Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Surda (Chief of Security / RTF) in Old Habits - New Adventures

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Old Habits - New Adventures

Posted by Captain Zachariah Cobb (Commanding Officer) in Old Habits - New Adventures
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻

The door that separated the cold of the night air outside the small bar in the mining settlement swung open, briefly, as a man stepped through and quickly shut it behind him. “Oh damn it all,” a sigh accompanied the words as the bartender noted who had stepped through the door. It wasn’t like the visit was unexpected, not here where the bar was almost the only thing to do in the settlement that kept a person out of trouble, mostly. Almost the only thing, but the Bajoran who had walked through had managed to find the other thing to do that kept one out of trouble with the law. The law wasn’t what the barkeep was sighing about however, it was the fact that the Bajoran had managed to stir up trouble by doing the other thing that people did to keep out of trouble. The man had talent, that was for sure.

Adjusting his jacket as he walked, a flash of metal from the man’s earring drew the bartenders eyes towards the dangling object, much as it did most nights he had been here. More out of curiosity, the rough exterior of the man seemed at odds with the polished, not-a-scratch finish in the metal of the earring. The Bajoran stopped by the old fashioned juke box that someone had acquired somewhere, entered a few songs set to play after the current tune had finished, and continued to the bar. “What’s in the bottle Jim?” The Bajoran asked, sliding onto a barstool and grinning at the barkeep, whose name wasn’t Jim at all, but he had given up trying to correct the man.

“Scotch, you sure you want to be here tonight? I thought you might want to lay low for a bit after last night.” The Bajoran smirked and slid a few credits over the counter, clearly buying the half empty bottle that ‘Jim’ had left out from tidying the bar between customers. “Why? What happened last night?” he asked as his song began to play on the jukebox and the barkeep slid a glass towards him. The song was catchy, light and instantly gave the small bar a distinct ‘space western’ feel to it.

Got a gypsy soul, I’m a rebel and rogue
And I’m always on the run
With a fire inside, I ain’t ever gonna die
I’m a locked and loaded gun
When the matches strike and the gasoline lights
It’s only just begun

“You got talking to the wrong girl,” a low, gruff voice came from behind the Bajoran. “Then, you left here with the wrong girl.” Grinning wider, the Bajoran poured himself a drink and spun in the seat to face the voice, making sure to take a decent mouthful as he did so.

One thing I learned, is you can watch it all burn
But the flame ain’t ever done

The voice belonged to a Nausiccan, this one with particularly large bone ridges and tusks, and an equally oversized pair of biceps. “That’s what happened last night,” the Naussican continued, “and now you and I have a problem.”

“We do?” The Bajoran asked, and took another drink. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous I didn’t go home with you instead. I can’t please everybody you know.” The ripple of laughter that came from a very small number of tables behind the Naussican, didn’t improve the big mans mood in the slightest. “She insisted, you know? She was horny after all.” The Bajoran stood up now, and with a smirk, tapped the tusk protruding out of the side of the Naussicans mouth. Another laugh came from another being that had walked up to them, this one looking oddly frog like but it was giggling at the Naussican as it put together the joke. The woman the Bajoran had gone home with after all, was a Naussican. Her tusks had been only slightly less impressive than the man standing in front of the Bajoran.

Ooh
Raise ‘em up a little higher, your lighters
Outlaws and outsiders
Ooh

The punch was quick, the big Naussican hardly had to move a muscle as his fist impacted the Bajorans stomach, doubling the man over and bringing him to his knees while the glass fell away to the side, spilling the last of it’s contents. “Oh god,” the Bajoran gasped for air, holding his stomach. “You’re wearing a knuckle plate, aren’t you big guy. That’s cheating you know.” Grasping the Bajoran by the hair, he pulled the downed man to his feet and held him on his tip toes. “That was my girl, wrinkle nose. We have a problem.” He moved his face closer to the Bajoran, nostrils flaring in anger as he raised his fist, revealing the studded knuckle plate he was wearing and had rammed into the Bajorans stomach.

“Yeah, we do. Your breath stinks.” The Bajoran countered, and for a moment the eyes of the two men met closely. It seemed that deep inside the Bajoran, a flash of fire and will existed that was barely contained within him, something primal and barely held in check. It made the Naussican pause, despite the verbal jab.

Some call me a renegade, the enemy
Throw your hands up if you feel the same
Whoa, living life at the edge
Just say what you wanna say, or walk away
I’ll stand tall when there’s hell to pay

There was a jolt, a loud buzz that killed what little conversation remained in the room as the Naussican flew backwards from the impact of the Bajorans own fist in his stomach. As the big Naussican crashed through a nearby table, flipping over and landing on his stomach eyes that turned to the Bajoran would note he was wearing his own knuckle plate, but his one had energy arcing between terminals that had shocked and amplified his own punch to a much greater extent.

Ain’t no power higher
We’re the outlaws and outsiders
Mm, yeah

The Frog-man looked at the downed Naussican stunned, then drew a short, hard blackjack and turned to face the Bajoran just in time to collect the half-empty bottle that the man had reached back and picked up from the counter top, and swung like a bat into the frog mans head, smashing it and dropping the frog-man like a wet sack onto the floor.

“You know you’re paying for the damage right, Ros?” The Barkeep said while he began to lift glasses from the counter to store them safely underneath, as a half dozen men stood up from their tables in the bar and began to approach Akirel Ros. “I’m hurt that you think I wouldn’t, Jim, after all we have been through.” Ros grinned at the man, then turned back to the group approaching him.

And that, was how the fight started.

Lt Cmdr Akirel Ros, Ex- Starfleet Intelligence Agent on Suzamme Prime.

Three weeks later, Ros sat in a shuttle that was heading to his new posting. He didn’t mind terribly, life had grown dull on that rock and he doubted there was any real lead on the man he was looking for there. Smuggling and money laundering was one thing that rock had in spades, but illegal tech and rare objects just weren’t their kind of thing in a place where anything became a weapon in a bar fight at short notice.

Leaning back in the seat, he watched as the Leviathan neared hailing range. Admiral Harris had given him very, very little on this ship and what it was doing out here, telling him only that it was need to know, then laughing and closing the comm line after saying a very ominous sounding farewell, Ros. It sounded far more ominous than when Harris had transferred him to the Viking to get him away from his daughter, but that warning feeling in his stomach served him well before and he would follow it here as well.

=/\= USS Leviathan, this is Shuttle Stranger Things. Requesting permission to dock, carrying crew transferring to your ship. Transmitting authorization and security clearance details now via secure channel. =/\=

Tapping the console, a light blinked to confirm the data was sent. Ros then sat back, looked at the hip flask of Saurian Brandy propped beside him in the co-pilots seat, and sighed.

Lt Cmdr Akirel Ros

OOC: Damn, it’s good to see Ros again! :P
OOC: It was good to be writing him again! :D

IC: Across the Stranger Thing‘s comms, came an officious reply.
=^= Hold your course while we complete security scans. Once cleared you may proceed to the main shuttle bay where an RTF team will be waiting to assist you.=^=

Ros smiled slightly as he looked out towards where the Leviathan would be in moments. He had an urge to fly zig zags. Instead, he reached over and picked up the brandy flask, taking a sip and letting the burn slide down his throat, then passed the flask to another new addition to the crew of the Leviathan in the seat behind his.

“Touchy, aren’t they.” Came the voice behind him to which Ros smiled but didn’t turn back from watching the monitors.

The communication ceased, although were anyone onboard the shuttle particularly sharp of hearing, they might just have caught a different, more sonorous voice, exclaim, “More new crew? Who the bloody hell is Roebuck forcing upon us now, eh? If it’s another bloody Ferengi…” Alas, the snippet of conversation was cut off after that.

“Ugly little buggers those Ferengi,” the voice behind Ros said in reply to the ended transmission. “Never could stand them, it’s the teeth,” the voice continued, not caring that Ros wasn’t answering. “Beady little eyes, sharp teeth, big noses and eat bugs. Whatever deity put together a Ferengi was either having a really bad day, or coming off a five day bender and forgot his multi vitamins.”

In the CIC, however, the initiator of that irritable line of questioning was rising quickly to his feet and simultaneously tapping at his commbadge. =^= Security, meet me at the main shuttle bay for an incoming assignment. Ensure that at least two members are trained and equipped as RTF. Just in case. Cobb out. =^=

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

The Stranger Things glided smoothly into the shuttle bay of the Leviathan and touched down with a slight, graceful bump. Like a lover placing a rose ever so gently on the shoulder of their partner. It took moments for any further activity to occur for those watching from the outside, the occupants clearly running through post-flight checks and powering the shuttle down.

A quiet whoosh announced the opening of the side door, and a figure stepped out a moment later. The figure was impressive, in many ways. The stocky little man was resplendent in a gaudy turquoise trench coat of the finest, slinkiest material, open down the collar to the chest with leg slits that showed he was wearing what appeared to be knee high boots with solid heels that made him stand about an inch taller than his already, noticeable, Tellarite frame had him standing.

His hair was impeccably coiffed in a smooth, bryl cream heavy comb over and his beard was well loved and bushy. It was not however, big enough to cover the gold chain around his neck that rested on his bare chest under the trench coat, with a tuft of thick and coarse Tellarite chest hair poking it’s fluff tuft through the open collar. Stepping down to the flight deck, the little man leaned back and stretched his shoulders, letting out a massive yawn as he did so wiggling his fingers as if there was something new to play with. There might have been too, the way his eyes darted around the various panels and engineering access points in the shuttle bay. A phaser rested on his waist, a clearly custom made design with a white ivory handle, gold trim and a holster that seemed designed to let the weapon leap into his hand at the slightest bump. There was writing partly visible on the handle, but wasn’t readable at this angle. The smell of Lavender reached the nostrils of those closest to him.

“Hurry up with yah Lad,” the Tellarite called back into the shuttle. “Looks like ye got a welcoming party! Aren’t we special? Maybe I should have worn me party outfit!”

Lieutenant Gruv ‘Blackbeard’ Skallig

OOC: As soon as I started reading the dialogue, I knew this was going to be Gruv!!! Woohoo!!!

IC: At the other end of the gantry, a striking figure stood watching as the passengers disembarked. Powerful and commanding, still his demeanour whispered of a deep and almost primal exhaustion, tempered slightly by the promise of future inebriation. At the last he had chosen to wear his dress coat, the threadbare patches at elbow and cuff barely visible in the wash of stark, overhead lighting. His long hair and beard were neater than their regular fashion, combed and tied off each by a thin, silver band. Ice-blue eyes darted keenly from the shuttle to the emerging figures, then grew wider as the first arrival came wholly into view.

At his first step forward, the surrounding group leaped to attention. Four officers, instantly recognisable to all as Starfleet Security, took a step towards the shuttle, but were beaten to the punch by another two, both female and dressed head to toe in sleek, black, combat fatigues, their obvious power and poise almost as impressive as the weapons at their sides.

But at a single gesture from the captain, the group fell at ease, while he alone struck a path onto the gantry and towards the newly-arrived shuttle. Finally coming face to face with the passenger, although towering above him by a clean couple of feet, Zachariah Cobb looked down and exclaimed, with a stunned expression, “Are you here to see Mr Bog? I can only presume that you are his…partner?”

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

Gruv paused, and looked up at the man with an odd look I his eyes. It could have been admiration, maybe borderline infatuation. “I’ve barely set foot on this ship now, and you’re telling me you named yah Latrine, ‘Mr’ Bog, and ye insult me by calling me it’s partner? Ros!” Gruv called back into the shuttle, not taking his eyes off the man, “get out here lad. We got a suit with his own two dominatrixes hurling insults like e’s Cupid looking for a date, and I think I’m in love!”

Cobb visibly winced at Gruv’s labeling the RTF operatives ‘dominatrixes’. That was one future battle he had no plans to interrupt, although he might very much enjoy the spectacle.
“My mistake,” he replied at last. “I suspect even Bog possesses a more elevated taste when it comes to choosing companions.”

Gruv winced in clear appreciation of the jab. This one could throw insults like a cockatoo in an Orion nightclub, but he was maybe a little concerned that the man was on a first-name-basis with the latrine.

Casela, the taller of the ‘dominatrixes’ quirked a brow at her partner and then back to the CoS. Despite Cobb’s command to stay put he knew she wouldn’t. She walked forward and around the Tellarite with an appraising gaze. Her Mark VII baton out and measuring him from head to toe taking in the ‘beer gut,’ the delicate clothes, and his posture. She looked back at Quinn, “I don’t think he’d last 3 minutes, do you?”

Surda laughed as she stepped out from behind the other two, expertly hidden behind them. “Three dominatrixes. And I’d bet under two.”

The captain’s expression remained poker-straight, but internally his mirth was hearty. One minute-thirty and not a second more.

“One minute tops, lass.” Gruv exclaimed while checking his nails nonchalantly, then looked up in mock shock at the pair. “Wait, did ye think ye were actually worth any more of me time than that? I got better things to do than muck around meeting your expectations, even if you carry your toys with you in anticipation.” His eyes dropped to the Baton the first woman was holding then back up to her again, then his head turned as the person in the shuttle finally responded.

Casela sniffed the air, “Mmmm I do love the smell of bacon in the morning. Hey Quinn!” she called back, “I think you’ll be making us bacon and sausage for awhile. He’s already half cooked his brain coming up with that one. And I was SO looking forward to having a Tellarite on board who could actually hurl insults. Guess I’m disappointed again.”

A voice came from the shuttle, followed closely by a tall and well built Bajoran man, rough shaved, dark haired and with deep green eyes that would burn into anybody he wanted to take notice of. Out of uniform, he wore a dark leather jacket, instead of a pistol at his waist, the brandy flask sat in a holster. “You’re already married Gruv, it’s not going to happen. Keep your pants dry, your dream’s wet and your mind on the job.”

Casela took in the Bajoran man, he was fighter and a dangerous one, the easy posture of someone she would hesitate to cross in a back alley. “But him, I bet he could go full rounds with a Klingon woman.” She stepped back and patted the captain on the shoulder, “This one shares your past time. You might need to get a nicer flask from Lazol.”

Finally stepping out, Ros adjusted his cuffs and looked over the assembled greeting party, noting the Three women in black with a scrutinizing eye before turning his attention to the man in front of them. That whole process only taking the briefest of moments. “Captain Cobb. I’m Lieutenant Commander Akirel Ros, and this is Lieutenant Gruv Skallig. We’ve been sent on assignment to you from Admiral Harris of Starfleet Intelligence. Helping your research efforts, I believe.”

Lt Cmdr Akirel Ros

Akirel Ros? She would have to check that name…it was familiar to her. Kara! She would have to see if this was the same person. But more important she would have to do some background checks. Admirals were sending them new people almost weekly here lately with no notice. She was going to have to look into that. She looked at Quinn ~Bog is going to have field day with that one.~ And signing to Surda, who’d taught her Orion sign language, I’m having Lazol take bets on who comes out on top of that insult contest. Casela took her place back beside Quinn. She could almost feel Cobb’s enjoyment at showing off his ‘Angels.’
Lt Synthi-er, CNS/Cobb’s Angel

The corners of Surda’s mouth quirked up slightly. I’m not a betting woman, but do be sure to let me know who wins. A lie, considering she was in fact a betting woman. She was glad to take up her position with the other two. After all, who doesn’t love a show of force?
-Surda, CoS/Cobb’s Angel

His professional demeanour never faltered, his arm steady and strong as he extended it to the other man. “Lieutenant Commander Akirel, welcome to the Leviathan.”

But beneath the misdirection of silver hair and unkempt beard, a mind as sharp as a d’k tagh took in every inch of Akirel Ros. And the conclusion almost immediately reached was undeniable. This one…was trouble. And not of the sort that could be easily controlled on the containment deck.

Stepping forward, Ros took Cobbs offered hand and shook it firmly. There was an ever so slight smirk of greeting on his lips, and a light in his deep green eyes that was at odds with the very colour of them. His hand gave off heat but not the sweaty heat of a nervous man who was unsure of where he was. This heat was subtle, but it was there. A dry heat that radiated outwards, some might have called it comforting while being held in his embrace. Like a warm jacket on a cool evening as his arms circled her waist. Others, uncomfortably warm as his eyes measured their weakness and plotted the moves he would make to bring them to their knees. Eye’s that had already moved around every person in the room.

Then, the smirk broke into a wide smile and the light in his eyes seemed to diminish as he spoke. “Thank you, Captain. I’m glad to finally step foot off the Stranger Things and stretch my legs. It isn’t so much the cramped confines I’m glad to be out of, it’s the smell of the company.” His eyebrow arched slightly while his head inclined to Gruv.

“Please,” he indicated for both men to step forward into the bay proper, confident that his Angels would keep them to the desired path. “Perhaps we should convene to my ready room, where you can explain to me precisely how the ARU wishes for you to assist with our research effort.”
The accompanying glance to Akirel was laden with suspicion. To Gruv loaded with doubt that the Tellarite could assist anything beyond his own dressing each morn…and even that could be called to question.

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

“Yes Captain,” Ros nodded, then followed that with a shrug. “I was kind of hoping you could tell me, but let’s take up that conversation when we get there. It was a quick transfer and I’m not sure I got all the information I should have. Gruv and I have a few skills that might come in use.” Ros turned just then and reached into the shuttle. Out of all of the bags and boxes inside it, he picked up one square bag that seemed to hold a box of some kind. With a handle at the top, this could have been anything. A cage, a bulky square suitcase or something of similar type. But out of everything there this was the one thing he took with him, as well as the flask on his hip clearly.

Don’t fart around in there lad, Gruv signed to Ros… in the same Orion sign language the women had used… let’s get to the Captain’s Ready Room before Starfish and Arctic Breeze here try any more of that thinking thing they did before. Clearly thinking and talking aren’t things they are used to doing together. Ros pointedly ignored Gruv’s message at first, if he understood it there was certainly no sign from him that he did. Only, that small smirk was back in the corner of his mouth as his deep greens moved to Casela and paused there for an instant. They never moved from her eyes, but his hand moved to sign back to Gruv.

Casela locked eyes with him. It wasn’t a challenge, but an assessment in equal measure of him as he was giving to her. Her initial assessment stood. He was dangerous if you crossed him, and good natured when you didn’t. And he had a specific set of skills, what those where was a mystery, but he knew he had them and wasn’t afraid to use them. While he took her measure she translated for those who didn’t know sign, her eyes never leaving Ros’. “Gruv wants to get to your ready room, Cpt. Apparently, and he’s come up with some very interesting nicknames: Starfish and Arctic Breeze, he thinks we’re dolls not capable of thinking and talking. He’s quite eager to get out of here.”

Careful, she thinks she always gets what she wants and has concealed on her. She’s overcompensating for something, you probably wouldn’t last ten seconds with her in close. The other one, she’s like your wife, and we both know she wants you dead. Gruv sighed slightly and looked up at Ros, commenting out the side of his mouth quietly, “Stop that lad, ye scary when ye do that, you know it.” Ros’ smirk didn’t move.

Lt Cmdr Akirel Ros and Lt Gruv Skallig

She laughed, a warm welcoming sound, that to the rest of the crew would be surprising, Ros and Gruv wouldn’t know that. She was standing next to Cobb at this point and staged whispered to him nodding at Ros, “Oh I like him! He believes I always get what I want, and assumes my concealeds are overcompensating for something.” She couldn’t wait to see what everyone made of that. She did another once over of Gruv, which wasn’t necessary, “OH that explains it…the phaser is just for show. No wonder Gruv’s wife wants him dead.”
Lt Synthi-er, Cobb’s Angel

Zachariah Cobb had grown accustomed, even comfortable over the years, to fate using him as a punching bag at every opportunity. So to be sent a Tellarite for his crew had felt like another well-aimed, but wholly anticipated, punch. But to be sent two? Seems like fate had grown tired of throwing fists and had gone straight for the disruptor instead.
“Enough! All of you!” he growled. “Mr Akirel, I am going to hope, for your sake, that your skills extend beyond controlling asshole partners and charming amazonian women. As for you, Mr Gruv,” he turned his head to fix the Tellarite with a stern expression as they walked, “you are still, somehow, a Starfleet officer, yes? So I suggest that you start behaving in a manner appropriate to the uniform that you dishonour so freely.”

Facing forwards once again, and quickening his pace to hasten their journey to his ready room and some measure of privacy from the gaping mouths of passing crew, the captain’s demeanour visibly softened.
“You are not our first Tellarite onboard, Mr Gruv,” he continued, over his shoulder. “So fear not, you will have opportunity aplenty to befoul our language in your own, inimitable way.”

Truth be told, as a consequence of Bog’s performance thus far, Cobb had discovered a certain fondness for the Tellarite manners and ways. Not that he had any intention of revealing as much. Especially not now that he was outnumbered two to one. Bajorans, however, well…they were another matter entirely. Particularly when they gave off a Dantean aura such as this one.
Cobb fell into silence as the turbolift descended to the CIC, a measure of anxiety at leading this motley group onto his bridge seizing him momentarily. But before long, they had reached his ready room and he was ushering Akirel Ros, Gruv and his Angels inside.

“Now, how about some bloody refreshments, eh,” were the first words out of his mouth, his had reaching for the bottle of whiskey before the doors had even begun to close…

• Captain Zachariah Cobb

OOC: Bump for all - Angels, you’re still part of this if you want to be :)

Surda grinned at Cobb. “Are we on the clock or can I grab the good stuff?” She could grab something a bit stronger than his average stash depending on how friendly he wanted the rest of this meeting to be.
-Surda, CoS

Casela was laughing to herself but was sure to not let it show on her face. She usually took the seat across from Cobb whenever she was in here, but this was something different. Instead she took a spot, standing, by the window and leaned back arms loose at her sides. There weren’t enough seats in this office and if Cobb wanted his ‘Angels’ as he called them, then there was a reason. Again, at Surda’s words, she didn’t laugh, but she wanted to. Cobb was probably about 2 hours late for his drink. Quinn would know more precisely. She hoped Surda didn’t offer her a drink. She had strict orders to not drink. But looking over at Akirel and Gruv…yeah the Angels were still on duty. Any time those were around you better always be on duty. More misfits for this crazy boat. Really didn’t they have enough intel people working this ship? How many games of chess was going on on this ship now?
Lt. Synthi-er, Cobb’s Angel