A Chat?

Posted on 09 Mar 2019 @ 6:26am by Ensign Temperance Zachary & Lieutenant Colonel Anton Markov

"Alright then. Doc I want to chat with you after this in my office. Everyone else let's get to work. It's show time," Anton stated as he stood up.

Temperance's eyes widened ever so slightly at his statement. That's exactly what it was, a statement. It was not a request or a question, it was a statement that brooked no argument or disagreement. Chat? He wanted to chat with her? What could he possibly want to 'chat' with her about?

Temperance remained seated until most everyone else had left the meeting before standing up and following Anton to his office. "You wanted to 'chat' with me Sir?" she asked quietly, the slightest hint of confusion in her voice as she stood firmly, her hands clasped behind her back, watching him curiously.

"Grab a seat," Anton said indicating to the chair opposite his desk as he himself sat down. "I have to say Ensign. When fleet and I were putting the crew for the Powell together there were a lot of senior doctors who wanted in on this."

His words felt like the beginning of a sucker punch to the gut, but she remained quiet, instead sitting down in the seat she had been offered, crossing her legs neatly and resting her hands in her lap. In all honesty, she herself had wondered how it was that she, as just an Ensign, had somehow fallen into the position of Chief Medical Officer, especially on a ship like the Powell... "I am not entirely sure how you want me to respond to that Sir," she said quietly.

"I can imagine that's a bit off putting to be stated. However. Starfleet intelligence has a nack for picking people with unique backrounds. There were three reasons we decided you were right for the job," Anton stated watching her reaction but being careful not to stare a hole into the back of her head. "Firstly you know your stuff. Your a skilled doctor both with and without all the bells and whistles a starship usually has. Secondly, you can handle yourself and defend yourself. That's important too because you never know where you end up on a ship like this. Lastly," he said leaning back a little, "And please take this as a compliment. You don't look like Starfleet. Let me rephrase that. Put any of the rest of the crew from that meeting into a public place, civilian clothing or not and you can tell they belong to someones fleet."

His comments were met by a curious expression. "I'm sorry, Sir, I don't think I understand?" she said quietly. Temperance folded her hands in her lap neatly as she met her commanding officer with a steady gaze. "I am aware that I don't exactly have the same upbringing as most Starfleet officers, but I assure you, Sir, that doesn't change my loyalty or my ability to do my job," she said calmly.

Anton shook his head, "No no that's not what I was trying to say. I'm not good at this bit. Basically the spooks like to look for people with different backrounds and skillset's to round off teams. Because you don't scream, visually speaking of course, 'I'm a starfleet officer!' it means you can blend in better. And handle yourself in a tough spot to boot." He reached into his desk quickly and pulled out a padd. "This is Nine. Our contact. Intel would like you to accompany him. Be another set of eyes and ears."

Temperance looked over the PaDD thoughtfully, reading and rereading each word. Finally, she set it down and looked across at him. "Sir, with all due respect, you don't send a medical officer on an intelligence mission. I see nothing that indicates that there is going to be or even likely to be wounded, so to what end am I supposed to aid this assignment?" she asked quietly.

"Your half right. One of the methods we use to track a fleet is via their supplies. Resources like food and starship supplies move around the Klingon empire like salt in the ocean. Medical supplies however usually point to someone expecting a fight. So far we have been unseucessful at finding finished product to follow but if we can track ingredients for klingon medical supplies that would be a lot easier. For that someone with a bit more knowledge is required." Anton explained. "You also, and correct me if I'm wrong, likely have a different way of viewing a crowd."

While her first instinct was to become riled and offended, Temperance took a breath and considered his question. It was something that had been brought up through much of her academy years, though to her detriment. "I see people," she said softly. Looking across at him, her expression became questioning. "Sorry, Sir, I don't understand. Are you trying to say that I can see people without using technology is somehow why I am here?" the very idea drew against everything she had ever been told at the academy, every class she had ever failed and redone because she had seen a person first without using a tricorder or a scanner. "How is this beneficial to anything? There was genuine confusion in her voice.

"You are here because you posses several of the qualities Starfleet intelligence look for. Your skilled in your field, proficient in languages and martial arts and as you put it, you see people better than the rest of us," Anton replied.

Temperance remained quiet for a moment, her hands folded in her lap as she contemplated what it was that he was saying. Finally, looking across at him, he cast a level gaze. "Sir, instead of flattering me, level with me and tell me what you want me to do," she said quietly. "I assure you, I'm not going to take offence at being asked to serve. That's why I joined Starfleet."

The Colonel scratched his chin, "As I mentioned earlier then. We want you to work with the smuggler. Help him find a lead to track the Klingon fleet, whether that be via medical supplies which he thinks is most likely or by identifying key players." He tiled his head from side to side a bit, "And ah. keep him out of trouble. He tends to be a smidge sure of himself."

Temperance sighed softly, inwardly, but forced a smile on her face. "Of course Sir," she said politely. "Is there anything else I need to be aware of?" Basically she had surmised this was going to be a babysitting mission where she would largely be stopping this being from doing something stupid. "When are we expected to depart, and how long do you anticipate this to last?"

"Hopefully no more than a week or two. You'll transfer on board as soon as we rendevous with him in what, and hour now?" he asked somewhat rhetorically. "Yea about that. Other than that make sure you have a set of civvies. make yourself look... smugglery?" he added with a look on his face that quite clearly showed he hadn't the faintest idea when it came to womens fashion of any sort. "Pack light. Bring only what you'll need."

"Smugglery?" she asked curiously. "Sorry, forgive me Sir, I thought I was semi across new fashions but I just don't understand how I should look 'smugglery'? A very faint smile played at her lips to show there was just the slightest possibility that she was messing with him.

He shrugged, "Beats me. I guess the opposite of a starfleet officer mixed with someone who would sell their grand mother?" he half suggested seriously.

Temperance laughed outwardly, unable to help herself. "Well, I'll keep that in mind when I pack," she said with a laugh. "Just don't look like a starfleet officer, check."

"Alright then," Anton said through his own smirk. "If you need anything else before you go let me know. Otherwise I'll see you in shuttlebay 1 in an hours time."

Standing up from her seat, Temperance nodded slightly. "Thank you Sir, I will see you in one hour," she said politely, her mind racing as she contemplated exactly what it was she needed to do next. "If there's nothing else Sir?" Waiting for his nod she turned on her heel and walked out the door, heading back to her own quarters to get ready.

=/\=

Lieutenant Colonel Anton Markov
Commanding Officer
USS Powell

Ensign Temperance Zachary
Chief Medical Officer
USS Powell