Posted by Lieutenant Jason McLeod (Intelligence Officer) in Side Sim - Captain’s Quarters - The Prodigal Son - Checking w/CO (Attn CO)
The sick bay was filled with crewmembers of various rank and positions. Beyond, the corridors were filled with on lookers. Some offering prayers while others merely wept in silence. Standing around an examination table, stood Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy and Mr. Scott, all weeping unashamedly. Laying on the table illuminated in a lone white light, laid a human female lieutenant.

Choking through his tears, McCoy uttered, “she’s, dead Jim.”

The wave of grief washed over the crew as the words were whispered over and over again, making its way through the corridors of the great Federation ship.

“Even in death,” Captain James T Kirk said softly, “her beauty, intelligence, capability and all-around niceness will live on. I hear by order that her birthday be celebrated on our ship as a reminder to us all what we can aspire to achieve….”

The image faded as music picked up, while a narrator’s voice echoed, “we thank you for listening to another Pacy Holo-Drama production…”

Jason reached up and turned the visor off and pulled it from his eyes. He looked up just as a young ensign was walking over to his seat. He couldn’t help but notice her smile and how she nearly tripped as they made eye contact.

“Sir,” she said making sure her hair was out of her face.

“Ensign,” Jason said with his South African accent, “I take it we are approaching the rendezvous point?”

She smiled, “yes sir,” Her hand went back to her hair, “sir,” she said with a hint of playfulness in her voice. “Your accent,” she started to ask. “That is unique to Earth, right?”

Jason smiled, “it is,” then he changed his accent, “this is Cardassian.” With a wink and another change, “I also speak Romulan.”

She shifted as she laughed, “but why,” she asked. “The UT can translate any spoken language,” she said with confusion in her voice.

“Sweetheart,” his South African accent returned, “UT’s are notorious at being perfect. Native speakers, speak with accents and in dialects that the UT’s cannot fabricate.”

“Um, so how many languages do you speak,” she asked.

Moving to his feet, his hand moved to her chin, “non-human languages, Mon Cheri” he asked with a French accent. Watching her cheeks turn a shade of red he smiled as his eyes gazed into hers. “Over a hundred different languages,” he finally answered as he pulled his hand from her cheek. He watched her slightly shutter with delight as his fingertips moved gently across her chin.

Standing five foot ten, he wasn’t the tallest man in Star Fleet. Nor was his build exceptional. His brown hair matched his brown eyes, along with his styled mustache and beard. It was his smile; his eyes and his general demeanor that made him exceptionally kind on the eyes. He wore a red turban with subtle artwork on it. His simple stylish brown shirt and blue jeans did little to have him stand out in a crowd of civilians, though on the shuttle with only Star Fleet officers, he stood out. The other noticeable thing was the complete absence of anything Star Fleet related.

Moments later, he had his bag in hand and was walking the short distance down the gang ramp towards the USS Wolverine. There were so many questions in his mind. But the single biggest was, would he use the contact information of that giggly little Ensign. After all, she went through so much trouble to smuggle it into his bag.

He smiled as the last airlock door opened on to the Wolverine. It felt good to be back home, even if it was much earlier than expected. He turned and walked the corridors of the Wolverine till he came to a wall panel. ‘Better let the Captain know, I’ve returned,’ he thought to himself.

He tapped his codex authorization into the panel and asked, “Location of Captain Boudreaux.”

The female voice spoke steadily, “Captain Boudreaux is located in his quarters.” Jason turned and headed for the Captain’s quarters.

Reaching the Captain’s quarters, he set his bag down. Kneeling next to the bag, he pulled out a medium-sized, gift-wrapped box. Giving it a last-minute check, he finally nodded. He chimed the door then slowly stood up while holding the box in one hand. He then reached down and picked up his own bag in the other.

Lieutenant Jason McLeod (CIO)

(OOC: for those that didn’t notice the tribute paid. The Holo-Drama was a near quote from “A Trekkie’s Tale” by Paula Smith published in Smith’s and Sharon Ferraro’s ‘Star Trek fanzine Menageriein’ in 1973)

Remy had been relaxing in his quarters, sitting in his favorite spot, with a tall glass of bourbon in his hand when the chime rang. He was expecting Alita to arrive with some Cajun boudin she promised to make for dinner. She had followed Tante Mattie’s, and had become quite adapt at making his favorite’s.

Opening the cabin door, he was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of delicious meal he was about to receive, as well as the treats she would offer him after dinner.

“‘Bout time, cher. I’m starvine fo’ dinner and dess----“

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Alita holding a pot of boudin, but the ship’s chief of intelligence.

“—errrr----Ja-SON?!? I tought you were no’ due back fo’ a few mo’ days?”

Boudreaux (CO)