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Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

[ Ens. Krystal "Meony" Tancredi | CSO Wenn Cinn's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya
There was a travesty that had not yet been addressed for well over a day, and damn if Meony was going to let that slide. Said travesty being her missing darlings, Flash and Burn, a Klingon disruptor pistol and a Romulan plasma pistol respectively. They were nasty babies, and they got grumpy without mama. Well, mama was on the hunt to get them back now, no worries. After the initial day of settling in, and checking on everyone who was part of the Resolve, even for a short time, Meony finally had the time to seek out the person responsible for disarming the whole lot of them by a clever trick of the transporter buffer. Well it was clever, and she sort of understood why they'd want that. They didn't know the crew of the Resolve, and they didn't want to take chances.

But Meony had a lot of sentimental attachment to those two particular weapons, aside from the very large knife collection she'd kept on her person. Jimmy once joked that she hid enough knives under her uniform that it could have doubled as makeshift armour. He was actually correct. With her new conviction to keep the peace and establish peaceful relations between the very paranoid crew of the Resolve and that of the Theurgy or other ship crews, Meony mentally braced herself to be less rude than she usually was. This unfortunately required a lot of brain power because she was generally set to "Incite War" mode, or "Cuss Until The Cows Come Home". She heard tell Wenn Cinn wasn't likely to appreciate someone like her.

Standing before the door to his office, she hit the chime to announce her presence and waited.

When she was allowed to enter she smiled and said, Please, “Howdy suh!”

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #1
[Lt. Commander Wenn Cinn | CSO’s Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] attn:  @Triage

Reading through last night’s security reports was not doing Commander Wenn’s mood any favors.  A mug of jumja tea sat nearby, long forgotten, the temperature matching the air’s exactly thanks to thermodynamics.  Apparently through the night a portion of the crew had lost their minds and were lashing out at their crewmates because they wouldn’t help put Lt. Morali in charge of the ship.  What nonsense is this? the Bajoran groused to himself, trying to keep his teeth from grinding from the deep scowl, not even caring at the apparent hypocrisy considering his faith in the Prophets.

Several scientists had been ambushed around the ship, as well as some on the medical staff.  Why these “Devoted” were deluding themselves with this idea that their Temporal Affairs Officer, as odd as they come, would want anything to do with them, or even want command in the first place?  Cinn made a note to retune the security patrols and to post a suggested guideline that no one walk around the ship alone.  To think that we need such measures on a Starfleet ship…  He understood the stresses of the service as well as any officer, but this didn’t seem like people cracking under pressure.  Something deep in his pagh kept trying to tell him that’s all it was, but considering the things the Theurgy had come across he just could not rule out the possibility of an exterior cause to this madness.

Setting down the PADD, Cinn leaned back in his chair, stretching out his back and legs with several audible pops.  Years under Cardassian rule and in the Resistance combined with several more in Starfleet gave him a poor constitution for sitting at a desk doing paperwork, he needed to be up and acting.  Sitting back up, he finally took a sip of the tea and nearly threw it into the wall at the nastiness it had degraded to.  Puckering as if he’d bitten into a lemon he wiped his mouth with the back of his dark hand, nose ridges furrowing deeper as his face recoiled at the taste.  Moving quickly to the replicator, he recycled it and started browsing the menu for a new drink when the door chimed.  “Come in.” he responded without delay.  As long as it wasn’t someone coming to report about their subordinate copping an attitude he could use the change in pace.

Focusing on the replicator’s display, Cinn didn’t see exactly who it was who’d come to visit until they spoke.  The strange drawl caught him by surprise so he turned to look.  Long red hair framed a human face that he didn’t recognize, meaning that she had to have come from the Resolve.  White uniform: a pilot, that brought an inward groan.  This was going to be painful.  “Coffee, Paksor blend.” he told the replicator, throwing out the first thing that came to mind.  “Care for something Ensign?”

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #2
[ Ens. Krystal "Meony" Tancredi | CSO Wenn Cinn's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya
Meony narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, studying the Bajoran's reaction to her. She'd let her hat hang behind her by the neck, uncertain as to whether he'd approve to her wearing it while she was still in uniform. But while he hadn't really shown any reaction or made a sound to her presence and appearance, she had the niggling suspicion he wasn't impressed or particularly pleased. That, or he'd had a bum day thus far and a knucklehead like her showing up this early possibly promised more headaches. Thus the redhead decided to try and make this as painless as possible. All she wanted was her babies back. That ought not to be too much, right? No doubt they were weapons of crass destruction, so that might cast a pall on things.

“Ah'm good, sah, thanks!” said Meony, raising one hand to demure politely, then shifted it back to stand at parade rest, though her posture was still one of defiant relaxation and natural seduction. She kept her friendliest looking smile, and watched the man with a gentle expression in her eyes. She had to throw on her full southern charm to keep that expression, and the muscles on her face quickly began to ache. Meony smiled plenty but looking gentle was not easy and took conscious effort to maintain. Peaches and cream! How does Jimmy do it so easily?!?

“Ah hope dis ain't a bad tahm or summat,” said the girl, and she gripped her left wrist behind her back nervously, “not dat Ah'm here t' give bad news or some such, y'hear? Jus' got somethin' Ah need t' ask fer, and Ah hope t'fahnd ya agreeable what an' all'at.” She nearly slapped herself when she realized she hadn't even identified herself just yet, “oh Ah'm Ensign...Krystal..."Meony", Tancredi. Ah jes go bah Meony if ya care.”

She rose up on her tip toes and fell back down, still smiling away.

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #3
[Lt. Commander Wenn Cinn | CSO's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] attn: @Triage

Retrieving the steaming mug of coffee out of the replicator, Cinn just waved his visitor out of her parade rest then gestured towards one of the visitor chairs with the mug.  He could tell that she was trying to act properly, her hat notwithstanding.  He respected that, so since this was clearly nothing formal than he was willing to drop the formalities.  “It’s only a bad time if I have to use a phaser Ensign.” he answered with a slight smile.  Taking a quick sip from the mug before sitting down Cinn watched this “Meony”, studying her body language.  She clearly had the pilot bravado, it took some gumption to go straight to the chief of security for whatever it was she wanted.  He made a mental note to figure out how she managed to get through the desk.

Thinking this situation over, Cinn was formulating a pretty good guess as to why she had come.    Meony specifically stated that she needed to ask for something.  She was unfamiliar to the Bajorian, so that meant a high likelihood that she came from the Resolve.  Hanging onto that hat even while in uniform meant that she was sentimental about physical objects.  Unless she managed to surprise him, Cinn was almost certain that she had some weapons confiscated and wanted them back.

Instincts kicked in, warning the Chief that this could devolve into an argument fast, and that was already bringing on the headache.  Picking up the mug for another quick sip hoping the brown liquid would help manage the discomfort.  “What can I do for you Ensign Tancredi?”

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #4
[ Ens. Krystal "Meony" Tancredi | CSO Wenn Cinn's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya
Meony considered how to word her request, but she was at her limits in diplomacy. The joke on the Resolve was that if the Federation ever wanted to escalate relations into war with another race, they just had to send in Meony, because she could incite even the Vulcans into open violence. At least that was the joke, which may have grown in legend and natural tendencies for exaggeration. But it did make its way into her records of note that she was aggressively provocative and a talented example for troublemakers. Sadly, the joke held some truth to it, and Meony was the last person in Starfleet anyone would use for diplomatic and peaceful solutions, though Meony was trying to be different now.

She chuckled politely at his remark about bad times being only when he had to draw a phaser, before abruptly cutting herself off and losing her smile for a moment as she considered properly what he meant by that, and it occurred to her he might be drawing it on her, which would be a bad time for both of them. Clearing her throat, she wished regretfully that she had taken up on his offer for something. A cup of tequila would've been good, but nah, alcohol and negotiating for Flash and Burn would've been the same as trying to choose between two red buttons while concussed, and one of them was a self-destruct sequence with no cancel options.

Having settled in the visitor's chair, she sat up straight and decided to get to the point, “Well sah, as ya maht have guessed, Ah'd uh...Ah'd lahk t' ask 'bout mah pistols. One'a 'em's a classic Anarhai-Raptor plasma pistol with a full trigger shield an' compressed ammo clip, and th' other's a Klingon Dh'koth disruptor pistol with a half barrel an' replaced firin' chamber. Dem's mah babes, as ya cain imagine, an' Ah was hopin' Ah could have 'em back, if nothin' else than they saved mah lahf more'n once. If it's anythin', ya cain take out their ammo, Ah jest want th' weapons back. They mean a lot t' me.”

She looked pleadingly now at the Bajoran, and added, “Ah won't even ask 'bout th' dozen knives ya took offa me as well, except maybe the D'k tahg, dat was won by honorable combat with th' Klingon what used to wield it after Ah killed 'im. It's...mah family weapon now. Ceremonial dagger? Ah promise Ah ain't trahn or gonna stir up more trouble'n Ah know's been runnin' on board raht now...Lahk Ah said, ya cain take out th' ammo fer th' plasma and disruptor...”

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #5
[Lt. Commander Wenn Cinn | CSO's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] attn: @Triage

Cinn could appreciate Ensign Tancredi being upfront about her visit, and as usual his suspicions were correct: she’d been beamed aboard from the Resolve carrying weapons and she wanted them back.  Keeping his face impassive, the Bajoran brought up the impound inventory on his desktop and sure enough there they were: one Romulan plasma pistol and one Klingon disruptor pistol, both modified.  The knives were listed separately but they were there too.

Despite the fact that he’d been checking the inventory while she talked he paid full attention to the ensign.  Offering to take them without the power packs was a nice gesture, and in most situations he’d go ahead and take it up, weapon collecting was a time-honored tradition for any military officer.  This wasn’t a normal situation though.  “I sympathize with you Ensign, but the answer is no.  The Captain was quite clear with his orders: no one outside of on-duty Theurgy security officers will have access to any weapons, and I agree with said order.”

It was instantly clear that that was not the answer she was hoping for.  “Captain Ives has good reasons for issuing such an order.  I won’t regale you with our sorid history today, but if you look at the logs in your free time I’m sure you’ll come to the same understanding.  I’ll note the request and you willingness to limit their functionality, those will both put you at the head of the line when the order is rescinded.  That’s all I can do for now Ensign.”

Re: Day 02 [1000 hrs.] Dude Where's My Guns?

Reply #6
[ Ens. Krystal "Meony" Tancredi | CSO Wenn Cinn's Office | Security Center | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya
“Ah...Ah deed.” said Meony, brushing her hair back and tucking it behind an ear. She sighed. This was going to be a long shot anyhow, and she was prepared more or less for disappointment, but damn if it didn't still hurt to be rejected and continue to be separated from her babies. Le sigh. But the consolation, she supposed was fairly magnanimous, under the circumstances. “Thank you, sah. Ah appreciate th' gesture.”

She shrugged helplessly, “Ah had ta trah.” her sheepish smile said she didn't hold it against the Bajoran.

The meeting was practically over, so the redhead stood up, tipping head and hat with one hand holding the rim, “Here's hopin' we don' get no more trahbles as crazy as th' stuff Ah read in them logs, sah. Uhm...ya have a nahs day, yeah? See ya 'round.”

Outside the room, she waited until the door closed, then leaned against the bulkhead, lowering her gaze to the floor. The truth was she really hoped they'd return the weapons. They weren't just sentimental collections. Every weapon she carried on her person had a tale to tell of how she'd acquired them. Every blade, every cut or blast or burn on her body came from the weapons she now owned. She earned them, and the right to them, when she slew their former owners. You keep what you kill, a quote from a holovid that Jimmy showed her once, was something she took to heart. She more than felt naked without those blades and pistols, she felt open to countless perils. She wasn't like Jimmy, Leon or Sinead. Those people could hold their own hand-to-hand, hell Sinead probably wrote books on a thousand and one ways to creatively murder people.

But little Meony was just a matchstick with mitten hands and the punching force of newborn kittens. Declawed newborn kittens at that. Sure, she knew a few tricks and had surprised many foes who thought she'd go down easy, but how long would her luck hold? She glanced at the door to the chief of security's room, sighed, shook her head, and pushed off from the bulkhead. There was nothing to be done now but to improvise. Replicator rations were limited, but Meony wouldn't need much for what she had in mind. Titanium sporks with diamond tips would be innocuous enough...


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