| Author | Message | ||
     RAdm Todd Marshall |
“You’re sure that everything’s set? “Yessir, everything as per your orders.” “Popcorn?” “Check,” “Soft Drinks?” “Check,” “Pre-show music?” “Check. And the movie posters. And the movie trailers. And…” a sigh, “the sticky floors.” “Overpriced snack food?” The Chief Operations officer of the U.S.S. Vanguard blinked once or twice and looked down at the PADD he was carrying, confused. Marshall grinned and slapped the man on the bicep. “Kidding, Kieren, kidding.” The men were walking through Vanguard, passing a repair crew here or there making some cosmetic adjustments to several of the main walkways leading from the ship’s primary transporter rooms and shuttlebay to the movie theatre and ballroom. Red carpeting had quickly been installed over the standard deck plating, and the corridor control displays had been modified to produce strings of white lights. The ops officer shook his head, smirking slightly for having been taken in so easily, “Arrival and departure times for our guests have been arranged to keep the transporters and the flight deck from exceeding our transfer capacity and to minimize any possible mishaps.” “And the midnight showing?” Marshall inquired as he patted a repairman on the shoulder as the two walked past. Kieren sighed tiredly. “Admiral, I watched some of this ‘Plan 9 from Outer Space’, and I do not see how anyone could possibly wish to stay late to view it.” “What? Are you kidding? That’s the most classic one of them all!” “Sir, it’s quite possibly the most horrid thing I’ve ever seen. It isn’t worth the memory to even have it in the computer.” Marshall paused, “Yeah, I know. But it’s just so…so…” “…bad that it’s good?” The Admiral beamed, “Attaboy, Kieren!” The two men entered a transporter room, stepping over a roll of carpet as the transporter chief initiated a transport; the first, early group of visitors from Fearless. Grinning, with that madman gleam in his eyes, the Admiral stepped forward and gripped the hand of the nearest new arrival. “Hi there, Lieutenant! Glad you could make it! Was the trip okay? Come on in, we’re just getting set up, Kieren here will show you the way!” The man blinked a couple of times at the Admiral and, both shocked and nervous, smiled back and stepped down off the pad. Marshall completed the ritual with the other three new arrivals and ushered them out of the transporter room, all four stunned and dazed at being welcomed with such enthusiasm and familiarity by an Admiral. Marshall put his hands on his hips and grinned at the closing door, “God, I love doing that.” As he turned to order the transporter chief to order him to energize and bring over the next batch of guests, the Admiral’s communicator badge chirped. He huffed, a little annoyed at interruption of his fun. “Admiral, you have a priority one communication from Stirling coming in on subspace. Admiral Aldur for you, sir.” Marshall brightened slightly and thumbed at the door for the transporter chief to leave him alone for a moment as he moved over to the wall console behind the transporter console. As the doors closed behind the chief, he accepted the communication. “Howdy skip! Sure you don’t want to drop by for a movie? We’ve got Plan 9 from Outer Space on the menu for the midnight showing…” For the briefest moment, Marshall thought he saw his former commanding officer shudder, but he knew it had to be his imagination. “Thank you for the offer, Todd, but there are things needing my attention here at the moment. I just wanted to give you a warning.” “A warning?” Marshall raised an eyebrow, “What, the Pfhor think that they can park outside the fence and watch the movies from there without paying admission?” Aldur either didn’t find the remark amusing, or found the situation a little bit more serious than Marshall did. “Admiral, will there be crew from Coronado joining you on Vanguard this evening?” “Well yes, but…” “What day is it, Todd?” “April first,” a beat, “ahhhhh Hell.” As Marshall groaned, the smallest quirk of a smile appeared in the corner of Aldur’s mouth. |