Meeting the New ACMO

Posted on Wed May 24th, 2023 @ 10:18am by Captain Kelly O'Connor & Lieutenant Vila Lorut

2,471 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Mission 8 - A Blast from the Past
Location: Captain's Office
Timeline: 2296/03/04 1100

The petite Captain was still enraged over her new Chief Engineer. She wanted to know where there was any wit of intelligence in that boy. He certainly thought he had a great deal in his other head, but that was irrelevant. He was a threat to the ship and unfortunately, was stuck on her ship. Why did she get all the misfits? she wondered. Misfit ship that should be retired. Misfit Chief Engineer. A stupid Chief of Security, not to mention a stupid Starfleet Admiralcy that still left her on this blasted Constitution class ship when she should be Captaining a new Excelsior.

Her frustration only grew as she was working with some set of bent metal wires and was trying to get them to look like they did in the store where she purchased them. If she could get it looking the same way, theoretically the final design would create a device that would cause the user to be able to have infrared vision for a few minutes. None of that mattered, though, because the wires would not go where they should go and O'Connor growled furiously before taking her arm and sweeping everything with one loud scream to the floor.

The scream could be heard by Vila, who stood outside the CO's door, poised to ring the chime. She could absolutely relate to screaming while at work-a pleasure she hardly allowed herself, but when she did? Beware. Still, she pressed the chime, and waited to be let in. But not long, because she pushed the door open and peeked inside. "Dr. Vila Lorut, reporting as ordered, Ma'am." She said. She didn't do anything else but stand there. She wouldn't-COULDN'T-blow this one if she had any hopes of getting her PiPs back-a hope that dwindled by the day, days that inched closer and closer to driving her to absolute insanity. "Are you ok?" She inquired, a well-groomed eyebrow cocked.

The petite, redheaded captain glared at Vila, straightened her uniform with a small tug and gruffly said, "I'm fine." She looked over Vila and noted the absence of irises. Betazoid. They're newer to the Federation. Empaths, if I recall. If she thinks that she's going to tell me how I'm feeling, then she has another thing coming! She may be in the airlock just after I toss Radars out one. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the ACMO. "Do you want to tell me your story, or should I just pull a PADD out? I'm going to guess that you did something to piss someone off to end up here."

Vila shrugged. "Uh, yeah, that I did. Do you want to hear my story?" She asked. She settled in. "At my last posting, I was on an away mission. We were ambushed. A junior officer was killed. They blamed me, I blamed, you know, the people who ambushed us. They said I should've seen it coming. Maybe because I am an empath? Or maybe because I am a senior officer? I don't know. Anyway, they took my Lt. Commander Pips and time in rank. At the same time, I was in the middle of a divorce that was pretty contentious, and I may have thrown things at an Admiral." She left out the part that there was a bender in between both events but this woman didn't need to know that yet. She settled back again, face still sour at the memory. "Anything else?"

O'Connor listened impassively to the doctor's story and decided immediately that she was going to really like this woman or really hate her. There would be no in between. Granted, she did not have the Southern courtesy that Delaney did or that Stallworth did, but there was a lot of merit to someone that had this kind of fire. She gave Vila a crooked smile and walked over to a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Irish whiskey and two shot glasses. She poured a glass for each of them and handed one to the taller woman. "And you're a doctor, huh? Tell me, what did the husband do?"

Vila took the glass. "Thanks. You mean besides every other woman in a twenty light year radius? He was a science officer. Stellar cartography, to be exact. He said I worked too much and ignored him." She shrugged a little. "I said he paid me little attention and no longer cared about things I did. Among other things." The same arguments, over and over, for the last two years of their short marriage. She should've seen it coming-she could FEEL him pull away but didn't know how-or want to learn how -to fix it. She nursed the drink, though she wanted to drain it but that wasn't exactly the impression she wanted to make right now.

O'Connor did not care about appearances. She drained her shot and poured another. "The first thing was what I meant, not his profession," O'Connor admitted. "So you 'worked too much,' eh? Well, that would be a nice change on this ship but let me tell you, you have some big shoes to fill. Medical has not been the same since Delaney left."

Vila nodded her understanding, and gulped the whiskey down. "I mean. I never felt like I worked ENOUGH. Those were his words, not mine. More like his excuses." She said, a bit bitterly. "But anyway. I am here now. I am fully prepared to fill whatever shoes are necessary. I've already reviewed Delaney's most recent logs and I find the crew to be in generally good health, and otherwise ready for duty." She shared.

"You are a busy bee," O'Connor observed wryly. "Chief is now Stallworth. Seems to be OK. You'll report to her. Has all the same Southern USA charm but no stupid brother that doesn't know a good thing when he sees it," O'Connor griped.

Vila blinked. She was sensing a bit of...something...there. "I see. Do you not like Southern human's brothers?" She was a bit confused by the turn of phrase; though she was taught Standard, the customs and colloquialisms were still a little new.

"Cian was an imbecile," O'Connor growled. "Shouldn't have mentioned it." She immediately poured another shot of whiskey and downed it before switching topics. "Can't say that I know much about medical. I know that I go to battle and you stitch us up. So you'll have to tell me what brought you out here and become a doctor."

Vila shrugged. "Most men are. The fact that I am still attracted to them proves to me that sexuality isn't a choice," she said, wryly. They had more in common than she'd originally expected. "Well. Both of my parents were among the first Betazoids to be in the Fleet. Daddy was an engineer and Mother was a nurse. So, I was born to it, I suppose," she said. "I was terrible at the type of critical thinking that engineering requires, and science bores me. I can't sit at a helm all day-boredom and I do not mix well. So, Medicine was all that was left. Besides, I DO like helping people. And uh, you know, the empathy thing helps a lot." She mentioned. "I only use it when I am at work unless a dire situation comes up, so don't worry, I am not here to mind meld you or something," she said. "This whisky is pretty good; is it Irish?" She recognized the woman's heritage as being such. "My ex-husband and I had our honeymoon there." They were young and stupid; he was still moon-eyed over how Earth was the greatest thing since sliced bologna and she loved HIM enough to go along with it instead of insisting on Risa. How dumb she'd been.

The Captain sighed. "I guess that is an advantage for medicine....the empathy.... Do you have a specialty? And yes, the whiskey is from Ireland. The only whiskey that is worth anything. Everything else is piss. Usually, my accent does not come out unless I'm drunk and that takes quite a bit. I've built up quite a tolerance despite my stature." She held her hands at her side to show the thin, five foot tall woman that she was. "Of course, I am Irish," she replied with a crooked smile.

"Trauma medicine," came her immediate response. "I like the challenge." She never backed down from a challenge. Bravery or stupidity, she didn't know. "Surgery on a broken bone or brain that was shot to bits really gets my gears going." She shrugged. She'd loved to hold it over her brothers, too-that they couldn't stomach it for all their talk of being "real" men, and she could. "Besides, someone once told me a woman can't do it, and I decided that day that I WOULD do it." Her Academy professor in her first year didn't know who Vila was, clearly. She wasn't who she was now back then, not nearly as jaded and disillusioned, but she had still been a little cocky and even back then, she'd had a healthy distrust of authority.

"What ridiculous chauvinistic nonsense. I didn't think that sort of thing existed anymore." Her nose flared before she stared down the ACMO. "I grew up with three brothers. So I know how the dumber sex thinks. I had to be better than them at everything."

Vila nodded. "I have two older brothers, and a younger sister. They meant it to tease, but I took it seriously. I didn't necessarily need to be better than them at everything but at least with blood and guts! I remember one time, when we were kids, we were on a family R&R, and we were on Alpha Centauri. We got a beach cottage there, and there were sand dunes. My middle brother jumped off of one, and *splat*, nearly took all of his skin off his shin." She laughed. "He cried for DAYS." She shook her head. In hindsight, it was probably painful, but luckily, their mother was a nurse so she was able to take care of him quickly. "He still has a scar and he still gets mad when I send him photos of skin that's been debrided." She really WAS kind of an asshole, really. "He's also the only one who's not in the Fleet, so do with that what you will."

O'Connor threw back her hair and laughed at that. "I guess we had similar experiences. Can't say that I ever was dumb enough to get married, though. Had plenty of suitors, though," she informed Vila, the Captain veneer peeling away slightly. "I think I'm just intimidating. And how can I not be? I used to be a lowly security officer on this very ship and worked my way up to Chief of Security. A simple red shirt who became Captain. That's me."

Vila nodded, impressed. "That's impressive. Hard work doesn't always pay off, but when it does, it's satisfying," she said. "Well, marriage isn't everything it's chalked up to be. Still, it's an experience I am glad I had. I learned a lot about myself-mostly my boundaries and what I am willing to accept from another adult person." She said.

"That being?" O'Connor asked, pleased that the topic had switched back off of her.

Vila shrugged noncommittally. "That I don't tolerate lying, for one. And that I have a very low tolerance for people who can't pull their own weight." Specifically in relationships, but just in general. "I also learned that I am ok, a survivor. I can take care of myself perfectly fine." That much was true.

O'Connor's crooked smile beamed at Vila. "I think that you'll do. So, what else should I know about you before you start on duty?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I don't really like talking about myself, but most of it is in my file. Besides my...uh...personality problems, I think that's the basic overview of me." She said. "I just...I don't think that I should be held to a different standard than everyone else. I o, ce thought that the Fleet was better than that," she said, sadly.

"Politics suck," O'Connor agreed. "Here, though, you're just judged on your actions. And as long as you are not probing me with those empathic abilities or pushing to put one of them new fangled counselors on this ship, we'll be just fine." Without waiting for an answer, she offered, "Can I get you another drink?"

"Please," she said. "I won't probe your head unless you want me to, and Counselors ask too many questions that are really best left alone," she said. "I only use my abilities when I NEED to-if someone is unconscious, for example, or if I wanted to fuck with my ex-husband." She said. "Everyone else, I ask first." She promised. It was true. It was too big of a way to break trust that they NEEDED to work together. "So, with that out of the way, what can I expect for my first day?" she asked.

"You'd have to ask Stallworth, but I would guess updating the crew medicals for those coming on and off. I just had my annual, so don't ask me," O'Connor hastily added in that annoyed voice where one indicated they already completed some heinous task. "But I'm glad to see we understand each other." Her voice turned more cordial, "So, anything else you want to know of me or the ship?"

Vila shook her head. "No, I think it's pretty straightforward. I leave you alone, you leave me alone, we'll get along fine." She drained the second whiskey in a moment, the burn finally making her feel something. She'd rather hurt than be numb, but she wasn't ready to explore the whys of that yet. "Is that an accurate read?" She said. She could hold her drink, luckily, and it would take a LOT more for her to lose her professional-and lassiez-faire-deameanor.

"Not completely. I just expect everyone to do their job and do it well. Off duty, well, I recommend that if you worked hard, that you should play hard." O'Connor's crooked grin continued. Her eyes glinted with mischief.

Vila raised her eyebrow again. Was it a challenge? An invitation? She couldn't tell yet. "Well. I plan to. I am glad we have that understanding, then." She said.

"Very well, then. Dismissed. Hope that I have no reason to see you until off-duty hours."

Vila stood up. She didn't need to be told twice. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you," she said, ducking out of the office with a quickness that would make Kelly think she didn't want to be there. Truthfully, she DIDN'T but it didn't go terribly. It just might work out. At least, for the next few hours.

 

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