Posted Dec. 9, 2019, 4:49 a.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
“What kinda talk is that Nash? Do we set fluorescent lines in combat? Do we say heck no we are not chasing someone into the bowels of hell to achieve a moral and right victory,” Kelly’s voice took on a dream-like tone as the hamsters began spinning so fast on the wheel in Kelly’s mind you might have been able to see smoke pouring from her ears if you looked hard enough. “This place doesn’t exactly fit the bowels of hell now does it,” she glanced around at what was the perfect old person’s home. Kelly hadn’t been to this place yet but it was warm and cozy with family pictures scattered about and throw blankets everywhere.
“No, and I am not delving into her bowels of hell either, thank you very much. Not even if our ultimate victory was to rest on it. You ever heard of a Pyrrhic Victory, Kelly?” Nash whispered with total confidence in his choice to not sacrifice all his ideals in pursuit of glory.
“Oh, that is semantics. You say Pyrrhic Victory I say martyr,” Kelly shrugged. “I say take one for the team you say,”
“So what has my idiot son done now,” Mabel cut to the chase setting out coffee and a plate of cookies.
“Wow, she’s good,” Nash said and reaching for a cookie first. “She knew what this was about before we even brought it up.”
“Nothing really we just wanted to know if you wanted a lift to his party. You know the big birthday bash he is having tonight at 2000 hours?” Kelly’s voice was innocent enough yet Mabel could see exactly through it.
Nash took a bite from the cookie, looking at the walls and pictures and playing totally innocent as well.
“The one he banned me from because I told him he looked ridiculous with that nineteen-year-old simpering waif on his arm,” Mabel shook her head. “Why is it men always want to upgrade by going down years. Anything else in life they want to go up a model but with women. With women, they seem to think the models fresh off the factory floor are what you should be aiming for when in reality a good old fashioned Plymouth that has a few years on her is far more reliable.”
“It’s the features the new models come with,” Nash said. “The older ones are usually more reliable and do the job far better but the newer models can do things that were never dreamed of in centuries past.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, Nash took another bite of the cookie and reached for his coffee.
“I mean to take you for example,” she gestured at Kelly. “You didn’t troll the academy grounds looking for some young buck but stayed in your age range when you divorced Ric,” Maybel patted Kelly’s leg.
Nash nearly choked in the biscuit he was chewing, and the coffee splashed over the rim of his cup and burned his fingers. “Oh, crud, sorry about that. I thought you said.....” He trailed off as Kelly spoke and wiped his coffee stained fingers on his trousers and moved his foot so the coffee drips on the clean carpet were covered.
“Mmmhmmm,” Kelly drank a cup of coffee and muffled here words. The age difference was not that great but the last thing she needed from Mabel Perkins was the lecture that you should not date in your ranks or that the man was in middle school when she graduated high school.
“Ethan smokes on my ship,” Kelly immediately changed the topic knowing Mabel would direct her attention to the dark and brooding Intelligence officer.
“You wouldn’t.” Nash glared at her, then slowly looked at Mabel.
Mabel’s eyes fixed on Ethan. “Noooo,” she let out a surprised gasp. It was the gasp mothers did when they knew someone was going to possibly spin a yarn. “No one would smoke on a closed vessel where the greatest threat to a ship is fire and could snuff out a crew with a single careless flick of a stogie. Cookie,” she held out the plate to Nash.
“Yes please,” Nash took his second cookie and took a bite. “I only smoke when I’m working.” He said, then pointed the half-cookie at Kelly. “She married her Yeoman and is old enough to be the guys Mother’s younger sister.” He fired right back, Kelly needed to know her Tactical Intelligence Officer could play the game to and he didn’t take prisoners without a thorough interrogation first. “Isn’t that right Auntie Kelz?”
Lt Cmdr Nash, soon to be in Janitorial Services.
“Ah ughhh,” Kelly let out the sound only a wounded sibling made when they had been ratted out by the other sibling to deflect attention. “Nash…Nash…Nash got into a bar fight the first night we met,” she stumbled out the only thing that came to her mind. Then she thought of the cardinal sin of all sins. “He also told an eight-year-old kid there was no Santa Claus.” Kelly conveniently left off the part about his tale being so fantastic that Maybelle never believed him. That part was not important to the story.
“That wasn’t exactly.. you know what why not, let’s go with that,” Nash simply agreed. “The kid got educated in why she should always look between the lines when someone tells her something and I may have got into that bar fight, but I didn’t start it did I, Auntie?” Nash looked at Kelly and raised his eyebrow in query, the set of his lips seeming to indicate that had the cigar been in place, it would have been sticking out accusingly at the same time.
“Am I going to have to make a pot roast,” Mabel asked looking at them both. “I mean we are running out of truth cookies and might need something more substantial as you,” she looked at Kelly, “explain exactly how young your cub is and you,” she looked at Nash, “explain why you are running around like a Smokey the Bear destroying the spirit of Christmas.” Mabel could not help but smile. She liked this pair. They had an easy relationship that wasn’t centered on rank and file.
“Can you do roast potatoes too?” Nash asked her with a grin. “I haven’t had a real roast since a holiday I took to New Zealand one time.”
“So are we going to keep munching on the sodium pentathol cookies and get back to the real topic, me. M. E.,” she spelled it out then clarified. “My enjoyment. So when do we leave,” she pointed to the door. In the corner was a bag already packed. “I knew someone would come for me and my girl does not disappoint me,” Mabel patted Kelly’s leg.
“What?” Nash asked and looked at them both. “How did......”
“We can go now,” Kelly stood up and began to walk to the door.
“Now Ethan wasn’t it,” she checked his name even though she knew full well what it was. “Can you be a dear and grab that box with my gift for Reginald by the door while I get my purse. Kelly love can you grab my bag?”
“Of course, and just call me Nash, Ma’am.” He told her, he hadn’t gone by his first name for a very long time, not since one particular person had no longer been able to use his first name. It didn’t feel right to hear it from someone else’s lips, had always felt like it wasn’t him being spoken to.
“Sure,” she called as Mabel walked into the other room.
“Oh, and Ethan love remember to bend at the knees I would hate for you to throw out your back with that box. I know you young ‘ens always think you are indestructible but you are human.”
“Last time I checked, I was fully human,” he called back and then looked back to the box on the floor. It didn’t look anything special really.
The box at the door was a decent size box but not one that Ethan could not hold easily size-wise in his arms. What was special about the box was the weight of it. The old joke of having a dead body in the box was not going to be lost in this scenario when Ethan picked it up. The box was solid, dense, and easily weighed a solid seventy-five pounds; however, with the lid closed, Nash would have no way to know what was in it or how heavy it would be.
Captain Kelly Bordeaux
“Oh my god,” Nash muttered as his first attempt to simply pick up the box from the sides was met with the box shifting slightly across the ground as the weight meant he failed to get enough of a grip on it. “We’re smuggling Klingon weaponry into Perkins’ party, I just know it. She’s supplying a cartel of assassins and we are the unwitting couriers of doom.” He said entirely to himself as he looked at the box again, but decided to refrain from opening the top to look inside.
“On my way!” He called out, bending to one knee and picking up the box from the bottom. “She’s giving him bricks for his birthday,” he muttered again, “cement shoes that he can wear to the docks and she has enough for his cronies and the couriers. Another case for Bay City PD.” Nash carried the box out of the house and then looked around for Kelly and Mabel. If they weren’t ready, he was going to head back to the shuttle without them rather than wait with that weight.
Lt Cmdr Nash, CTO
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