The Crazy Horse is Yours

Posted on 12/02/2020 @ 1:13am by Captain Cian D'Anvers

Mission: S3E1: Time of Change
Location: Pitcairn Island, Earth
Timeline: Day 93 at 0500

Remote and primordial were probably Ronan's favorite words when it came to selecting a spot to relax. As the first tendrils of dawn were threading their way through the heavy curtain of night on Pitcairn Island, he was up and out of the tent. Being Mesnian, his was a dual nature; being the former slave of an Orion syndicate family, that duality was not something he shared with anyone. Until Baz. Though different, she understood the war between the two very different halves in a way that no else had. Through everything that had happened, the loss of their ship, the betrayal of their captain, she had been at his side. Together and separate. Still finding their way toward the understanding and acceptance that came with being a mated pair. But getting there. Running at dawn, in the aftermath of the destruction of the Columbus, was a chance to embrace that other aspect of his nature, something he rarely indulged. And so, Ronan ran on four paws rather than two feet, free for the moment from the need to puzzle out recent events, free to follow scent trails, free to bound along the ridge, scare up a bird or two. Free to be the simplest form of himself.

He had neared the top of the ridge when he saw the shuttle coming toward them and reversed direction, loping easily downward through the trees, hopping over fallen logs, as he made his way back to the campsite. He figured there would be enough time to return to the tent, shift, and dress before they could land and make the short walk up to their campsite.

While Ronan was away, Ba'zra sat in a tent. She did not like to be apart from her mate but it gave her a reason to take some time to work on her private hobby: knitting. She knew Ronan's measurements by now and she wondered exactly what she could make him. When he was in his wolf form, he likely needed nothing. But, when he was a man, some decoration could not hurt him. Maybe a simple scarf for now? He has me to warm him, otherwise. But what colors would suit him? she wondered.

Ba'zra finally decided on grey and navy thinking to herself, It would match his coloring. She had been knitting for a short time when Ronan reappeared in the tent. Repelling the instinct to hide the knitting, she told Ronan, "You're back sooner than I expected."

He shifted, for him a smooth flow from one form to the other, and began to dress with the brisk efficiency one learns early into a career in Starfleet. "We have company," he said. "I was running along the ridge and I saw a shuttle heading in our direction."

"A shuttle?" Ba'zra asked, stuffing away her knitting as quickly as she could. "Here for us? Any idea why?" she asked. She put on a belt, then flipped her Daqtagh and stuffed it in a sheath. "Do you suspect trouble?"

"No," he said, the sound muffled by the shirt he was tugging on, "its Starfleet. My guess is that they're cutting our vacation short." He pulled on his pants and took the time to put on socks and his favorite hiking boots. Whatever they wanted, he meant to be dressed to face it. "Though since the Columbus is basically scrap metal, I can't imagine what they'd need." He paused a moment and looked up from his boots. "Maybe its Thrace's court martial? They said I'd need to testify."

Ba'zra groaned. "That PetaQ!" she swore. "He abandoned our crew. Drunk on duty.... 57 people who did not have to die. There is no punishment that is not strong enough for him," Ba'zra growled. "He lacks honor!" She hooked her left arm into Ronan's right, keeping her weapon hand free. "Where you go, I go!" She tried to give a stern face but ended up showing her all too human teeth at Ronan as she gritted them together.

"Of course," Ronan said. "Come on, let's go see what they want." With his mate at his side he walked out of the tent, ducking as he passed through the opening, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot warming by the fire while he waited for the two Starfleet officers to pick their way up the slope to the campsite. He poured a second cup for Baz and passed it over while he considered the possibilities and found that he wasn't thrilled about having his long overdue vacation interrupted for that ... what did Baz call it ... "PetaQ's court martial.

The Chief was relaxed and at ease as he entered the campsite. "Sorry to intrude, Sir," the older one said. "I'm Master Chief McMurtree. I was asked to present your orders to you personally, Sir, and to provide you with transportation back to Starfleet Headquarters. They said you'd understand once you read them." He looked longingly at the coffee pot and Ronan handed his own, untouched cup over, almost absentmindedly as he began reviewing the orders. Happily, the man sat on one of the campstools and sipped his coffee, patient in the way that enlisted always were when dealing with officers.

Ronan motioned for Baz to join him inside the tent as he passed the orders over. "They're promoting me to Captain and giving me my own command, Baz. Can you imagine?"

"Why would I need to imagine?" Ba'zra asked with a smart grin. "You deserve a command. You have the appropriate instincts and were certainly more qualified than...." Ba'zra stopped, grimacing. She refused to say the name of their former Captain. "But f you think that you're going without me, you have another thing coming, Ronan." She briefly stood apart from him daring Ronan to not take her on his new ship. "And I fully expect that we will have adequate time to ourselves. We have just recently mated and I will not have our new time spoiled."

He answered her grin with one of his own, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around in a tight circle before setting her down again. "Captain," he repeated. "Ship is the Crazy Horse. Luna Class. I'm needed for the transfer of command though the crew is on shore leave." His smile turned intimate as he added, "there will be plenty of time to ourselves. I'll make sure of that."

"You'd better!" Ba'zra insisted. "So, when do we leave?" she asked curiously.

"Soon as we break all this down, I guess," Ronan said as he ran a hand through his nearly shoulder-length black hair. He looked around the tent and smiled. "I liked being here with you. Going to miss it, I think."

"We will have other shore leaves," Ba'zra replied with a resigned shrug. "And I'm going to have my hands full making sure that we have no repeated occurrences from Columbus." Subconsciously, she pulled her Daqtagh out and started flipping it, a habit which Ronan knew could mean anything from Ba'zra being uncomfortable, nervous, or just pensive.

"We'll certainly have to go over the security procedures," Cian said as he stood up and pulled an oversized bag to him. "It was way too easy for the chameloid to get on board the Columbus." He started folding shirts. "You going to stand there playing with that thing or are you going to help?"

"Huh?" Ba'zra caught the Daqtagh and flipped it into her sheath. "Oh! Sorry. Was just thinking." She started packing up their belongings. "Don't poke yourself on my needles and, no peeking!"

Ronan chuckled as he finished stuffing what little he'd brought with him into the bag, a sort of haphazard job since the enforced tidiness of his Academy days were long behind him, and resisted the urge to peek at Baz's guilty pleasure. It had been hard for her to even admit her secret fondness for knitting so wrapped up was she in being the quintessential Klingon. Personally, he liked that about her, that she didn't quite fit neatly into any one stereotype.

"It will take us a couple of minutes to break all this down," Ronan said as he stuck his head out of the tent.

The Chief nodded and rose smoothly to his feet. "I'll help with the carrying, Sir," he said as he snatched an overturned crate and went to work stowing their cooking supplies. "Thanks for the coffee though. Nice to have something that didn't come out of a replicator."

Ronan nodded and returned to the tent. He separated and rolled up their sleeping bags and went to work on the tent itself. He paused for a moment to admire Baz as she worked and then shook it off. Shore leave was over and it was time to drag himself back into Starfleet mode. And that of course got him to thinking about a new ship, a chance to move past the tragic events of the Columbus.

It went quickly after that. With the Chief's help, their gear was loaded onto the shuttle and they were aboard. Ronan learned that they were to travel directly to his new command; he settled back in his seat, looking out the view port, lost in thought.

Ba'zra had to admit that this was potentially the only acceptable reason for their "honeymoon," to be cut short. They had yet to talk in depth about children and until meeting Ronan, she really had not considered it likely. After all, she was a hard person to get to know, keeping her rough exterior up for anyone to see. But she knew that in Ronan's world, they had formed a new pack and the duty of a pack was to expand and keep it safe, no? It was a discussion that had to happen. After all, Ba'zra never used birth control and she was not sure if Ronan did. The possibility of hypotheticals might already be taken from them.

Even so, she noticed that Ronan was looking out the view port. Ronan was not much of a talker, but Ba'zra could tell the difference between him being silent because he had nothing to say and him pondering thoughts on his mind. At this moment, she chose to interrupt those thoughts, asking, "What is it, mate?"

Ronan turned toward her, running one hand through his shaggy black hair, "Sorry. I was thinking about this new ship, organizing in my mind what all needs to be done, and somehow drifted off into thoughts of the Columbus and how I have to remember to find out what happened in his court martial."

"Why? It won't bring anyone back and I have no desire to look at someone so dishonorable. I only know what you intend for your Executive Officer."

"That's something I'll have to investigate. I believe I get final approval but they may want me to interview their candidates before I make my final selection," Ronan said. He smiled as he ran an index finger down one side of her jaw. "The next few days will be an exercise in patience, I suspect."

Ba'zra growled, frustrated. "You are aware that patience is not my strongest virtue, aren't you?"

Ronan smiled, taking in the wonder of her all over again, fierce warrior, devoted mate. "I know," he said quietly. "I know."

[Bridge, USS Crazy Horse]

The ship's current captain was already on the Bridge and waiting when Ronan, accompanied by Baz, stepped off the turbolift. Without hesitation, he made his way to the command area and introduced himself. "Captain Ronan Channe. And this is my mate, Commander Baz'ra Jennings."

Cian's smile was genuine and warm. "Welcome aboard the Crazy Horse. You'll forgive me if I get right to it. I have a lot to accomplish today, I'm afraid." He waited for Ronan to nod his agreement and then spoke in a louder voice. The murmur of voices on the Bridge quieted, then stilled, as he spoke. "Attention to Orders." He picked up a PADD that had been lying on the seat of his chair ... soon to be Ronan's chair, and read. "To Captain Cian D'Anvers, Commanding Officer, USS Crazy Horse. You are hereby requested and required to relinquish command of your vessel to Captain Ronan Channe, First Officer Officer, USS Columbus as of this date. Signed, Rear Admiral Josiah Rynott."

He set the PADD to one side and continued and if there was a touch of reluctance in his voice as he continued, it wasn't really perceptible. "Computer, transfer all command codes to Captain Ronan Channe. Voice authorization: Romeo Tango Echo 4316 Gamma."

The computer responded promptly and as it responded, Cian found himself wondering if the new ship, not being Starfleet, would have the same voice. "Transfer complete. USS Crazy Horse now under command of Captain Ronan Channe."

Ronan spoke up then, the seriousness of the moment reflected in his blue eyes, "I relieve you, Sir."

"I stand relieved," Cian responded. "Take of her, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Ronan said. "You have my word."

Cian retrieved the PADD and nodding, departed the bridge. His gear had already been moved over to the new ship and he would see everyone at the party. He wasn't one for long good-byes or awkward moments and so, he left the Bridge and his ship ... no, Ronan's ship ... for the last time.

Ronan watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face, and turned to Baz. "The crew is on shore leave. Care to tour the ship with me?"

"You had to ask?" Ba'zra asked rhetorically with a grin that showed her human teeth but were bared in a way that was intended to be ferocious, even if the expression failed miserably.

He laughed as together they headed toward the turbolift. In his Mesni mindset, pack lands, in this case, the ship, were meant to be walked, to be known. Now was as good a time as any.

A Post by:

Captain Ronan Channe
Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse

Captain Cian D'Anvers

Lieutenant Commander Baz'Ra Jennings
Executive Officer
USS Crazy Horse