Off the Deep End

Posted on Saturday February 9th, 2019 @ 18:32 hours by Canaan Serene & Mayterial Droz
Edited on on Sunday April 14th, 2019 @ 19:35 hours

Mission: Pixie Dust
Location: Captain's Quarters, Deck 1, Fawkes
Timeline: MD01 - 1500 hours
1780 words - 3.6 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

There was something on Mayterial's list that she had been postponing due to the turbulence. She sat down on the couch in her quarters and activated the comm-channel, =A= Mayterial to Mister Serene, please report to the Captain's Quarters. =A= She folded her legs and waited for the young man to report to her quarters.

Ares and Canaan stepped out from the mess hall as the captain's voice filtered through the static of his wrist communicator. He gently tapped at the device before replying casually, "Okie dokie." He turned to the quartermaster, smiling. "Thanks for the company, it was kinda nice not to feel like a total outsider." The pair bid one another ado before Canaan ascended a flight of stairs one deck above. The heal of his boots clanked against the exposed metal grates as unsecured bootlaces clapped against worn leather. Arriving outside the captain's quarters moments later, he pressed the door chime and awaited Mayterial's response.

"Enter" The doors opened smoothly and fully and Mayterial sat perfectly still on the couch waiting for the young Signaller to step inside. "I have an assignment for you."

Canaan glared at the door panels with a sense of bewilderment, pointing at one panel as he glanced back and forth between the captain and the door. He'd expected to face similar resistance as last night, yet was pleasantly surprised to have been permitted entry without incident. Recovering from his brief bout of speechlessness, Canaan cleared his throat before asking, "An assignment, ma'am?" White eyebrows cocked upwards, he was curious to know what it was she had in mind.

Mayterial pointed at the computer terminal at her desk, "Please, have a seat." She wondered how much she would have to let him sweat. A short moment of doubt about whether she was just doing this to please some sadistic spark inside of her. She quickly shrugged it off and watched him as he started to hesitantly make his way through her quarters.

He took a tentative step toward the captain's desk, brow furrowed. "Ma'am?"

"Please have a seat, you have a call to make." May turned a bit to keep track of him as he crossed her field of vision. "As our signaller I need you to reach out to the governor of a particular planet. We're crossing their space. We didn't ask for permission yet." She looked over at the chronometer on the wall. "We have about five minutes to get it or we're breaking interstellar law."

Canaan looked as if he wanted to speak, yet couldn't find a way to get the words past the lump in his throat. Sinking into the chair, he reached out to activate the computer terminal. The screen displayed real-time data of the Fawkes' current position relative to a predetermined flight plan. He could see their relative position was near a spacial body designated with an obscure designation. "Do y-you, um, I mean... we, do we know this governor?" He asked, clearing his throat again as he tapped at the image of the spacial body with a finger, triggering the biometric interface to enlarge the view of the planet and provide the most basic of information.

"I don't know, I don't think he's ever been to Earth, so I'm guessing you're not familiar with him." Mayterial suppressed a smirk and waited to see what he would be doing next.

Canaan lightly scratched at his temple, a kind of nervous tic. He looked at the chronometer, four minutes. Breathing deeply, he accessed the communications system and tapped into the standard greeting generator. A brief sensor ping locked onto the planets' preferred hailing frequency after localizing the primary communications hub of the planet.

"This is the supply ship Fawkes, registry charlie-foxtrot-one-four-two-alfa-charlie, hailing LV-1501; we're en-route to starbase Langley Station on a Federation ordered supply run and will cross into your space within the next three minutes. Current speed is warp factor..." Canaan paused, tapping through a series of widgets until the warp factor indicator appeared. "... four point three. Transmitting flight plan, crew and cargo manifest and requesting permission to continue on course without delay." He finished, transmitting the message as a friendly greeting.

It took a moment for the transmission to be received and the other end of the line confirming reception. It took a moment but a message came back, "S.S. Fawkes, LV-1501, negatory. Steer clear of our territory. Please be advised that crossing into our space is a direct violation of our sovereign space established following the Treaty of Bajor."

Canaan recoiled at the response, nose scrunched and head cocked to the side. "Treaty of Bajor..." He repeated at a whisper. "Um, negative LV-1501; we're on a mission of goodwill, a detour around your space would create a significant delay in supplies desperately needed at the destination. Please specify the provision of the treaty that prohibits fares of goodwill." His right leg bounced as he recalled what he'd learned about the Treaty of Bajor in modern civics class; the treaty was a defining achievement of the efforts of prior generations and required reading as part of galactic and interstellar governmental legal ethics at the preparatory school, yet they hadn't reviewed every intimate detail of every provision or stipulation... more so the broader strokes and implications.

"I. I'm sorry?" the voice from the other side sounded like they were dumbfounded at the retort, "one moment."

Mayterial smiled subtly at Canaan's response. He was doing a lot better than she had anticipated.

Once again, Canaan was taken aback... "Did they... did they just put me on hold?" He asked in equal parts surprise and incredulous. When the person on the other end of the communications channel didn't immediately respond, Canaan leaned toward the console display and spoke into it as if it were a microphone. "Um... hello, are you still there?! Look, we're a civilian freighter with a very demanding delivery schedule... what if I threw in a bottle of, um... " His eyes scanned the room, its current state of affairs in much the same order as the evening prior. There were a few empty bottles strewn about the place, one in particular poking out from the top drawer of Mayterial's desk. Without asking permission, Canaan opened the drawer and withdrew a bottle of frosted blue glass, "Saurian brandy." He finished, reading the alien label with ease. He cast a sidelong glance at the captain, her attention ever present on the greenhorn signaller. He hoped she didn't mind him giving away a bottle or two of the alcoholic beverage; hell, he didn't even know if it were even possible considering the Fawkes private reserves. Canaan surmised, however, that the captain had a case or two stowed away somewhere on board; it made sense, with there being so few options to keep occupied during ones downtime... it's not like they had a holosuite or anything.

Mayterial cocked an eyebrow but didn't comment on the course of action taken by the Signaller.

The connection came back alive, "Fawkes, you are cleared for passing through. Next time we'd appreciate some prior warning." It was a different voice, more authoritative. After giving the permission the connection cut out.

"That went well" May commented, trying to gauge his response to the conversation and her remark.

Canaan was about to reply when the channel was abruptly closed, "Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude." He noted in mock-contempt. "I mean, I guess." He replied, turning in the chair to face the captain. "You wouldn't happen to have a bottle of Saurian brandy laying about somewhere... would you?" He waggled his eyebrows as a mischievous grin drew up either corner of full, peach-colored lips.

"We'll have to order one for them locally. We don't have time to slow down and deliver one personally." Mayterial got up from the couch and motioned for him to vacate her seat at the console. "What went well during this negotiation?"

"The fact that I wouldn't take no for an answer or was it the bottle of booze?" He asked quickly, walking around the desk.

"I don't know if giving some of my booze away would count as a good thing" May gave an encouraging smile, "You played to your strengths. You have a better understanding of the intricacies of the legislation within federation space than most of the people out here in the black." She gave an encouraging nod to the green horn. "So, what would you do differently next time?"

"Not give away your alcohol?" He joked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ummm... probably not to sound so uncertain about the entire thing?" The captain's compliment was kind and thoughtful; whether she intended it to be or not, he felt encouraged about the outcome of the 'test' and how he performed overall. He hoped he'd be old hat at it with time and practice.

"Not because of the fact you're handing out booze, more because I had the feeling they were already coming around when you upped the offer. Wait for their response." Mayterial fold her arms in front of her chest, "the most important skill you'll develop negotiating with people and navigating the social circles is to listen. Silence can be you most powerful tool, if you let it."

Canaan nodded, accepting the feedback constructively, "Active listening, check. Yeah, I did offer a bit too much too soon, didn't I? Ares said that's how people get taken advantage of or exploited... well, one of the ways."

"There's a lot of ways to get exploited." Mayterial knew this all too well, she was often the one doing the exploiting. "Speaking of which, there's one person that's trying to exploit Miss Farron, we obviously can't allow this. If a call comes in from a penitentiary on Betazed, always direct it to me." She took on a stern look, "Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He assured the captain, making a mental note to never place himself in a situation that would elicit such an expression in the future.

"Thank you. That'll be all, Mister Serene." Mayterial responded with a warm smile. She made a mental note to contact the governor after this and thank him for his help with this little training exercise. It was good to see that Canaan had performed well under pressure, but she wasn't going to risk having to divert the Fawkes for it. Time was money, and that was a resource she was really short on.

[OFF]

Mayterial Droz
Captain

&

Canaan Serene
Signaller

S.S. Fawkes

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward"