SD241709.07 - Joint Duty Log - CO & Sails - "Leggings and Suit Warmers"

Posted on Wed Sep 20th, 2017 @ 4:45pm by Sails-at-Dawn Mr & Admiral Cerywyn

2,614 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Test Mission
Location: USS Versailles

=^= Residential section 124 =^=

As usual, the area was deserted. The recreational areas were doing good business, and the various business areas of the station were likely packed with shoppers, hawkers, and working men&women, but the quarters themselves only had a few people meandering about.

This was good news for Sails, who felt ridiculous. This was a big day for him, and he'd decided in advance to wear a suit. A military uniform would be better, but he'd never served in the military, so instead he was wearing a tailored suit he'd been given as a gift.

Before joining Versailles, before Zetari even, Sails had served as the personal assistant to the master of an estate on Vega Colony. This after a long time as a servant and, later, a butler. His diligence and hard work, combined with a burgeoning suite of skills (even back then), had resulted in his final promotion to PA status. Naturally his wardrobe had suits at the time, but most were replicated, and those that weren't were more suited to his prior role as a butler. Hence the new suit; a gift from his boss at the time.

Over two years later, and Sails still had that suit. Carefully packed and cleaned by professional services each time he used it, he nevertheless only wore it for special occasions. Adjusting the black tie carefully in front of the reflective wall panel, he took a calming breath and activated the panel's comm relay.

"Hello Lieutenant. This is Sails-at-Dawn, registered Handyman. I have a meeting scheduled with the Admiral in a few minutes. May I ask if we're still on for 10:30?" the handyman inquired, trying to remain both cool and professional, despite the several months he'd been waiting for this slot.

Grace looked at the calendar and without a trace or hint of humor she simply replied “Yes, the Admiral is expecting you, Mr. Sails."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Sails replied. Aiming to arrive early, he closed the comm channel and moved straight into the nearby turbolift.

Ten minutes later, and Sails was being frisked. He had completely forgotten that his suit was heated, and therefore had its own power supply. Custom, of course. So custom that the heating element laced throughout the suit had been identified as potentially dangerous, and had drawn too much of the wrong kind of attention to him. Apparently attempting to approach the Admiral's office wearing unrecognised tech had alarmed an enthusiastic cadet, who now had him stand against the wall while the frisking happened.

"Yes, I understand your concerns."

"Hold still sir."

"If I could just expl"

"Stop talking."

"Well that's a bit ru"

"I said STOP TA"

"What's going on he....oh for pete's sake Cadet!" cussed a passing Ensign. The Cadet immediately backed away and stood to attention, giving Sails room to breathe.

"I have a heated suit, and apparently the power supply set off a tricorder warning?" Sails queried, still unclear as to what sensor package could mistake even a custom body warmer for a weapon.

The Ensign snatched the tricorder from the Cadet, gave it one look, and snapped it shut.

"Low battery warning, cadet."

"I, erm. Sorry sir."

"Damn right you're sorry. Git!" the Ensign barked. The cadet took the hint and ran off to his next assignment, sparing nary a thought for the molested handyman.

"So I can go?" Sails asked, worried that the time for his meeting was only a couple of minutes away.

"Yes. On behalf of Starfleet, accept my apologies." the Ensign stated flatly, more a demand than a request.

"Sure. Cya." the handyman replied with a brief smile, taking off at a jog.

A minute later, he rounded a corner and saw a guarded entrance up ahead. If he was right, this was the entrance to the Admiral's office suite, or at least the entrance civilians were *told* was the entrance to the Admiral's suite. For all he knew he was a dozen bulkheads and two decks away from the actual suite itself, but at least he was here on time.


Grace looked up when she saw movement outside the corner of her eye. She’d just closed the comm link with a frustrated Ensign. She stood up and walked around her desk to greet Mr. Sails-at-Dawn. She extended her hand when he entered. “Mr. Sails, I’m sure the Admiral will reiterate this, but we’re sorry for any inconvenience you may have experienced.” She smiled. “Enthusiasm in our more junior officers sometimes gets the better of them.” She shook her head. “Captain Cain also takes security on the Star Base quite seriously so sensor readings are a bit more sensitive and always in need of calibration.” She motioned to the door way. “The Admiral is waiting.”

By this point they’d approached the doors which slid open by some unseen command. Cerywyn had been curious when she’d received the request for a meeting and curiosity always piqued her interests. She’d just finishing making notes in a report to Starfleet Command and it appeared it was a timely dotted ‘i’ and crossed ’t’. She stood. She was quite petite at only 4’11 and her hair was dark, not quite black, with a white streak in her forelock and was pulled back and clasped with a delicate comb of what looked like spun glass. Her eyes were a light blue and careful observation could see they were bright with anticipation. Her tunic and leggings were in a dark emerald green swirled with a tonal shade lighter and trimmed with a silver cording on the hem. There was no jewelry other than her comm badge and pipps. She wore no makeup and had never really seen the need for it, but her cheeks had a natural flush to them that was in stark contrast to her otherwise alabaster complexion. She made her way around her desk as the two entered. Grace stopped just inside the door and replied, “Mr. Sails-at-Dawn, to see you ma’am.” Cerywyn inclined her head and motioned him over, pointing to the two chairs on either side of a small table. The chairs weren’t exactly facing one another, but were angled appropriately to allow for ease of conversation and access to the tray between them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of having a hot pot of tea brought up along with my favorite scones. If tea and scones are not to your liking, by all means, help yourself to the replicator.” She took her seat and turned one of the delicate teacups up right on its saucer and began to pour. This tea was a deep, dark Irish tea - almost the color of black coffee but with none of the bitterness and the smell of the orange cranberry scones were tantalizing to say the least.

Noting the natural beauty of the Admiral, Sails graciously accepted the offer of a chair and kept his eyes firmly on hers. This was a defence tactic against his own subconcious, as the Admiral wasn't nearly as frumpy nor conservative as many of her peers. Her pert lips stood out against her pale skin, her tunic seemed to accent the natural curves of her body, and her leggings were skin-tight; things which the handyman had noticed purely out of his peripheral vision.

"Thank you, tea would be lovely." The handyman replied, keeping his hands clasped strategically in his lap. The Admiral's appearance was definitely going to complicate matters.


She poured him a cup of tea and handed him the delicately crafted cup. 446 years along and she still preferred ‘real’ china to anything the replicator could do. Once she’d handed him his cup and he’d helped himself to a scone, she waited a moment. “I don’t often get requests from ‘handymen’ to meet with me, so when I do get a request, I take notice.” She sipped her tea and eyed the human carefully over the rim of her cup. Blonde and blue eyed and a sense of shrewdness about the eyes - the way the face was relaxed but not completely - a slight tightening at the corner that imperceptibly tugged at his lips just as he lifted his tea cup to taste. As was always the case when she was with civilians, she kept a tight reign on her own emotions and her thoughts. Her face was a well controlled visage, not too stern, not too curious and most importantly sincere. “So, what can I do for you?"

Unaware that the lady in front of him was a quadcenturian, Sails folded one leg over the other and enjoyed a sip of tea as he marshalled his thoughts. He'd memorized a short list of priorities for this meeting, and it was taking all his mentalies to keep them coherent. Various images (both real and imagined) were nudging his psyche for attention, and it was all very distracting.

"First, I wanted to thank you in person." Sails began, setting the half-empty teacup back on the saucer. "By all accounts, this station was on the verge of total collapse before Starfleet returned. You and your people have done a fantastic job in a very short time; the systems are back up to strength, the station is safer than ever, and the people have jobs and prospects because more and more businesses are seeing Versailles as a haven in the black. Thank you for making this happen." said Sails, remembering the time he'd found out his new job (on YaDalla, over a year ago) was near some sort of crumbling crime-shack in space, packed to the rafters with criminals and vagrants.

Bluntly, he remembered hoping the place would kindly self-destruct before he arrived. Starfleet's way was much better though.

Cerywyn nodded. "I can't take the credit" she replied. "I have an excellent crew and they did the work. I just coordinated the moving parts. It is nice to hear the compliment though. I'll be sure to pass it along to the crew." She sipped her tea in turn and then placed her cup to the side for a moment. "Is that all? I have a hunch you stopped by for more than a 'thank you?"

A smile tugged at the corner of the handyman's mouth at the Admiral's perspicacity, though there was a hint of nervousness to it. He noted the caffeine was making his heart beat a little faster, and he didn't appreciate it putting him even more on edge.

"And you would be right ma'am. A while ago, I was contacted by some old clients; Benjamin Gowler of the Crimean Association, Timothy Rant of Rant & Co Solicitors, and Coral Trask of Hepple Spacewagons. They've noticed that the market has stabilised on Versailles, and they'd like to move seventy-three further staff out here to expand their operations in the region. However, over concerns about safety, they've been trying to request transport from a Starfleet ship. However, since this has been wrapped up in red tape for months, they asked me to speak with you personally to try and come to some accord. Cutting the Gordian Knot, so to speak." Sails rambled on, wresting control of his tongue back from the caffeine.

Cerywyn nodded. "Sometimes red tape seems to be in abundant supply." She walked over to her desk and looked down. "If they've got escort to YaDalla Sector, we can pick it up from there. I can talk with Captain Soran-Johnson and have her assign a fighter escort. Will that work?"

Sails pulled out his padd and consulted a chart. His clients had considered a number of routes before contacting him, and there were a small network of trusted routes they were prepared to take, assuming Starfleet weren't able to take them aboard one of their ships for the entire journey. Some brought them closer to the Yadalla sector than others, but none of the routes with both the #trusted and #safe tags came within three light years of the Yadalla sector.

"They can get near the Yadalla sector...here, here, here and here." Sails explained, showing the admiral the four closest points on his map, none more than four light-years outside the sector's borders. "I think they can get most of the rest of the way with that escort you mentioned, via a relay of several civilian ships, but there's a small gap right *there* that their trusted agencies won't send ships into." Sails mentioned, gesturing to a point just inside Yadalla's borders, but outside Versailles' sphere of influence. It was shallow, but wide, precluding circumnavigation.

"Perhaps we could convince those agencies of their safety with the escort. Or maybe we could get a starfleet ship, or some other agency, to send ships there. What do you think?" Sails asked, trying to think of a way to bridge that gap.

Cerywyn studied the area. "Hmmm. Captain Soran-Johnson can lead fighters and that region is already patrolled by the Legion. I'll have to speak to Admiral Korin but since it wouldn't cause a change for his patrols, they can provide an escort in that 'in-between' space."

"I fear we've misunderstood each other. They will require that escort all the way from one of those four points, outside Yadalla sector, to Versailles' area of control. That no-go zone I mentioned is somewhere they can't even get a trusted ship to carry them." Sails explained, gesturing at the relevant portions of the map.

Cerywyn nodded. "I see" she said. "So you need to have your people picked up on the other side of that no-go zone and transported here." She frowned slightly. "That's not exactly an escort" she replied carefully. "I'm not sure Starfleet would like it if I used them as a shuttle service. It's one thing to escort vessels across a difficult impasse of space that most would not go into because there are people here that have no qualms about going whereever they're needed even if it's an increased risk to their person. That's what Starfleet officers do." She paused. "Likewise, I can understand that a civillian doesn't take risks like that without due cause, if at all." She'd walked over to her desk at this point and resumed her seat. "I will have to give this some thought. I would like to provide assistance and I like to encourage enterprise and entrepreneurship on Versailles and in the surrounding area; but, I'd quickly lose 'face' in the sector if word got out that I was providing a 'taxi' into, across, around or through those regions that others naturally shy away from." She smirked. "I'd probably have a price on my head. . . but it wouldn't be the first time." She picked up a stack of papers on her desk. "I'll talk to with my personnel and see if they have an easier solution for you. I know it's not what you'd like to hear, but it's the best I can do at the moment."

Sails eyeballed the time in the corner of his padd, and realised their slot was seconds away from ending. He decided to have a word with one of the trusted agencies personally. If the Admiral's people couldn't think of a better option, perhaps an agency could be convinced to run a one-off service through that gap with the guarantee of a fighter escort.

"Of course. Thank you for your time." the handyman said, humbly collecting his padd and standing. With a tidy bow, he moved towards the door, his mind already rifling through a mental list of local transport agencies.


=^= End of Log =^=

Sails-at-Dawn
Civilian
USS Versailles

&&

Fleet Admiral Cerywyn
SB Versailles CO / YaDalla Sector Commander

 

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