| Author | Message | ||
     Captain Sieven Drexler |
Descant The mellow blare of a brass octet filled the room and threatened to shake the windows. The tall portals were filtered, but the chaotic azure of slipstream seeped through them, casting a metallic blue glow on everything in the room. The tremors of the music shook loose the foam that had gathered on the surface of a mug of steaming hot chocolate. The mug itself began rattling with the bass, while a small obsidian fractal statuette hummed harmonics as the lead cornet reached for a dulcet E-flat. Sieven lay with his eyes closed on his sofa, hands behind his head, immersing himself in the music. He had only been awake for about fifteen minutes and was wearing his normal morning attire: silk pajama pants, shirtless. A thin line of beige downy hair scored the lateral edge of his abdomen and disappeared before the waistline. It was one of the few distinguishing marks between Terrans and Êaaniar that could be seen externally; the other was a slightly darker pigment of skin below the navel that disappeared beneath the waistline, and marked the top of the feet. The battery of tuba and bass trombone sent shivers through the deckplate, and through Sieven's body, as they began a cascading key change. The tenor brass was quick to follow, and the high brass crested just as the bass began back down the scales. For a brief moment, the note played by the cornet matched the door chime and rendered it inaudible. Sieven thought he had heard it, though, and glanced at the door. The key changed and the brass dropped to pianissimo. The door chime was a source of dissonance in the new key, and was much easier to pick out. He sat up and tapped the utility console on the endtable, dropping the volume to about half of its previous level. He took his mug and blew on the surface of the liquid, calling for the door. "Come in." The unsightly metal doors parted swiftly to reveal the silhouette of a female in uniform, backlit by the relatively bright corridor lighting. Sieven tapped on the endtable once again and the recessed lighting flared up to one-quarter intensity, just enough to see. The woman stepped in, holding a PADD at her waist. "Sorry to disturb you, captain." Sieven gestured to his desk near the door. "Have a seat, Lori." He took a cautious sip of the hot chocolate, but found it wasn't too hot, and was more generous with the next one. He smiled and set the mug back on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The woman hesitated, but then moved over to the desk and sat behind it, setting her PADD on the transparent, glass-like desk. It was rather neat and organized, and she did her best to avoid touching anything she wasn't supposed to. She seemed more embarrassed that her superior wasn't fully dressed, but Sieven didn't seem to mind. "You weren't disturbing me, I was simply relaxing." He glanced across at her dimly lit features behind his desk and grinned. His own face was illuminated just enough to make out the markings on his temple, resembling an "upside-down" equilateral triangle, split into four equal areas, with the upper right quadrant containing a small alien letter. His head was completely shaven (as in the other reality), and the marks were almost like a badge. He noticed her hesitation to speak. "Lieutenant?" She seemed startled. "Oh. Sorry, sir." Something must've clicked because she seemed fine now. "I was going over logistics with the fleet quartermaster and wanted to discuss some of the finer points of inventory with you." Sieven reached for his hot chocolate, smiling, and took a sip. "Yeoman's duties starting to bore you, Lori?" He held the mug with both hands at his waist, crossing a leg. Lori sniffed a little, prompting Sieven to grin even more. "Anyway, you know this is only temporary until Chief Gladorat is back on his feet. Then you can get back to the joys of correspondence encryption and staff scheduling." "I never left those 'joys,' sir," she whipped back sarcastically, but followed it with a smile. "I enjoy my job, sir." "Good," the captain replied just as sarcastically. "So inventory issues? Is it about our weapons stock?" Lori shook her head. "No, sir, it's actually regarding the invoice for Doctor Thompson's shipment of Reorsan austral bloodhound ... fecal matter." Had Sieven still had hot chocolate in his mouth, he probably would've spit it out. "What is he up to?" he said with restraint. "Some kind of bacterial experiment, sir. At least, that's the note on the request." "And Chief Gladorat approved it?" Lori nodded. "More than 'experiments' going on there. I was a cadet at one point, you know. I don't think that's Thompson's doing, though. Damn cadets." He looked at her with almost a desperate glance. "I tried my best to avoid turning this ship into a teaching ship, but they're still shoving cadets at me." He shook his head sadly. "The shipment would've been approved, however, except the request was so odd that it never made it past the Fleet Quartermaster. That's how it came back to me." Sieven sighed. "All right. I'll let Fornan know about it and he can delegate whatever punishments need to be handed down." He drank some more from his mug. "Also, captain," she started, "I'd like to review the schedule for the Signing tomorrow with you." Sieven nodded; something worth his attention, after all. "We should be arriving within the hour, and they will be assigning rooms at the new embassy for all of the commanding officers. I'll list everything in Coronado time." She scrolled down on the PADD. "Breakfast at 1620 with Admiral Mitchell and the other COs. That's scheduled for an hour, followed by a tour of the new government complex. Lunch at 2100 with Admiral Theron, and ceremonies should begin at 2235." She smirked, still reading the PADD. "I'll get your dress uniform prepared for you, sir." Drexler didn't seem to mind the subtle allusion to the common "no one likes wearing the whites," which caused Lori to retract her smirk a bit. Sieven never really cared about things like that. She cleared her throat and continued. "Following the ceremonies will be the Admirals' Dinner where I'm sure you'll talk with several more important people... and after that should be free time or sleep, whichever you prefer." Sieven sat the empty mug down on the coffee table, nodding. "Sounds good, Lori." She nodded and then paused. "Something else?" "Well, sir... I, uh, am very fond of working with you and your staff, however, I was wondering..." she trailed off. "Yes?" he said, encouraging her to, in essence, "spill it." "I know you have worked with Captain Ma'aru, and I was wondering if you would, umm, mention my name to her regarding that opening she has in operations." She bit her lip. Sieven smiled. "I will do no such thing, lieutenant." Lori nearly gasped. "I will introduce her to you myself." He smirked at his evil turn-around, something that he seemed to do easily as a captain. Lori gulped and almost squealed, but she nodded and stood, making sure everything was in order on the desk, and then moved almost clumsily to the door. "Thank you, captain." She seemed a little breathless. "You're welcome, lieutenant. Dismissed." His smile faded a little as she left, and he laid back on the sofa, turning the volume up on the music, just in time for the finale. He began to stretch out, only to stop when the blue glow on the walls suddenly faded, replaced by yellow. He sat back up and glanced over at one of the windows. Through the solar filter, he could make out Reor. As the ship dropped from slipstream and banked starboard, the solar filter deactivated and a breathtaking view of Reorsa soon filled his vision, flooding the cabin with the rusty oranges and reds of the light reflecting off of the polarized atmosphere. Specks of gray were suspended over the planet. Patrol ships could be spotted easily as Coronado's vector took it behind the planet's terminator, and they moved to escort the frigate into orbit. The trumpets would have soared into heaven if it hadn't been for the tuba's resilience. Lower and lower it dove, fighting a musical battle with the trumpets, weaving majestic threads of sound, leading into the final crescendo. The tenor instruments mediated the growing void between the bass and high note, and then, effortlessly, they rallied again for the penultimate notes of the piece. The chord suspended, a determined horn ushering in the final notes of the melody, and then finally... Unification. BTC |