Care for a Drink?

Posted on Sun Jul 12th, 2020 @ 9:38pm by Captain Kelly O'Connor & Lieutenant JG Cara Ross

2,416 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Mission 7 - Aenerth for an Earth
Location: Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: 2296/02/29 - 1000

O'Connor was annoyed. It was not that she cared for her Executive Officer but the conduct she saw was unbecoming, at best. The fact that her Chief Medical Officer and Chief Science Officer were willing participants as well, made her sick. Now, O'Connor was faced with the prospect of replacing her crew again. Silently, she wished that Delaney was still with her. Likely she would have something country like and words of wisdom. She might even visit her stupid brother if he was lucky. Alas, none of that was available. However, if O'Connor had her say, she was going to make it as difficult for Starfleet to replace her choices as possible.

Decision made, she called over the comm, =^= Lieutenant Ross report to my ready room immediately. =^=

Said Lieutenant had been currently laying on her back, looking up at the underside of one of the advanced sensor control panels in the depths of the Lower Sensor Dome down on Deck 9. The sound of the Captain's voice filled the compartment she was working in, startling her, and causing her to jerk up and smash her forehead against the open panel. "mac gille!" she exclaimed, falling back and tossing a hand over her forehead, eyes shut wide. The words from the Captain settled in and she added a brash, "shite," for good measure. Addressing the comm proper, she managed a harried, =/\=Aye Cap'n. On my way up.=/\=

Groaning, she slammed the panel shut, pushed herself out from under it, and adjusted her uniform once she got to her feet. The console still needed work, so she flipped the 'out of order' status and added it to the list of crap to deal with, before belting out of the dome toward the turbolift.

About 3 minutes later, having done her best to fix her hair and use her bangs to hide the potential bruise from sitting up to fast, Cara Ross strode to the door to the Captain's ready room, wondering what she'd done wrong to merit a summons.

O'Connor was sitting at her desk, a bottle of Irish whiskey and two shot glasses were out. One sat before O'Connor and the other was on the other side of the bottle, closest to where Cara was to sit. "Come in, Ross," O'Connor beckoned. "Pull up a chair. Fancy a drink?"

The redheaded junior Lieutenant did a slow blinking double take at the offer as the doors slid shut behind her. Ross recognized the bottle and felt her eyebrows shoot up. "Aye, ma'am. I'd be delighted to," she agreed, moving over to the other side of the desk and as instructed, sinking into a chair. There was an air of curiosity about her - well, there was always an air of curiosity about the scientist, but it was a bit more pronounced.

"What are we drinkin' to, Cap'n?" She asked trying for respect but unable to hide the vein of inquisitiveness in her words.

"Irish whiskey. No better. I always make sure that I have some on hand for special occasions, such as your promotion." O'Connor grinned at her fellow redhead. "Or perhaps I should put it way and not give you one?" O'Connor asked with a smart snort.

A grin had spread over the other officers face at the confirmation that the whiskey was Irish. They made a fine brew indeed. But the words caught her flat footed and her jaw popped open in a comical fashion betraying her youth. "My what?"

"Promotion. Specifically to Chief Science Officer. Unless, of course, you would prefer that I find someone else to do it." She gave Cara a crooked grin. "After all, if you don't feel up to the job, I perfectly understand. After all, we're returning to a Starbase where Commander Grey, Lieutenant Thais, and Doctor Vrell will all be departing. There's bound to be someone else who is looking for a Chief Science position...." She poured some whiskey for herself and then had the bottle hovering over Cara's glass.

"Oh, no ma'am," Cara swiftly exclaimed. There was no way in the seven hells that she was going to let this kind of chance slip her past. "That is, I'd be more than happy to take the position. Ecstatic, even." She curled her fingers around the glass and tried to keep her hand from trembling. Three senior officers departing the ship in one go in the wake of their previous mission was opening up a chance she had not expected to get any time soon.

"Good. I figure that we redheads need to stick together." She poured the whiskey into Cara's glass. "You're from the UK. I know that accent. I don't let my Irish one come out. I worked hard to keep it hidden. If I ever drink too much, though, you'll hear it."

Hard to argue with that logic. She found herself twirling a loose strand of said scarlet hair with a finger of her free hand as she took the glass and raised it to the captain. "To redheads," she suggested, giddy on the news of her new position within the crew.

Toast taken care of, the other woman leaned back into the chair, holding the glass in her hands. "Aye, the UK, by way of Caldos colony. My parent's left Glasgow - the one on Earth - about 30 or so years ago, give or take. They helped settle the colony and had me, in Glasgow, Caldos. Ah stayed with some relatives during the Academy breaks on Earth. The accent's still pretty similar."

"Scottish, then? Both of our historical countries oppressed by the English." Her crooked smile got wider. "Well, seems we have a lot in common already. " O'Connor downed her whiskey and replaced it with another and downed it. "So, why did you leave the colony? Why Starfleet? Why science?" O'Connor asked in a casual manner.

Cara let out a little snort of a laugh and nodded in agreement. "They covered that in ancient history on Caldos. The evils of the English, I think the chapter was called," a bit more of a Scot's burr entered into her voice, drawing out some vowels and shortening others. She rolled the whiskey in her glass and sipped again, pondering how to answer the question. As she always had in life, she barreled right on thorough with honesty.

"The clothes, mostly," she admitted, "They dress like it's the 1800's on Caldos, and they like to pretend that, save for some certain conveniences like making it rain constantly, the last 500 years did'nae happen. Got right reamed out by my parents for wearing a skirt one day that only came down to my knees, and not lower." She pulled a face and laughed.

"As fer science? Well I guess my folks beat it into me. I love it. Cannae help it. They helped design the weather control system. First modern one in the whole Federation. Ah figure I can make it better."

"They dress up like the 1800s on purpose," O'Connor asked aghast. She shook her head. "The only good thing about the past is that it is in the past," O'Connor informed Cara, espousing her personal philosophy. "And that's why we should have retired this ship a while back and replaced it with an Excelsior." O'Connor deeply sighed. "Maybe some day...."

"Aye, perhaps. But if I might be so bold," she started, rolling the glass between her hands, "the lines of the Connie class make it a thing of art. Dinnae get me wrong, I wouldn't say no to serving on an Excelsior. It'd be an honor. But growing up, the Connie's were the stuff o'my dreams." She flushed and emptied her glass, feeling the whiskey take a hold. "I sound like a ruddy engineer."

"It was a dream ship 40 years ago," O'Connor admitted. "But now, it is ancient history. I know that a great deal of people still have a fondness for them but I want the best that Starfleet has to offer." She leaned forward, the sweet Irish whiskey evident on her breath. "But I came up through security. Give me the best weapons to take care of those nasty Romulans."

A shiver ran down her spine at that thought. Romulans were nasty business. Swallowing a bit, she ran her tongue over her teeth, behind her lips and nodded. "Won't argue with you there, Cap'n. I'd want the best between me and one of them."

"They're a nasty bit of trouble," O'connor told Cara. "We ran into a particularly nasty one on a planet a few months back. Unfortunately, she got away. One day, I'm going to find that bitch and put a phaser through her heart."

One again, the younger redhead's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, or near enough. That kind of attitude would be frowned upon by her instructors back at the Academy. Then again she wondered how many of those greybeards had actually been in deep space, on the edge of the unknown. She imagined that O'Conner wasn't the only captain with a foe or two like that out there. "Must have been before I joined ma'am. Sounds like a nasty one though."

"She was," O'Connor replied soberly. "Pendragon suffered the worst of it. Lieutenant T'Pruk had to bring him back. They probably would not prefer to talk about the experience." She shook her head slightly. "But, she's out there and if I find her...." O'Connor brought her small fist down on the table hard, causing it to make a loud thump.

Cara didn't quite jump in her seat at that but she did straighten up a bit. She mulled over what she learned and measured it against what she had seen of the two other junior lieutenants. "I won't mention it to them then," she noted softly, running her finger across the rim of her glass. And I'll start researching what we have in the memory banks about Romulan ships, she silently added.

"So, Ms. Ross, welcome to the senior team. I'm going to be counting on you, so don't let me down. Most people don't like me when I'm angry. Irish temper and all," she told Cara casually. "Or maybe it is double with the redheaded thing," she continued with a short laugh. "So, since we're going to be having more time together, maybe you could tell me a bit more about yourself." She picked up the whiskey bottle and offered some more to Cara.

Taking the cup back after it had been filled again, she raised it in acknowledgement, while making a point of pulling a red strand of hair out and flicking it up before her eyes. "I may know a thing or two about red headed temper, ma'am," she pointed out with a faint, slightly buzzed smile, sipping at her drink and feeling the pleasing warmth slide over her tongue and down her throat. "I got yelled at plenty for being somewhat of a rebellious child, and I gave back as good as I got. If you were to ask my mum she'd tell yee that my mouth got, and gets me into more trouble than anything else."

Shrugging a bit, she mulled over what she might tell the captain about herself. "Well, it wouldn't be in my records a'tall but I rather fancy myself decent at baking. S'a hobby of mine."

"Baking?" O'Connor replied in a disappointed voice. "Well, we all have to eat."

"aye ma'am," Cara nodded, as if the prospect of a meal she cooked shared with the captain was not nearly as daunting as it actually felt. "Next time I can chase the cooks out of their own kitchen for a bit I'll whip up a nice batch of me mums scones. Yer not allergic to oranges, are you?"

"I've never had an allergy. I think if I did, I'd find a way to beat it," O'Connor answered firmly and honestly.

The whiskey was having an effect, because Cara burst into a small fit of giggles that left her cheeks red when she finally asserted control on her outburst. "I believe you would at that, ma'am," she said in total sincerity.

O'Connor smiled widely but crookedly at Cara. "We need to get your tolerance up. I can't believe that you Scots did not drink more on that prehistoric planet. I would have thought that you would have needed it."

Reaching up and rubbing one of her shoulders Cara averted her eyes for a moment and then puffed out a burst of air, ruffling her bangs a bit. "It's been a while since I've had a drink," she confessed, and shrugged with a small smile, "There is a large argument between the colonists and the Scots here on Earth. Just because you name an entire continent 'Scotland' does that make the whiskey produced 'Scotch'." She grinned in amusement.

"Perhaps it could be named 'New Scotch,'" O'Connor suggested with a firm snicker.

There was that little snort of a laugh again as the newly minted Chief Science officer shook her head, red hair going all about. "Oh, I'm sure that'll go over well. Both sides are too hide bound stubborn to go for a reasonable solution like that."

"Yes, would not want reasonableness," O'Connor nodded sagely. "Then we would have to have we two redheads go down and kick their respective arses!"

The Lieutenant laughed at that, leaning back in her chair across from the Captain, relaxed, and maybe a little surprised that she could relax in the Co's presence. Not that she was going to complain. "Heaven forbid!"

"I'm not sure that heaven has much to do with it, Ross, but it is something, no?" She helped herself to another shot of whiskey.

"Not if ye ask my parents, tha's for sure," the other redhead noted with dry amusement. Getting her own glass topped off as well, Cara sipped her whiskey and chortled softly. "I was something of the village hellion growing up. They got right pissed when I reporgrammed the colony weather controls to get a nice, sunny day for a change."

It was fortunate that O'Connor had just finished drinking her shot because she snorted and then gave a full bellied laugh. "I was taking a chance on promoting you but I see that it was well worth it. Ross, we're going to get along famously."

"Well thank you ma'am. I'll drink to that," Ross said cheerily, raising her glass in salute. It certainly was a promising start.

 

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