Lost Eloquence

Posted on Mon Mar 25th, 2024 @ 3:18am by Delaney O'Callaghan & Elara ‘Kara’ Vance (*)

Mission: Fractures
Location: SS Mary Rose
Timeline: Jan 2398
2523 words - 5 OF Standard Post Measure

Elara stood there looking at there ship dumbstruck for a moment as she took in the shininess of the vessel but also the fact their was an old wood ships figure stuck on it. It was unusual and like nothing she had seen before the Unicorn or Khisivi had never been that unusual and she did not know at all if that was a good or bad thing.

She was joining as quartermaster as the Captain had requested it and it had struck her as something that she could do after all her operational experience over the last 2 years. She was not sure if she was taking over from someone or if it was completely new role but she had been interviewed over communication instead of meeting the Captain but that had worked out well for her as the Khisivi was heading in the same direction so it had been a simple move from one ship to another. It was why she was stood there with her suitcase staring at the ship.

"Looks like someone got creative."

It was a friendly tone, an unassuming tone, the kind of tone that spoke up with confidence but also didn't convey an excessive amount of hope that it wouldn't just be ignored amidst the hustle and bustle. A tone that half-spoke to itself, though it adjusting its volume just enough that, should anyone in earshot wish to pipe up, the potential for conversation wasn't objectionable in the slightest. It belonged to a man, rather casual in appearance as well as posture, who seemed just as intent on scrutinising the ship whilst the small case in his hand dangled without much indication that it weighed anything.

“Certainly something.” Elara commented giving him a once over before returning her gaze to the ship figure stuck on the hull. It looked old compared to the rest of the ship which looked like it had been through a refit just recently. “Elara…” she offered as it looked like the man might be joining her on the gangway and vessel.

"I think they said her name was Rosemary or something similar." From where they stood, the ship's designation was somewhat obscure, though enough of it was visible that the guess should have been marginally more accurate. An awkward moment passed, just beyond a split second, before enlightenment permitted a second attempt at guessing her intention. "Oh, you mean your name! Sorry, I just..." The man turned and looked back behind him before returning his attention as a sheepish smile. "It's been a morning. Owen," he added, extending his hand.

Elara stayed quiet as he went through the thought pattern that eventually led to the realisation that she had offered her name and not the vessels. She took the offered hand knowing human customs well enough to recognise it. “Nice to meet you "It's been a morning. Owen.” She said with a wink before turning to the ship again. “SS Mary Rose.” She corrected his naming and indicated the gangway where she could see someone who seemed to be waiting for them.

"Ah, back to front then." It seemed fitting for the man, whose slightly rumpled appearance suggested he might have tried to get out of bed in that exact order. With a rucksack on his back and a larger bag in hand, he waved his free hand to indicate the woman should proceed first, which was both unnecessary gallantry and a precaution against hitting her in the face with the overstuffed bludgeon hanging from his shoulder. She wouldn't be the first casualty and he was, if nothing else, capable of learning from past mistakes.

Elara ducked her head in thanks and moved in front of him walking along the gangway until she got to the security station and a tall man appeared from behind it as if he was just waiting for them to appear. "Ahhhh the new crew." Leiddem declared.

"Just a passenger," Owen quickly corrected, struggling once again to keep his duffel on his shoulder. "Though I can always scrub dishes to earn my keep, if it comes down to it." When he'd first approached the ship's Captain about securing a berth, Owen had been left with the feeling that the cargo ship didn't take passengers as a regular occurrence, though Gregnol had assured him they had the facilities for it. They were the only ship going remotely close enough to the starbase he needed to get to, though, even if he'd likely still have to arrange an intersecting transport.

Leiddem raised an eyebrow at the fact Gregnol was bringing a passenger onboard. "So what did you do to get a passenger berth? Not had one of them for a long time." Leiddem wondered making Elara raise an eyebrow at the question even as the security took her ID's to match against other items she already had given them.

"One of those friend of a friend situations." It seemed less that the man was trying to be evasive and more than Owen, being so far in possession of a fairly unassuming nature, just didn't think the story was actually of any interest. Of course, he had no idea he was talking to the Captain's brother-in-law, and honestly didn't know Gregnol nearly well enough to guess at how interesting his associations were to the rest of the crew.

Leiddem looked at him carefully but did not change it. He knew well enough that friend of a friend could mean anything in Gregnol’s world at the moment. “Well good luck to you either way. Welcome on board.” He handed back the IDs to Elara. “The computer will recognise you and where you can go from now on.” He advised knowing there would be quite a few limitations for the passenger over the Crew member.

"I've got plenty of work to keep me out of trouble," Owen assured the man, hefting the case that was a slightly less battered attempt at something profession-looking than his rucksack.

Leiddem stepped aside eyeing him but said nothing at the comment. He was just too tired to get involved that day. Elara walked in front of him leading him in the depths of the ship before she started walling backwards. “What’s in the case?” She wondered.

"Deep, dark, mysterious things." The man's eyebrows waggled before a slightly goofy grin was followed by a hunched shoulder. "But mostly the beginnings of of a presentation that will need to have some kind of successful conclusion ready by the time you lot are booting me out an airlock. Kind of hoping for a little inspiration, actually, it's not easy to add a little razzle dazzle to the lives of a bunch of dour scholars who only agree to these seminars so they can argue with each other."

“Deep, dark, mysterious things.” The former athlete burst out laughing. “You too innocent for anything like that. I know humans and you are what my team mate used to call all American boy. Sweet and good and in your case scholarly. History? Geography?” It was not a bad thing to the woman but she could not see anything connected to him deep, dark, mysterious things.

One hand pressed against his chest, Owen feigned a melodramatic impact. "Ouch." Catching Leiddem's eye, he huffed with laughter and then proceeded to speak through a charade of wounded pride. "History, mostly. Geography is somewhat implied. If you want to get super technical, a specialisation in philology." He paused then as if timing out a pre-rehearsed confusion. "Language authentication and translation."

Leiddem smirked and watched them leave. He was very much not getting involved in that, he could already she the new crew member was going to keep people on their toes with her position let along her seemingly spiciness. “Ohhh so close but I win nothing.” Elara laughed as she turned back around the correct way to walk. The ship was unfamiliar so it was best to walk the correct way.

"Would have taken 'study of guys called Phil' for an honorary mention," Owen shot back. Hefting his bag back onto his shoulder again, he asked, "So what do they have you earmarked for?" He shot another quick glance towards Leiddem. "This is mostly a cargo vessel, right?"

Elara grinned and indicated the way they should go and get out of Leiddem’s earshot. “Yeah. And I am the new Quartermaster.” She looked at him and realised he would not know what that was. “My role is distributing supplies and provisions to personnel aboard the vessel as well physical assignments to quarters throughout the vessel.”

A thoughtful moment passed, punctuated by a slight squint. "Wait, doesn't that mean I should be talking to you about where I'm sleeping tonight?" Owen's features scrunched into an apology. "Or do they not expect you to wrangle passengers?"

“I can find you somewhere to sleep no problem.” She said in a flirty tone before laughing. “Come on, let’s find my quarters so I can dump my bag and then can access a PADD.” She suggested leaving him a few steps behind as she walked faster to press the turbo lift button.

A hand lifted to scratch the back of his head was more indicative of a sudden nervous embarrassment than any indication of hygiene practises. Owen shared a look with Leiddem, who at least seemed marginally sympathetic if not mostly ignorant due to being left behind, and offered the guy a huff of self-conscious laughter. "Guess I deserved that." If he had even a sliver of latinum for every time his word choice had landed him in hot water, he'd have close enough to a stash sizeable enough to tempt even a Ferengi. The ironic fact that he was meant to be a language specialist wasn't lost on Owen, whose closest friends only found additional delight in his lack of eloquence socially.

“Very feisty.” Leiddem commented looking away as the pair left him to his own devices. Elara stayed quiet as the pair moved into the turbolift she could see the blush on his face that gave him a slight tinge and she was not the type of person to tease anyone when they were getting embarrassed or self conscious.

As the door shut the woman turned to look at him and smiled. “Sorry. I am sassy.” She laughed. “Deck 6 please.”

"Not always a bad thing," Owen reassured, though his awkwardness lingered. Moving into the confined space, he did his best to occupy as little of it as possible, an attempt made slightly difficult by the cumbersome rucksack that refused to stay on his shoulder for long. Hefting it onto the shoulder closest to the wall, he winced slightly at the thud of muffled impact and did his best to carry on as if he wasn't a giant, clumsy buffoon. "Might even be considered a necessary survival trait out in these parts."

Elara inclined her head as if to say you aren’t wrong there but did not say anything. “Not sure there I used to be pretty sassy before I started to work on ships.” She admitted with another smile as they descended into silence again and Elara listened to the Turbo lift moving before the door pinged open. “Clear and tidy. Not bad for a 150 years old huh?” She said moving into the corridor first as there there was no way he could first.

Had his manners any chance of keeping up, Owen would have insisted on exiting last in any case, but found himself only marginally more apologetic than he'd already been to have been left without an opportunity to even consider it. Hurrying, he tried to match pace, though the next heft of his rucksack saw it smack against a bulkhead and stagger briefly. "I did wonder what state a ship that old could possibly be in. I'm pleasantly surprised, though I suppose if you replace enough parts over the years, you might technically just end up with a new ship."

“Oh I do not know she still has the charm of those old scientists.” Elara stopped at a console that blinked red for a moment and stepped inside and dropped her bag looking around the simple living area and through to the bedroom and what would be a small bathroom beyond that. “Well this nice.” She commented.

It was a nice space, as far as Owen could tell from the shelter of the doorway, but given that it represented what was soon to become the woman's one place of sanctuary amidst the hustle and bustle of the daily grind, he wasn't sure that having an opinion was within his jurisdiction. Hell, it was taking what remained of his equilibrium to keep his toes on the communal side of the threshold. "What's the saying, something about a place feeling like home if the bed is...." He was already fumbling. "...soft and the breakfast... Well, I would argue fried is the best qualifier there but I don't think that's quite what the original author had in mind."

“Mmm a good human breakfast is always good after a nights drinking I have found.” Elara commented with a hum of approval as she thought about it. It was always a good start to a day after a hard night of drinking. “But yes it works. And I have your quarter assignment. Would you like me to walk you or get the computer to guide you?” She offered wanting to give him a chance to reestablish himself.

"Uh."

Three degrees. Several dissertations. A nearly-published book. At some point, Owen felt like eloquence owed him at least a small break.

"I think a digital guide is probably good enough." No matter how he twisted his head around it, the words came out sounding like a veiled insult. "Just barely but doesn't do to be greedy, you've got a ship to conquer." To hasten his exit, which had suddenly become highly desirable, Owen took a step back and scanned the walls and ceiling for signs of flashing indicators. "It's just follow the arrows, right?"

Elara bit her lip for a moment before she smiled at him embarrassment which was hilarious but also adorable at the same time. She had never met a human quite as awkward at him. “Big red arrows. You cannot miss them in the slightest.” She assured quietly as she indicated the biggest red arrow ever on the console behind him.

It went without saying that he very nearly went the wrong way. Turning a full rotation in the middle of a junction because he caught the mistake before he wandered too far was a small mercy but didn't do much to improve the perception of his competence. Owen, convinced by now that he'd out-stayed his welcome, picked up the pace and opted not to check if the vibrant woman had noticed his little soft-shoe shuffle. It's just a short trip, he comforted himself. And then a return one, a more treacherous voice reminded him.

One problem at a time.