Food required

Posted on Thu Feb 22nd, 2024 @ 1:18am by Jerant van Rijn & Ensign Ziahli Lorel

Mission: Character Development
Location: Mess Hall
1447 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

"Oh hi!" Jerant smiled as he just about literally bumped the security officer aside when trying to sit down in exactly the same spot she had been eye-ing. He stepped aside to let her take the spot, then opted for the one across from her. "Wow...you're a hungry creature," he added as he noticed the pile of food on her tray - which was just about as big as the pile of pancakes on his own plate. "Work keeping you busy?"

Having been jostled swiftly into the chair by the unexpected impact, Zia managed to juggle her food with only minimal spillage of water slopping over the side of the glass. She had opted for quite a selection, most of which would get eaten, though she had learned to load her tray against invasion from certain Trills who liked to turn up and not bother to get his own. "From what I'm told," she responded brightly, "It's likely to get even busier when a bunch of marines on board."

"I think I heard something about that," Jerant mused, "unofficially that is because I don't really get told things. Obviously... Why are marines getting aboard? I mean, if you can tell me of course. If you can't, then don't." He grinned as he stuffed his mouth with a forkful of pancake. I'm a curious creature though, he added telepathically, since he considered speaking with his mouth full somewhat rude.

The switch in communication style suited Zia, whose own tour of her plate of food had left her with a forkful of potato and egg. Chewing thoughtfully, she considered what she knew of the upcoming mission. Thus far, with Zade being understandably preoccupied, the staff briefing hadn't elaborated much, citing only a preference for having the marines on board before a mission overview was delivered. We haven't been told all the details but I would guess, from what's been implied, some sort of search and rescue.

That sounds like an adventure. Jerant knew better than to ask for details he wasn't entitled to, but it made him second guess his decision to remain a civilian at times like this. Are you going to be involved with these marines? Duty wise I mean. Rumour has it security and marines tend to not get along very well.

As a choice of words on their own, there was a lot of ways 'be involved' could be interpreted, but open telepathic reciprocation left not nearly as much room for misunderstanding. Zia focused mainly on the last statement, chewing thoughtfully as she tried to separate the rhetoric from her own opinion. She couldn't speak for the rest of her department, but she was looking forward to having new faces around. Clash of egos, probably. I hope I get to hang out with them, I bet they've got some stories to tell.

Stories like what? Adventures or battle? Jerant sipped his drink, looking thoughtful for a moment. New languages to pick up maybe? For him that was something to look forward to, assuming he would even get to interact with them. He stuffed another forkful of pancake into his mouth. Would they even want to hang out with a mere civvie?

They'd probably prefer that to hanging out with officers, if there's rivalry to be had at all. Having met a few marines, Zia still wasn't sure she could claim the kind of knowledge that would make her an expert on how to predict their adjustment to starship placement. The only ones she'd spent any time with had been decidedly off-duty at the time. No harm in asking anyway.

"I suppose," Jerant mused out loud after swallowing his food. "I guess I could try, surely they have different areas of expertise too? I know they have linguistic experts, because I've worked with one here. Well former marine in this case, but still a linguist. Even they need a functional UT, right?" He shrugged. "Are you looking forward to their arrival?"

Deliberating over a strawberry, Zia drew up her shoulders in a non-committal shrug. "Anything that's a change of pace is something potentially interesting." This could very well have been the Betazoid's mantra. "So I'm certainly not dreading it. I guess it all boils down to how well they behave, how well certain other people behave around them, and what they're actually here for." She grinned. "Must be something juicy if we're not being trusted to do it ourselves."

"Makes you wonder why they won't trust us...well... you Fleeters, I guess, with this?" He shrugged. "I've never really dealt with marines before, I don't know what they're like up close. Never really got to meet an actual one either." Another shrug. "Only former ones, it seems. You're not hoping they'll misbehave, are you?"

The notion made Zia laugh merrily. "I mean," she added with a degree of mischievous pragmaticism, "It would certainly liven things up in the brig. Again," she added as an afterthought. Accommodating her own superior officer had been a recipe for awkwardness but, like most things, the Betazoid had taken it in her stride.

"Do they end up in a brig more often than Starfleet personnel?" Jerant was genuinely amazed by that. "That would be... awkward, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know that I'd say they're more likely to misbehave, just less subtle about it, at least in a setting like this." Zia paused to finish another mouthful. "Ultimately, generalisations only get you so far, we'll just have to wait and see how many of them are inclined to instigate old stereotypes. I'm sure not all of them hate us commissioned folk." Finishing with a swig of her drink, the telepath gestured with her glass towards the other. "You should be fine either way."

"I have no intention of ending up in the brig, for any reason," Jerant chuckled, "I run from a fight if I can, not engage in it. And I guess from a commission point of view, you're right, I'll be fine. Unless of course they got something against civvies.... We'll see.." he finished his food and leaned back. "So what's on the cards for today? Anything fun planned?"

There was a pause full of thoughtful chewing. "Once I'm done here, I might hit the gym. After that, I've managed to wrangle a duty shift guarding our resident delinquent." The Betazoid's eyes sparkled over a sip of drink, well-aware that she was going to need to further explain that one. "Nayisa, one of the Intel officers, earned herself a stint of house arrest and apparently she's too good at bending the rules, and probably door mechanisms, for Zade to leave her locked in on the honor system."

"Honor system?" Jerant shrugged. "I don't know what that means sorry." But he could see the sparkle in her eyes and sense her amusement. "You think she intends to escape? How, you can't break out from the brig, can you?"

"She's confined to quarters, they let her out of the brig." A final mouthful saw Zia sit back, still nursing half her drink. "And knowing Nayisa, if there's one place she's already figured out numerous ways to escape in a hurry, it's her own living space."

"I suppose knowing how to get out of a dire situation quickly is part of an intelligence officer's job, right?" Jerant nodded towards her. "Or any officer? Isn't escaping your first duty when captured?"

"It would be my first priority, I don't know about duty." He brought up an interesting point, or at least the conversation had given Zia time to arrive at one all on her own. It surely couldn't hurt someone starting out in a career in Security to pick the brains of someone who made an entire living out of staying off the radar. Escape methods seemed a reasonable use of holodeck time, if Nayisa was ever actually allowed out of Zade's sight in future.

"Anyway," she continued, stretching like a cat before standing. "I'm done here for now, you staying?"

Jerant nodded. "Just a little while longer." He smiled at her. "Enjoy your day ma'am, thank you for your company."

"Let me know if you need rescuing from any disgruntled jarheads," the offer rang out loud enough for half the room to hear. Zia was out the door too fast for it to bother her, but it left Jerant facing the awkward scrutiny of several pairs of eyes, each belonging to a confused patron trying to figure out if the translation circuits had misfired.