The First Mate’s Shakedown

Posted on Monday February 24th, 2020 @ 22:33 hours by Nali Tali & Gregory Alein

Mission: Hot Couture
Location: Docking Ring - Cargo Hold
Timeline: MD 7: 1600
1998 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure

Since leaving the Federation behind, Greg made a decent living, but it was nothing stable. Drifting from job to job, hoping that his next stop kept him going had finally paid off. He looked out the large window, at the aging ship. It was definitely going to require some work, but these old beauties had character. And that was something that the fancy ships didn't have. He had gone back to the station to gather the rest of his things. It wasn't much; the man didn't own many belongs save a few prized possessions. It was the benefit of moving around often; you learned to downsize. He slung his pack over his shoulder as he looked out the window. Turning to the docking port, he approached the airlock. Having already met the Engineer, he was going to make it his mission to meet more of the crew.

Nali, meanwhile, was looking out on the same docking port with a very different assessment of the view. She didn’t have an engineering bone in her body nor an intrinsic fascination with starship design, but she was generally one to find beauty in everything, and to her eyes the ship was clearly phallic in shape and build. It was aging - well past it’s prime - and it’s bulkheads may have been sagging under their own weight in places, but like many biological species in their golden years, the Groumall class vessel still had will, purpose and a proverbial ticker that could erect a fully functional warp field - even if it struggled to keep cruising along at maximum velocity for long. Though she attributed no attraction or lust towards the Cardassian vessel, she had to admit it had already proven to be a source of new life - of a sort. Melancholy and despair were almost defacto conditions for her at this point, but having something to do with her time, some work that needed to be done - this helped redirect her thoughts and hold the worst of them at bay. More than one mental specialist had advised her to work her way through the grief, but this was probably not quite what they’d intended.

Nali had spent the past four hours amassing outgoing freight and overseeing the loading of said cargo; nothing particularly glamorous; primarily unrefined ore and space beets. For some reason this variant of the taproot only grew in space; something to do with the unfiltered ultraviolet light or background radiation. Nali wasn’t entirely clear on that, being decidedly underwhelmed by the hard sciences, but buyers far from here were willing to pay a premium for the stuff which meant suppliers were willing to pay to have it shipped. After running empty holds, the Captain would be happy to have any cargo - Nali hoped. She’d been tasked with finding freight for the Fawkes to haul and that was something Nali knew well how to do, but she and Mayterial were quite new to one another and some Captains could be very particular about how things were done. The two had spoken briefly about what was not to be chartered, but there was always a grey area and Nali thought it best to stay away from that questionable area and stick to a safe option, at least for now. She shrugged and decided that if the Captain didn’t like the freight, the Captain could give her the boot and unload the cargo herself - thousands of metric tons of rock and taproot.

Greg noticed the figure standing there looking out at the ship. "From the Fawkes," he asked as he approached the female.

The woman turned at the voice and after one quick look, instinctively crossed her arms to frame her breasts. It was not a defensive gesture - more of a display. This man speaking to her had a mustache - oh she did love a good mustache. Several of the male crew had the scruffy facial hair Nali so preferred, at least of late.

"Greg Alein," he introduced himself, hoping to get a reaction. He immediately took note of the features. He'd never worked with a Deltan before; this could prove to be very interesting all things considered. "New First Mate," he added.

Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly and she smiled broadly as if she would eat him whole. “Well met, Greg Alein. I am Nali Tali, Boat Swan of the Fawkes.”

Greg looked at the woman. “Pleasure to meet you," he nodded. “What’s the cargo," he asked. He couldn't help but notice the small facial expression as she looked him over. Was it something on his face? "Been on the ship a while," he added. He wasn't that good at small talk, especially not sober.

The hairless woman carelessly uncrossed her arms and frowned. Something in Nali found the man’s level of interest in her to be lacking somehow, though what she was expecting or why was beyond them both. Her tone was still gentle, but her body language was less inviting. “I am new among the crew and have yet to find the chance to even speak with most of them. The cargo must come first.” She moved the PADD with the manifest behind her back and took another look at Gary Alein with his meager possessions in tow. “May I ask if you find yourself passenger or crew?”

"First Mate," he stated, slightly puzzled; he swore he had stated that in his introduction. He smiled as he continued to keep an eye on her. She was oddly attractive, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. She seemed distracted. He shook it off, as they had only just met perhaps it wasn't fair that he was judging her. "You're the second crew member I have met," he commented. He extended a hand, out of habit, "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Tali," he smiled.

“Oh yes, First Mate,” she corrected herself as she shook the man’s hand. “Forgive me, I have not slept much in the past while. The dark of night and solitude do not rest easy for those of us who grieve. Perhaps I should not admit this so freely to my superior.” Nali stepped back and accessed the man again. “Your job does entitle you to position yourself above me, yes?”

He wanted to make a joke about desiring a position above her alright, but he also knew that the Deltan culture frowned on mixing it up with aliens. He did smirk a bit, "I try not to think of it like that," he nodded. “We all work together," he coughed trying to clear the images out of his head. "Trust me, I'm no stranger to lack of sleep and uneasy solitude." He looked over the cargo then back to the Deltan, he couldn't quite shake something from his head. “Where did you call home before this," he attempted to make small talk.

“Directly? I was crewed-up on the Entropy, but you wouldn’t be familiar with the vessel. She’s a short range cargo ship who keeps to herself and her scheduled flight plan. Never leaves the charted shipping lanes and nothing remotely exciting happens inside her hull. It was easy for me to disappear in my work; to try and forget that life consisted of joyous exchanges once upon a time. This is the nature of entropy, is it not? To flee from chaos and seek out a calm, stagnant predictability?” By the god of the brining blue, but Nali could be morose sometimes. She sighed and looked up from the floor where her thoughts had directed her eyes. The first mate had the look of someone who was - distracted? Trying to place a face with a memory? Nali reached up and placed a hand against Alein’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Sir. Have I troubled you?”

Greg looked at her. "No, no," he stated, "my apologies.” He nodded to her, "you have caused me no trouble," he added. Her touch was a little bit unexpected, but it wasn't negative. There was almost a soft, rather comforting feel to the touch. He hadn't felt a touch that like in some time, not for some time. He smiled, "Hopefully, those joyous exchanges will return to your life sooner or later. And I hope our stay on the Fawkes is anything but stagnant.” He smirked a bit; it was very pleasant to know that he wasn't the only new face on the ship. He picked up on her comment earlier about grief; it was an odd statement and something that interested him. He was no stranger to grief himself; he rarely spoke about his own loss; it was hard to find someone who understood.

Nali patted him on the cheek then let her fingers linger long on his earlobes. In fact, she had yet to let them go. “Oh? What sort of joyous exchanges did you have in mind, Sir? Surely not the laughter and playtime of small children. Mine are all dead and I don’t have the heart to surround myself in the company of another’s brood. Or was it a companionship you submit? I admit to free flowing compersion where all are concerned, but a vicarious encounter is no substitute for a contiguous exchange.”

"I am not one who makes a lot of plans." Greg smiled warmly. "I prefer to see where life takes me, just as long as life doesn't involve children. For now, I am good. I am not sure working on a vessel like this would be very productive in raising a family. As to the other matter, companionship is always an option," he grinned, "long days and only lonely nights can only be fixed by two things in my opinion. A good stiff drink or the warmth of another person," he nodded, "and combine the two who knows where things might go." He hadn't realized that her hand was still on his cheek. There was something almost, memorizing about her. He'd heard that Deltan women produced some of the strongest pheromones known to exist, and equally impossible to resist.

“We both know where we intend things to go. Something warm, something stiff and we pass out, perhaps dragged from one another’s company against the other’s will, missing some part of our cognitive abilities. To be clear, I’m referring to sexual union without the intent to bare your children, though still at great risk to us both. You are aware of this that I speak of?”

"Never a man to turn down," he paused, "companionship, but that as I understand it could cause great," he shook his head. He was convinced it was the pheromone and for a second he almost didnt care. "I perfer not to go insane, for now at least." He took a step back, "Might need my sanity for the job."

Nali released the man’s face and straightened the collar of his trappings ever so slightly before taking a step back. “I won’t work you up further, First Mate, but give it some thought. If ever you come to visit my quarters, let us say now that the reason be to express your willingness to proceed with this discussion or seek it’s climax. Until then, you remain the boss and I am yours to command.” She dipped her head again politely, but the smile on her lips was wicked.

"Carry on," he nodded as he thought to himself he really needed a cold shower now. He reached forward and touched her cheek. “My apologies," he felt an intense draw, pheromones he told himself. He took a step back, "It was a pleasure meeting you." He nodded and started to walk away. "Perhaps a shower and a cigarette," he joked as he made his way back to his temp quarters on the station.