did but sometimes she just wanted to slap her; unless she was too drunk to remember anything, there was not a thing in the galaxy that would force her onto the dance floor. And Bajorans could hold their ale.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening, Lils. I can't dance and I refuse to pretend I can."

Lillian just laughed and nodded before looking at the bartender and saying in his head, 'Give Carrots another one, and keep them coming please...'

Normally Lillian wouldn't resort to such trickery, but she was still feeling rubbed the wrong way with this whole Taylor business and Cecily had made it worse--had made her resort to drinking. She scrunched up her nose and looked at her best friend, taking a breath and then shoving a pretzel in her mouth before she opened her mouth to speak. Lillian had so much to get off of her chest and she wanted to dance it out with the one person that got that about her.

"Truth be told, I was rejected by this really sexy marine pilot today and Cecily made my whole day worse because of it," Lillian admitted, sighing again. "All I wanted was Little Lieutenant Handsome, but no...no, he just brushed me off. I'm still hot right? He was all half naked and beautiful and maybe if I'd been more forward...no, I left every hint. He's either completely clueless or he is clearly gay."

"Maybe he's a gay blind man...I mean our only technology to fix blindness only lets people see heat signatures and in colors." Marlo shrugged, draining her tankard. "Or you've lost your touch."

Her eyes widened when the bartender handed her another one...and then narrowed in suspicion as she turned to her friend; she raised her eyebrows and motioned to the glass in dismay as if to ask 'really?' She could just feel Lillian's anger boiling up because Marlo'd had the nerve to even suggest that a full Betazoid who practically oozed sexuality was loosing her touch. Marlo scrunched up her nose as she watched her glass, like it was some vile thing that was going to jump out and attack her--she didn't really want it right?

"He gave himself a nickname," Lillian continued on, smiling a bit, "and I am going to run with it until it catches on because it's entirely true. Taylor Lucas, though--that's the name on his file and I have read it three times now. Gay, blind man...maybe--there's a chance he's just clueless though! Lillian Crae does not just lose her touch and I am offended you would even suggest that, so suck it up, Carrots! And drink that drink down to make it up to me!"

She was completely serious and yet she wouldn't force the alcohol down her friend's throat if she really didn't want it. They were practically sisters and right now Lillian just wanted to get some things off of her chest even though she didn't know why--she'd met plenty of attractive men in the past, so why this one? The bicep tattoos? How his heartbeat felt through his naked flesh against the palm of her hand? All she knew was that she'd been thinking about him since she had scanned him and she felt off kilter, which had her in a mood.

"Whatever, I am above this," Lillian said finally, waving her hands in surrender. "I have very important jobs to do and if he doesn't want me, he's missing out. Ew, that was vain of me to say...I dunno, I just wanted a chance. Another shot, please, Joe, and then Carrots and I are dancing it out."

Marlo giggled. "All is not lost. Joe will give you a shot."

She couldn't help herself, the joke with the triple meaning had been calling her name, and with one meaning being a poke at her friend, the doctor--even though those kind of shots were a barbaric measure of the past. She eyed her drink again. Why the Hell not? They'd just gotten promoted, and it was celebratory as well as grief riddled. She could hold her liquor, and knew a bunch of tricks to keep from getting a hangover. No one else on the dance floor could dance either right?

It was hard to imagine a Betazoid woman getting upset over a man--normally they used their man shaped tissues with love, and disposed of them if necessary, and if Lillian needed to dance it out, who was Marlo to stop her?

Lillian smiled when Marlo started drinking the drink and smiled. "That's my girl! Tonight is a night of celebrating paving our way in the galaxy and making our departments our own! We're going to show this world that we are not forces to be reckoned with! We are Crae and Bakel! Not Bakel and Crae because I'm vain like that...but we are beautiful and independent and above all else, we are focused on our jobs!"

Even as she said it she could tell that Marlo wasn't buying all of it and it annoyed her honestly, to say the least. She had always been emotional and easily got attached even when she said she wasn't going to, and she didn't want to have anything get in the way of her new responsibilities. Lillian wanted to do her job, excel and have some fun on the side even though Cecily had ruined things for her before with talk of other things. She knew she wasn't the woman that Cecily made her out to be, but if she made people think that, then she needed to make them understand that she took her job very seriously and that besides Marlo, everything else came second to her responsibilities to this station and to her herself.

"I am not upset over a man, I am above it," Lillian told Marlo, waiting for Marlo to finish the drink off before grabbing her hand and dragging her off to the dance floor. "Remember, no one else in the room matters? Just have fun with the rhythm and dance it out..."




JP Between Lillian Crae (because she's vain like that) and Bakel Marlo

||Starbase 12
||Holodeck 1 -> Sickbay
||July 27, 2387
||2030

Gan sat at the bar with a gin and tonic in his hand after a long day in sickbay. He didn't even seem to mind being alone, simply for the fact that there were holograms all around him. Not that his mind thought they were real, but their company was nice enough, even if their responses tended to be on the programmed side. It made sense of course, but all in all he wished that he had someone he could talk to. He thought about going to Lilly with his issues, but he didn't want to place her under more stress than he needed to. He still thought of her as a newbie even if she had been here for some time now. Plus he was her commanding officer in the technical sense even if she was his peer. Running the station was a lot harder job than he ever thought it would be, but he wouldn't give it up for anything in the world even if it meant a few hours in the holodecks every now and then to unwind.

Listening to the jazz as it rolled over him, he felt like everything slowed down for just a moment. It was that feeling that you got sometimes when everything seemed to be going wrong, but you knew exactly what to do. Or worse off, could do absolutely nothing about. Sometimes it happened with patients, even with medical care as advanced as it was, losing someone due to complications still happened. He'd seen it, hell every doctor had after a few years in the business. But there was a moment in the horror of what was happening where you felt like you had complete control and knew what to do. And sometimes that worked out for you and you got to save the patient. It was a beautiful thing, but for the most part, Gan just referred to them as trainwrecks. You couldn't stop the trainwreck from happening, so you might as well sit on your heels after your moment is done and watch the proverbial fireworks. After he finished his gin he smiled and thanked the holographic bartender and ended his session.

He walked out of the holodeck and started to make his way back to sickbay. Even though he probably wouldn't find Lilly there for a person to chat with, and he had handed off his former duties as the CMO to her, sickbay still felt like home. And most people who knew him well enough would know that they could find him there if everything started falling down around their ears. He hated his office, he felt like it was a prison and that every person who came to him felt like they were somehow inmates. Like he would punish them if they said something wrong. He shook his head. He would of course make his way to his office soon to check for anything urgent and see to his station wide duties that he would need to accomplish before he could get to sleep. They never told you that insomnia came with the job, but he should have guessed. His previous captains had never seemed like they slept. He smiled as he walked through the sickbay doors and waved to the familiar faces that were on duty for the night. They were used to him randomly dropping in.

|| Starbase 12
|| Intel Offices > Quarters > Promenade
|| July 27, 2387
|| 2035

"Now then, T'Vor. You fully understand the responsibilities of your new position? I need your full assistance in managing the Intel department, given my new command responsibilities after the…unfortunate loss of so much of our senior staff. Until suitable replacements are found and trained, we will all have to perform extra tasks to keep this station operational." Max lectured and gestured with a raised finger, somewhat necessarily perhaps given his audience.

The Vulcan lieutenant blinked, then nodded lackadaisically. Max had always perceived the man as a bit slow for a Vulcan, but admittedly competent nevertheless. "Yes, sir," the lieutenant responded eventually. "I have fully assimilated your directives as well as the relevant Starfleet regulations pertaining to this type of situation. Rest assured that I will discharge my duties with the greatest possible efficiency."

Max frowned a little. That sounded a little too wordy for a Vulcan. Was it possible that he had turned over departmental control to a Romulan sleeper spy?

But no, now was not the time for such speculation. He needed a break. "All right, good. Please see to the personnel schedules for the next shift, and forward them to me for review so that I can use them as a measure of your competence. Dismissed."

The lieutenant nodded and walked off. Max paused, fumbled with his LCARS, then left the offices quickly. Woodenly he strode all the way to his quarters, using the turbolift as little as possible and acknowledging other officers with only the briefest of nods.

Once in his quarters he tore off his uniform and changed into some unremarkable clothing, bypassing all his expensive suits for the affordable threads that any common worker might wear. So attired, he made his way to the Promenade, to the deepest dive bar he could find.

"Whisky. Double," he whispered hoarsely at the bartender, and kept his head down. When the drink was served, Max waited until the alien had moved off to grasp his drink with a shaking hand.

As he stared at the amber liquid, he reflected on what a bad time of it he had had lately. The disaster…the shock and horror of that loss had passed somewhat, but the implications of it lingered and gnawed at his conscience.

And now the message from Starfleet Command that there would be an official investigation into the whole affair. Of course he should have expected that, what with the loss of so many Starfleet personnel…so many senior officers…but not him.

Clutching his drink like a lifeline, Max desperately tried to keep the myriad images from flashing before his eyes. The mission intel reports he had merely skimmed and signed before sending them to the briefing, the arms loadout recommendations from his staff and the Marine detachment that had been curtailed, the reassignment requests that had been dismissed…

…the pretty Ops lieutenant who he had approached and flirted with after the briefing. How he had been thinking of her when the new intel reports came in, and how he had not paid attention to his staff's concerns because he had been mentally planning a date when she came back from the away mission.

And how she had never come back from the away mission.

Even now, all these memories would not leave him alone, and there was no way he could drink them off his mind for good. Not if he wanted to maintain a solid exterior, something he would need more than ever when the official investigation turned its gaze his way.

So he had time to think. Time to think of a plan. A way to get himself out of this. Except he couldn't think. Not now. It hurt too much to think. To think about the away mission. The losses.

Her…

So he decided if he couldn't think, he might as well drink. The whiskey disappeared in a violent gulp, and soon he was gesturing to the bartender for another.

"So it goes," Max murmured to himself.

|| Starbase 12
|| Brig
|| July 27, 2387
|| 2100

“Eighty one, eighty two, eighty three,” Bridget breathed between each sequential sit up. The top half of her uniform lay in a matted ball on the floor. She lay on the thinly padded bed within the holding cell closest to the door. Steadily humming, the force field provided a certain therapeutic milieu, one which was needed in times such as these.

Acting Chief Security Officer. Acting Chief of Security. In her mind it was still unclear whether or not she could act such a roll. She had never acted in her life. Self-assured as she was about her abilities, her aptitude for leadership had never been lofty. She could plot, plan, fight, and shoot. And she could follow orders. To play the role handed down to her would require so much more.

Had the previous Chief Security Officer and Assistant Chief Security Officer and the other two Security Officers above her—and the list goes on—not been killed, she wouldn’t even have been looked at for the Acting Assistant’s job, let alone her current role. It was bitter, not sweet. Unearned commands never were.

Caught up in doubt, it took Bridget a second longer than usual to recognize the whooshing echo of a sliding door. She swallowed and arched her head to see who might be disturbing her at such an hour. It was a short fellow with perfectly buzzed black hair. Ensign Samuel Parsons. He looked as old as she looked, infantile. Breathlessly, she coughed out an absorbantly absurd number and went back to finishing her short workout.

“Nine hundred ninety eight, nine hundred ninety nine, one thousand!”

“Lieutenant? Lieutenant is that you?” The boy stepped into frame across from her and stood motionless at the shielded entrance to the cell. A perplex look marred his otherwise lineless face.

“Ensign,” she said with a slight nod as she slid herself into an upright position.

“What—what are you doing in there?” His tone was adorable. It hinted at the possibility that she might have committed a crime of some kind and had been confined here as punishment.

“Just a bit of thinking," she assured him. "I like to exercise when I think. Or—hmmm—think when I exercise. Yes, that's how you say it. I think.”

He blinked tentatively. “In the brig, though?”

“The holodeck I fancy was taken at the time, and I quite enjoy the harmonic hum that the force field gives off.”

“That’s… odd.” Such a presumptuous thing to say to one's newly appointed commanding officer. Perhaps he knew something that she did not. After all, she doubted this position would remain unfilled for long. She was only acting.

“Indeed. Did you need something?” She stood and went to retrieve the top portion of her uniform off the floor. Her combadge sat atop the balled-up attire. No one had seemed eager to contact her in the past hour. Maybe things were starting to settle down around the station in the aftermath of the tragedy. Maybe not. For how long things would remain calm, the word protracted didn't come to mind. Station security was rarely a quiet job. Short spells of peace were equally as rare.

“Uh, no, ma’am,” he said, tapping away at the panel on the wall. The energy field collapsed and the hum dissipated from the room. No one else inhabited the cells tonight. So the room crumbled into silence. “Just starting my shift.”

“Is it twenty one hundred already?” Bridget asked, fixing on her top. Where had the time gone?

“Yes…” he drawled, looking anxious. His eyed peeled from hers and fell to the floor.

“What is it?” she asked in a lilting tone, sensing his apprehension and longing to spill.

“I may have been a minute late. It’s actually—”

Bridget laughed and shook her head, cutting him off. “Ah, well, don’t let it happen again,” she said as she strode out of the tiny holding cell and walked into the main portion of the brig. “I’ve scheduled Olsen to relieve you at 0400. Enjoy your night.” She started for the exit, but paused just as the door slid open. It sensed her presence and remained vacant. “Replicator credits are on me tonight, just don’t stain the floor. My old CO, on the Prometheus, never liked it when we stained the floor during night shift. Unless it was blood shed in battle with a prisoner.”

“Ma’am?”

“He was Andorian, a peculiar one at that. Anyways, good luck and don’t mention this to anyone.”

A faint smile touched his porcelain face and, in a good-humored way, he asked, “Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

“Of course,” she said, returning the smile. "Good night."

While she may have been off duty until the morning, she would be on call for the foreseeable future. Her combadge would travel with her to the bathroom, to the holodeck, to the bar, to the shops, to her nightstand by her bed. She would be on call until they appointed her replacement. How any Chief Security Officer could live with such a burden was baffling to her.

She had another good hour in her before she'd have to call it a night. She probably reeked, though. She couldn't tell. The thought alone forced her hand. To her quarters it was. A shower and maybe a short audio novel. It wasn't as if she had a plethora of friends to go drink with. No one she worked with seemed to thrilled to be taking orders from a child-woman, a peer. They longed for a real leader and she knew it.

||Starbase 12
||Gym
||July 29, 2387
||2234


Lillian thought that there was nothing quite like a late night work-out to relax yourself...plus she got to wear as little as possible and Betazoids enjoyed the small things like that. So, after pulling up her hair into a ponytail out of her face, she pulled on short shorts and a very nice sports bra and then pulled a zip-up sweatshirt to cover up on the way to the gym in the lift. Lillian smiled when she entered the pretty dead gym, heading over to a punching bag and wrapping up her hands after stripping the jacket off, glad the place was mostly deserted at the moment, but it was bound to pick up in the late hours and then die out and then boom.

She stretched a little bit and then made sure her laces were tight on her shoes before she started right in on the punching bag without much ceremony. It wasn't as much fun as a good spar, because she enjoyed having to react to other's actions, still she really wanted to get a work out in and a punching bag was nice because she could keep her heart rate up and still feel like something was getting done. Besides, it wasn't like someone was just going to waltz right into the place and 'save her from herself'...and the very few people in the place didn't mind watching the barely clad Betazoid go at the punching bag with more expertise than they thought she would have at this particular work out.

Taylor was already in the gym but in his usual corner doing press-ups, letting his arms carry the weight of his body as he rose and fell above the sweat-stained mat. Unlike the new-comer to the gym he was dressed more...conservatively. He watched the woman slam her fists into the punching bag with mild interest before he stood up. Taylor brushed his hands together as he walked towards her with a look of curiosity. "You've got good form, I guess. For a medical officer. Little bit off balance." he explained as he looked at the punching bag before letting his eyes settle on Lillian's face.

"Course, boxing is one of many art forms in hand-to-hand combat. Personally I prefer Krav Maga. Less sexually close throws and more broken kneecaps." he said cheerfully. "Course it's not as fancy as anything Betazoid might have."

"Where's the fun of less sexual closeness?" Lillian teased before straightening up. "For a medical officer, huh? It's important to stay mentally and physically fit, so I pride myself on physical exertion." She smiled a little as she took a breath, making eye contact with the young man and then smirking a moment. "Feeling the burn over there?"

Mostly she was trying to be playful, but on top of that she wanted Taylor to know that she had actually listened to everything that he had told her in their first meeting. She hadn't just been asking questions to make small talk, she had honestly wanted to know more about him and he had mentioned not liking working out but it was a necessary evil. Lillian enjoyed herself more often than not but she had to admit that even she did it simply to keep herself healthy and not because she liked taking time out of her day to sweat all over the place...at least not this way.

"If you have any boxing pointes, I'd be happy to listen," she offered as she rested her hands on her hips.

"To the point it's almost third degree." joked the marine pilot who observed the punching bag with great interest before returning his eyes to the woman's face. "Course it's one of these things that have to be done. Being in a cockpit with the grav turned off to allow for more power for useful systems does run the risk of muscle atrophy. Then again we're in there for hours and we come back into a gravity-filled environment. Maybe marine training left its mark after all."

He sniffed gently as he thought about for advice on boxing. It wasn't so much his favourite sport but it was a great way to blow off steam. Grudges could spill into feuds which in turn would strain unit cohesion and morale. What better way than to settle it in the ring? "Nothing you probably don't know. Feet need to move a lot, press the attack, controlled aggression. Bluff moves, dodge, counter and then repeat. It's not the hardest art to master. Speed and control."

Smiling, Lillian nodded and then she took a step closer to him. "I prefer sparring with a person rather than just a punching bag, myself. Ocassionally there is the pulled ligament or jab to the eye, but more often than not, it's a nice, friendly, sweaty game between friends."

She had come down here to get a work out and get a work out she would whether it was boxing a punching bag or sparring a marine. Physically he could best her even as agile as she was, but there was nothing wrong in her mind with him ending up on top of her. Plus if either of them pulled something, the situation could be turned in her favor.

"What do you say, Lieutenant Handsome?" Lillian asked him with a smile. "Loser buys winner a drink."

"I've already got a nickname and it's Iceman." said Taylor reproachfully as he wrapped his hands up, looking at her with a mildly annoyed expression. "And a crafty way to get a drink with me but well...I could always use a free drink." added the marine who gave a smirk before he donned his gloves over his wrapped hands to protect both his knuckles and Lillian's face.

Taylor raised his hands defensively, dancing on the spot as he grinned, his mouth guard already in place before he started to do his little movements. He was cocky, ready to win. A doctor against a marine? Wasn't exactly the fairest line up of the century.

"You gave yourself the nickname," Lillian reminded him playfully. "Besides, either way I get to have a drink with you--I've already won."

It was true as now win or lose she got to spend extra time with Taylor, but that didn't mean she didn't want to win. Of course he was bigger than her and obviously stronger, but there was always a chance and so Lillian sized him up a moment before she jabbed near his stomach. Staying away from his eyes seemed polite, but if anything went then she never knew what would happen. What mattered right now was getting shots in and keeping her balance and she was focused on getting a work out at the moment...the drink would wait.

"I mean clearly you noticed I was interested before, right?" she asked as she made a move for his side, keeping herself alert to block any jab to the face from him.

He shook his head at the question as he gave testing jabs and hooks to keep her off-balance. To win you had to control the pace of the fight and keep your opponent on the defensive. He managed to bounce away from her first strike and she was focused on his form rather than her eyes. Which was something of a big mistake. At least his latinum count wasn't going to be dropping.

"Actually I thought you were doing that typical medical thing, getting into the patient's head?" he offered with another jab. "It made sense to me at the time. New face, new mind to probe to see if he's going to end up in a biobed or not. If that was your attempt at flirting....you really, really need to refine that. A nice dress, a bottle and a couple of glasses would have gone better than medical blues, tricorder and a lot of questions. Still I would have questioned it..."

"You are the second person to suggest I've lost my touch," Lillian said as she tried to keep herself grounded. "Perhaps I should have just flat out asked you out, but I prefer dirty jokes and the man to think 'hey, she is coming onto me'. I dunno, maybe I haven't really regained myself since the accident..."

She was distracting herself and that was bad, so instead she chose now to keep her mouth shut and jab near his face to keep him focused on something else. Lillian didn't want to give him a sob story or make him feel sorry for her, so it was time to spar. Besides, it was kind of fun and now he understood her intentions...wait, what had he said?

"So a short skirt and a direct invite for a date would have what? You would have thought I had the wrong guy?" Lillian asked him.

"Would have got you a flat refusal and loss on a good bottle of booze." he teased, smirking before making a one-two-one punching combo for her face and stomach to keep her off-guard. "Sorry but I'm not a simple guy. I'm...careful. Besides women make me fly funny."

"Understandable," she said with a nod, making a mental note to just watch him from afar. "For the record though, simple is boring."

She was quick enough to block her face, but the blow to her stomach knocked her off balance and a loud 'oof' sounded. It actually made her feel better that it was a challenege with another person and she smiled and nodded at him. This was turning out to be a pretty good night regardless of Taylor so politely turning her down for anything other than friendship and she was pretty sure she would be able to work just fine with this young man despite her very obvious attraction to him.

"Very nice shot and for future reference, I won't try to ask you out again," she told him smiling and jabbing twice at his sides. "I'd love to be your friend at least though..."

Lillian took that moment to go for his jaw and his hip, hoping to at least make him caught off guard by realizing she wasn't backing down, but it wasn't about 'winning' for her right now. Should he win, she was going to get to buy Taylor a drink and should she win, he'd buy her one and she'd just find a way to move forward and keep going as she was going. Besides, maybe Taylor could help her to move forward from everything she was trying so desperately to be more than okay with, and they'd both have gotten this work out in, which was always a plus in Lillian's book.

"Friends? Aye, I suppose I could be friends with a doctor." he replied as he bounced from foot to foot, sweat causing his forehead to glisten. He didn't feel bad for the hits. Why should he? After all she made the challenge and Taylor was eager to accept it. Despite being cool headed the man had an ego that loved to be stroked. Personally, rather than professionally. After all when it came to the job at hand he always remained focused.

He struck again, this time going for a right hook to the face. Taylor put a lot of force behind it, as if it was a real fight. That was the key; don't think of it as a sparring match. Think of it as life and death. "After all," he snarled out, following up with a left jab, "all doctors want to do is be friends!"

It was no longer just a nice friendly sporting event...instead it was Taylor's fist in Lillian's face and she certainly hadn't been expecting it, but medical personnel riled Taylor up. He was no longer the man that she had thought he was upon glance, and instead was the man whose fist had wound up forcefully pressing against her nose. It was nothing that Lillian couldn't fix, but she stumbled backwards when the blood started to gush out of her nose and her hands flew up to cradle it as the crunch had alerted her before the pain had.

"Apparently none of the ones you've met have," Lillian let out as she stood up straight and took a step back from him.

She had more in her, but she felt like right now all she was doing was making Taylor angry and uncomfortable and that had never been her intention. So the questions her was whether or not she should just concede and owe him a drink and try to be friendly later when Taylor was more receptive, or keep going and risk more injury to herself than just her nose, which would need medical attention. It was tender and she made a face as she looked at the crimson stain on her fingertips, and she smiled gently, nodding her head.

"I concede," Lillian said gently, with a laugh. "Should have known a doctor was no match for a marine. Do you have a handkerchief or something?"

"No," huffed Taylor as his shoulders rose and fell with each panted breath, taking his gloves and hand-wraps off before inspecting the woman's nose. "It doesn't look broken. Something cold will help I guess," he explained before turning his back to store his gloves away. "So, I suppose I won that drink. Not sure when I'll be able to take you up on it...having to fly patrols and all that."

For a moment Lillian's breath caught in her throat as Taylor inspected her nose, but she had a feeling that this was just another spar to him, so she moved her blushing face away from him and went to grab her sweatshirt, pulling it on and shrugging a little bit. She could fix herself up in Sickbay before calling it a night, deciding to just let this go because after all she was a doctor and could take care of herself and she had chosen to concede. Still, it made her wonder a moment what was going on inside of his head and she knew she shouldn't just read his mind even though she could...Marlo always told her that doing that was rude.

"I have a lot of work to do myself," Lillian began with a nod. "Being second officer and CMO isn't a walk in the park," she explained before chewing on her lip a moment. "So...why do people in medical blue rub you the wrong way?"

The question was answered with a silent shrug as he pondered how to best reply. Was it a straight forward answer or something more complicated? "Wouldn't know anything about being a second officer." he offered with a weak smile as he tilted his head towards the woman. "Look. It's just I don't like sickbays, hyposprays, medical tricorders and yes...I don't like doctors. Personally or professionally. If you want to go scanning me when I'm knocked out then go right ahead or if it's going to keep me flying, that's fine with me. Just don't expect me to come running when I hurt myself. I'll get this drink for the drink, not the company that comes with it."

"Fair enough," Lillian nodded as she gathered up her things.

On the one hand she was offended and wanted to take the offer back because he was certainly showiing her a side of him she almost hated, but she had offered and had lost--there was no honorable way to back out now. On the other hand, Lillian felt like maybe he'd had a bad experience and was just taking it out on her because that was how he dealt with things and maybe she should just up and give him the benefit of the doubt. Either way, she currently felt like he was being an ass and wanted to be away from him...he obviously didn't want to be in her company either, smiles or not.

"I'm always around to help if you need it, but don't feel obligated," Lillian told him, no more smiles left as pink tinted her cheeks and pain crept into her voice. "I was just trying to be sporting and perhaps get to know you--we will be working together--but I crossed a line. I shouldn't have hit on you and you don't want to be friends so I'll get you the drink purely because you won it fair and square, but then we can ignore each other. After all, one doctor is just like the rest, right? Thanks for the spar, Iceman...goodnight."

Nodding, Lillian chewed on her lip and headed for Sickbay, touching her tender nose as she went. She had touched a nerve with him and she knew it, but he was taking something out on her she didn't deserve and attraction or not, she wasn't about to let him treat her like she was an inconvenience and he'd said it himself: he wanted the drink, he didn't want to be around her. Now what mattered was treating her injury and maybe she'd just buy him something and drop it off because that was what he wanted...then he'd be spared of her company.

"Duty before play, Lilly," she whispered to herself. "Let's be a bit more professional..."


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