Fate's sense of humor

Posted on Tue May 31st, 2011 @ 5:18pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell & Crewman Sessan Birsi
Edited on on Mon Sep 17th, 2012 @ 9:31pm

2,236 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Shoreleave
Location: Deep Space Five
Timeline: Current

Those without a means of retreat on an outpost like Deep Space Five typically adhered to one of two groups: the transitory or predictably, one of its resident personnel. Though 107,064 could assume the latter, simply observing mannerisms went far in discerning who did or didn't. There was after all, only so much the Celestial-class' more compact arrangement relative to its hoary predecessors could do to make a small city that doubled as a 94-ship harbor intuitive to all but those who put months, maybe even years into making it so.

Sessan Birsi was traversing the station as if she had, interesting considering that the functions of those donning teal here were localized and thus not especially conducive to getting around. Of greater note was that the lithe, duffel-carrying Bajoran wasn't even attached to DS5 beyond orders to report to the Ranger, which arrived early this morning. The seven days she waited to do so were a far cry from tenure, yet while classmates under similar circumstances immersed their liberty with the culture and luxury facilitated by Starfleet life, Birsi couldn't. All too valid assertions of how she might not enjoy such a generous degree of freedom again for months succumbed to a far longer-standing concern; her parents, or given that just about the rest of Federation space separated this fringe from Bajor, the last person she last knew had contact with them.

Thus she spent a lot of time ambling, albeit in the hope of encountering the ever-elusive Chaet Frea. Birsi had no basis to seek the Orion freighter captain here so much as she figured there nothing to lose trying this new venue. While she ultimately remained none the wiser on her dearest matter, a minimum one week layover issued to the Ranger per her updated posting orders meant that short of receiving a priority one mission, she didn't have to relent just yet. Its population ever-dynamic, a deep space station was best treated by as a continuous possibility anyway.

Typically apportioned to craft with minimal support needs, the corridors of the 100-series decks containing the Ranger's moorings were fairly animated. Birsi's fresh fluency with the secondary turbolift layout allowed her to shave considerable time relative to starting from one of the mains. In the midst of covering the home stretch, she pivoted slightly in anticipation of a patch of freighter hands, then briefly averted her gaze when attempting to retrieve her PADD from her bag by touch didn't pan out.

Unfortunately, attempt two proved a half-step forward and three strides back. She'd lifted the device a few centimeters out of her bag when a sudden bump from the left started Birsi into dropping it on the floor as she whirled in the direction of what her hindsight led her to believe would be that one person in the group she just had to miss.

"Oh crap," she gasped, legs unsteady as her mind unconsciously weighed whether to lend initial regard to whomever she just ran into or her discarded effect. She didn't want to seem indifferent considering her inattentiveness made her partly culpable, but she was also sufficiently aware to know that said effect had clacked onto the unyielding deck face first. Not good.

Tending to the other party with quick glances, Birsi moved toward the fallen device.

"Sorry!" she piped, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

It was clear that Elsie's mind was elsewhere. Where, was a different matter. And not one that Birsi would come to find out. At least not now. And not from Elsie. The slight-framed captain righted herself and held out a diffusing arm to physically apologise for her own over-sight. "Not at all. It was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going."

She too bent down for the PADD but stopped half way down as she saw Birsi claim the object. Elsie controlled herself, stood now fully and then looked upon the Bajoran properly. "Again, I apologise, Crewman."

Having already accepted responsibility, Birsi was a little surprised to receive something other than acceptance of it. Her PADD seemingly alright, she drew it to her chest then drew herself up, eyes surveying the other woman as she did.

The eventual sight of her captain's pips didn't bother her in the slightest. The bearer had been perfectly reasonable to her, and while familiar with Elsie Halliwell via academia, Birsi's recollective powers weren't that primed.

"We can split the blame, Captain," she chuckled, a slight smile leading her youthful visage into conveying goodwill, "my plate is pretty empty at the moment."

Halliwell stopped and looked at the fresh faced crewman for a moment before, a slight smile on her lips to match Birsi's. "Good," she then said, now looking up and down the corridor. "I don't suppose there's any chance you work on this damned station, is there?"

"Afraid not," Birsi affirmed, shaking her head. Inspired to elaborate by Halliwell's uncertain peering, she added, "But I've spent the past week here waiting for my assignment, so I've had a bit of practice getting around."

"Well, to me, each corridor looks exactly the same." She ceased looking up the length of the tubular walkway before her as her eyes settled on the Bajoran in front of her. "That's the beauty of commanding a small Intrepid like the Ranger. You tend to become so familiar with the fifteen decks that it's almost impossible to get lost. Maybe I should relish in my ignorance for a bit longer before I find my all too familiar home."

Birsi's steely blue eyes widened upon the taller woman establishing the Ranger as her command. Well aware of the possibility of meeting another based off her ship-to-be before embarking, she didn't anticipate such an occurrence with its captain, coincidentally also the first person from the Ranger she'd met. One of the prevalent conventions in the service academy was that the inherent nature of the chain of command would ensure many enlistees didn't see much, if any of their commanding officer. More so than not, Birsi expected this of her own situation. Her training qualified her to assume numerous functions, but a science-oriented ship like the Ranger was bound to have several people just on the bridge able to do anything she could.

Placement among knowledge redundancy was a key in Birsi's near-certainty that she was a screw-up riding into Starfleet on little more than pity and a prayer. But one would've never suspected such deep-rooted insecurity based on her somewhat unconventional response to Captain Halliwell. The nature of her final remark was such that one might laugh, but the Bajoran specialist's rich titter, which she tried to suppress with a hand a few seconds in, spanned a period arguably well beyond its scope.

"Is there something funny, Crewman?" Halliwell asked, now looking upon the Bajoran with a hint of rude disdain. The captain, although never elitist when it came to any Starfleet personnel in service or out of it, was a little taken aback by the reaction of Birsi. Not because of the teal-touting crewman's but due to her own. Elsie had, whether she would care to openly admit it herself, become accustomed to the respect afforded to her fourth golden pip that fastened at her throat and was easily shaken when an individual's behaviour fell out of sync of her own expectations. Elsie crossed her arms defensively, barricading her chest defiantly.

"I'm sorry," Birsi replied, her voice still broken by otherwise fading laughter. She dreaded a poor first impression as much as the next person, but took a cue from her adoptive mother in refusing an immediate lapse into obsequiousness because frankly, it would undermine her while fixing absolutely nothing. She wasn't going to take a high warp lap around the nearest sun over a done deed, especially since it was over an inoffensive thing she sincerely thought funny. The issue was that Captain Halliwell didn't know what, though once she'd calmed further, the possibility of her unsuspecting CO failing to share her sense of humor struck Birsi with a twinge of queasiness.

Alas, there was only one way to know.

"It's just that fate seems to like you more than me, Captain Halliwell." Tone still easy in spite of the tension, Birsi briefly tipped her head in her pre-interruption direction of travel. "Lost or not, you've managed to get within two airlocks of Ranger's berth. I on the other hand have a story of how I met my first CO by almost tackling her. I'll probably cherish it someday, but for now, the only thing I like about it is that there weren't any witnesses who'll gossip about it on the ship. Her lucid eyes searchingly shifted from side to side. "I think."

Halliwell's face relaxed noticeably and a knowledgeable smile fluttered across her lips. Her eyes rolled back a little as the explanation also dawned on her. "That explains it, then," she managed, uncrossing her arms and taking a more relaxed stance. "Would you care to show me the way?"

"Sure," the younger woman exhaled, quite relieved to have dealt down the misunderstanding. Her initial steps small, she continued to face Halliwell until they were abreast.

As they walked, silence seemed to descend on the two. Halliwell shot Birsi a quick look as she smiled. "Medical or Science?" she then broke in with, nodding to the teal that was tightly wound around the Bajoran's neck.

"Science. . .at least as far as this posting goes." Gaze already set, Birsi parted her lips in anticipation of elaborating. However, a more pertinent thought arose; she'd never really introduced herself. Neither of them had actually, but Birsi had already deduced who her superior was. Alternately, current circumstances suggested that the same wasn't true for Halliwell.

"I'm Sessan Birsi by the way. A late mention, but this is really the first chance that's come for it."

"Well, Ms. Birsi," Halliwell nodded, now striding out ahead in a brisk yet manageable fashion, "it's a pleasure to meet you." She stuck out her hand to clasp at the Bajoran's. "Elsie Halliwell. But once we're on board ship, you can just call me 'Captain.'" She squinted a little as to not sound too informal, or too much of an arse. The altercation with the bartender still played on her mind, and as such, a vulnerability that was rather unlike her soaked through to her skin.

"Science?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow as they passed the first intersection. "My own path through Starfleet, as it happens. I assume that's why I command an Intrepid rather than a mighty Akira. Still, the thought exploration and methodical experiments is where I garner my own sense of expertise. What department?"

The question was meant to sound inquisitive rather than interrogative, but Elsie's own clipped tone managed to betray an almost stand-offish quality that was neither of the two. Somewhere between genuine regard and finite precision is where her voice seemed to lie most of the time.

And Birsi, fresh from accepting her captain's hand, didn't mind terribly. That earnestness evoked her adoptive mother's during the early years of their family, when the former officer cum entrepreneur admittedly wasn't certain of how to express herself to children. Yet similarly, Elsie did enough over the course of their encounter to convince the Bajoran that she wasn't a deliberately callous or domineering person. Why one completely unfamiliar with her might suspect differently was far from evident, and probably would remain so indefinitely. The odds of them advancing their familiarity with each another beyond this chance encounter were absurd despite her seemingly unwitting reference to Birsi by her given name, which she took with a broadened smile that lasted into her reply.

"Stellar Cartography. But if I may, captain. . .I go by traditional Bajoran naming convention. My last name is actually the first."

"Oh," Halliwell interjected, now seemingly a little flustered. "The last Bajoran I served with - my yeoman, as it happens - insisted on reversing the tradition. He found it rather old fashioned and outdated, however, I always disagreed. I'm rather fond of it. I just now get so confused." She shot the Bajoran a smile and then halted in the corridor outside the airlock. "The Ranger, I assume?" she asked, indicating the door.

Birsi nodded, and managed to limit the faint amusement she felt of Captain Halliwell's uncertainly about the ingress/egress point of her own ship to a small smile. She thought the uniformity of their surroundings would've encouraged the older woman to clamp onto a specific identifying attribute like the alphanumeric location indicator in readily visible print on the airlock door, which Birsi had used to confirm their whereabouts. Not that she was nitpicking. Whereas a crew typically took solace from its captain's fortitude, Birsi, still apprehensive about how her competence would manifest, found some comfort in seeing that for all her allusions to precision, her CO was plenty capable of a major off day.

"Well," Elsie said, pausing at the intersecting corridor. "It was nice to meet you, Ms. Sessan. And remember that my door is always open should you need anything in the first few weeks of getting settled aboard."

"Thanks, captain. Here's to hoping that any future run-ins between us are totally figurative."

 

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