Blythe, Officers Wardroom

The dinner was actually quite tame and almost civil. Only 3 Klingon cranial ridge smashes between friends had occured. There had also just been 4 bottles of bloodwine and 3 bottles of the standard grape based variant consumed so far. And 3/4 of the meet had been eating so far.

Kerak, his niece Bamet, the now “Sergeant” Plej and his Master at arms had beamed over for the dinner from the Slivin. From the Blythe, all the senior staff was present minus the science and operations officers who were busy preparing for their arrival at the Duwalla system in a few days. The chef(yes, their mess hall finally recieved its full staff of cooks and bartenders for the 3 lounges with the last batch of crew who had been assigned) had prepared Targ shanks, half a pig, Brussel sprouts and had even prepared and plated some fresh Gagh that Plej had brought with him.

“So Fred, our mission brief fits quite easily on a single page. Is it safe to assume that we will have some autonomy and leeway in his we conduct our surveys and second contact mission.” Kerak had a vague concept of what a second contact mission  was, but had honestly only been introduced to the word couplet when he had read his mission orders.

“Some yes. We have a diplomat aboard and a nearly full science staff aboard, and Culver City will be bringing additional support and equipment as a follow-on component of the mission.” Tyler replied. It was a nice late addition to the mission profile. Indeed, apparently at command thought the 2 Cali class vessels made a good pair.

“So are your ridges itchy at all? I see some dermatitis and skin tags there. I could help you out if you want.” The exocomp CMO asked the Klingon Sgt and MAA that was seated next to her.

“My ridges are none of your concern, robot.” The dutifully and overly serious Krek replied.

“I’ll take that as a yes, hold out your hand please.” Pretty Lady replaced her replicator tool attachment with a blue squeeze tube that appeared to be filled with some gelatinous substance.

“Bwahahah. I suggest letting our allies doctor help you out Krek. Do you know who that robot is? That’s the Starfleet officer that made D’Ghor’s grand nephew look like a hapless Ferengi back on Khitomer a few months ago.” Keraks comment earned a wide eyed glare from Krek. The Captain had also noticed Krek frequently scratching his forehead the past few days.

“So that was you with the pink paint hmmm?” Krek said as turned back to the Exocomp and slowly held out his hand. The CMO then hovered over and dropped the squeeze tube into his hand.

“Yeppers, dats right. Now rub that on your forehead once or twice a day. That’ll fix you right up. Swing by sickbay before you leave I’ll lance those tags for you too. Don’t worry I won’t change the look or shape of your ridges bruh. Just do some, routine maintenance is all.” Chuckles erupted around the ward room.

Tylers padd which he had left on the tables edge beeped just as Plej stood a began clearing dirty dishes from the dinner.

“We are guests, and you are a member of my staff Plej, you do not need to clear dishes here, Im sure our Federation friends have a fancy device that will automatically beam the dishes to the reclimator.” The room got silent for a quick second.

“I do not do it because I have to sir. I do it because I wish too.” Plej replied which ellicited some boisterous laughter from his Captain. Indeed it was a shift from the Plej more subserviant attitude of the past several decades. Maybe the rank could help make the man after all. Plej never would have spoken to him in such a way just a week ago.

“A Klingon heart indeed then. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your wants and desires.” Kerak began pour the last of the currently bottle of bloodwine into his goblet.

“News sir?” Wong asked Tyler as he noticed he reading from his padd.

“Ah, yes number one, it appears that were are now within range to start picking up light or near lightspeed signals and broadcasts coming from our target system. As we move closer, every minute we’re intercepting more and more signals, the amount of signals we are catching is actually increasing exponentially as we speak…what I’m seeing so far indicates out system does indeed have 2 technologically advanced species. The one that originated on a large moon of the main gas giant in the systems called the Formicans were the first and most prodigous so far. The other, the Dergans are much more narrowed in scope and volume of the radio and VHF, infrared and microwave transmission they’ve sent out.”

“Interesting. We have their whole history by the time we get there then potentially.” Kyra Tesa, the Blythes engineer said.

“The science department is currently working on analyzing and cataloging what we are recieving. But since we only began receving the comms just now. That would mean that they only began sending them, atleast in this direction, within the last 100 years or so.”

“I’ll get some of my people studying any tactical or security implications of what we find right away then sir.” Ingram said as he sat across from Wong and ned to Keraks neice Bamet.

Now Bamet herself wasn’t usually into the humans, but she was developing a bit of an eye for the Blythe’s handsome CTAC. She had caught herself staring at him a few times throughout dinner.

“Studying our foe before we arrive. Very prudent commander.” She said.

“Oh, call me Vaughn please, were all allies and off duty here…but I’m not looking at them a foes quite yet, but yeah, I like to be prepared.”

Blythe, 4 Forward Lounge

Though all lounges and rec areas were fully open to all members of the crew. The large forward lounge on Deck 4 had become a Bottom Deckers lounge for the most part. Though a few officers and chiefs also spent time there, the majority of the patronage was crewman and petty officers.

Sitting in their customary corner booth was the friend group that included, Morris, T’sen, Patron, and their new buddy, the Bolian Petty Officer Vixx. They were all off duty and had met up for some drinks. Their Xindi Arboreal pal Zosh was planning on meeting them after getting of duty. Zosh was a petty officer assigned as a the wardroom attendant and assistant ships clerk aboard the Blythe.

“So then I had to put my foot down and said, nah babe, we should do the wedding here in 4 Forward and have the Captain marry us just to get it over and done with.” Dalton said.

“He said nothing of the sort. But that is currently our plan.” His fiance, T’sen said coldly.

“So you got a best man figured out yet?” Vixx asked as he reached for his drink.

“For the shindig on Vulcan in the new year, yeah my longtime surfing bruh Davey Jenkins. Been my best pal since high school…but for the one here, I was thinking maybe my boy Patron here would want to do it.”

Patrons jaw dropped in shock and then a look of what can only be described as glee came over his face.

“I would be honoured to my friend. We will be as Pamulka and Jubba were the night before the battle. I would be happy to serve to guard you and your fiance during your nuptuals.” The UT had translated ‘Best Man’ into the Tamarian phrase that equated to ‘Champion or Honour Guard’.

“Guard us from the rice people will be throwing?” Dalton said jokingly not realizing the translator error.

“If neccesary yes. I will be like Picard at El-Adrel during the second battle. None shall interfere, on my honour Dalton.”

This led to a realization in T’sen that she would have to choose a main of honour to keep up appearances. She wasn’t particularly close with any other female aboard, and Vulcan marriage cermeonies didn’t delineate between the sexes. But she did have an idea of someone who could serve in the role, and who was partially responsible for the 2 beginning a relationship.

T’sen stood and half shouted across the room “Chief Ford. I would appreciate it if you would be my Maid of Honour at our wedding tomorrow.”

The few dozen or so other patrons of the lounge all stopped talking and looked to the corner of the bar where Chief sat. Ford always sat alone, always in the same seat, and was known for mean mugging random people as they came and went from the lounge. It was just his thing, because was a total dick.

At this moment though his back had been turned. Before responding to T’sen, Ford looked to the bartenders and said “have you been serving them Romulan Ale again?”

“No chief, and T’sens been drinking mineral water all night.”

“Uh, thanks but I don’t think I’m the right gender for the role.” He chuckled sarcastically In response to T’sen.

“On Vulcan we do not chose wedding parties based on gender, in this case your actions aboard the Blythe when the 3 of us were stranded together is indeed the reason Dalton and I chose to marry. I thought it would be fitting to have you stand at my side.”

“Oh…in that case….uh, sure.” Ford said.

“Thank you Edward. The ceremony begins at 1400h here.”

“Sounds good.” Ford nodded and turned back to his drink.

“Interesting choice…I kinna got the impression that the Chief was not very well liked aboard this ship.” Vixx said, the din of the other patrons resumed and his voice was low enough the Chief wouldn’t hear him.

“He’s not, but, he did save both of our lives.” Dalton said and nodded at his fiance. Whether he agreed with her choice or not didn’t matter, he understood why she had made the decision and loved her all the more for it.

“As the Honourable Maid, is he responsible for cleaning up after the festivities?” The Tamarian asked, genuinely confused now.

This even brought a hint of a smile to T’sens lips as Dalton and Vixx just openly laughed.