Executive Officer Commander Raqiin sh'Hruvek
Apr 5, 2018 0:41:39 GMT
Nola, CO_Capt_Savage, and 3 more like this
Post by Shawna on Apr 5, 2018 0:41:39 GMT
Stardate 11804.05
Even being back on home turf doesn't ease Raqiin's tensions. There's too much yet to do. Dock and start on repairs and resupplying--particularly medical supplies. There's making sure their guest of honor doesn't go wandering off and phasing into nothingness, that she will keep her word so long as they keep theirs. There's checking in with Starfleet Command, to inform them of the situation: what they discovered in more detail, the Hirogen refugees, the Bradfield, Zo and her call for asylum, the pending trial for the murder of an officer... And then the other way around, catching up on the news after months (months, by Uzaveh's Throne, it feels like they've been gone for ages), a backlog bound to make her head spin.
It's all the not fun things about being Acting Captain, since Sara isn't technically reinstated yet. There are logs. So many logs. She doesn't even know where to start with the possibility of a trial hanging over all of them when it seems like there's activity picking up against the True Federation. And then there's everything personal. She has to contact her parents. They'll all be worried sick, there's the news that the Chiron had gone missing, that was months and months ago, but she has to put it on the backburner because everything else has to come first, and--
And she's pretty sure if she keeps staring at this PADD her eyes are going to fall out of her head, and she shoves it across her desk against the pile of other PADDs of data and information and words and words and words and words. It's one thing when it's science, number crunching, something new and interesting. Another when it's all the details and paperwork so to speak that comes with being in charge. She's barely even left the ship in the two days since they've been docked, but at least her legs aren't aching at all the high warp travel anymore.
The door chime beckons, and she has to take a breath, deep, and calm, or try to exude calm and not 'chuck a PADD at the door' frustration. "Come."
She barely looks up from massaging her temples, but the wave of affection that washes over her can only truly be from one person. When Oleg sets down a mug of hot cocoa, she can already feel some of her anxiety ebbing away. Not all the way away, by any means, and the tension in her stalks would give that away, but somewhat.
"I thought you could use a pick-me-up."
"You have no idea."
They've become less awkward over their time around each other. Raqiin's always danced around his affections but never straight up turned him down, and he's remained patient. Loyal, perhaps to a fault. But it's not his fault, not at all, that she finds romantic affection to be...overwhelming. Hard to deal with. People she thought she was close to had hurt her before, or turned their attentions into something unwanted. Not that she's ever, for a moment, thought Oleg to be capable of something like that, but she's never let herself say the words that she knows he's dying to hear.
So they stay like this. Just close enough to be something not quite platonic, but far enough to not be romantic. Suspended.
There will be a breaking point, someday. But not now.
"I thought about putting a little extra kick in your drink, but..."
She laughs, tired, and gestures for him to sit down. "I appreciate the thought. I might have to later."
"Busy?"
"Incredibly."
"I think that means you need to step away." He takes the offered seat, crossing his legs, tapping his fingers lightly on his own mug. "There's a whole station where you can unwind for a few hours. You can't fix all of this in a day."
"A captain's work is never done." She, of course, has her doubts, but she's voiced those enough. She's pretty sure she knows what she's doing, administratively, but it's just a lot of stuff. "I think my idea of unwinding is getting a few hours of sleep."
"Come on, for me?" His smile is bright under his well-groomed moustache. "Go to the bar, play a few rounds of dabo, get a massage, go dancing--take your mind off the work."
"Most of it can't really wait. We were gone for months--half a year? There's the trial to prepare for, there's overseeing repairs... How are those coming, by the way?"
Oleg leans back, taking a sip as a way of hiding his disapproval at the topic change, but acknowledges it. "The QSD shouldn't take too long now that we've got the right tools and the time and not having to worry about spacial anomaly people running through our warp core. It's just delicate work. And our makeshift repairs along the way held well under pressure, it's just a matter of patching her up good as new. Smooth sailing, soon enough. Hopefully it'll let Mac sleep."
There's worry, she can feel it through him like reading a book. About the repairs--no, about Mac? Hm... "I think she's picked up a few bad habits from Tony. Or are all you engineers like that?"
A vague shrug. "The engines are our babies. Can't let anything harm them even when you push them to their limits. We keep the ship flying. Sometimes that means a smidge of unhealthy sleeping patterns. Sound familiar?"
Raqiin laughs, also just a smidge. "I haven't done the staying up for days chugging caffeine thing since... Well. Since Twissel, I guess." But that's not something to think about. Nor Tony. She still has no idea what happened to him, where he went, even if he's alive. It was her report that got out, the remnants of data and her version of a log to address what really happened. So someone would know. So the truth could be told. She didn't pull the trigger, but those were still her words that got broadcast. And that helped lead them to this whole thing, didn't it? To splitting the Federation.
But if she dwells on that, which she's done quite enough of, then she knows Sara's done just as much beating herself up over it.
Oleg is the first to break the silence that settled between them. "Computer: play a mix of contemporary pop music from the past two years from Earth."
The computer gives a beep, waits a moment, and then an energetic beat fills the room. His foot immediately starts bouncing, grinning wide at her.
"...What are you doing."
He says nothing, setting his mug aside and standing, offering a hand to her.
"Oleg. What is this." As she tries hard not to laugh, taking his hand.
"If you're not going to go out and relax, I'll bring the relaxation to you. Dance with me. Ma'am."
She gives him a light swat on the shoulder. "You don't have to ma'am me while we're off duty."
"Oh, pardon me, it sounded quite like you were never off duty!" He sways and bops to the beat, tugging at her hand. "Then dance with me, Raq. Get your mind off this for even a few minutes. Perhaps get your mind on me instead. Or, er, on the music, anyway."
She can't say no to that.
Even being back on home turf doesn't ease Raqiin's tensions. There's too much yet to do. Dock and start on repairs and resupplying--particularly medical supplies. There's making sure their guest of honor doesn't go wandering off and phasing into nothingness, that she will keep her word so long as they keep theirs. There's checking in with Starfleet Command, to inform them of the situation: what they discovered in more detail, the Hirogen refugees, the Bradfield, Zo and her call for asylum, the pending trial for the murder of an officer... And then the other way around, catching up on the news after months (months, by Uzaveh's Throne, it feels like they've been gone for ages), a backlog bound to make her head spin.
It's all the not fun things about being Acting Captain, since Sara isn't technically reinstated yet. There are logs. So many logs. She doesn't even know where to start with the possibility of a trial hanging over all of them when it seems like there's activity picking up against the True Federation. And then there's everything personal. She has to contact her parents. They'll all be worried sick, there's the news that the Chiron had gone missing, that was months and months ago, but she has to put it on the backburner because everything else has to come first, and--
And she's pretty sure if she keeps staring at this PADD her eyes are going to fall out of her head, and she shoves it across her desk against the pile of other PADDs of data and information and words and words and words and words. It's one thing when it's science, number crunching, something new and interesting. Another when it's all the details and paperwork so to speak that comes with being in charge. She's barely even left the ship in the two days since they've been docked, but at least her legs aren't aching at all the high warp travel anymore.
The door chime beckons, and she has to take a breath, deep, and calm, or try to exude calm and not 'chuck a PADD at the door' frustration. "Come."
She barely looks up from massaging her temples, but the wave of affection that washes over her can only truly be from one person. When Oleg sets down a mug of hot cocoa, she can already feel some of her anxiety ebbing away. Not all the way away, by any means, and the tension in her stalks would give that away, but somewhat.
"I thought you could use a pick-me-up."
"You have no idea."
They've become less awkward over their time around each other. Raqiin's always danced around his affections but never straight up turned him down, and he's remained patient. Loyal, perhaps to a fault. But it's not his fault, not at all, that she finds romantic affection to be...overwhelming. Hard to deal with. People she thought she was close to had hurt her before, or turned their attentions into something unwanted. Not that she's ever, for a moment, thought Oleg to be capable of something like that, but she's never let herself say the words that she knows he's dying to hear.
So they stay like this. Just close enough to be something not quite platonic, but far enough to not be romantic. Suspended.
There will be a breaking point, someday. But not now.
"I thought about putting a little extra kick in your drink, but..."
She laughs, tired, and gestures for him to sit down. "I appreciate the thought. I might have to later."
"Busy?"
"Incredibly."
"I think that means you need to step away." He takes the offered seat, crossing his legs, tapping his fingers lightly on his own mug. "There's a whole station where you can unwind for a few hours. You can't fix all of this in a day."
"A captain's work is never done." She, of course, has her doubts, but she's voiced those enough. She's pretty sure she knows what she's doing, administratively, but it's just a lot of stuff. "I think my idea of unwinding is getting a few hours of sleep."
"Come on, for me?" His smile is bright under his well-groomed moustache. "Go to the bar, play a few rounds of dabo, get a massage, go dancing--take your mind off the work."
"Most of it can't really wait. We were gone for months--half a year? There's the trial to prepare for, there's overseeing repairs... How are those coming, by the way?"
Oleg leans back, taking a sip as a way of hiding his disapproval at the topic change, but acknowledges it. "The QSD shouldn't take too long now that we've got the right tools and the time and not having to worry about spacial anomaly people running through our warp core. It's just delicate work. And our makeshift repairs along the way held well under pressure, it's just a matter of patching her up good as new. Smooth sailing, soon enough. Hopefully it'll let Mac sleep."
There's worry, she can feel it through him like reading a book. About the repairs--no, about Mac? Hm... "I think she's picked up a few bad habits from Tony. Or are all you engineers like that?"
A vague shrug. "The engines are our babies. Can't let anything harm them even when you push them to their limits. We keep the ship flying. Sometimes that means a smidge of unhealthy sleeping patterns. Sound familiar?"
Raqiin laughs, also just a smidge. "I haven't done the staying up for days chugging caffeine thing since... Well. Since Twissel, I guess." But that's not something to think about. Nor Tony. She still has no idea what happened to him, where he went, even if he's alive. It was her report that got out, the remnants of data and her version of a log to address what really happened. So someone would know. So the truth could be told. She didn't pull the trigger, but those were still her words that got broadcast. And that helped lead them to this whole thing, didn't it? To splitting the Federation.
But if she dwells on that, which she's done quite enough of, then she knows Sara's done just as much beating herself up over it.
Oleg is the first to break the silence that settled between them. "Computer: play a mix of contemporary pop music from the past two years from Earth."
The computer gives a beep, waits a moment, and then an energetic beat fills the room. His foot immediately starts bouncing, grinning wide at her.
"...What are you doing."
He says nothing, setting his mug aside and standing, offering a hand to her.
"Oleg. What is this." As she tries hard not to laugh, taking his hand.
"If you're not going to go out and relax, I'll bring the relaxation to you. Dance with me. Ma'am."
She gives him a light swat on the shoulder. "You don't have to ma'am me while we're off duty."
"Oh, pardon me, it sounded quite like you were never off duty!" He sways and bops to the beat, tugging at her hand. "Then dance with me, Raq. Get your mind off this for even a few minutes. Perhaps get your mind on me instead. Or, er, on the music, anyway."
She can't say no to that.