[ussbansheec] A Mixed Reception

  • From: Ian <hewman100@xxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: ussbansheec@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Fri, 17 Feb 2006 11:00:48 +0000 (GMT)

A Mixed Reception  
  by Captain Vevay Davis, Lt. Commander Scott Ecitsuj and Commander Moira 
     How the hell do they expect to find a single anomaly in this soup? She 
rolled her emerald eyes upward, "You're goin' t' pay fer this Admiral 
Munchkin." she muttered, "Now where are your bloody carriers?"      Running 
another scan Moira located both beacons in short order. Okay, time to knock on 
the door. "Senior Flight Controller, this is Crazylegs inbound. I believe I'm 
expected."      Nasir sighed heavily. Just what he needed, the woman partly 
responsible for his mother resigning from being a fighter pilot.      
"Crazylegs, this is Fenchurch. You can dock in our aft bay four. Please await 
contact from the bay controller." With a smile, he diverted her into Ecitsuj's 
hands with a relieved sigh.      "Good evening, Commander," a charming Scottish 
accent chimed. Scott was humming a little tune as he sent her guidance 
instructions to get to the bay and clearance for it. "Have a nice journey?"     
 "A little long to be cooped up in this tub but I'm here nonetheless. Approac
 h to Bay
 Four locked and confirmed, she's all yours."      "Thank you kindly, 
Commander," Scott chirped as he guided the craft into his bay. Once it had 
landed and was safely locked down, he strode onto the deck and gave the pilot a 
wave. "Welcome to the Fenchurch, Commander!"      Moira closed her eyes and 
breathed deep. Not matter how scrubbed the air was, hangers still had a 
distinctively evocative smell. It's good to be back on a Flight Deck again!     
 "Thank you kind sir." Her emerald eyes sparkled, "Make sure they take good 
care of her, she's on loan from the Little Boss." She indicated the Vice 
Admiral's pennant the crane was carrying in its bill.      "Instructors don't 
get personal craft, they claim it's an extravagance."      "You should talk to 
our First Officer, ma'am," he grinned, his eyes travelling over her craft. "He 
got himself a Pimlico class. The first one off the line actually. You should 
have a spin in her, if you get the chance. She's one smooth ride."      "As
 right and proper, the class is named for his mother after all. The Kaneda 
still has a style of her own though, more agile since they made 'em warp 
capable. I take it Mr. Singh is avoiding me?"      Scott laughed brightly and 
shook his head. "No, ma'am, I requested to be the meeter and greeter, actually. 
It's good to meet someone with such an impressive reputation."      The redhead 
chuckled, "You mustn't believe all that you hear. So to whom do I have the 
honour of speaking to?"      "Lieutenant Commander Ecitsuj, ma'am," Scott said 
with a smile, his black eyes sparkling. "If you need anything while you're 
here, just let me know and I'll do my best to accommodate you."      Raising an 
eyebrow, Moira smiled, "Your given name Commander. I refuse to address you or 
anyone else constantly by rank unless they're my superior."      "Scott, 
ma'am," he said with a slight blush. "You'll excuse the mistake, the Captain 
prefers surnames as reference."      "Understood Scott, that works 
 until you get a situation like the Banshee where you have the same rank and 
surname all over the ship." She gave him a full O'Donnell smile, "Better go see 
the boss. Lead on MacDuff."      Smirking, he corrected, "Ecitsuj," then 
laughed brightly. "Ever been aboard a Concorde class, ma'am? We have fifty 
seven decks, half of which are actually my direct jurisdiction. Captain Davis 
leaves the running of Flight Ops to me with a little guidance from Commander 
Singh. He leaves me pretty much to my own devices. But it's awfie funny to see 
the tight look in his eyes when he sees I've changed something from when Flight 
Ops was his. Would you like a tour when you've time, Commander?" Scott paused 
briefly and offered her an apologetic smile. "I talk a lot, I'm afraid. It's 
hereditary. My Dad talks a lot too. It's a Ninitchik thing."      "Nope, but I 
can see why she's the pride of the Munchkin's Fleet. I can understand why 
Captain Davis leaves you well alone too, she's the only carrier
 without wings isn't she?" She looked at the man appraisingly, "And yes I would 
love a tour, she certainly puts the poor old Hurricane to shame."      "Captain 
Davis has been up in fighters, she just doesn't know how to fly one," Scott 
said simply as he led her to the turbolift. "She's not too fond of it though. I 
think she finds the thought of being that close to space uncomfortable."      
"Strange woman," Moira murmured, "One of the most exhilarating things in my 
opinion. How often do you get out 'into the black' Scott?"      "At least once 
a day on drill," he said after calling out the Bridge deck.   "Plus I'm lead 
pilot on Alpha squadron and we do manoeuvres three times a week."      "Lucky 
swine! I'm fortunate if I get a chance to go out once a week   nowadays. Maybe 
you can take me for a flip when you next go out."      "Come and lead our 
squadron, it'd be an honour to see someone as good as you in action, 
Commander."      "Ah but will they follow a mere navigator? I kn
 ow what
 some pilots can be like." She winked at him, "Commander Singh's mother was a 
case in point."      "Judge Singh was a terror, as far as the logs show, but 
she was a damn fine pilot," Scott noted.      "I won't dispute that, we went 
through the Academy together. We didn't see eye-to-eye on some things, she was 
the best we had after Edward in the cockpit."      "Commander Singh'd disagree 
with you on that point, ma'am," Scott laughed brightly. "He's rather vocal 
about his mother's skills."      "As was she, Scott, as was she. But our 
diminutive boss was the top of our class, and even Roberta wouldn't dispute 
that if you got her alone."      Scott laughed brightly. "An incredible year, 
you have to admit. It produced the highest ranking Flight Ops people around."   
   "Which is why I'm here," Moira sighed, "You know the Little Boss' youngest 
son is on the Banshee?"      "Yes, ma'am," Scott said softly. "My little 
sister's onboard too and her best friends. They're as close as fami
 ly can
 get."      The woman nodded, "We've got the best minds in the Quadrant working 
on this one Scott."      "I know we'll find her," Scott said with 
determination. "We have to."      She laid her hand gently against the small of 
his back as the turbolift reached the bridge. "We will, no doubt about it."     
 With a small nod, Scott moved forward to break contact with Moira's hand. 
"Captain," he said brightly.      Vevay glanced over, her face impassive but 
her dark green eyes smouldering. "In my Ready Room."      Moira moved across 
the bridge. And let the games commence.....      Once in her office, Vevay eyed 
the commander then nodded to a seat. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant Commander." 
     "Yes, ma'am," Scott saluted and left, deciding now wasn't a politic time 
to mention anything else.      Taking the seat Moira looked up at the Captain, 
taking in the Celtic fire within her moss green eyes. "Captain. It's a pleasure 
to be here."      Folding her hands neatly in front of her
 , Vevay
 nodded once. "We will be rendezvousing with the Tempest in twelve hours time. 
If you wish, you may go to your quarters or you may go to Flight Ops. No matter 
on rank, while you're on this ship, you are junior to my officers. You will be 
attached to Lieutenant Commander Ecitsuj's squadron but you will take orders 
from him, not the other way around. Any questions?"      "I foresee no problems 
there Ma'am, I'm quite sure that he will ensure I'm kept adequately in the 
loop. Do I wait for the rendezvous to be filled in or have you reports I can 
read in the meantime?"      Vevay tossed a PADD at her. "All details of our 
findings so far, or lack thereof, are contained on here. Enjoy."      Moira 
caught the PADD cleanly. "You have a problem Captain?"      "Only with the 
assumption that my people aren't good enough for Starfleet Command," Vevay said 
coldly. "Hale may be happy with your assignment, I see it as an insult. I may 
not be Flight Ops trained, but I have the best people unde
 r me.
 Better, I would wager, than anyone Command sends to make them feel as if 
they're doing something."      The navigator's emerald eyes flashed dangerously 
with gold fire,   "Permission to speak freely Ma'am?"      "Please, feel free," 
Vevay said in a low, dangerous tone.      "There has been no assumption on the 
behalf of Command that the people aboard this vessel are not up to the job. In 
fact if the Little Boss had made the decision on who send out here it would 
have been you and Captain Hale." Moira stepped upto the desk, "Second I am here 
out of deference to your commands. If it could have been swung the Vice Admiral 
would be here in person, and you'd do well to remember that small fact."      
Placing her hands down on the desktop, she continued eye contact,   "Finally, I 
take personally the remarks that alluded to the commitment you believe that the 
Admiral has to this endeavour, and to me it smells everso slightly of sour 
grapes. He has someone on board just as you do Ca
 and he worked damned hard to get where he is. So don't you presume to tar him 
with the same brush you use on the rest of the Admiralty."      Rising to her 
feet so she was fully eye-to-eye with the Irish woman, Vevay kept her 
expression cold. "Admiralty, no matter how hard they work, are still admiralty. 
Let him come here and try sifting through this sludge for one sniff of a 
temporal anomaly. To hell with it, send the whole damn fleet if he likes. We 
won't find it, it's not here. Whatever was here, has long since been dispersed 
by the chaotic nature of this god foresaken place. They're gone, Commander, and 
sending more people to try to see that isn't going to change anything. My 
daughter..." Vevay held up her hand and turned away, her back to Moira. "Go 
play at detective, Commander, it won't make any difference."      "They're gone 
are they? That's been said before Captain, with other ships. How long have you 
kept that bottled up away from your crew?"      Moira stepped bac
 k, "What
 were you about to say about your daughter?"      "Nothing, it doesn't matter." 
     "Bollocks Ma'am. It matters to you, and thus it matters to all those who 
serve under you."      "My personal feelings on a matter are irrelevant and 
none of a crew's business. I am not about to publicise my family's business 
simply for the enjoyment of my crew."      Moira frowned, "Enjoyment? Sorry but 
you've lost me. And the fact your daughter is also the captain of the ship 
we're looking for makes your personal feelings extremely relevant."      "Not 
to you," Vevay said darkly. "You are neither counsellor nor friend."      "I 
didn't offer myself as either. But you do need to talk to somebody."      "I'll 
talk to someone when the ship's back," Vevay snapped.      Moira continued 
gently, "I lost the person who I believed was the love of my life, I almost let 
it consume me. For your daughters sake and the sake of your command don't let 
that happen to you." She stood and turned for the door.  
     In a
 soft voice, Vevay said, "Good day, Commander," before returning to the pile of 
reports on her desk.    
  "And you, Captain." 

"If there's nothing wrong with me... maybe there's something wrong with the 
~ Dr Beverly Crusher (ST:TNG, Remember Me)

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