Dinner Dissertations

Posted on Wed Nov 9th, 2011 @ 12:15pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Lieutenant JG Elizabeth Marion & Lieutenant Jasad Broca

Mission: These are the voyages...
Location: Main Lounge, USS Arizona
Timeline: Pre-Launch

Rear Admiral Nathan Cowell sat at a small table off to the side of the lounge. It was a spacious compartment by even the most liberal standards, which only added to the overall feel of luxury the new Arizona possessed. The addition of actual wait staff and the rather expansive kitchen that was connected to the compartment gave it a feel comparable to a restaurant or some equally luxurious extravagance they hadn't been privy to on the Prometheus-class ship that had been their home. As much as it would be something for the crew to get used to, Nathan had a hunch it wouldn't take long to do so and they wouldn't be too eager to leave once they did. If nothing else, it guaranteed that he would have a good deal of familiar faces running around for a long time coming, and that wasn't half bad.

As Nathan reflected on familiarity, Lieutenant Elizabeth Marion strolled into the lounge and gave the room a quick look before she found her destined table and made herself comfortable. Unlike most dinner dates they had enjoyed over the years, her initial attitude seemed far too business-like and it begged the inquiry, "What's eating you?"

Liz grinned a bit at the usual perceptiveness of her adoptive father. He was unnervingly good at seeing through any and all changes in her mood; good, bad, or otherwise. "Something I overheard at the staff meeting Lieutenant Broca held today..."

Nathan instantly nodded, "Yeah, I had a feeling. Saw a few transfers on the roster that denoted they were a little on the unforgiving side. Whether it was parents or siblings or themselves; there's a couple of people in your department that resent the Cardassians for what happened. Nothing I can do about stupidity, haven't found the cure yet... But how'd the old boy handle it?"

"Well, if I were to gauge it by your standards of confrontation... I think you would have been proud of him. He didn't shy away from it and he certainly didn't bow to the girl's ignorance," Liz answered.

"Then what's with the look?" Nathan scrutinized.

"I think it was the boldness of the comments that bothered me the most. It was almost like she didn't even register he was a Lieutenant..." Liz sighed as her eyes wondered to a particular table for a brief second.

Had the Admiral not been looking at her at the time, he might have missed the gesture and most likely not have put the two things together. He followed his daughter's gaze to a table on the other side of the room where several females sat together chatting. The only woman at the table wearing the mustard yellow of the technical professions seemed the most logical object of her scrutiny. Nathan frowned as he noticed the single gold rank insignia on her collar, which seemed to support Elizabeth's utterance about her ignoring rank.

The cogs of the old man's mind were already turning before the form of Lieutenant Broca entered the compartment. The second he did, Nathan made a decision and acted on it. Had Liz not been so preoccupied with her worrisome thoughts about the recent meeting she would most likely have noticed the evil glint forming in her adoptive father's eyes. As it was, he was able to depart the table, garnering the attention of Broca as well as the rest of the room, and bring about his plan without impediments.

"Hey Ensign," Nathan called out, directing the full brunt of his 600 year old piercing glare at the girl who Liz had unintentionally singled out, "I need to ask you something."

The girl sat up as the Admiral approached, "Yes sir?"

"I heard you got some kind of problem... something akin to who you're workin' for. Any truth to that?" Nathan asked.

By now, Elizabeth was hot on Nathan's heels, "Dad... don't you do it..."

The Admiral ignored his daughter as he continued to stare the girl down, "Well? You got a tongue in your head or what?"

The girl looked to both sides of her for support from her friends and found them to be trying their hardest to avoid both the Admiral's gaze and her own. The Ensign gave the question all due consideration before she flat out lied, "No sir, not at all."

Her body language alone told the elderly doctor that she was lying, and the decades of command experience gave him no small insight as to how and why she could so easily lie to him. She was covering her own ass, and while at times it was necessary and even prudent to do so, this was far from one of those times and Nathan was far from in the mood to have to deal with some rotten little brat with an issue. Before Lt. Marion could make it to his side, Nathan reached back and landed a slap across the girl's face that sent her sprawling on the deck and the rest of the room into a fit of gasps and shock.

"Don't you lie to me, girl. You're about a hundred years too young to be any good at it. Now here's how I see us resolving your issue. You can either spend the rest of your brief career in my brig for being an insubordinate little tramp with integrity issues until I can process your dishonorable discharge from Starfleet... or you can get the fuck over whatever bitch you have with people that aren't wearing my uniform, serving my ship, and doing a damn good job of doing it. What's it going to be?" the El-Aurian growled.

Ens. Harkness couldn't believe what was happening, and she certainly wasn't about to question the seriousness of what he was saying. The fact that the Admiral had come to her personally to, for whatever reason, slap the taste out of her mouth was enough to put even her sharp tongue to task. The girl spent the next few seconds carefully constructing a reply when she noticed Lt. Broca watching the scene playing out with a look of bewilderment.

Harkness lost her composure the instant she saw him, "You dirty rat! You told him what I said! You back stabbing..."

She never got the last bit out of her mouth as the Admiral's backhand came crashing against her jaw. The impact knocked her to the side, so hard was the impact that the girl somehow managed to bite down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste of blood combined with her own nervousness and fear combined to make the Ensign overwhelmingly nauseated.

"Did I say he told me? No, I didn't... I heard it through the grape vine, and you just sold yourself out with that little outburst. The way I see it, you've got about five more seconds of my precious time before I monkey stomp a mud hole in your ass and leave you for dead for disrespecting one of my officers. And I'm being very generous when I say that, because what I ought to do is shove your skinny ass in a torpedo tube and launch you smack in the center of the damn sun. Now are you going to get over your little crusade to piss me the fuck off or do I need to get a torpedo tube ready?" Nathan inquired bluntly.

Harkness glanced around to find not a single eye turned sympathetically toward her. Even Lieutenant Marion had suddenly given up defending her. Thoughts raced in her mind; why were they protecting a Cardassian? Was he so much better than she was that he rated the Admiral coming to his defense? What could he have possibly done that warranted such behavior.

"Time's up," the old man declared as he moved forward to pry her forcefully from the deck she'd fallen against.

"Wait! Please..." the Ensign began to sob uncontrollably, "I'm sorry! I... I didn't mean to! I just got upset... after my father died, all I ever heard from my family was how evil the spoonheads were... how I should hate them all..."

"Ain't no spoonheads on my boat. All I got working for me are Starfleet's best and brightest. You want to be racist, you get the fuck up off my boat yesterday. You want to be on the Arizona, then you better damn well come to the realization quick, fast, and in a hurry like that every man and woman that served on the first boat to bear the name served me better than any crew I've had since the Korean War back on Earth. You can't buy loyalty like my crew showed, and you better bet your scrawny ass I won't let a little girl with a daddy issue cheapen it. Now pick your sorry ass off my deck and get the fuck out of my sight. If you don't think you can hang with the best, you better not even report for duty tomorrow. Now go on... git!" Nathan bellowed, prompting both Harkness and her two friends to scramble out of the lounge.

The Admiral turned around and in his best acting voice possible declared, "Broca! Didn't even see you there, boy. Need to speak up when you're standing there behind me. Ain't got eyes in the back of my damn head. Now bring your ass over to the table and let's get some grub. By the way, how was your first day back? Everything running smoothly?"

For several seconds, Jasad just stared at the display before him. It was not unlike watching two un-powered starships collide. Pushed on solely by residual kinetic energy. By momentum. There was no opportunity to change course. No way to change speed. In the vast emptiness of space, it should scarcely be possible for two objects to collide. And yet, when it happened, what could you do but watch in fascination and horror?

And who were the objects in space today? Which hulks were careening inexorably towards one another, powerless to alter their course? Was it the Rear Admiral and the Ensign? Or was it the Rear Admiral and himself? And what force had set them in motion? How long ago? When had this fascinating horror been placed on its course? More importantly... how would it end?

How did any collision end?

He cleared his throat and approached as the Ensign completed her hasty departure. "Admiral," he said with a nod. Then, to Marion, "Lieutenant." He sat, and wondered at the year that had shaped them. A year that wouldn't happen for many years to come. A year that might never come to be, but one which would always be a part of them. "Sir... I appreciate your... intentions." He glanced at the doorway. "But I'm not sure that was entirely a good idea."

How did someone tell a surrogate father that they'd made a misstep? It was rather like chastising a God, wasn't it?

"Maybe not the way things normally run in this era, but back in my day, we didn't pander to stupid people. Ignorance wasn't rewarded and we did our best to stamp it out as fast as possible. That kid, she'll do one of two things... she'll either get her shit together and act right from now on or she's tuck her tail between her legs and run for the hills. Either way I look at it, we're not going to lose anything. The method might not be what people like, but I've put up with about as much racism and bigotry on my boat as I'm going to. Ain't a damn one of you people that came back from the 27th alive that needs to explain shit to anyone, least of all to raw ass cadets. I'm getting too damn old to let that shit slide anymore..." Nathan said as he made his way back to the table he'd been sitting at.

"I hate to sound like I'm out of the loop... but when did you two get promoted?" Liz asked as they settled into the booth.

"Him, this morning when I threw it at him. I got screwed this afternoon..." the old man grumbled.

Jasad allowed a hint of a smirk to touch his features. Apparently, the Admiralty had chosen a unique punishment for Cowell. Perhaps they thought he'd behave better if they kept him closer to the heavy brass. If that was their theory, then they were apparently in for a disappointment.

Turning more serious, he said, "There's a third option for that girl. She could file a complaint. I must admit that all of your comments about Earth wars made me curious on the subject. It seems that even back in your heyday, slapping a soldier was considered a punishable offense. Even when done by a general." Jasad tried to remember the name of the man he'd read about. "Pot-ton, I think. Forced to apologize to his men, moved to inconsequential duties, and only retaining command at all because it was a time of war, and generals were needed."

Had General Pot-ton been a Cardassian, he'd have been celebrated for his actions. Such was the difference between cultures. But there was something else. "Even if she does not file a complaint, there is another matter. She will certainly be cowed and behave more respectfully towards you, Com-" He corrected himself, "Admiral. But any chance for me to win her genuine respect has just been diminished. Fear of you is the chain that will bind her behavior, not any essential change to her value system. I agree with you that none of us should have to prove ourselves in order to gain basic respect, Sir. But we do. Over and over." 'Some of us more than others,' he thought, but didn't say aloud.

"As I said, I appreciate the intent of the gesture," he repeated, "She may even have deserved a proverbial spanking, but I'm not sure 'deserving' has anything to do with things on a practical level." And now, he thought, he had probably well-overstepped his bounds. Who was he to tell Cowell anything about leadership and respect? That man had been leading troops since before Cardassia had become a military power. That man had brought the Arizona crew back through the horrors of a post-apocalyptic future. There really wasn't anyone who had the right to tell him what was what. As Jasad ruminated on that fact, he began to regret speaking up.

"Not to sound insensitive, son, but I didn't do it for you. Just like old George Patton, I care about all my troops. That includes caring enough to beat the stupid out of them. I'm going to tell you right now that your option three isn't going to happen. She's too scared and her little cohorts won't let her live down the fact that her little bickering feud with people that ain't even here caused her to get the snot bashed out of her skull," the old man said as he leaned fully against the back rest, "I'm not in the habit of telling people why I do things, and I haven't apologized yet for any choices I've made. Some of them got people killed, others have saved people's lives. But one thing I know for damn sure, a thousand apologies won't make up for one regret. I'm getting too old to regret, and you'll get there too someday soon. Figured with the time I have left, I'm going to go full speed ahead, do what needs doing, and damn the torpedoes while I'm at it. You only live once, Broca... something I've lost track of several times in my long life. It will end for me too, and I'd rather not be leaving this great adventure with too many memories of what I should have done and didn't. Food for thought... now let's get us some damn food for our stomachs, I am damn hungry."

"Slapping Ensigns take that much out of you, old man?" Lt. Marion asked with a smirk.

"Damn right, it's a hard day combating stupid," Nathan chuckled.

"Well," Jasad said, "I don't know about any of you, but I'm having hot Apple cider and Blackened Salmon. It was the last thing I ate before the old Arizona's replicators broke down, and I've been craving it ever since." The Salvation had a lot of sophisticated innovations, but good replicator recipes were not among them. He placed his order and relaxed into his chair. It felt like old times again... Minus the ever-present danger, of course.

Glancing at Marion as the meal commenced, he decided that if Harkness didn't come back, then Marion should get the spot. He'd half-expected her to be assigned to a new ship as Chief of Ops, but apparently she'd also decided to stay with the old man. He smiled at her and let the tension of the day ebb away. A year ago, he'd have thrilled at an invite to the 'Captain's Table' on the auspices of furthering his career. Now, he merely enjoyed the company.