Lt. Commander Kero Rix - Piece of Cake

[Tahna Meru]

@Jo Marshall's lovesick Kero Rix is a delight to read, but more importantly, I have a new life goal of being arrested on Betazed now. 

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((Sto'Vo'Kor, Deck 9, USS Gorkon))

Over a plate of perfectly replicated, if only slightly mournful Gagh, and a steaming cup of raktajino, the unsung heroes of the fleet dined and talked, enjoying the break between the endless task lists.

Jeffery Jones, leading Chief Petty Officer escaped from Engineering, slurped down another tentacle and dabbed the corners of his mouth with the available napkin and banged his flat palm on the table, causing the Edosian opposite to furrow an already furrowed brow in response. 

Unflinching as ever, Aphlex returned to his crossword.

Jones: Now, did I ever tell you about the time I was nearly declared persona non grata on Betazed? All over a hat.

The twinkle in the old man's eye suggested mischief on a scale yet unmeasured, and he leaned back in his chair, raktajino in hand. 

Across from him, Ensign Twikik paused, a forkful of something green, wobbly, and distinctly Tellarite-bacterial in nature, halfway to his mouth. Tales of Jones' exploits wandered precariously to the edge of believability. Twikik looked as if he might set his utensil down with a mixture of resignation and intrigue, only to shovel it in and speak anyway.

Twikik: Land of the mind-readers and endless, insufferable ceremonies? ::He grumbled with a snort, green flecks spraying.:: What did you do? Insult their fashion sense?

In hindsight, having lunch with the three was amusing if not the most diverting of distractions Rix needed. Not that it mattered. His brain was held captive, wrestled into submissions, then ransomed back to him for the tidy sum of Thea's current whereabouts, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. 

The holovid feed displayed above the bar was enough of a reminder. 

The vibrant glow of the aurora borealis enveloped the screen as it transitioned to a bustling conference hall adorned with flags from across the galaxy, draped like elegant tapestries from every risen surface the creative directors could find.

Reporter: =/\= …streaming live from the heart of Andoria, where the Federation and Allied States Economic Summit has just begun. A pivotal moment in our shared galactic history, promising to reshape trade relations as we know them. =/\=

Steaming mug of raktajino nursing in his hand, Rix perked up, watching the holofeed with rapt attention. His Bajoran heart constricted a little as the pangs of worry crept in, only to be banished to a shallow grave with another sip from his Klingon coffee. Beneath the table, his boots crossed, nervously rubbing against one another, liable to start a small fire.

Jones: On Betazed, hats are no laughing matter! ::He leaned forward, arms folding on the table edge.:: They had me sit through an entire presentation on it. Top-notch security detail there. Ever looking to get yourself arrested, Betazed is the place to do it. The cells have cushions. You get a minibar. 

This time, the utensil did meet the table, the Tellarite letting out an exasperated huff.

Twikik: For the love of Krognik...

Sensing he only had so much of the Tellarite's attention, Jones continued. Rix shook his head, exhaling a brief, if preoccupied, chuckle.

Jones: The tradition dates back to their first contact with the Vulcans. A misunderstanding involving a Vulcan ambassador with a particular sense of honour, a ceremonial headdress, and a Flanarian bird.

On the holovid screen, the reporter introduced the summit leaders and the important dignitaries arriving to take their place among the throngs of negotiators. Brown eyes studied the crowd behind, seeking out the Tyrellian tapestries, the familiar colours of the Palanon ambassadorial robes. An elbow nudged into his ribs to bring him back into the room.

Twikik: So? ::Momentarily, the Tellarite looked as if that were the end of his inquiry, until…:: What happened?

Jones, with the air of a seasoned raconteur delivering the punchline to a well-crafted joke, grinned broadly. Ensnared another in his tall tales.

Jones: Well, after a night in a classy clink, a lengthy presentation of Betazoid historical hat traditions, a formal apology from my captain at the time, and a promise never to wear anything larger than a beret, I was released. But let me tell you, ::he pointed a finger from around his mug,:: I've never looked at a hat rack the same way again.

A victory sip sealed the story. Behind the grizzled exterior of the Tellarite's beard, Twikik let out a grumbling laugh. 

Kero: Hey, give it a rest a minute.

Reporter: =/\= …of diplomatic pageantry, we witness the arrival of two of the youngest delegates to grace the summit’s halls. Ambassador Niallyn, a rising star among the diplomatic elite, alongside Royal Highness, the esteemed Ydari Eilothea of Palanon. Embodying the aspirations of their storied lineage… =/\=

Older than most, and recognising the blush of young love riveted to the Bajoran's features, Jones shook his head. Twikik rolled his eyes. Fork picked up, brandished like a weapon, he set about his dessert once more. 

Delicate pink bloomed on Rix's bearded cheeks as he watched the holofeed, the drone cameras focusing in on Thea, beautiful as ever, looking as comfortable in her role as her training had prepared her for. Flanked by the Ambassador. Diligently performing their designated duties for the good of their homeworld. Regal, was the word that slipped into Rix's mind, fighting off the other thought; that the pair looked like the future of the Tyrellian people had already crowned them.

He smiled, briefly amused by the thought of sending her a message later in the evening, letting her know how incredible she'd looked. How much he missed her already. Ask if she's enjoying herself. What passed for food at those summit events. Make plans for when she comes home. 

Barely a handful of nights ago, Thea had nestled into Rix's side, head on his shoulder, small breaths as she slept tickling his ear, making his pulse thrum. His brow crumpled together, thick eyebrows making his eyes look darker, intense. An upsurge of thoughts tumbling fast over one another. His back slumped against the chair.

Five days. Five nights.

He could do this. He let out the breath he'd held.

Piece of cake. 

The Federation News Service jingle played over the sounds of the bar, the fading steamed scenes from the conference parting ways to the Andoria icelands. The mess hall hummed with the background noise of a starship at ease, but at their table anticipation hung thicker than the aroma of Plomeek soup on Vulcan Love Poetry Night. Aphlex had even looked up from his crossword.

Clearing his throat theatrically, a mug of raktajino refreshed, Jeffrey Jones began again.

Jones: Did I ever tell you about the time I hitched a ride on a Klingon Bird-of-Prey disguised as a statue of Kahless?

--

Lt. Commander Kero Rix

Deputy Chief Operations Officer

USS Gorkon, NCC-82293

G239304JM0

 

[Doz Finch]

Such a great sim ❤️