Tempting Fates

Posted on Wed May 11th, 2011 @ 3:17pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Lieutenant Colonel Anastasia DeVries

Mission: Shore Leave 2; Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Commodore's Ready Room, Bridge, USS Arizona

Commodore Nathan Cowell had, in the time since the ship began to return to what could be considered a normal state, begun the process of moving the crew about to suit and fit the needs of the ship as he saw fit to do so. The first major piece of business on the table was that of the Second Officer, and her immediate future on the ship. With the sudden loss of their First Officer Nathan had, with a little reassurance from Commodore Pike, decided that Anastasia DeVries was the right person for the job, at least for the time being. He also knew that she had done a great deal to keep the Secondary Hull safe, at least as much as anyone could have under the circumstances, and her diligence required something in the way of thanks.

The old man had toyed with the idea of commendations, but those required approval from higher up, and Nathan was impatient. He could have done a great deal of other things for her, but all of them took time. The one thing he could do right then and there, and on his own authority, was more than likely the one thing she would likely think of as a punishment rather than what it truly was... but Nathan didn't rightly care. It would have to do for now...

"Major DeVries," Nathan said after tapping his combadge, "Report to my Ready Room."

So fresh and so clean from her turn with the sonic shower, Stace soon arrived at the old man's office. Entering between the doors and taking her now all too familiar seat she eyed the Commodore with a bit of mixed regard. No doubt he was still troubled from the death of his Executive Officer let alone the countless others. She wondered if that might be the case and reason in to which she was beckoned. "If this is about the Commander, I assure you there was nothing that could have been done."

"I know," Nathan said flatly and changed the subject, "This is about you. I've pieced together what happened, more to the point, what you did to keep things from happening that might otherwise have cost the lives of every hand on that section of my ship. Your injuries not withstanding, you performed some pretty hefty miracles."

Nathan reached over and grabbed one of two small boxes he had sitting next to him and slid it over to her, "I'm promoting you, Colonel. And before you object or rant and rave about how you don't need it, want it, or any of that shit... It isn't negotiable. Besides, gold really isn't your color."

"I detest gold myself but still..." she retorted just as flat. "I don't want your pips. Hell, your ship doesn't want my pips. Do you know what happens to vessels when I'm on board with those? They blow up. And not like what just happened. I mean literally blow up."

"Yes, I've seen the reports. However, if we're going to blow up, it will happen whether you're an Acting Cadet or a four star General. We tempt fate every time we pull out of port, and I'm not about to just play it safe because you have some kind of imagined curse. Get over it and get used to it," Nathan groused, "Oh, and get used to filling in for Mister Roberts until we get his replacement in. I'm sure that won't be a stretch of your talents in any way."

Stace raised an eyebrow and used her one good eye to issue a well warranted care bear stare. "Fate's will and mine are one and the same. Often times it works in my favor... but not so much for anyone else. You wish to ignore my warnings that's fine... but I would suggest you refrain from belittling my imagined curse or telling me to get over it. As for filling in... I suppose it's the least I could do. This ship certainly could benefit from that."

Nathan chuckled, "At least your temper is intact. Good deal, you'll need all that fire to get this group of droopy headed sad bags motivated and back to right. I'm counting on you, Colonel."

"Very well," she sighed as she rose back to her feet. "I'm still not happy with this, I hope you know."

"It's a calculated risk," Nathan shrugged, "And maybe it will pay out in spades in the long run."

Stace shrugged. "Or clubs. Heavy clubs that bash our skulls flat."

"Time will tell..."