Charles Richards <
d3ucalion@gmail.com> wrote to
chimera@ucip.org:
</\> USS Chimera NCC 96899-C - Crew Quarters </\>
Mike Levison let out a long, drawn-out sigh of relief as the doors to
his quarters hissed shut behind him. It had been a very long few days
and his old skills had been tested to the limit. Life aboard the
Chimera was certainly exciting but for the human getting towards his
forties, it was perhaps a little too exciting from time to time. He
had already shed his uniform jacket during his brief pitstop at the
mess for a quick bite to eat and he casually tossed it into a chair
before making his way over to the desk that took a substantial area of
his quarters.
"Computer, messages please," the Commander inquired as he sank into
the comfortable leather of the chair.
[One status report from Lieutenant Commander Kilbain. One message from
USS Chimera Quartermaster regarding stationary requisition #752123...]
the computer continued to reel off a seemingly endless list of
communications to which Levison squeezed his eyes shut and sighed
again.
"Never mind, Computer, I'll deal with them tomorrow," he said, rubbing
a hand across his throbbing temples, "Music, low volume. Classical."
As a gentle melody began to filter through the room, the Commander was
finally able to relax, his mind slowly beginning to empty of the
firing solutions and data he had been changing into actions in the
recent engagements. It had not been an easy mission in the slightest
for the Chimera and for Levison personally, it had been a baptism of
fire for Tactical skills he had not used for nearly five years.
The music began to swell just as the chime to his quarters blared.
With a grumble, Levison called out; "Computer, pause. Enter!"
The doors slid apart and Gregory Kilbain was revealed, a bottle of
amber liquid in one hand and two tumblers in the other, a wide grin
across his face. "Surprise!"
"Greg..." Mike began, but relented and gestured for him to enter and
have a seat, "That had better be what I think it is."
"Single malt," Kilbain smirked, seating himself in a chair with a view
out into the void.
"Very nice," Mike nodded appreciatively, taking the first tumbler
Kilbain poured. When his friend and fellow officer had finished
pouring his, he toasted: "To your good health, Commander."
"And to yours, Commander," Kilbain returned before knocking back the
contents of his glass in one fluid motion. "That's the good stuff all
right!"
"Definitely," Levison croaked out as the liquid burnt its way slowly
down his throat.
"More?" Greg asked, already pouring another glass full.
"Do I have a choice?" Levison chuckled.
"Nope," the white-haired man laughed, drinking his own measure in one
gulp again.
"You didn't come here just to get drunk, did you?" Mike asked, toying
with the glass in his hand.
"No, not only," Kilbain answered, "Just wanted to see how you were
getting on. Got pretty intense out there today."
"That it did," Levison sighed, staring into the alcoholic drink in
front of him as if it would provide some solace for a troubled mind.
"I took a demotion because I thought I could do more good out here
with my combat experience rather than flying a desk at Eden."
"And you have already, Mike. I think, anyway. Every time you lose
someone, either as a Captain or at Ops or Tactical, you do this to
yourself. You don't pull the triggers, or unleash the pathogens or
natural disasters that kill people under your care. The sooner you
realise that, the better," his friend retorted, honestly and firmly.
"You're right, just for a change," Levison nodded through a
half-smile. "I will get that into my thick skull, one day. Just not
today."
"As you wish sir," Greg smiled.
"And how about you, how are you? Driven any of those poor buggers in
the Tac-Centre to distraction yet?" Mike asked with a chuckled.
"Oooh, that's unfair of you, but probably true as well. No, but I was
startled at their efficiency. Some of them might shape up to be pretty
good officers," Kilbain laughed.
"Glad to hear it. All is not lost then," Levison remarked, finishing
the latest glass of whiskey. "Thanks for the drink," he smiled,
gesturing with the glass towards his colleague.
"Any time," Kilbain nodded, "I'll let you get on, or rather, get some
rest. I have an appointment with a sonic shower."
"Good!" Mike smirked, refusing to elaborate further on which part was
exactly. "I'll see you at zero-nine hundred for more repair duty."
"Can't wait for that!" came the other man's response as the doors slid
shut once more, leaving Levison to contemplate his actions and the
stars beyond his window.
</\> End Log </\>
Commander Mike Levison
Chief Tactical Officer
USS Chimera NCC 96899-C
Lieutenant Commander Gregory Kilbain
Assistant Tactical Officer
USS Chimera NCC 96899-C
<NPC apb Mike>