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Conrad R.

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About Conrad R.

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    Salt this, buddy!

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  1. Just under six feet, bearded, and with dark brown hair just approaching the collar of the uniform he wore with an over-practiced calm, Conrad R. Adler stepped off the personnel shuttle and into a stampede. "Well," he thought, "Out of the frying pan and into the fire." He wasn't much for crowds. But just then a familiar female voice refreshed his perspective, and he stopped to look. "Connie!" Although the voice had sounded familiar, it was still to his surprise he saw the Terran-Romulan hybrid he'd had a crush on his first year at the Academy. What was her name again? When she'd started dating the Klingon from the local coffee establishment, Conrad had lost interest. She caught up. "I didn't expect to find you here, Connie. The universe must be shrinking." "It must be." "Do you remember?" She asked. Raven black hair framing a beautiful symmetry and striking blue-green-hazel eyes, she had not changed. And her name was Sandra. "How could I forget. Hi, Sandra. It's good to see you too." And he fell back in line and got moving, Sandra right beside him. She asked him where he was posted. "I'm not quite sure yet. You?" She didn't answer, and they didn't speak after until they left the docking ring. The crowd's dispersal was welcome fresh air to Conrad's demeanor. "Sandra, it has been a while. Would you like to grab a bite with me on the promenade? I'm free for a while yet." "I'm afraid I'm not. How about a rain check?" "Sure thing. Maybe I'll see you around." "Sure thing." "Thanks for walking with me." "You're a trip, Connie." And they went their ways.
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