CTO office - All the Paperwork and no increase in pay

Posted July 17, 2019, 10:23 p.m. by Lieutenant Commander Ethan Nash (Chief Tactical Officer) (David Shotton)

Posted by Captain Kelly Bordeaux (Commanding Officer) in CTO office - All the Paperwork and no increase in pay

Posted by Captain Kelly Bordeaux (Commanding Officer) in CTO office - All the Paperwork and no increase in pay

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Ethan Nash (Chief Tactical Officer) in CTO office - All the Paperwork and no increase in pay

Snip

“Captain,” he said, emphasizing the word. It wasn’t out of ‘respect’ however and Kelly knew it was a tease of quite the opposite intention. Kelly was a friendly, team first kinda leader and liked to get to know her senior staff on a more personal level, even insisting they call her Kelly in private. Nash seemed to take a gruff delight in refusing to use her first name at any time, and in some way had seemed to turn the word ‘Captain’ into a teasing insult. Kelly also knew Nash well enough to know that if he bothered to do that, and do it to your face, then it was an admission of affection and respect that was far more telling of the way that the man felt about you. That he had shared is booze without a second thought just confirmed the respect he had for her.

“Lieutenant Commander,” she let the words roll off her tongue matching his tone as she settled back in the chair. Nash had the personality and demeanor to scare cadets down washout lane with a single glance, yet anyone that held their ground and looked deeper saw a man that would never flinch from your side. Nash had a sense of loyalty that was rival by few Kelly had met. He didn’t trust easily and when you broke that trust god helps you because no one else could.

“The last time I got you a drink in a big girl glass, you threw something somewhere and blamed me, and started a bar fight with an entire bar that ended with the destruction of a Science Station on Rho Puppis. You know that if that station hadn’t exploded I would have won that fight too.” He picked up the bottle again and filled his tumbler a third time, then offered her the bottle.

“Promises promises,” Kelly skipped the glass and took a swig straight from the bottle. “And if you aren’t giving me that glass I am going to just pass the bottle.” She let out a deep relaxed sigh and got up. She had only been in his office twice. Both times she had needed something and knew where it was. Moving around the desk to his side she patted his foot twice. It wasn’t a romantic gesture at all. It was the time held gesture of one individual to another telling them to move that body part. The way he was reclined in the chair, his legs were positioned in the typical one leg crossed over another style men used so that their bent knee was 90 degrees over the other with their foot sticking out horizontally. Currently, this foot was blocking her access to the first drawer of his desk.

Nash didn’t move, he just sipped his drink and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a foot,” he remarked dryly. “You have them too. They’re good for away missions, getting your own coffee and putting up the rear end of Commanding Officers who start bar fights. That last one is better with steel caps.”

“If you are going to make me get up and get my own glass the least you could do is move your own foot,” she pulled open the drawer not caring if it hit him. Unlike most people that hide their liquor in the bottom drawer of a desk, Nash had his in plain sight, boldly displayed along with an assortment of drinking wear in the top drawer. Nash was not the type of guy that hid his intentions or motives from anyone. Events in his life had shown him life moves too fast. Nash was not an arsehole like so many read from his body language and words. He was actually very simple. He didn’t have time for bootlicking or pandering to garner favors from the elite of Starfleet. He got the job done because a job needed to be done. That is why his liquor was in the top drawer. He needed a daily swig to put up with the daily barrage of memos and pompous Admirals using everyone below them to make themselves look better.

Pushing his chair back on two legs, he made enough room for Kelly to bring out one of his larger glasses before dropping the chair back onto all fours. “You wanna straw with that? Maybe a little umbrella and some kinda fruit?” He finished his drink and fingered the tumbler for a moment while he waited. His own preference was for smaller glasses, he didn’t generally appreciate the length of time booze sat in a larger glass for at social events so his smaller glass preference meant that one, he could always excuse himself from a discussion he wasn’t interested in to get more booze and two, with a smaller glass people generally never considered how many he had actually had.

Kelly only knew it was there because of the last time she was in his office drafting a letter to Admiral Perkins. Grabbing a glass, she walked back to her seat, poured what was probably three shots worth, and slide the bottle back to him. “You suck at kissing a superior officer’s arse you know that Nash,” she took a swallow of her drink.

Taking the bottle, he seemed to ignore her comment and critically examined the lip of the nearly empty bottle where she had drunken out of it. Giving a sigh, he placed it back on the desk with a thump and pushed it back to her. “Talking about kissing a Superior Officer’s rear end, Captain, the rest of the bottle is your’s. I have a feeling I know where those lips have been and I’m not sure i’m up to date with my shots.” He turned and took a second bottle from the small stand behind him and twisted the lid off, then poured a measure into his tumbler before placing the new one between them.

“I think for all of our safety I better get you that cask wine that you seem to like so much. You can’t hide it Captain, I’m the Chief of Intel see and I’ve seen the reports of what you bring in for personal use. I have to do something worthwhile with all of this junk information I have access to now.” He put down his tumbler and looked at her, then at the box and raised his eyebrow.

Lt Cmdr Nash, CTIO

“Pfft, that is fruit punch with a kick. It is not wine. It is just enough to get me through a fleet dinner.” Taking another big draw on her cup, Kelly could feel herself slipping into the past tipsy but not sloppy drunk stage. It had been a long day. That was why she was in Nash’s office. She needed someone to vent to.

“Next time you are at one of those, order the Maladovian mangoes,” Nash told her, but now he had left the tumbler alone completely as he spoke and was fiddling with his skull and crossbones engraved lighter and a cigar stub. “They have some kinda chemical that reacts with real alcohol, and makes things a whole lot more enjoyable. The effect is slow acting so it’s like a warm fuzzy feeling. You know what’s going on around you but you have full control of your faculties. I use ‘em for breakfast before most Senior Staff Meetings.” When he said the last part, he managed to look completely matter of fact and innocent at the same time. “Helpful for dealing with humorless superiors as well.” The way that Nash said that, and the way that he looked Kelly in the eyes as he did let her know that he wasn’t talking about her, but giving a helpful, secret little tip.

“Did you know that if you lose one of your senses the others are enhanced? That is why people with no sense of humor have a heightened sense of self-worth,” she announced holding her cup to the side as she talked. The liquid in it swirled in the cup but did not spill over. “Perkins has no sense of humor. I am guessing he is missing not only the ability to see the crap he is shoveling but also the ability to hear the crap that comes out of his mouth every time he engages in an official ‘hey do you have a minute’ conversation.”

Captain Kelly Bordeaux.

“You know those conversations only happen when he is unsure of his security and wants to try and get people on his team.” Nash picked up the tumbler now and finished it in one, then put the cigar in the corner of his mouth and lit it with the flip lighter. Closing the lighter, he placed it carefully on the desk and leaned back in his chair again, pointedly filling the tumbler with the fresh bottle of Tequila.

“It’s the people under him like you that actually make things work,” he offered, “especially when you’re busy cleaning up the crap he just created before he buzzes your comm with a ‘hey do you have a minute’ conversation. It’s the people like me that pay the price for making his decisions work. Mangoes, remember.” He filled the tumbler yet again and raised it to her, with an ever so slight grin.

Lt Cmdr Nash, CTO


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