Suspicious Mind

Posted on 03/06/2020 @ 8:21pm by Captain Cian D'Anvers
Edited on on 03/11/2020 @ 1:25pm

Mission: S1E2: The Plomeek Soup Conundrum
Location: Transport Vessel, Private Quarters
Timeline: Day 5 at 0820

"You planned this," his wife said as she jabbed the tip of her index finger into the hard muscle of his torso. "I won that bet fair and square, Key. You said so yourself."

"You did," he said. He scrubbed one hand through his brown hair as he looked down at his wife's upturned face. He had hoped to see her soften and sighed when he realized she hadn't. "And I'm not refusing to go ... it's just ..." He shrugged his broad shoulders, "... orders."

"No. You planned this. Called in a favor ... begged ... somehow," she said.

"Now how could I arrange this, Doc," he asked as he watched her move toward the sofa; he shifted his position and set down his coffee mug in preparation. "Really ... how?"

"I don't know how you did it," she said as she picked up the largest of the throw pillows, plumping it experimentally, "but I know how much you hate opera. You planned this. I don't know how ... but you did." She narrowed her whiskey colored eyes at him as an unwelcome thought occurred. "Wait. You didn't voluntarily cut our leave short, did you? Just to get out of going to the opera with me? You wouldn't go that far, would you?"

"Of course," he said smoothly. Cian D'Anvers could lie with a perfectly straight face though he generally did so only as an expression of sarcasm. "I am on a first name basis with the entirety of the Admiralty. They hang on my every word, Darling."

She feinted a hit to his torso where she knew she'd just bounce off the his blasted muscles and when he moved to block, hit him solidly in the face instead. "Now I know that's not true. Look how hard you had to lobby for three weeks of leave." She hit again, the torso this time, and growled. "You promised, Key. Didn't I allow you to risk my life jumping into the air when I lost last time?"

"Yes, you did. Without a moment's thought to your safety," he said as he deftly removed the pillow and tossed it behind him. "Though as I recall, you were strapped to a professional parachutist and you were grinning like a fool all the way down."

"That was a fear reaction,nothing more. I think I deafened the man screaming so hard. Where did you find someone who practiced such an archaic ritual?" She held up her hands, waving away his answer, "no, no. Don't tell me. The point is, I went, didn't I? Jumped out of that death trap ..."

"Airplane .." he corrected patiently.

"Risked my life ..."

"With a transporter lock on you the entire time," he said.

"... because a bet is a bet," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. She placed her hands on her lean hips and stared up at him. He stood 6 feet, 1-1/4 inches tall so she had a fair way to look up; frowning in irritation. "And you lost this one."

"I did," Cian said quietly and tried to school his features into a semblance of a remorse he was far from feeling. "They need me, Doc. Right away."

"I had a dress," she said softly. Her smoky alto dropped into a whine that signaled the beginnings of acceptance. "Long and slinky. No back ... deep red ..."

"With a slit," he asked. Interest kindled in the depths of his green eyes as he moved closer.

"With a slit," she affirmed and marked the top of the slit on her own thigh. Her expression turned serious. "You owe me an opera, Key. I'm not going to forget. Say it."

"Look, Doc ..."

"Say it."

"Alright," he sighed. "I owe you a night at the opera and according to the terms of our bet, I further promise to remain awake for the entire performance."

"Good," she said with a sharp bounce of her head. "So ... where are we headed?"

"The USS Crazy Horse," he said. "We're already en route."

"The Crazy Horse? Interesting name choice. Hopefully not a commentary on the crew ..." She moved into the bedroom and began pulling out their suitcases. Years of marriage had taught her the swift economical movements required to pack in haste. "What's it like?"

Relaxed, now that he knew she was on board, Cian moved into the bedroom and began unpacking drawers. His job was to put everything on the bed and step back because he was, in her words, 'physically and mentally incapable of folding anything neatly'. "Its Luna Class. Science and exploration primarily. Decent size. New."

She looked up at that and caught the expression. "The Zheng He was a wonderful ship. Home for nine years," she said. "But wouldn't it be nice to have a bathroom where everything worked all the time?"

He grinned at that. "Maybe," he said thoughtfully, "but faults just leant the old girl character. Remember that divot in the door on turbolift 3 where the Naussican tried to drive his fist through my skull and missed? Or the scorch marks in the Science Lab when Rayburn's assistant tried to get creative on his personal time? Nearly blew the lab up. The Zheng He had character, a history."

"Maybe we could contact the new Captain? Let them know some of the stories?"

"No need," Cian said, a pleased smile on his face, as placed an armload of her clothes on the bed. "I left him a recording."

A Post by:

Commander Cian D'Anvers
(About to be) Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse

and

Leonie D'Anvers, M.D.
(About to be) Medical Officer
USS Crazy Horse