The Tone Call

Posted on Sat Jul 20th, 2024 @ 10:36pm by Lieutenant Ame Solis M.D.

Mission: Into the Qniverse
Timeline: Before Q
988 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

It didn't take Ame that long to rake through her small wardrobe to find something suitable to wear to a party with a crew she hadn't yet met. The staples of her clothing were mostly black, but occasionally there was a pop of colour. The widest palazzo trousers she could find in a neutral camel colour for the swish of a skirt without the inconvenience, a basic black satin slip and a pair of heavy-duty gladiator sandals. It was impractical and against regulation to wear her earring on duty, however, this was off the clock.

Still fastening the strap on her one sandal, a chime rang out from her desk. With a careful hop and carrying her remaining shoe, the Bajoran plopped herself down. A recorded message from the USS Camelot marked as private, it wasn’t a name she immediately recognised. She dropped the shoe and pushed in her foot, lifting it onto the edge of the seat as she started the transmission.

The Starfleet insignia faded the face of a familiar sandy-haired human male, large scar came down from his hairline on the right side of his face and through his mismatched cybernetic eye. A strained smile marked his lips and there was a hint of scruff on his jaw. Behind him a room similar to her own, but littered with earth pop culture references and model ships. “Hey there, Ame. It’s Jackson. I hope this message finds you well.” He had a strong accent by her standards, she’d been told it was called a southern draw.

An audible groan escaped her lips, “What now.” She continued to work on her buckle, fingers not wanting to cooperate with her as she grew more irritated. He was a handsome fly boy, she should have known better.

He leaned closer to the recorder and his smile dropped, “I just got some paperwork from legal regarding our… you know, the property and the divorce stuff. Looks like they’ve finally got everything squared away, but there’s a few things in there that don’t sit right with me. I’m hoping we can sort it out before things get messy.” Jackson’s gaze softened.

Passing the blame, it was something he frequently did, her hand hovered over the close option. Did she really need to be listening to him right now? It had taken him this long to go through all the ins and outs or had he just not bothered. She didn’t know, the more she considered it the more frustrated it made her. The fingers continued to wrestle the spindle through the hole in the strap. “Before things get messy … you made it messy.”

“First off, the valuation of the Ranch seems off. It’s being valued way higher than it should be, which means I end up getting more than what’s fair. I had an appraisal done a few months ago, and the numbers don’t match up. I don’t want to take more than what’s rightfully mine.” He takes a deep breath, he kept his usual warm casual tone despite the seriousness of the issue.

“Also, I noticed you’ve declined any claim to our shared investments. I remember us agreeing to split any profits evenly since we both put in the same amount. I want to make sure you get your fair share.” Jackson leant back in his seat and rubbed the scar on his forehead as he thought. There was more.

The Bajoran had stopped her attempts to fasten her shoe, she stared at the recording quietly. Was this how he admitted guilt? She sucked her tongue and pinched her lips to stop the lump from forming in her throat. A sharp inhale tried to halt the tightness in her chest.

“There’s something you left behind: some research papers and a weird-looking prototype thing you got from that doctor. I know how important that work is to you. I’ve kept it safe, but I think it’s best if it gets back to you. It’s not something I should be holding onto.” He paused a moment staring back into the recorder and offered a quick, sincere smile. “Anyway, give me a shout back when you can. I’d appreciate it. And… I hope things are going smoothly for you out there. Wouldn’t want any more bad vibes between us.” Jackson leaned in again to end the transmission.

The insignia broke the blackness of the screen. Ame’s elbow found her chin, fingers curled against her lips. Why was it always a curve ball? All of the upset and hurt, but there were moments of clarity and sincerity. Perhaps, that was what hurt the most. Her eyes closed, counting up in thousands to ten.

It was time to go, she was already late. She dropped her foot to the floor, her sandal falling off before finally managing to fasten it. “Make a good impression, have a drink, meet some people. It’s a party. Do party things.” The Bajoran shook herself down and stood up, brushing creases from her trousers and smoothing out the pleats. A final check of her reflection in the mirror before shrugging, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

A handful of steps and she’d crossed the threshold out into the corridor. A blur and she was in the transporter room. A shimmer and she was there in body at least. Her eyes scanned for a familiar face and failed, but there was a bar that would do for the time being. Kids were drinking shots, were they really kids or was it just her demeanour? No, they were kids. “I’ll have one of those.” She gestured toward the small group.

"LADIES...AND GENTLEMEN!!"