^ damn, you're good. 
and Jack Donovan is fine with me. So is Mr. Schreiber.
mostly just practice.. but i'll post it anyway.
and Jack Donovan is fine with me. So is Mr. Schreiber.
mostly just practice.. but i'll post it anyway.
USS Trafalgar
Deck One, Main Bridge
Finished with the incredibly dry status report about the new modifications to the deflector, Donovan reached for his combadge. With a quick tap he opened a channel to the captain. Still hoping for him to rethink his choice of XO. Mostly because Donovan was going report directly to the man. The ship and the crew was, in this case, a second priority. “Sir, you told me to inform you when we departed. We are undocking as we speak.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. I’m on my way. Valon out,” came the Captain’s half tired, half annoyed reply through the comm. Exactly two minutes later, the Vulcan stepped onto the bridge.
Donovan relinquished the center seat in a heartbeat and returned to his OPS position. “Systems are green. Current speed, full impulse. Warp speed on you command, Captain.” Donovan said turning back towards Valon.
Valon nodded. “Excellent. Set course to Cardassia Prime. Warp eight. Engage.”
“Aye aye, Warp eight.” Lieutenant Andrew Davis replied bitterly from the helm. “Warp…” he muttered under his breath. “We just got a new slipstream drive and we don’t use it. Unbelievable…”
Blaming it on new-toy-itis, Valon completely disregarded the helmsman’s bitter tone. He got up and nodded to Donovan. “Ready room. Now.” He said. Donovan rushed after him momentarily as a relief officer replaced him.
Taking a seat in the couch as instructed, Donovan spoke up. “So, Captain. Was he a no-show?”
Valon took his cup of Raktajino from the replicator and sat down. “Well…” he scratched his head. “He’s here alright. That’s why I asked you in here. You might want to meet the man.”
The door chime rang. Both officers looked at the door. Donovan a bit more negatively than usual.
“Speaking of the devil…” He said silently and put on the most diplomatic mask he could muster. After Valon’s command, the doors parted revealing a Trill male dressed in civvies. Lieutanant Commander Perjon Dax. He walked past Donovan, without even noticing him, and approached Valon.
Valon discreetly looked up from the padd he wasn't even reading, and met Dax's gaze. “Changed your mind, have you?” he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.
“Yes…” Dax nodded. “But don’t give me another lecture about how I’ve wasted my life, all right?” he handed a padd to Valon. “My request to be reinstated into Starfleet.”
“Ah…” Was all Valon said at first thought. “We won’t be needing this. But I appreciate the formality. What changed you mind, Perjon?”
“You did. And I would have been here sooner if one of your men hadn’t insisted I go through the security checks. Apparently I was flagged as a Ferengi cargoship.”
“That’s because you were a Ferengi cargoship. Your fancy transponder can make your little ship look like a goddamn Borg Cube.” Donovan snapped. Noticing the look on Valon’s face upon the mentioning of the Borg, he quickly added. “Sorry sir.”
Valon gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s perfectly all right, Lieutenant. No matter. Let’s get down to business. – Dax. You currently hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander and you were the XO of the Ballona for two years before its destruction, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was.” Dax replied. Valon tried to read him, an old trick he had learned from Ezri Dax. But the man’s poker face remained inscrutable. Not even when mentioning the Ballona did he flinch.
“What would you say if I would offer you the XO position on the Trafalgar?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Dax asked. Upon Valon’s quick gesture with his right arm that could loosely be translated into ‘go ahead’, he continued. “Truthfully sir. I’d ask you if you are completely sane. Who would want me as their XO?”
“No one.” Valon replied. “Jack, – could you give us the room? Your shift is over anyway. Get some rest.”
Donovan nodded and shot Dax a glare that said everything he needed to know. “Get yourself together or I will kick you out the nearest airlock.” He mentally reached out and tried to strangle Dax. But when no invisible arms extended he gave up and headed for the door.
Dax smiled wryly at the second officer as he left. Something that just added to the hostile and volatile tension between the two men.
“No one, but me.” Valon added. “I’m inclined to give you some slack because I know you. You could be one hell of an XO if you put your mind to it. But…”
“With all due respect, Captain. You don’t know me. And you never had.” Perjon cut in.
Seeing his point, Valon lowered his gaze and gave his desk a fleeting look. He wasn’t an overly personal man. His desk was spartan. It had always been. My ready room is my workplace. Not my quarters. He always said when someone asked him why he had no personal affects present. But there were three things he held dearly. Two pictures and an IDIC medallion. The medallion had been given to him by his late mother as a child and the two pictures were the last memories of his good friend and mentor, Ezri Dax. Ironically, he never really got along with her husband, Julian Bashir. In the beginning, he couldn’t stand the man. But now, he missed him just as much as he missed Ezri.
Valon picked up one of the picture frames, gave it a long and thorough look, remembering the good memories behind it. ‘The last meal’, he called the picture. The last time they had all met. Ezri, Julian, Sam, and him. Two weeks before the attack that had claimed Julian's, and consequently Ezri's life.
“What’s that Captain?” Dax asked as Valon was looking at the picture frame.
Valon smiled. “Nothing. Just some old memories. – Here.” He said handing the picture frame to Dax.
Dax carefully probed every inch of the picture. He didn’t remember it being taken, but he recognized the place where they were. Benjamin Sisko’s Restaurant in New Orleans. He looked at the faces, remembered every single one as clearly as he saw them in the picture. Samaritan Bowers, Julian Bashir, Valon and Ezri Dax. “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?” Dax said. It was more of a statement than a question. He returned the picture to Valon.
“Yes,” he said. “She was also very married.” Smiling, Valon looked up at Dax and then back at the picture of Ezri. “You’re right. I knew her.” He finally said. Still looking at the picture. “I don’t know you. But I know how you work, how you think. And I’m confident that you will do a good job if you really want to.”
Valon carefully put the picture back. Cleaning off the thin layer of dust with his right index finger. “I could order you to do this, but I won’t.” he said. Letting his words sink in. “I know how Trill traditions work. I pride myself in knowing everything that is possible about different cultures. But, I still consider you a friend. -- It is your choice, Dax.” He said.
“It’s your choice, Dax…” Valon voice was kind and friendly. Not commanding or demanding. It would have been so easy to simply say no. To simply keep running. To keep avoiding the memory that had haunted him for so long. A mistake that hadn’t even been his. Yet he still felt responsible. But… He couldn’t run anymore…
“I accept.” Dax finally said. Valon’s expression didn’t change. But Perjon could still see that he was glad.
Valon reached for a padd and handed it to Dax. “Computer. Record that from this date, effective immediately, Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax is promoted to the rank of Commander and assigned as Executive officer to the USS Trafalgar, NCC-91225. Authorization: Valon- 2-4-Kappa-blue.”
The computer responded with a short chime. “Ships log and roster has been updated. Commander Perjon Dax has been given command level clearance…
As the computer finished it’s long and drawn out list of every system and area Commander Perjon Dax had now access to, only two words came to mind for Perjon. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now?” Valon inquired. “Now you download everything in your ship's databanks into my personal mainframe. Every name, every job, every location. I call an old friend and tell him that Dax needs a favor. If you can produce anything worthwhile he will make sure that you’ve been working undercover for Starfleet intelligence your entire criminal career.”
“What old friend?” Dax inquired, looking incredibly quizzical.
Valon simply leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, go and get some sleep. You'll need it. T'Mra was one hell of an officer. You have some big shoes to fill. Your shift starts at oh-eight hundred hours. Dismissed.”
“Aye.” Dax nodded and headed for the door. Before the doors closed, he could hear Valon address the computer.
“Computer. Open a private channel to Captain Samaritan Bowers, USS Aventine.”
Deck One, Main Bridge
Finished with the incredibly dry status report about the new modifications to the deflector, Donovan reached for his combadge. With a quick tap he opened a channel to the captain. Still hoping for him to rethink his choice of XO. Mostly because Donovan was going report directly to the man. The ship and the crew was, in this case, a second priority. “Sir, you told me to inform you when we departed. We are undocking as we speak.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. I’m on my way. Valon out,” came the Captain’s half tired, half annoyed reply through the comm. Exactly two minutes later, the Vulcan stepped onto the bridge.
Donovan relinquished the center seat in a heartbeat and returned to his OPS position. “Systems are green. Current speed, full impulse. Warp speed on you command, Captain.” Donovan said turning back towards Valon.
Valon nodded. “Excellent. Set course to Cardassia Prime. Warp eight. Engage.”
“Aye aye, Warp eight.” Lieutenant Andrew Davis replied bitterly from the helm. “Warp…” he muttered under his breath. “We just got a new slipstream drive and we don’t use it. Unbelievable…”
Blaming it on new-toy-itis, Valon completely disregarded the helmsman’s bitter tone. He got up and nodded to Donovan. “Ready room. Now.” He said. Donovan rushed after him momentarily as a relief officer replaced him.
Taking a seat in the couch as instructed, Donovan spoke up. “So, Captain. Was he a no-show?”
Valon took his cup of Raktajino from the replicator and sat down. “Well…” he scratched his head. “He’s here alright. That’s why I asked you in here. You might want to meet the man.”
The door chime rang. Both officers looked at the door. Donovan a bit more negatively than usual.
“Speaking of the devil…” He said silently and put on the most diplomatic mask he could muster. After Valon’s command, the doors parted revealing a Trill male dressed in civvies. Lieutanant Commander Perjon Dax. He walked past Donovan, without even noticing him, and approached Valon.
Valon discreetly looked up from the padd he wasn't even reading, and met Dax's gaze. “Changed your mind, have you?” he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.
“Yes…” Dax nodded. “But don’t give me another lecture about how I’ve wasted my life, all right?” he handed a padd to Valon. “My request to be reinstated into Starfleet.”
“Ah…” Was all Valon said at first thought. “We won’t be needing this. But I appreciate the formality. What changed you mind, Perjon?”
“You did. And I would have been here sooner if one of your men hadn’t insisted I go through the security checks. Apparently I was flagged as a Ferengi cargoship.”
“That’s because you were a Ferengi cargoship. Your fancy transponder can make your little ship look like a goddamn Borg Cube.” Donovan snapped. Noticing the look on Valon’s face upon the mentioning of the Borg, he quickly added. “Sorry sir.”
Valon gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s perfectly all right, Lieutenant. No matter. Let’s get down to business. – Dax. You currently hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander and you were the XO of the Ballona for two years before its destruction, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I was.” Dax replied. Valon tried to read him, an old trick he had learned from Ezri Dax. But the man’s poker face remained inscrutable. Not even when mentioning the Ballona did he flinch.
“What would you say if I would offer you the XO position on the Trafalgar?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Dax asked. Upon Valon’s quick gesture with his right arm that could loosely be translated into ‘go ahead’, he continued. “Truthfully sir. I’d ask you if you are completely sane. Who would want me as their XO?”
“No one.” Valon replied. “Jack, – could you give us the room? Your shift is over anyway. Get some rest.”
Donovan nodded and shot Dax a glare that said everything he needed to know. “Get yourself together or I will kick you out the nearest airlock.” He mentally reached out and tried to strangle Dax. But when no invisible arms extended he gave up and headed for the door.
Dax smiled wryly at the second officer as he left. Something that just added to the hostile and volatile tension between the two men.
“No one, but me.” Valon added. “I’m inclined to give you some slack because I know you. You could be one hell of an XO if you put your mind to it. But…”
“With all due respect, Captain. You don’t know me. And you never had.” Perjon cut in.
Seeing his point, Valon lowered his gaze and gave his desk a fleeting look. He wasn’t an overly personal man. His desk was spartan. It had always been. My ready room is my workplace. Not my quarters. He always said when someone asked him why he had no personal affects present. But there were three things he held dearly. Two pictures and an IDIC medallion. The medallion had been given to him by his late mother as a child and the two pictures were the last memories of his good friend and mentor, Ezri Dax. Ironically, he never really got along with her husband, Julian Bashir. In the beginning, he couldn’t stand the man. But now, he missed him just as much as he missed Ezri.
Valon picked up one of the picture frames, gave it a long and thorough look, remembering the good memories behind it. ‘The last meal’, he called the picture. The last time they had all met. Ezri, Julian, Sam, and him. Two weeks before the attack that had claimed Julian's, and consequently Ezri's life.
“What’s that Captain?” Dax asked as Valon was looking at the picture frame.
Valon smiled. “Nothing. Just some old memories. – Here.” He said handing the picture frame to Dax.
Dax carefully probed every inch of the picture. He didn’t remember it being taken, but he recognized the place where they were. Benjamin Sisko’s Restaurant in New Orleans. He looked at the faces, remembered every single one as clearly as he saw them in the picture. Samaritan Bowers, Julian Bashir, Valon and Ezri Dax. “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?” Dax said. It was more of a statement than a question. He returned the picture to Valon.
“Yes,” he said. “She was also very married.” Smiling, Valon looked up at Dax and then back at the picture of Ezri. “You’re right. I knew her.” He finally said. Still looking at the picture. “I don’t know you. But I know how you work, how you think. And I’m confident that you will do a good job if you really want to.”
Valon carefully put the picture back. Cleaning off the thin layer of dust with his right index finger. “I could order you to do this, but I won’t.” he said. Letting his words sink in. “I know how Trill traditions work. I pride myself in knowing everything that is possible about different cultures. But, I still consider you a friend. -- It is your choice, Dax.” He said.
“It’s your choice, Dax…” Valon voice was kind and friendly. Not commanding or demanding. It would have been so easy to simply say no. To simply keep running. To keep avoiding the memory that had haunted him for so long. A mistake that hadn’t even been his. Yet he still felt responsible. But… He couldn’t run anymore…
“I accept.” Dax finally said. Valon’s expression didn’t change. But Perjon could still see that he was glad.
Valon reached for a padd and handed it to Dax. “Computer. Record that from this date, effective immediately, Lieutenant Commander Perjon Dax is promoted to the rank of Commander and assigned as Executive officer to the USS Trafalgar, NCC-91225. Authorization: Valon- 2-4-Kappa-blue.”
The computer responded with a short chime. “Ships log and roster has been updated. Commander Perjon Dax has been given command level clearance…
As the computer finished it’s long and drawn out list of every system and area Commander Perjon Dax had now access to, only two words came to mind for Perjon. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now?” Valon inquired. “Now you download everything in your ship's databanks into my personal mainframe. Every name, every job, every location. I call an old friend and tell him that Dax needs a favor. If you can produce anything worthwhile he will make sure that you’ve been working undercover for Starfleet intelligence your entire criminal career.”
“What old friend?” Dax inquired, looking incredibly quizzical.
Valon simply leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I’ll tell you some other time. Right now, go and get some sleep. You'll need it. T'Mra was one hell of an officer. You have some big shoes to fill. Your shift starts at oh-eight hundred hours. Dismissed.”
“Aye.” Dax nodded and headed for the door. Before the doors closed, he could hear Valon address the computer.
“Computer. Open a private channel to Captain Samaritan Bowers, USS Aventine.”
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