Shave and a haircut.... two slips

Posted on Mon Dec 24th, 2012 @ 4:03pm by Lieutenant Sngarlassanarn
Edited on on Mon Dec 24th, 2012 @ 4:50pm

Mission: Funzone
Location: Various - Starbase 11 and USS Arizona
Timeline: Day prior to mission start

A glance at the screen at the end f the gangplank to the Havers told Snarl his new assignment was waiting at docking port 3A.

It also told him it was 0930, and Snarl didn't have to report in until 1400. Good, he had time for a haircut. He had decided he'd needed one last night while grooming himself. Unfortunately, getting his mane cut would undo the grooming he had done.

The doctor was used to being confused for a female. Not many felinoids had served with the Marines, for that reason. Their grooming standards were... off-putting.

But, since he had spent so long with the Marines, he had gotten used to being maneless. Now he felt like a mane would just get in the way.

[20 minutes later]

An old-fashioned human-style barber shop. These were rare. There were a few humanoids of varying species inside. One of them, a human admiral was enjoying an straight-razor shave. The L'Dira drew a few odd looks as he sat down in the waiting area. He set his caryall down next to the chair, and slid the rolled-up banner into it. An old-fashioned newspaper sat on the table in front of him. Snarl picked it up It was a week old San Francisco Chronicle. The headline was ominous: "Hobus shockwave rips through Romulan Empire. Federation Council in emergency session."

It was old news. The Havers was a medical ship, and would probably be in the first wave of relief vessels into the Empire, assuming the Council approved a relief package. Damned politicians, slowing things down...

"Uh... can I help you, Lieutenant?"

Snarl looked over the top of the paper, at the Tellarite barber, who had finished the Admiral's shave.

"Uh, yes... I need a trim." Snarl replied as he set the paper down, and stood, picking up his carryall.

"I've... never cut a Caitian's fur... hair.... before."

"L'Diran." Snarl corrected.

"Sir?"

"I'm not a Caitian, I'm L'Diran. Caitians have shorter snouts, and high-pitched mewly voices, that will give you a headache. Oh, and they smell horrible." There was no love lost between the two species. They had gone to war several times, before both species joined the Federation. The Caitians called the L'Diran's impulsive, impatient, and agressive. The L'Dirans thought the Caitians were cowards, because of their preference for art, and beauty, instead of honor.

"My apologies, sir. I've never cut an L'Diran's hair before either. What'll it be? I can style..."

"High and tight," Snarl cut off the barber. He didn't have the patience to wait while the man listed styles. Heaven help him if he broke out one of those damned picture books.

"But it's a shame to cut such love..."

"I said... high and tight. If you won't do it, I can take my business elsewhere. I sure there's another barber..."

"No need sir. Please, have a seat."

Snarl wasn't one to make small talk, and he managed to avoid the barber's attempts to start it. After about twenty minutes of silence, the clippers were turned off, and a blow dryer blew the shorn fur off Snarl's neck and shoulders. "That'll be two slips, sir?"

Snarl debated arguing the price a little bit, but figured it wouldn't be worth it. He handed over two slips of latinum out of his carryall and walked out the door, without a word, and not leaving a tip. He could hear the barber huff as he left. Fortunately, for both their sakes, the Tellarite didn't actually say anything about the lack of a tip.

[Twenty minutes later, gangplank 3A]

Snarl crossed the gangplank, snapped to, and saluted the Ensign manning the OOD's console. "Lieutenant Snglassanarn, requesting permission to come aboard."

The ensign returned the salute. and taped a few buttons on his console, probably pulling up the manifest. "I need your ID and orders, sir."

Snarl reached into his carryall and pulled out a PADD with his orders on it, and his ID chip. "Here you are.."

The ensign slid the chip into a reader on his console, and read the information. "Thank you Lieutenant." He handed the chip and orders back. "Permission granted to come aboard. Your cabin assignment is now loaded onto the PADD with your orders. Operations has already moved your personal items in there. Reporting in might be a little bit tricky. The Captain is in the brig, and the XO is MIA. Admiral Cowell is the most senior officer aboard, but he is not in command. I would start with Three of Seven, he's the most senior officer. He'll tell you where to go. Oh, and welcome aboard."

Snarl frowned a little bit. Captain in the brig? No XO? A Borg designator for an officer? Well, this was going to be an... interesting assignment.

"Thank you Ensign. Where might I find Three of Seven?"

The Ensign tapped another button. "Engineering."

"Thank you." Snarl headed for the turbolift, bound for Engineering. He'd settle in later. For now, he wanted to find out what was going on.