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The Skipper and The Space Hobo

Posted on Thu Sep 2nd, 2021 @ 4:19pm by Captain Lucy Sharpe & Lieutenant Osher Shouwei

Mission: Namesake
Location: Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: MD -1

The petty officer of the watch manning the airlock was relatively young but it was obvious she took her job seriously. Phaser on her hip, padd in hand, she sized up Osher's well worn boots and faded gray trousers and blue shirt, the weathered long coat. All in stark contrast to the brand new padd in his hand. Osher noted how she took in his stance, had sized him up in only a couple scant second and how her hand surreptitiously strayed to the butt of her phaser. Whomever had trained her had done a decent job.

"Good morning, sir," she said politely, "Might I ask your business on the Prometheus?"

"I have business with the captain," Osher replied as he handed over the padd. The woman accepted the padd and took a step back to give herself a modicum of space as she examined it. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she glanced back up at him.

"Welcome aboard, lieutenant," she said with a respectful nod, "The nearest turbolift is down the hall, first turn on the left."

Osher accepted the padd, "Thank you, petty officer..."

"Bernarda, sir."

Osher nodded and strode down the hall, his appearance netting him a few curious stares. A quick ride up deposited him on the bridge where he took a moment to take in things. A few new elements but no real surprises. An ensign in the captain's chair, the officer of the watch, stood and gave him a respectful nod. Bernarda had called ahead, it seemed. The ensign nodded towards a door; the ready room, presumably. Osher nodded and walked over, hesitated.

"Lieutenant?" the ensign said uncertainly, "Um...sir?"

"I'm fine," Osher replied. But he wasn't. He was not certain what he was thinking or feeling. The fact that he had not donned his uniform yet spoke volumes to his mental state. He took a breath, then touched the door chime...

"Yes, come in," the Captain's voice sounded before the door slide open.

Sitting upon the edge of her desk reading up on the latest details from the engineering team on ship readiness Captain Lucy Sharpe glanced up at the new arrival briefly before doing a double take and looked at Osher curiously putting aide her literature. A small frown crinkled her brow as she took in the man's rather deshelled appearance: "Can I help you?" she asked somewhat puzzled at the stranger.

"Lieutenant Osher Shouwei," Osher replied as he glided over to the (presumed) captain and held out his padd to her, "I apologize for not being in uniform but I burned all of mine years ago."

He glanced around the ready room curiously. One could learn a lot from their work environment...

Standing Lucy accepted padd and checked it authenticity wondering if this was another trick for new Captain's or just her father trying to spook her. She watched through her eyelashes as the Lieutenant glanced around her rather barren ready room - the Captain preferred to travel light and based on experience she leaned not to grow attached to her possessions for they could easily be lost or damaged.

"Captain Lucy Sharpe," she found her professional head even if her rank still felt foreign out loud and offered her hand toward the new officer to shake. "Welcome aboard Lieutenant, though I'm intrigued - why did you dispose of your uniform in such a permanent and symbolic manner?"

The Captain had either just moved in or like Osher did not clutter up her life with "stuff". Staring at a bare wall he said, "You should get something here. Perhaps a giant screen to cycle through various planetscapes. But then, I make a far better tactical officer than interior designer."

He turned back to her, "I quit because I stared into one abyss too many Captain. I said as much to Captain Traeger when he hunted me down to my cave and told me of Starfleet's apparent shortage of experienced officers," he sighed, "And I suppose I had grown tired of staring at blank walls."

The orders seemed to be legitimate, written up by one Captain Vir Traeger, currently assigned to Starfleet's Personnel division.

"And decided it needed more colour," Lucy drummed her finger upon the padd momentarily. "Traeger speaks highly of you, your expertise I won't lie would be a great asset." She looked at him hardly: "But are you ready to return to service?"

Images flitted through Osher's mind. A rabid mugato charging at him, claws flashing. Posch The Butcher, Klingon renegade, bat'leth held high, swinging for his head. Him screaming at a young ensign as he touched a wall stud by a door, the floor dropping out from under them, them falling into a pit full of writhing Regulan blood worms...

"I am," he replied after what he was certain was too long a pause, "but..." he hesitated, "Are you related to Admiral Sharpe?"

She noted his pause as if weighing up her answer or searching his soul, Lucy was concerned Osher wasn't stable enough - however his next question distracted her. Maybe it was intentional. "Yes, Admiral Henry Sharpe is my father. Why do you ask?"

"Sir, I advise you to-"

"Listen, ensign," lieutenant Sharpe snapped, "Tricorders show nothing's here. It's completely safe."

"But sir," ensign Shuwei said, frowning, "I would like to eyeball the corridor before-"

But the lieutenant was already marching down the hall. Osher spotted the thing drop from the ceiling, likely it was comprised of some form of matter the tricorders weren't equipped to spot. Osher tackled Sharpe, whose shout of outrage was transformed to an almost falsetto scream of panic. Osher tried getting his arm up but he felt the dry tentacles strike his face. Something shot into his mouth, down his throat, arresting his cry. Things went black-

-and then he was staring at the all-too-familiar lights of sickbay, doctor Weng cheerfully staring down at him.

"Welcome back, ensign! Your familiar bed is waiting for you! The pretty ensign Vol is prepared to attend to all your needs..."

"We've met," Osher murmured, face unreadable. He cleared his throat and continued, "In any event, Captain, I am ready to assume my duties," he hesitated, then smiled slightly, "Once I have replicated a few new uniforms, that is..."

"I see," the Captain replied slowly wondering if Osher's connection to her father was going to be an issues and strengthened her thoughts the Lieutenant was a deliberate plant, he had certainly been through some challenges - that was apparent by his career hiatus and the nature of which he disposed of his uniform.

"It's mandatory for all senior personnel to complete physical and psyche examination as I'm sure you'll aware," she continued still with caution. "Please report to sickbay once you're correctly dressed."

"Sickbay," Osher echoed, distaste on his face and in the tone of his voice, "Counselors." he seemed prepared to say more, hesitated, then sighed and said, "Very well, Captain. Sickbay and counseling. After I am more presentable."

He glanced about the room one more time, murmured, "Maybe a couple plants, or a fish..."

"I'll work on the decor," the Captain replied watching him intently. "In the meanwhile, you're dismissed Lieutenant."

"Yes, Captain," Osher replied with a formal nod. As he exited the ready room he idly scratched his chin, wondering if he should keep the beard. Perhaps he could part with an inch or two of it...

Once the door had slide closed Lucy sighed, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Somewhere, someone was enjoying yanking her chain desperate to to derail her Command before it had even left port - she couldn't let them win - motley crew or no they where hers to shape, nature and care for come hell or high water.


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