SD241908.06 || Joint Back Log || "Not the Sheepdog but the Wolf"

Posted on 06 Aug 2019 @ 2:51pm by Lieutenant Talrian Bran & Captain Mallory Thorne

1,725 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Thought & Memory
Location: Captain's Office, Odin

Talrian stepped down from the transporter pad and stopped in front of the control desk. He brought the PaDD from a pocket and let it update with the ship's systems, first to ensure he was transported to the right ship and second, to ensure that there was a tag showing what little personal effects he had were also transported across. As he expected, it was beamed to a cargo holding area for processing by the Ops department before being sent to whatever quarters he'd been assigned.

"Could you locate the Captain for me?" he asked the transporter chief.

"Yes, sir," the chief said, giving Talrian an odd look. It was one that he was getting used to seeing from Fleeters. As far as he figured they saw that there was something 'off' about him. He was in standard uniform of the day set for the department as indicated by his previous records request for the day - which was mostly the standard gold uniform of security, the pips of a lieutenant attached to his tunic collar. Like a chain around his neck, indicating his displeasure with Command.

He checked the sigh as he waited for the information. He spent the time trying to recall the meaning of the enlisted insignia on the man's collar. He knew he should know this, they'd been tested on it but he still had trouble remembering what they all meant. Officers were easy, the position of solid pips and 'blank' pips started with 'ensign' and moved up to captain. After that...well...he didn't want to deal with after that.

"Currently the computer indicates the Captain is in her office," the chief said, acknowledging several buttons on the panel.

"Thank you," Talrian said to the man, still struggling with the exact rank, "Chief." he finished with the generic, hoping he recalled correctly that in Fleet it was okay to go by rating, especially for the enlisted. Instead of waiting to see if he were correct, however, he headed for the door. A few quick clicks on the PaDD brought up a schematic of the ship and then indicated directions on his destination.

That he even had to use the PaDD at the moment was unacceptable. If he were to be the security chief of the ship, then he needed to know it inside and out - its strengths and weaknesses as well as the nooks, crannies and open spaces. Already he was behind in his duties. However, he knew once he got the formalities out of the way and was released to begin his duty, he'd put in the work to get as caught up as he could.

As the turbolift slowed to the Bridge, he took the few moments left to check himself as best he could. He couldn't smooth out the feeling of wearing a costume - rather than his uniform - but there it was. Part of the orders was that he was still in the Corps but given to Fleet. Which meant, much like the FMF he was expected to wear Fleet uniform, Fleet rank and generally be Fleet.

The doors opened and Talrian stepped off, moving quickly to the captain's door. Here he hit the chime and took a step back, waiting, feet spread and planted, hands folding against each other at the small of his back, spine straight and - despite the costume - chin up.

"Enter," Mallory called from within. She was standing at the replicator getting her [number redacted] cup of coffee for the day as the doors swished open and she turned to see who was entering.

On the command that opened the door, Talrian moved forward, striding with purpose until he found himself in the center of the room. There, he stood, his gaze slightly over the shoulder of the ship's commanding officer while he started to speak then stopped, checking himself. He had almost reported himself as "captain". "Lieutenant Talrian Bran reporting for duty to the USS Odin per orders from Starfleet Command." Having said that, he went still, waiting for her. His PaDD remained in its pocket. He had no need to give it to the Captain, if she didn't already have his orders, they were sure to be registered into the ship's computer already pending her final approval and signature that his transfer to this command was completed.

He couldn't even stand appropriately in this costume.

"Ah, right," Mallory said, remembering the information that had meandered over her console screen that morning. This was a Marine turned Fleet but not really Fleet. It was a slight odd scenario, but she was getting used to that here. "Welcome aboard the Odin, Lieutenant," she said. "Have a seat." If you can, she added inwardly as she returned to her own chair behind her desk with that cup of coffee. Curiously, she waited to see if he would sit or would remain standing.

Some might consider "have a seat" as a friendly gesture. Those people were not Marines proud to be Marines. Or, as some Marines might proffer behind the person's back "completely motarded". For Talrian, however, he was already being punished by force into this assignment and he wasn't taking chances that he would get a negative sitrep before his first day was over. "Have a seat" therefore, without the added pleasentries carried not the gesture of a friendly offering but rather the force of a command.

Talrian sat, stiff and formal, in the indicated chair ready to begin. If nothing else, he would not allow his beloved Corps fall under the stigma of his ill behavior. "Thank you," he added somewhat belatedly, realizing that he should probably say something. "For the welcome." Small talk. Fleeters loved small talk. He checked the sigh of frustration. How he hated chit chat. He had to get used to that as well, he supposed. Especially if his new CO was a 'chit chatter' type person.

"What are your expectations of me and of the standards you have set for me?" he started to say, but got only so far as to open his mouth and begin to exhale. Then realized that was too direct and to the point. There was still...pleasantries...to exchange. He wracked his thoughts trying to come up with something appropriate. He had heard of this, long ago, before he was Talrian Bran but just regular Talrian Issadra. His parents hosted people all the time. "How is..." he started, faltering before looking down. "...the state of the ship at the current moment?" He leaned forward as he heard his own awkward words and worked to straighten several items on his side of the captain's desk. Fortunately it wasn't a rounded edge. He despised rounded edges...they made squaring things far more difficult.

Mallory's eyes followed his actions, but she didn't try to stop him. She did think that the counselor was going to have a field day with this one, though... "The ship is in top shape, and we are preparing to set out on patrol again." With luck, this security chief wouldn't end up with an injury that removed him off-duty for several months... She chose to not mention that hope out loud. "Have you served on a border patrol vessel before?" She knew that some of them did house Marine detachments, just not this one.

"Yes," he answered, giving a final adjustment to some object that he was sure had some story behind it. Then, he frowned as he realized that probably wasn't answer enough. "Long ago, when I was still just an enlisted grunt. We were on a ship for a short time then a conflict broke out and we were shipped off to resolve it." He straightened up again. "I'm still Green at heart, Captain, despite this goldback uniform I wear. That does present some...problems..." he hoped that was the least objectionable word to use, "for me in attempting to adjust. I give you my word as a warfighter that I will do my best in assimilating and carrying out my duties to exceed any expectations you may have of me."

He finally let out the sigh, having relaxed somewhat getting that out there. "But, the Corps is what I know and who I am and it will be difficult and trying at times." Like now, he thought, but didn't say out loud. How much different would this meeting have gone were this a Marine command? By now they'd be comparing figurative battle scars (nicely healed thanks to 24th century medicine) and seeing if they've trudged through the same muddy backworlds.

The captain held his gaze for a long, considering, intent moment. "Keep my ship and its people on the inside safe, Lieutenant, and that will keep you in good stead with me. You may not be leading a contingent of Marines on the Odin, but I believe there is, in the broader scheme, the same goal. Repel intruders with the nerve to board this ship, and protect the away team, serve as my security and military adviser." She kept her eyes on him as she sipped her coffee and then set the mug away on her desk. "Think you can manage that while wearing the gold collar?"

Talrian grinned, for the first time in months he felt as if maybe this was doable. After all, it wasn't so much different from what he used to do. Except, well, he was on the other side wasn't he? "Yes, Captain," he said, a bit more enthused. "I've been the intruder with ba= uhm, nerves of steel working to take over the ship. I promise you, Captain, if you find fault with my conduct, it will not be for lack of attempting to surpass my best."

Mal smiled slightly. "Then I think we'll get along just fine," she said. "For now, get settled, acquainted with the ship, and meet your staff. We will be leaving dock soon."

"Yes, Captain," Talrian said as he stood, recognizing the dismissal. He automatically worked to smooth out the lines of his uniform caused by sitting. "If there is not anything of importance that requires my immediate attention I will begin familiarizing myself with the department personnel and the ship."

"I'll leave you to it," the captain replied simply. "Good luck, Lieutenant. And again, welcome to the Odin."

 

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