Posted by Captain Molly Holloway (Chief Intelligence Officer) in Ensign James Mason’s Quarters - An Uninvited Guest

Posted by Ensign James Mason (Engineer) in Ensign James Mason’s Quarters - An Uninvited Guest

Posted by Captain Molly Holloway (Chief Intelligence Officer) in Ensign James Mason’s Quarters - An Uninvited Guest
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
They say old habits die hard. And in Molly’s case they were right.

Four years had passed since she had lost the Turing, but even after all the years and all the changes in her career, Holloway still kept the habit of pulling up the files of new crew members assigned to the Dresden and going over them. Having the Commanding Officer’s blessing and the clearance to do it helped to keep the habit, but even though Molly had a less personal relationship with the members of the crew, she liked to know who was on board.

Holloway didn’t particularly like to pry on people’s lives, which in turn meant that she wouldn’t read more than the absolutely necessary information on someone’s file. However, Mason’s file had caught her attention, and she found herself reading more than she would normally have.

The first thing that caught her eye was a mention to Volan III – the Federation world on the Cardassian side of the Demilitarized Zone. The conflict itself was before her time. Or almost before her time. She had been four years old when the Federation-Cardassian Treaty had been signed, and nine years old when the Dominion War had ended. The second thing that jumped out at Molly was the note on potential mixed loyalties. She didn’t have to read further than that.

Quick to do the math in her head and jump to the conclusion that while James Mason was human he might have potential Cardassian ties, Holloway loaded her faithful Hackathorn Special and holstered it inside her waistband on her hip. A quick computer query revealed Mason’s location in Engineering and the end time of his shift.

The lock code on the Ensign’s quarters was easy to override with her access codes, and once inside, Holloway took some time to sweep through the room in search of anything tying the man to the Cardassian Union, taking special care to leave everything where she found it. (OOC: Let me know if she finds anything that could potentially reinforce or disprove that assumption!)

Finally, as Mason’s shift came to an end, Molly pulled up a chair. When he walked in (and he would walk in at some point) and turned on the lights, he would find his uninvited guest, feet propped up on the dining table, patiently waiting for him. The unmistakable Intelligence black uniform and the fiery red hair leaving no doubts as to who she was. Moreover, Mason’s time at the Antares Shipyards would make sure that the name ‘Holloway’ was not unfamiliar at all.

Capt. Holloway, CIO

No matter how advanced humanity gets, some things never change. The rich and powerful are in charge, the government needs taxes, death always reaps her share of souls, and the guts of a naval vessel are filthy. While some say that the Federation is egalitarian and doesn’t tax I have to call malarkey. When a man has someone watching over his shoulder logging everything he eats, drinks, and makes I call that a good old fashioned information tax. And like Pops always said, information is the oldest commodity.

Working in the squalid mess of pipes and machinery that is innards of a starship always gives me time to think and wander down philosophical roads. Though, now that I’m done trying to help push the Engineering bay back together I’m jonesing for a nice sonic shower to was away the grease and grime from a long day. I also need to get back to Chantril about helping out the cell. The broad has been getting pushy the last year, but I have to keep my head low lest Internal Affairs sees fit to kick my sorry hide to the gutter. I’m already against the wall as is, and gambling in my position is ill-advised.

At least, that’s what I should be thinking. The itch and urge to roll the dice one more time was a bit too large, and so I’ve been working on a gift. Something that the Maquis can use to sucker punch the Cardassians right where it hurts. The bastards rolled over us, and the Federation held the damn towel for the spoon heads while they were beating the DMZ. I learned all about how the Federation felt about the Maquis Fleet had knocked me down to Petty Officer 3rd Class. Turns out that Starfleet Intelligence gets antsy when the common sailor starts endorsing a group of freedom fighters that the Federation washed its hands of.

Wait, that’s right, they considered the Maquis “terrorists” and “criminals”. After all, can’t have people leaving heaven trying to make their own way. Goes against the propaganda something fierce.

I walked back into my quarters, only to greeted with a pistol and a dame with hair as fiery as a supernova. Her expression though was colder than the void. Once again the old Mason luck was at play. It was the Holloway kid, though it looked like she’d managed snag the four gold pips of Captain over the years. She’d been the talk of the Academy for helming up the USS Turing while barely 27, though I’d heard chatter about her stint as an XO while I was healing up from my fistfight with a plasma conduit. I even have a bet going with my old Engineering Chief from the Bonchune that she’d hit Admiral by 35. Long story short not someone I’d expect to see, and the black uniform made it crystal clear that I was still in the wrong set of books.

“Good Evening Captain Holloway. I’d offer you a seat but it looks like you beat me to the punch,” I said. While having a smart mouth to an officer several ranks my senior wasn’t ever a good choice, no one ever accused the male Masons of having good sense. It also had been a hell of first shift, the chemical tang of harsh industrial cleaners was seared into my nose, and my list of damns to give had run right out.

“How can I help you tonight?”

James Mason, Engineering

“I saw your file.” Molly started, not taking time for pleasantries. “And unlike the rest of the crew of this ship, Mr. Mason, I don’t answer to Starfleet Command. So I have no idea whose asses you had to kiss or what strings you had to pull to be posted on a Starfleet vessel… in the Engineering division of one of our top warships, no less… and frankly, I don’t care.” She took her feet down from the table.

Getting up, Holloway paced slowly around the room. “You have a note in your file about potential mixed loyalties. You grew up on Volan III which puts you in the Cardassian side of the DMZ. So…” She stopped, gazing at Mason for a moment. “… my guess is that you either sympathize with Cardassia or with the Maquis.” The hatred in her tone was almost palpable. “And there’s not much difference between the two. Care to tell me exactly why I shouldn’t drag you to the nearest airlock and space you? Because I can make it so no one would ever know.”

Capt. Holloway, CIO

She was an angry dame, that much was obvious. Proud and arrogant as well, though not for good reason. Her word scorched like an unprotected plasma conduit, but I’ve had worse. I’ve had much worse from better. Even though I knew that what I was about to do was as useful as challenging a Klingon’s honor, I couldn’t help the mocking chuckle that escaped my lips. “I’ve been accused of many things ma’am, but this is the first time that I’ve been accused of being some sort of mastermind.”

I looked down at the lonely gold pips in my collar before looking back up to the threatening dame with a raised eyebrow. Now, I really should watch my mouth. I needed to make a good impression and all that malarkey. But, that had been blown out of the way faster than you could say explosive decompression, and more importantly, she’d managed to tick me off. “I didn’t realize that a lowly ensign could manipulate and pull strings with Starfleet command. That implies that I’m either so well connected that I hold sway with senior officers, Starfleet Administration is incompetent and doesn’t understand the negative possibilities, or they weighed the odds and found them worthwhile.”

“While I’m always one for calling Starfleet Command incompetent, I distinctly remember sitting in a room with Internal Affairs having a very similar conversation before I left the Academy. That makes me think that Starfleet understands the issues I represent and decided to take a chance.” That was a good point to stop. To keep the conversation under control while behaving like an officer. However, this jumped up spook said something that seared me worse than voidwalking in a solar flare. She called the Maquis just the same as the Cardassians, and that was something that I couldn’t stand.

I did my best to keep my tone light and level, but it frayed the edges as the Mason temper began to roar. “Ma’am, respectfully, you’re fucking wrong. The Cardassians are warmongers and invaders that the Maquis fought when Starfleet found itself unwilling to. So please, call them insurgents, terrorists, traitors, or whatever Starfleet decided to call them, but don’t call them the same as the Cardassians.”

When one is on a collision course with a black hole, you have two options. Backpedal as much as you can to try to avoid the world of hurt ahead. Alternatively, you can go full speed into the chaos, laughing like a madman as you do. I’ve never been accused of being the most levelheaded or intelligent person, so the choice here was close. “As for the whole spacing thing, I give it a solid six out of ten ma’am. Definitely better than Internal Affairs, but you’ll have to do better to catch up to Doc Lopez.”

Oh, if you couldn’t tell, the Mason men make their own luck. It just tends to be bad.

James Mason, Engineering

As the Ensign spoke, Molly remained silent. Her arms crossed over her chest. However, as the words left his mouth, her lips twisted, slowly, in a smirk. At first it was just that, but with time the scorn and contempt was clear in her expression.

And then he snapped. Profanity escaping through his teeth without him even trying to stop it. And she knew she had him.

“This is not a competition, Mr. Mason. I don’t care for your Doc Lopez, or for Internal Affairs. I don’t care about what rating being spaced holds on your opinion book, because at the end of the day, you won’t be here to enjoy it.” She paused for a moment, more for effect than anything else. “As I said, I don’t answer to Starfleet Command and I certainly do not have to abide by whatever was that you did or told them that made them give you another chance.”

“Now…” The pacing restarted. “The Maquis are not the same as the Cardassians, huh?” Holloway’s tone was surprisingly level, seemingly unaffected by Mason’s words. “It seems I was right. Your loyalties side with one of them, and you just told me which of the two.” There was a triumphant smile on her lips.

“One thing I have to agree with, Mr. Mason. The Cardassians are warmongers and invaders. In that you are absolutely right. But you seem to have the rest of your Federation history wrong.” Stopping she gazed intensely at the Engineer. “Starfleet was never unwilling to fight. A diplomatic solution was reached, and a peace treaty was signed. The Maquis you seem to like so much refused to abide by it, choosing to fight the Cardassians instead, almost causing a war. If that’s not warmongering and invasion, Mr. Mason, I don’t know what is. Their actions resulted in massive casualties in both sides.” Molly scoffed. Disdain clear in her voice. “I don’t care for how many Cardassians died at the hands of the Maquis. That might have been the only thing they did right. All I know is that many Federation citizens would still be alive if if wasn’t for the Maquis’s selfishness and pride. Fortunately, not a lot of them remain today, because trust me, they are better dead. Which brings us back to my original question… mastermind or not, you’re a potential member of a terrorist organization. If spacing you gets a mere six out of ten… Why should I keep you on board and not pass you over to this Doctor Lopez who scores so much higher in this scoreboard?”

Capt. Holloway, CIO

I hadn’t expected the ice-cool dame to come around to my line of thinking. There was a better chance of a Ferengi going communist than a Starfleet Intelligence officer admitting that they were wrong. However, the captain looked like she’d stepped hip-deep in something foul by the time I stopped talking. This is a prime example of a superior asking for an explanation, and not enjoying the vital tidbits that were unfortunately nasty. At this rate I’ll be doing laps around the Dresden in my skivvies.

The sheer disdain filling her tone immediately raised my hackles. This was a woman used to getting her way, come hell or solar flare, and I’ve never had a good track record with those types of folks. What came next threw me for a loop, and clued my wrenchhead onto the niggling fact that there was something wrong with the dear captain. Last time I’d checked if you were aboard a Starfleet vessel, you answered to the command. Either she was on one hell of a power trip, or my impromptu interrogator was part of some serious black ops. Both boded ill for my continued sanity and ability to breathe. I knew I should have invested in an emergency rebreather, but that Ferengi scum was charging triple the market price. Pah. Should have just bout a civilian model from the Feds.

Her petty glee about understanding my fondness of the Maquis cause was both expected and irritating. By the frakking void, you’d think Starfleet had bigger issues on its plate to track down, but I guess a dormant freedom fighter organization takes the cake. However, what came next proved her last statements fair and ambivalent.

As a Mason, an engineer, and someone affiliated with the Maquis I’ve slung my share of malarkey. Some of it has been creative interpretations of the truth, while others were… less that structurally viable. Captain Holloway’s monologue took the cake for being a complete mishmash of propaganda and utter bullshit. Listening to the NJP warrant was far easier than keeping my mouth under lock as the intel officer vented bile and scorn for the entire organization. What came at the end made my vision narrow as the meager control holding my temper in check snapped like a rotten twig. This harridan came into my space and insulted my family while defending the utter cowardice of Starfleet?

Trying to argue with someone this obstinate while I was this fired up had gotten me the NJP the first time around, and I like to think I learn from my mistakes. While I wanted to beat respect into this intel officer with every iota of my being I also knew a losing battle when I saw one. This wasn’t the ship to die on, and it was time for me to end things.

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to disagree on Starfleet’s cowardice and the role the Maquis played in the DMZ. You’ve bought into the Federation propaganda hook, line, and sinker and I can’t fight that,” I heard myself say in a frigid tone. This was good, it meant I was trying to end things before the ice thawed and I went nova hot. “I am going to ask you to leave, and for any future discussions, we have the XO present please. I’m willing to go along with your interrogation, but not when you have an ax to grind and no one to mediate. That path gets neither of us where we want to be ma’am.”

James Mason, Engineering

“Cowardice?” The word came spitting out of Molly’s lips. She scoffed. It was as if the words Mason had uttered after that one never reached Holloway’s ears. “Cowardice?” She saw herself closing the gap between the two officers and slamming him against the wall by his collar. But something in the back of her mind told her not to do it. She had gotten in trouble in the past months more times than she could count, and the Engineer was not worth it. Instead, she took a few steps towards the officer, close enough that she would breach his personal space, but only slightly. “People died.” She snarled. “We gave you places to move back to. New homes, new lands. But you didn’t take it. You’d rather undermine a treaty the Federation worked so hard to establish by choosing to stay on Cardassian territory. And then you attacked us. I don’t know what is that you call cowardice, Mr. Mason, but there’s nothing cowardly about the folded Federation flag in my dad’s living room.” She paused for a moment, clearly trying to hold the anger threatening to spill out inside. “The Maquis put it there. But if that’s cowardice to you, Mr. Mason, then I’m a coward too.”

“Now… as for your request. It seems to me rather hypocritical to talk about Starfleet’s cowardice and then require someone to mediate a meeting. What are you afraid of, Mr. Mason?” Her lips curled into a smirk. “Are you afraid that I’ll punch you? That I’ll actually drag you out to the nearest airlock and space you? You didn’t seem so fearful a while ago…” She paused, scoffing once more. “Understand, if I wanted I could make you disappear and no one would ever know we were here. Not to mention… unlike the other officers on board this ship, I was placed here by the Captain, and I answer to the Captain alone. But I can call Commander Manning, if you like. Or I can call Colonel Harris himself, if that would make you feel safer. But rest assured… there’s nothing to be afraid of as long as you keep your hands to yourself. Because if you give me reasonable cause to fight back, I won’t take responsibility for what may happen then.”

Capt. Holloway, CIO

I wanted to fight back. To sling mud so fiercely that a hog would nod in sage approval. But I also had seen this for the losing battle this was. The sort of battle far too many engagements had been in the DMZ in fact. Even though my heart was pounding and my inner tribal savage was hollering and screaming just to beat this jumped up Fed toadie senseless I held my temper. Rehab had gotten me to a point where I’d seen just how aimless I’d been spewing my bile at anything and everything, and it would take more than a furious officer starting to lose her cool to make me drop back in the gutter.

“I’m sorry for your loss ma’am, but no. I’m not afraid of you, your rank, your insignia, or the color on your uniform. What I am afraid of is things getting out of hand. You have an ax to grind against the Maquis, and the determination to get a razor-sharp edge no matter the cost.” I quietly stated, doing my utmost to keep the seething rage I had below the surface. “You’ve already expressed your willingness to toss me out of an airlock if that’s what it takes, and I’m not one to go to Void quietly. I also fully intend to have a long career in Starfleet and would like to make sure if it has to end it’s done in a fair manner ma’am.”

“Though, it is interesting that extreme tactics are alright when its the Federation. Something something Greater Good?” I heard my mouth tack on to the end of my statement. Even when I’m trying to be diplomatic I manage to muck it up.

I blame this on Great Great Grandpa Tex.

Ensign Mason, Engineering.