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First Fight

Posted on Sat Nov 10th, 2018 @ 11:12am by Lieutenant Commander Ronan Channe & Lieutenant Ba'zra Jennings

Mission: Episode 2: Columbus Ascending
Location: XO Private Quarters, USS Valkyrie
Timeline: 2389/01/01 - 0900

Ba'zra was seething. She spent the last twenty-four hours in a brig with an unrepentant bug. Not to mention that her boyfriend, if he was still that, publicly humiliated her. She stormed down the corridors. Anyone that got in her way or glanced at her got a menacing growl for a response. Beings of all kinds parted as she sought out Ronan.

[ Private Quarters ]

The night had been a long one and he was feeling it now, ready to finally shift and get some sleep. It had been productive though; he had tracked their saboteur's path. In concert with the Fleetyard's security team, they'd figured out just who had helped him get on board the Columbus and it hadn't taken long to get the clerk in question, a civilian unhappy with Starfleet's treatment over the years, to talk. What he had found out was concerning and his report was already half finished though the rest would have to wait. He hadn't slept since coming on board. For the moment, everything would have to wait. Exhaustion tugged at him as he stripped out of his uniform, yawning, then tapped his combadge. "Channe to Bridge."

"Bridge here," said the on duty officer.

"I'll be in my quarters if anyone needs me," he said, his voice roughened and his accent heavier than usual.

"Aye, Sir. Bridge out."

He left his clothes on the back of the nearest chair and walked into the bedroom, ready to shift ...

Arriving at Ronan's private quarters, she rang his chime and impatiently waited for Ronan to call her in. She had worked up a heavy head of steam in coming to his quarters and was ready to give him everything that she had for locking her up with the bug.

Yawning again, he searched for the pair of drawstring pants he generally left somewhere near the bed for just such situations. He found and pulled them on, then walked barefoot into the main area. "Enter," he said as he scrubbed his face with one hand, in a somewhat vain attempt to banish the fatigue settling around him like a heavy mantle.

Fuming, Ba'zra put her hands on her hips and stood before Ronan, "You have SOME nerve!"

"I think you'll need to explain," Ronan said as he walked over to the replicator and ordered himself a cup of tea then returned, with cup in hand, to sit down on the sofa. His dark, nearly shoulder length hair, fell forward shadowing his gaze as he blew gently across the surface of the cup then took a cautious sip as he waited for Baz to explode.

"Explain?! Not only did you set me up but then you put a reprimand in my file and then stick me in the same cell as that insufferable bug?! Did you think that would solve anything?!"

"And how is it that I set you up," Ronan asked as he took another sip of tea. He shifted position so that he could put his feet up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles.

"Don't YOU DARE sit there all calm, like that!" Ba'zra fumed, as she stomped closer. "You know how you set me up! You told me that he was to be suspected. You knew how I would react to that!"

"Hmmm," Ronan murmured as he leaned forward, without removing his feet from the coffee table, to set his tea cup down. "And how should I have handled it, do you think?"

"Stop being all calm like that! Do you know how irritating that is?!" Ba'zra screamed. "It is so sanctimonious!"

In the space it took her to blink, Ronan was off the couch and in front of her, nearly nose to nose, as a nearly feral glow unnaturally lit the depths of his blue eyes and his lips curled in the beginnings of a snarl. He caught himself before he could do something that he would profoundly regret but did not back down from his position in front of her. His voice, when he trusted himself to speak, was little more than a low growl. "You told me that I was not to give you special treatment and I warned you that I would hold you to a higher standard. Because I see who you are and who you can be should you ever learn to think before you act. Tell me, Baz, was he expected to wither and crumble before your rage? Will you never learn? People lie. All the time. Never ... never ... start an interrogation until you already know at least some of the answers. Be more than the bully your anger goads you to be."

This was better. This was how a fight should be handled. "Are you accusing me of lying? Is that what you're saying? Would you expect me to ever stoop so low? Are you trying to impugn my honor? Or are you calling me stupid? Choose your words carefully," she growled, a smile forming on her face, as she did so.

She smiled.

Smiles are all he sees ... smiles and laughter. Claws digging into dirt packed down from thousands of steps. Crouching. Wanting to spring. To rend. Snarling. Fur bristling. Unable to hold back the rage that takes hold. The slaver smiles as he bounces the end of the baton lightly on the palm of his hand. Fury unconstrained. Restrained by the chain that digs into his neck, the baton descends. His teeth sink into a forearm and he savors the metallic taste of blood. Pain beyond knowing and darkness, mercifully, descends.

Shaking off memories that still haunted him in his dreams, Ronan summoned his will, developed in his boyhood under the less than tender ministrations of the slavers, his expression turned wintry chill. "Irrelevant. Rather than investigate, you chose direct confrontation on the bridge. If he were a saboteur and you had investigated without his knowledge, we might have had a lead. But noooo. Baz'ra Jennings does not need to use her head. She snarls and yells and demands that everyone tremble in fear of her. And did she take the time to cool down? To think through her actions? Of course not." He slowed down, rage abating under his iron will, and sighed softly. "What I'm trying to do? Is help you."

"With a reprimand?" she countered. "Yes, that was a wonderful help. I'll make sure to let whatever commanding officer I have in the future know how you intended to help me." She got closer, growling up at Ronan. "And I was a scientist first. Never forget that. My house prides itself on knowledge."

"The reprimand was warranted and it stands," Ronan said without moving an inch. "As for forgetting? Its you that seems to have forgotten, not me."

"It was not warranted," Ba'zra countered. "His was. Mine was not. And even if it was, there was zero point in rubbing it in with a stay in the brig. There was no crime. That bug did not even have the common decency to capitulate and was dumb enough to want to start a fight in the brig. I did not fall for such stupid goading. So, try and pontificate your way out of that."

Ronan studied her for a moment, a wealth of thoughts running through his mind though he shared none of it. "Enough," he said and turned to walk away.

"Enough?!" Ba'zra roared incredulously. "Who are you that you think you can just order me around when we're not on duty? Hmmm?"

"I'm the first officer of this vessel and until the captain reports, I'm the one in charge, that is who I am," Ronan growled. "And while you were having your little tirade, I was doing your job and mine ... meaning tracking down clues on the saboteur and working with your staff to back check everyone coming on board. I haven't slept since I can't remember when and you ... you have run out your string on this conversation ... if you can call it that."

"You would have slept just fine if you didn't throw me in the brig!" Ba'zra scowled. "And, as you said, I could have been tracking down the saboteur. I didn't ask for that!"

"I meant what I said, woman," Ronan said as he surged forward and scooped her up in his arms. "The time for talking is done." He kissed her, deeply, passionately, and then growled softly, low in his throat. "I missed you," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her, warm breath tickling her skin along the jaw and below the ear.

When Ronan said that the time for talking was done, Ba'zra started to yell, "Tha...." Then, she was swooped up and kissed. At first, there was reluctance in returning the kissing but whatever anger she had was soon forgotten as she gave as much as she received. Practically purring, when she was told that she was missed, Ba'zra sighed and her entire demeanor softened. "This is so much better. I would much rather this." Her head bent backwards as Ronan nuzzled into her. "We should do this much more. Twenty four hours without is too much."

"Way too long," Ronan murmured against her lips as he carried her off to the bedroom and his brand-new king-size bed.


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