<USS Avalon> Another late night call

T’Leara lay there trying hard to ignore the insistent beeping of her COM. At 
last, she could ignore it no longer, she rose and slapped it irritably. 
 
"T’Leara" she all but growled at the offending bit of technology.
 
"Good, you’re awake," Taggert’s annoyingly cheerful voice boomed. 
 
"I am now." She replied. "What do you want?"
 
"What, no pleasantries? We have forgotten our basic interaction training, 
haven’t we," he smiled.
 
"What…do….you….want?" she asked again, her finger poised above the button to 
disconnect the call.
 
"I thought I’d give you a chance to reconsider my offer, actually," Taggert 
answered conversationally. 
 
"I do not need to reconsider. I do not and will not work for you." T’Leara 
responded, struggling to keep the emotionless façade in place. "Is there 
something else?"
 
"Think carefully. It would be such a shame if any of the uglier parts of your 
history were to leak out among your new shipmates, wouldn’t it? It could make 
living and working there almost as difficult there as it was on your last 
ship." Taggert warned before slipping easily back into his faux friendliness. 
"It’s not as if I’m asking such a big thing, dear girl. You know as well as I 
do how dangerous these prototypes are if handled improperly. You know now to 
handle them. They trust you. For the sake of your ship, your crew – at least 
consider it."
 
T’Leara cut the com quickly, before she said something that could get her into 
even more trouble than she’d already faced at Taggert’s hands. 
 
Gods, but she despised that man! 
 
For all that hate and anger were emotions, she couldn’t help but believe even 
T’Pau herself would have found the cause sufficient.

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