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Ensign Anath G'Renn and PNPC Ensign Ferentis: The Klingon and the Dinosaur


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((Primary Sickbay - Deck 18, USS Blackwell))

 

G’Renn: Alright crewman, what’s missing?

 

Lee: That crate of fresh medical kits that was brought up some storage earlier today.

 

::While cleaning up after the mass treatment of plague victims back at Debin VII, Anath had arranged for a crate of supplies no longer needed to be moved down to one of the cargo bays.Unfortunately, another crate just like it of fresh medical kits had been set down next to it at some point in the meantime. Now, the cargo that had just been brought up to sickbay was gone again. It was only a minor irritant, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back so to speak.::

 

G’Renn: Computer, who moved the cargo container from Sickbay storage?

 

::Anath looked at the name that appeared and scowled. As irritated as she had been with all the occurrences of bad luck and inconveniences thus far, no person could really be said to be at fault for causing them. Now she had a name that she could point at as a definitive cause of her stress. The officer likely didn’t deserve any scorn of anger for just trying to be helpful, but he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.::

 

G’Renn: Computer, locate Ensign Ferentis

 

Computer: Ensign Ferentis is in Cargo Bay 5.

 

G’Renn: Thank you. Don’t worry crewman, I’ll go get those supplies back.

 

::She stormed out of sickbay towards the nearest turbolift. She was going to get her stuff back.::

 

((Timeskip- Arrival in the cargo bay))

 

((Cargo Bay 5 - Deck 15, USS Blackwell))

 

::The containers he was attempting to move were far too heavy for the average humanoid. Even so, the tractor loader sat unused in one corner of the bay. Ferentis wasn’t above showing off every once in awhile, but this time, utilizing his raw muscle was more therapeutic than entertaining. His normally focused mind broiled with doubts and concerns, a rarity for him. It had been weeks since he’d been banned from his home, and though there had been no news or contact from Dupwa’thuv besides the norm, he had to assume that everything was still relatively status quo. Still, he could see the storm clouds brewing. It was only a matter of time before the status quo was nothing but a memory- one lost in the chaos only a self-destructing people could provide.::

::He still didn’t know what his family was planning. Pakhwa’thanh were polite to a fault, but there were also inquisitive, and would pursue a question relentlessly. Banishing a member of their own species was legal, but exceedingly rare. To learn that someone with such a noble lineage had been officially cast from his world permanently would raise eyebrows if the fact ever became known, and then the questions would begin. His family was quite high in status- high enough so that a few whispers in the right ears, combined with such an honored reputation and respectable status, would make the banishing possible. Still, there were so many unanswered questions. And though he’d been expecting something like this for years, now that it had happened, everything suddenly became agonizingly real.::

 

::A most pleasant thought then occurred to him. Maybe it was possible that his family wasn’t planning anything. That stopped him dead. He placed the cargo container down and pondered, claws gently caressing his leathery face. Perhaps this wasn’t the first step in a brutal and pivotal political upset or coup. Maybe this was the equivalent of cleaning house. It had been accepted for decades that he was effectively banished from Dupwa’thuv, by his family, if no one else- perhaps this was just the official notification. His heart buoyed momentarily, before remembering why he’d left home in the first place. He’d like to believe that nothing was happening. But he’d spent too long in space, and worrying about his clan and species, to grasp at comforting falsehoods.::

 

G’Renn: Ensign Ferentis!

 

::He grunted as he lowered the crate, trying not to show his surprise. He was exceptionally polite, and so calm, it was (sometimes) easy to forget he was, in fact, a nine-foot dinosaur. Still, it didn’t mean that he was immune to such feelings, and the loud voice, picked up by his sensitive hearing, and combined with the acoustic attributes of the cargo bay, scared him half to death.::

 

::His eyes turned toward the very, very angry Klingon woman marching toward him. Whatever it was she was furious about, he had to admire her. Most people stopped shouting at him when they saw the length of his teeth. This individual apparently had no such fear.::  

 

G’Renn: I would like my crate of medical supplies back. You moved the wrong crate!

 

::So young. So full of fire! She couldn’t have been more than, what? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? A mere child, compared to his fifty-three years. He couldn’t help but find it amusing that she was telling him off.::

::But what about this crate business? Was it possible? Yes. Unusual, though. He’d always been known to be neat, precise, and punctual. Such mistakes were incredibly rare. Maybe his emotional baggage was impacting his work more than he’d realized.::

 

::However, any attempt at defense, explanation or apology seemed futile at this juncture. The Klingon ensign was far from done lambasting him. This was not a problem. He listened attentively, looking on with curiosity as she progressively dismantled his character.::

 

G’Renn: Perhaps if you had bothered to check with someone, we wouldn’t have to be having this conversation! But no, you just assumed you had the right crate and just went about on your merry way. So now instead of getting some rest after a fourteen hour work day, I get to sort out your mistake!

 

::Ah. And now they had reached the root of the problem. It wasn’t his minor error- it was the fact that she was expected to fix it. He could absolutely understand her rage, and did not begrudge her at all. Still, such a...violent breach of etiquette was both entertaining and fascinating. He’d never been privy to such displays back home- emotional outbursts, especially the hostile kind, were all but unheard of.::

 

G’Renn: Well, if you’re just going to stand there, I’ll just move the crate myself!

 

((Cargo Bay 5 - Deck 15, USS Blackwell))

 

::Every person was different, and if he had thought that performing a certain action would have appeased her more than standing there and listening, he probably would have done it. Then again, he was fairly confident that this poor, overworked individual was reaching the zenith of her explosive decompression. He doubted he could say anything to calm her now.::

 

::Anath didn’t remember what piece of equipment she had ordered to be sent back down to the cargo bay, the specifics lost in the busy flow of work in sickbay. However, experimentally testing the weight of the container proved one thing. Whatever was inside was heavy, even for Anath with her above-average Vulcan strength. She tried to brush it off as just a casual inspection of the crate before walking over towards one of the anti-grav units. She paused and looked back at Ferentis, part of her still very unhappy with the engineer. She couldn’t help it, and impulsively opened her mouth once more.::

 

G’Renn: Or, if you wanted, you could say something like “I’m so sorry for the mix-up. Here, let me help!”

 

::Of course, were he convinced that using his bountiful social grace would alleviate the situation (and the ensign’s apoplectic state), he would have happily apologized, offered to fix the mistake through any means necessary, and suggested that he pay for his mistake by taking on one of her duty shifts. Such was the Pahkwa’thanh tendency to over exaggerate. But in recent years, he’d begun to realize something he never thought would ever occur to him.::

 

::”Polite” was not necessarily “kind”.::

::Everyone needed to explode once in awhile- even him, though no one would ever see it and live to speak of it. Perhaps what this ensign needed was a punching bag. And he was simply overjoyed to take on that responsibility.::

 

::She dropped the anti-grav and started pacing back and forth. She needed to put her anger in check before she said something she might regret. Well, that line had been crossed already, but now she could still walk away and apologize once she managed to get a handle on her anger once again. If only she could know when to leave well-enough alone. This engineer wasn’t even saying anything, yet she kept on fuming! One could only yell for so long about nothing::

 

G’Renn: Well, do you have anything to say! Anything?

 

::Ferentis stayed perfectly silent. A slow blink was his only response.::

 

G’Renn: ::With increased irritation at his silence:: You can talk, can’t you?

 

Ferentis: oO Not with you carrying on like that. Oo

::It was merely an observation, one that held no malice or anger.::

 

G’Renn: You useless petaQ!

 

::Ooh! New curse words! Fun! Ferentis felt a bit like a hatchling let loose in a slaughterhouse. All these new experiences that he’d barely ever been treated to on Dupwa’thuv. It was absolutely delightful. Still he stayed perfectly motionless and mute.::

 

::The most recent angry outburst to come out of her mouth stunned her, the realization of exactly what was coming out of her mouth hitting her with the same force as a punch to the jaw. Anath slipped into the reserve pool of untranslatable Klingon insults and curses in only two situations. First, if she was among rowdier Klingons like her cousins who considered those words a vital and important part of a person’s daily vocabulary and who wouldn’t react should she kindly request they leave her alone using more polite words. The second and far more common situation was when she’d truly and completely lost her cool and let her temper run away with her. It was a sign that all her usual manners and kind personality had been jettisoned out of the nearest airlock while her more direct and aggressive instincts took over. She turned and walked towards the door to give herself a moment to catch her breath::

 

G’Renn: I- I’ll be right back…

 

::Then, and only then, did Ferentis give a single, slow nod- permission, understanding, and friendly intent all wrapped into one simple motion.::

 

::As she exited, Ferentis idly wondered if she would, in fact, return. Once someone had fully evacuated themselves of pent-up fury, oftentimes they would be too embarrassed to return, and/or apologize. No apology was necessary, but he again found himself curiously speculating on the (still nameless) ensign’s priorities.::

 

::Sitting down on the floor, Anath focused on her breathing. Inhale, hold, exhale. It was a simple pattern, but one that didn’t normally require a great deal of thought. It had definitely felt good to clear all that pent-up range and aggravation on Ensign Ferentis, but it was also completely improper. First of all it was just plain rude! But there could be other consequences for that little outburst of her’s, as her counselor at Starfleet Academy could attest to. When she finally felt that she had gotten comfortable in her new home her temper ran away with her again. She needed to apologize, immediately!::

 

G’Renn: oO But what do I say… Oo

 

::It took her around five minutes to fully cool off and work out what her apology should be. At one point she stood up to walk back into the cargo bay without any particular conversation-starter in mind, but that strategy had not been particularly productive earlier. Instead, she paced back and forth, considering just what should be the first words out of her mouth when she went into the room to apologize. Finally, she had a basic apology in mind and stepped back inside the cargo bay.::

 

G’Renn: ::Meekly::  I’m sorry about that Ensign…  it was, unbecoming of me to say those things.

 

::So she had returned. Impressive. Most Klingons he’d met held pride and honor as the most important things in their existence. To face such a wounding to either took courage, strength, and humility. All good things. And even if the ensign hadn’t displayed such a willingness to apologize, Ferentis was sure he would have taken a liking to her anyway.::

 

Ferentis: It is quite alright. ::He gave a far deeper nod of forgiveness. For some reason, he spoke almost as much with his head and neck as with his mouth.::

 

G’Renn: I realize we probably got off on the wrong foot, and was wondering if perhaps a round of drinks on me would help to get things back on track between us?

 

::She wouldn’t actually be drinking of course given her low tolerance for alcohol, but she had learned that the offer often worked as a very effective cure-all to social situations. As long as it might help patch up the bridge her more aggressive self had just tried to burn Anath was willing to extend the invitation. She might not walk away with physical injuries like her encounter with a giant lizard-man on her cadet cruise, but she certainly was suffering from a class four case of wounded pride.::

 

Ferentis: ::Smiling kindly, almost like a grandfather.:: I would be delighted. And, I am sorry about the mix-up.

 

END

 

Ensign Anath G'Renn

Medical Officer, USS Blackwell - Andaris Task Force

A239402AG0

 

AND

 

Ensign Ferentis
Engineer
USS Blackwell
NCC 58999
G239202RS0
cleardot.gif

 

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