[USS Tempest] Honesty and the Lack of Idiots
- From: "Tkilyle@xxxxxxx" <tkilyle@xxxxxxx>
- To: usstempest@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sat, 27 Jun 2009 10:55:08 -0400
_Honesty and the Lack of Idiots_
by Nathaniel Lynley, Sonek Pran, Calum Adair, Lindsey Craig, and Samuel
Hughson
Although Nat knew about the man who Lindsey asked him to greet then
escort to her ready room, he'd never met Professor Sonek Pran. He knew
the man was a fusion of some sort and a professor who taught history and
politics at the university on Mars and that, because of those
specialties, he'd often served as an adviser to the president of the
Federation over the last twenty odd years. Knowing facts and knowing
the person were, in Nat's experience, usually two entirely different
things, however so he found himself interested in meeting the man who
Adair was beaming aboard at that moment. He wasn't quite sure what he
was expecting but the man who materialized there probably wasn't it. He
sported a long mane of barely wavy white hair and had a face that
suggested openness and a very keen mind. That in itself wasn't so
unusual. Nor was the rather large carryall at the man's feet. No, he
supposed it had to be the case the man was carrying in his left hand. It
looked it contained a musical instrument but what Nat suspected it was
was the thing that was throwing him off.
"Ambassador Pran, welcome aboard the USS Tempest," he said cordially.
"I'm Nathaniel Lynley, Captain Craig's aide. She's asked me to greet
you then bring you to see her."
Pran stepped from the platform then held out a hand, offering a hand
shake and a very friendly smile. "I know that name," he mused. "Are
you the one...no, never mind, I'll ask another time but it can't be true."
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Ambassador, but if you know my name then
whatever it is is probably true, just not as tall a tale as it seems,"
Nat said with an utterly straight face as he shook the proffered hand.
"If you'd like, sir, I can have your things brought to the quarters
you've been assigned while we go up to see the captain."
"Oh, that's pretty nice of you. Just have them be careful with this,"
Pran stated as he held up the case in his hand. "It's pretty old really
and I'd hate to have it damaged."
"I'm sure the ship's service people will be quite cautious, Mr.
Ambassador, but, may I ask: is that a banjo in there?" Nat asked carefully.
"Ha! Good eye you've got, Mr, Lynley," Pran said with a nod of
approval. "I'm a musician and I find playing sometimes helps me think."
Nat bit back an amused chuckle. This, he told himself, was a most
unusual ambassador. "Mr. Adair, would you be so kind as to have the
service corps carefully stow the ambassador's belongings please?"
"Aye air," the large Scot said with a broad smile. "Welcome aboard
Tempest, Ambassador."
"Thank you, Mr. Adair," Nat said simply.
Pran, though, smiled at Adair and shook his hand. "I do love that
accent. There was a Scot in Medicine Show when I was a child...ah well,
reminiscing later but thanks for the welcome, friend. And don't call me
Ambassador unless you have to. If you have to resort to titles, I'm
used to Professor or even Doctor."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor," Adair said, offering a bright,
beaming smile.
Nat was rather amused by their recent arrival. The man was cheerful and
bright, hardly a thing about him reminding Nat of any politician he'd
ever met. Pran seemed more the absent minded professor but he doubted
that the man was anything like that either. Nevertheless, Pran was
peering about like a tourist as the made their way to Lindsey's ready room.
The transporter room had told her the Ambassador was aboard and that,
and to quote, 'he's a fair nice loon'. Lindsey hadn't stopped giggling
at her TR chief since then. Now she was shaking her head and waiting
for Nat to bring him to her.
Nat had politely answered every one of Pran's questions about the
Tempest but, by the tenth one, he wondered if such a questioning point
of view was an extension of being an academic or if he was just being
polite. Either way, he was a nice enough sort. "And here we are, sir."
Nat tapped the chime outside of Lindsey's ready room door. "Captain,
I've arrived with our guest."
"Come on in, Nat," Lindsey said as she rolled to her feet to greet their
guest. "I guess I ain't gonna be the first to say this but welcome
aboard, Professor."
"No but it's still nice to be greeted anyway," Pran said as he held out
his hand. "Nice ship you've got here."
"Ain't she? She's the finest ship in the Fleet," Lindsey said with a
wink. "Sit yourself down and I'll get you something t'drink. Got a
preference?"
"I'll have whatever you're having," Pran said, brushing his hair back
from his face, briefly showing finely pointed ears.
"Coffee it is," Lindsey said as she ordered up two coffees and a tea for
Nat. She ordered cream and sugar, just in case the Professor didn't
like it as black as she did. When she was done, she settled the drinks
in front of the appropriate people then settled down behind her desk.
"So, how much d'you know about this ship's last few missions?"
"Lots and nothing at all," Pran said with a nod of thanks. "Two rescue
missions, one for kids and one for POWs, though I get the bureaucratic
runaround on why those ever had to happen." He saw Nat's rather amused
expression at that and added, "I'm an academician, sir, and I know when
people are talking but not saying anything. I heard lots of BS and no
real words."
"Well, I ain't been told any of my logs are officially sealed," Lindsey
shrugged, "so I'll make both personal and official logs open for you.
T'give you the cheap dollar version: the POWs were bein' held by some
crazy Vorta who was convinced the war was still on. Like some throwback
from 20th Century Japan. The kids... Well now, that's somethin' else.
There's at least one still aboard, sweet kid too. An underground
criminal faction of the Gorn was stealin' kids to work on a mine on one
of their moons. The Tempest was pulled into what turned out t'be an
illegal mission," then she added in a growl, "and if I ever see those
two damn assholes again I'm gonna feed 'em their own balls, but we did a
good thing and Admiral Sullivan's told me it ain't causin' too many
political ripples with the lizards."
Pran put his coffee down so that he could think, tapping his chin with
an index finger as he did. "That'd explain why they've been so
cooperative, for Gorn anyway," he finally said. "The president was
looking to have more trading lanes open up through their space and asked
me to have a chat with them. Gr'Chok not only didn't eat me, he agreed
without too many insults and with a lot of those directed toward what he
called aberrant hatchlings who should've been destroyed before breaking
the shell."
"I'd say I'm glad this was good for somethin' but those kids..." Lindsey
shook her head sadly. "When you meet Jack, you'll see. He's thin and
quiet, not like any normal 8 year old I've ever seen. He clings
t'people, but only those he knows well, but don't ever lie t'him." She
snorted. "The old Ops guy tried lyin' and Jack almost went for 'im.
Little guy's half Betazoid and he's still savage enough t'not take
kindly to lies."
"My three are all grown adults and I've never lied to any of 'em. Even
not telling the whole truth doesn't work, especially with the youngest
one," Pran said with a fond smile. "I tend to be bluntly honest,
Captain. It irritates people to get that from a politician but I
consider myself one of those so I don't care."
"I appreciate honesty from anyone," Lindsey told him. "Especially
politicians."
"I understand one of the POWs is my fellow ambassador," Pran said. "The
Klingons were a bit vague on the matter, something about it was none of
my damned business."
"Kaine? Yeah, he's a nice enough guy, if you don't mind skittish and a
few screws short of a packet," she snorted. "Then again, if you mind
crazy, don't go near Sick Bay coz our CMO's one've the POWs too. And
don't sneak up on either of 'em. They're damn nervous and violent when
they're agitated."
"The only thing I sneak is tests on unsuspecting first year university
students," Pran said with a smirk, "and that missing a few screws bit's
been applied to me a few times honestly."
"You ever beat up a decorated Starfleet Captain?" Lindsey asked with a
straight face.
"Me?" Pran's eyes widened slightly and held up his hands. "I'm very
much the nonviolent sort. The kids know who the pushover was."
"Well then, by comparison, you're the sanity poster-boy," Lindsey said,
laughing silently. "Our CMO beat up the hero of his own world, who just
happens to be a very well decorated Starfleet captain."
Nat laughed silently. "And he still grumbles about it though the
captain later actually performed his wedding ceremony."
Pran grinned, the expression making a sixty-seven year old man look like
a much younger one. "I like that then. No, I may cause people to want
to kill me but I'm no user of violence."
"Don't cause problems on my ship and we'll all be friends," Lindsey
said, still chuckling. "Now is there anythin' I can do for you, Professor?"
"Nope, I'm good though I suppose I ought to say hi to my fellow
ambassador, right?" Pran asked. "Before that, though, I really ought to
call my youngest. He's a Fleet officer and I have no idea where he's
assigned now. I haven't been getting all my messages from some reason."
"Who's your youngest?" Lindsey asked.
"His name's Samuel Hughson. He was kind of a foster child, came to us
when it was fourteen or fifteen," Pran said simply.
Nat turned to Lindsey with a curiously amused face. "I had no idea."
Lindsey managed not to start laughing but she was smirking widely as she
tapped her comm-badge. "Craig to Hughson, report to my ready room please."
"You're kidding, right?" Pran asked.
"Not in the least, Professor, I assure you," Nat said with a grin.
Samule had no idea why teh captain wanted him but he glanced at the XO,
who simply nodded, silently telling him he'd heard. Samuel's face wore
the same puzzled frown it usually did when he had no idea what was going
on. He tapped the chime outside teh door. "Hughson, ma'am. May I enter?"
"Come on in, got a surprise for you," Lindsey said, now grinning.
The frown deepened even as Samuel entered. The last surprise he'd
gotten was not a good one, one that had almost landed him ina good deal
of trouble with the Academy. "What would that..." he began. He trailed
off as he caught sight of Pran sitting there as naturally as if he'd
alwas been there. "Professor?"
"You know anybody else that's a four part fusion, son?" Oran asked, his
smile widening as he stood up and held out his arm.
"Lindsey, I don't believe I've ever seen that man smile before," Nat
said under his breath as Samuel embraced the older man.
"Good thing t'see, ain't it?" Lindsey grinned.
"Quite," Nat said warmly. It was truly a fine example of the
Federation, to see a multiple fusion such as the professor embracing a
freed Borg so easily.
"Captain, might I ask what the good professor is doing here?"Samuel
asked, his arm still around Pran.
"The Professor's our new Federation Ambassador, Hughson. Starfleet's
always felt that our ship needs representatives from as many allied
people as possible, so we carry a Klingon, a Federation and technically
a Romulan Ambassador," Lindsey explained.
"Really?" Samuel asked Pran. "I thought you were persona non grata at
the Palais, sir."
"New president likes me better," Pran said with a smirk.
"Do I wanna know why all those political types didn't like ya?" Lindsey
asked.
"You remember what I said about lying?" I don't. The former president
never did like what I had to say as an advisor," Pran said with a
shrug. "That and he didn't like that I had my boy here in the house."
Lindsey blinked then glanced at Samuel. "Well now I'm glad I voted for
the other guy," she said with an easy smirk. "Never was a fan of
bigotry of any kind."
"He was just a kid for pity's sake," Pran grumbled. "Suited me fine.
Stayed at the university on Mars and away from the fool."
"You come across fools like him in this crew and you let me know,"
Lindsey said with ringing honesty. "I'll be damned sure to re-educate 'em."
Samuel shrugged easily. He would deal with anything himself but Pran
shook his head. "Don't worry, Captain," he said. "I've a long time at
talking to insufferable idiots."
"Insufferable idiots are not allowed on this ship," Lindsey said with a
little amused indignation. "It's my ship, damnit."
--
"I like to write when I feel spiteful; it's like having a good sneeze"---D.H.
Lawrence
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