First impressions

Posted on Monday May 13th, 2019 @ 23:23 hours by Mayterial Droz & Clinton Westbrooke Jr

Mission: Pixie Dust
Location: Holding cells, Olimar IX
Timeline: MD04 - 1230 Hours
1734 words - 3.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The conditions of the brig and its cells was as dismal as the rest of the outpost would have you believe, the fact that she was sent here to find the new prospect for the Quartermaster role was a little less encouraging. "Clinton Westbrook. Jay, Ar." Mayterial made sure to speak the name, and the subsequent letters, clearly and with emphasis. "If it weren't for your name I wouldn't have bothered coming down here, but then again I guess you get that a lot." The name had been a thorn in her side for the past few years, a hero admiral that stood for everything she had grown to hate about the Federation and especially Starfleet.

Clint was laying on his cot, eyes closed, arms crossed, working his jaw with one foot off of the cot, bouncing impatiently on the floor. At the sound of the voice, however, he bounded off of the cot and approached the woman standing at the forcefield, "I don't care what issue you got against my dad, I ain't in no good terms with that asshole either. What I do care about is the fact that I'm supposed to meet with my potential new boss fifteen minutes ago, and you back water yokels are still holding me for a god damned bar fight that I didn't even start. You gonna let me the hell out of here so - MAYBE - I can meet with this ship captain and get us out of each other's hair?" He grumbled in one long breath.

Mayterial was just able to keep in a laugh, she wondered if she should yank his chain a bit more, a perfect time to get to know him a bit. She was happy she choose to wear the coloured contacts into the sheriff's office. "My name's April Drauss, I'm the one that gets to decide whether we follow up your restful stay in this place with some criminal charges of aggravated assault. So the story better be better than the report that got put on my desk by the deputies." She waved her PaDD that just contained a requisition list for the next leg of their journey.

"I was minding my damn business when this asshole wouldn't stop hassling me," Clint grumbled. "Ask the damn bartender. She was telling him to back the hell off, too. Then he took my damn PaDD with all the job information on it for my new gig, and wouldn't get back. I was done once we got tossed out into the street, but he jumped me again out there, and that's when your damn enforcers came in and stunned both of us," He said. The stabbed a finger past her shoulder, pointing to where Tony still say, glaring, "That asshole in there needs to cool off, you need to let my ass out so I can go and *hopefully* get to meet the Captain I'm supposed to to get off this damn rock."

"Oh, there he goes again, mocking our beloved home!" Tony spat.

Clint smacked a hand against the force field making an impressive crackle, but if it hurt him he didn't show it, "Man, let it the fuck go. We're locked up already because of your bullshit, I'm just trying to get off of this planet and out of your hair," He barked.

"How does a guy like you end up in a backwater outpost like this anyway?" Mayterial just wanted to make the most of this situation for as long as she could keep it up. It probably wouldn't be long before either the guy called her bluff or the other drunken brawler would recognise the fact that she didn't belong here. She figured the local guy had been in here frequently.

Clint gave a final 'shut your mouth' glare to Tony before turning back to the woman in front of him with a contemptuous sniff, "Next port of call for the ship I'm trying to get work on. Was handling cargo haulers over on Cirxis IV, and figured I could do the same here while I waited, but all the work they've had me doing here has been pulling these stupid plant things here, and that's really not my cup of tea, so I just want off this rock now." He explained, crossing his arms and looking more and more surly by the minute. "You gonna let me outta here or not? Damn captain is going to leave and I'm gonna be stuck here pulling plants," He said, flatly.

"I have to ask. Why hasn't your daddy bailed you out the second your incarceration was put in the system?" Mayterial tried to imitate the dialect she had heard around her during her short time here. At some moments it came more naturally than others. With some more prep time she would've been able to pull it off more consistently.

"The Admiral doesn't bail me out of shit, okay?" Clint griped back, "Who the fuck are you, anyway? You don't sound like the rest of these yokels," He grumbled.

"Yeah, I've never seen you before," Tony chimed in from across the way.

In the olden days only one rule really counted, you die with the lie. No matter the evidence brought against you, you never give up on the lie. These weren't the old days, not anymore. Mayterial gave a small smirk, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. I'm Mayterial Droz, Captain of the S.S. Fawkes. We had an appointment, mister Westbrooke, you missed it, I wanted to make sure there was a good reason."

Clint's face drooped, then he motioned wildly around his current captivity, "The local yokels locked me up because this chump couldn't let it the hell go," He grumbled, motioning across the hall again.

"I'll show you not letting it go!" Tony bit back.

"You know bones are still extra fragile after a dermal treatment right, pal? You want your jaw in one piece when I leave me, stop moving it," Clint bit, jamming a finger in the other man's direction.

"It's good to have met you, glad to see that the Admiral does make mistakes." Mayterial had seen about enough from this man to try and find a new potential quartermaster. She really hated having to do that, there weren't many takers on this rock and this one came with experience and the added bonus of annoying Starfleet brass directly involved with locking down her ship for nine months.

"Just don't make the mistake of leavin' me behind, yeah? I'm... Iddano... I'm grumpy. Sometimes. But... I'm good at my job, ya know?" He offered, seriously. "I logistics, requisition, I've got contacts on a a few dozen planets that can get us good deals on cargo and equipment, supplies, you name it. And I'm damn good with computer systems, too. My... people skills are just a little rusty," He said, sounding a little embarrassed to admit that.

As May started walking out she turned, but kept moving in the direction of the door, "I was trying to figure out if you'd be worth the risk. You know, the hassle of the added attention from Starfleet brass. I'm not really convinced." She stopped at the threshold, "I'll give you one sentence to change my mind. Otherwise, I step out this door and find some greenhorn called Smith."

Clint stared at the woman for a long moment, then set his jaw, "Looked her up. Fawkes is an old Mythtar-class freighter. If it's the same one I think it is she was in service before the Dominion War. That means she's from the oh-oh-ten model run. Those ships had a loop back fault in their design. If you take down any of the even system nodes without rerouting traffic through the primary node first, the computer systems will start a data feedback loop and black out the whole damn ship. They only made about five of the oh-oh-ten before they found that and scrapped the design for the oh-oh-eleven. I can give you a laundry list of other things about that particular model that only experience teaches you, our you can just go find some Smith on the street. Whatever," Clint said with a shrug, "But you'd be passing up on the best damn quartermaster in the sector."

He cleared good throat, "Plus it's really going to piss off my dad, which works out for both of us."

Clint leaned casually on the wall looking and like he didn't have a care in the world, but the truth was, his heart was pounding. This was the best opportunity her had in a while, and if this local moron took it from him, he was going to get beat up again after the got out.

After having stood there patiently listening to his tech-waterfall May unfolded her arms and put the PADD she had been holding back into a deep inner pocket of her jacket. "That was way more than one sentence, mister Westbrooke." She supressed a smile and turned to step out of the room.

Clint watched her leave and his heart sank, "yeah... Well... Next time I won't pause when I say it!" He yelled after her, turning his back against the wall next to the cell door and sighing. So much for a new job.

Tony on the other side of the holding cell couldn't help but laugh a bit at the man's predicament, he refrained from making a comment, basking a bit in the stranger's misfortune.

The dead air between them got even more silent when suddenly the forcefield in Clint's cell dropped, allowing him to step out.

Clint's eyes opened and he turned and looked at the opening, suddenly be longer with the crackling haze of a forcefield fogging the view. Slowly, tentatively, he walked out into the hallway and looked the direction that the Captain had gone.

Mayterial stood in the main administration area right outside the holding cells and the moment Clint stepped through the door, "Don't give me a reason to change my mind. Get your stuff, we're leaving in fifteen."

Clint stared at her for a long moment and a grin slowly appeared on his face, "Yes ma'am!" He said excitedly, running to grab his stuff from the front room.

"HEY! WHAT ABOUT ME?!" Tony wailed from his cell.

[OFF]

Mayterial Droz
Captain

&

Clinton Westbrooke, Jr.
Quartermaster

S.S. Fawkes