Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

December 30, 2017, 09:51:17 AM

[ Lt. Commander Leon "Striker" Marquez | Personal Quarters; Holodeck 3 | USS Theurgy ]
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The last time Marquez was on Earth, it was during a conference concerning the results of Project Eagle with Starfleet Tactical and the readiness of experimental and refit craft. There were even rumors of a revolutionary new transport that came with an off-road terrestrial vehicle. More significantly, he reacquainted with his mother, Commander Rose Marquez, newly promoted to First Officer of the USS Nautilus; the very vessel Marquez was raised on-- a frontline warship in the Cardassian Border Wars.

Marquez dreamed that night about the good memories, the improvised soccer game the two started in Golden Gate Park before getting some Coffee in Sausalito. The San Franciso bay was as pristine and blue, with a seemingly cloudless sky. Rose even thought it was feeling a bit chilly.

Though names had changed over the years, Rose Marquez's ancestors dated back to the old United Earth Starfleet, specifically Captain Ramirez of the Intrepid. Starfleet was family to Leon personally as much as professionally, given that his father had abandoned an astronomically popular future as a futbolista to serve aboard a starship to be with his new wife. Rose didn't have it in her to tell him that his father had been recently been captured by the Cardassians alongside a disabled Starfleet cruiser. She was there to report on some sort of energy-dampening device that very day before finding a rare hour with her eldest son. The two parted ways, her to Starfleet Command, him to his Danube runabout, where he met a new recruit from Australia to his crew and his little dog, too. Ironically, the next few minutes basically cemented the former Resolve's dissatisfaction for holodeck simulations of Earth. His last memory of his beloved homeworld was it in flames before he returned to his posting aboard the Galaxy-class USS Hornet for the formal partnership between Starfleet and the Romulan Navy in ensuing retaliatory campaigns. Ironically, there several Romulan officers in the joint task force that were surprisingly sympathetic, borrowing the term Marquez taught them, "There, by the grace of God go I. As you imply, SubCommander Marquez, that could be Romulus under fire by " The Callsign Leon Marquez vowed to use had originally meant to be Gargoyle. The ashes of Golden Gate Park's ruined soccer field reminded him of his favored position, the Striker. Goleador sounded better but it sounded direct enough.


But how to direct  the energy from the memories of Starbase 84? That morning, the Theurgy's CTO tried to keep his mind entertained rather than use the holodeck or ovverexert himself with morning exercise. He spent about an hour watching datafiles. New ship models, the Rawley phaser weapons upgrades, next-generation torpedoes and his personal favorite the fighters. The ex pilot and helmsman... and outdoorsman found one shuttle in particular that made him chuckle.

"That Vulcan smart-ass. He really got that thing made after all."

-------------------------

Marquez slated some time to tour Decks 11-15 in the event he'd need to take the helm at the battle bridge. Most of his time aboard the Hornet was in the Galaxy (Carrier refit)'s battle bridge, or in the decks below. Under Xhan, Marquez ran a tight ship but made it a point of being popular with his crewmates, enlisted and officer alike, given his parentage. Here on Theurgy it wasn't the time, or so he thought, to familiarize himself with his crew, but he did have one idea ever since he saw the blueprints for that craft, Marquez was itching to try it.

After breakfast with his friend Keval, Marquez noticed he had to report to the bridge at 0900 that morning before making this midship rounds throughout tactical. It was here he could meet up with Klex or Tarsi but privately, he needed a sense of a world outside of just consoles and corridors. Not one to pull rank, he noticed someone had slated time to attempt something known as 'wingsuiting'. That sounded like an experimental escape unit for atmospheric escapes in the event of a malfunction in the emergency transporter escape suite.

It also sounded fun.

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #1 – January 10, 2018, 06:35:51 PM

LT JG Alessia Garcia, Callsign "Angel" |  Holodeck | USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Striker N7
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Alessia stared into the empty space across from her seat.  Her hand moved, lifted the sandwich on her plate, and with one robotic motion she opened her mouth, bit down and began to eat.  All the while, her focus wasn't in the here and now of this ship and this room, but rather the events of the last three days.  Her strange date the night before, the two patrols from yesterday and this morning,  sex with Dev two nights ago, the unusual plight of this starship.   Her flight with Husker this morning had been enlightening in a way, but she didn't feel ready to tackle this big of a dilema.  It's why she went back to her Quarters once they got in, and why she'd done nothing for the last 2 hours except  pray, think, stare and replicate a ham and swiss sandwich.

So many things had happened in such a short amount of time. So many things gone wrong! So few gone right. None of these things would have happened if she hadn't defected.  But she had.  She'd set herself along this path.  She had reasons, and she could point to them, but in the end SHE was the one who made the decision.  Which meant that this was the path she needed to be on.

But why?

Everything had been just fine before.  Maybe that was why?  Because she had become complacent and stopped actively striving to better herself?

That answer stung.  It lingered in her mind like a papercut, making her wince at it's existence.  The hard truth was that she wasn't wrong.  Sometime in the last year, she'd stopped really trying.  She was in an elite fight group with no real room for the kind of advancement she wanted, and everyone on the Orcus already looked up to her.  She could outgun and outmaneuver every other pilot except a few from her own squad, and she kept her body in peak physical shape.  She didn't take risks on love or meddle with substances, and nearly all her free time was spent between the gym and her holodeck programs.  At some point, she'd forgotten what it felt like to live and had settled for just going through the motions.

So this was a reality check?  She chuckled as her eyes really noticed her room for the first time. "Helluva way to get me back to my senses, Padre, but ok.  I get it.  Live my life, don't just be a bystander in it. Probablemente voy a morir aquí de todos modos¹" Maybe it was a good idea that she was recommended for a holo-demonstration of wingsuiting then.  It had been brought up more than once that certain activities, like wingsuiting and halo jumping, could actually have real-world implications and possibly save your life.  Not one to turn down the chance to try a new adrenaline-rush activity, Alessia had been looking forward to the opportunity.  Unfortunately, timing is a bitch and instead of halo-jumping instruction, Alessia ended up flying into battle.  So naturally when the subject came up on the Theurgy, she volunteered.

A few minutes later, she finished her sandwich and changed into her hiit training gear: skin-contouring ankle-length black leggings with the valravn project logo on the left hip, grey sports bra, turqouise and white racerback tank top, black sneakers and her valravn project hoodie.  Once her hair was secured in a tight french braid, she deemed herself good to go.

1115AM saw Alessia outside her holodeck door, making a few last minute adjustments to the program.  What she needed was an instructor, and while she'd never wingsuited before, she was convinced it couldn't be that hard.  After all, she could sky dive, base jump and free climb, so this wouldn't be so different.  Alessia changed the course from beginner's basic lessons to intermediate lessons with an overview of the beginner's course.  She added a segue into the advanced lessons to be tacked on, as well as a simulation at the end.  It would take a couple hours, but the time was well worth it to learn something new.  Finally, she changed a few features of the holodeck.  Realistic gravity was turned on as well as realistic atmospheric conditions.  A health and safety warning popped up, but she cleared it with her credentials.  A last touch was adding flight masks, because in any real situation where she might have to use this skill, she'd be bailing out of her valravn.

Pleased with her selections, Alessia stepped up to the door.

[Please enter a destination]

"Kamchatka, Russia.  Start over the volcano and plot a course to land at the hot springs."

[Loading specified destination and travel path.  Enter when ready]

---

1. I'm probably going to die here anyway.

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #2 – January 15, 2018, 07:31:51 AM

[ Lt. Commander Leon "Striker" Marquez | Bridge | USS Theurgy ]
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Leon had his coffee earlier and had a hearty marbled rib-eye steak to match his salad with his friend the Chief Intelligence Officer and Ensign Mariner's pet Pit Bull, Sharky. Not one to put on too many pounds, he gave the canine Security specialist his leftovers before handing the canine affectionately known by Resolve officers as 'the man in the gray uniform' to Keval to drop off at security. Marquez tried not to think about his friend and apprentice who was out on the away team aboard the Sabine, and borrowed from the young man's vitality to put the past behind him. Striker Marquez thought of how he would enjoy this morning instead of dwelling on something or someone to worry about.

It was then when he punctually arrived at the holodeck, wearing his leather jacket when he was taken aback by the woman who reserved the holodeck. Marquez kept his cool but kept his regard on the woman's face. A true gentleman, Leon didn't regard her body, but hesitated a moment before introducing himself.

"Kamchatka, Russia.  Start over the volcano and plot a course to land at the hot springs."

Marquez heard a sound he never thought he'd hear again. A Hispanic accent, on a woman, no less. Had it not been for Leon's training with Vulcan tactical on the T'kumbra, he would've dropped his poker face. The sound was the equivalent to setting foot on an M-Class planet for the first time in years. In Striker's-- in Marquez's-- case, Earth. He specifically held off visiting Earth (via holodeck) until he was home. It was unprecedented for him to break this private rule, but he sensed something about this woman, and didn't object. Besides, East Russia was hardly Guanajuato or Golden Gate Park.

"It's generally inadvisable to eject over a hot area." The former Danube test pilot and Steamrunner helmsman-tactician cited an old regulation dating back to the days of Earth's Air Force manual. He mistook the woman for a medical officer, based on the color of her attire, though he sized her up as someone who could take care of herself. "Pero si quieres caldo," / <'But if you really want soup.'> Marquez spoke his first Spanish in over 3 years, "Don't spice it up too much.". Soup was also old pilot's jargon for throwing up, usually after the dreaded 'vertigo chair' for young cadets. In Marquez's class, the chair usually preceded a five second marksmanship test with pilot sidearms, with the initial results stratifying which pilots were assigned to which squadrons. The CTO kept his distance but regarded the woman's applications to the holodeck panel.

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #3 – January 22, 2018, 11:46:50 PM

LT JG Alessia Garcia, Callsign "Angel" |  Holodeck | USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Striker N7
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When she'd volunteered to do this class, Alessia had expected others to sign up or at least be volun-told to join. But as always, things came up.  People fell ill with an unknown virus that was just now being contained.  A group of fanatics tried to take over the ship and killed many others on the process.  Countless more were injured from the attacks, overtaxing an already swamped sickbay.   This ship was full of problems. Alessia knew that but it didn't stop her from being annoyed that no one else had arrived.  At least until she heard that quip from behind her. A side glance gave her the information she needed: blond hair, blue eyes, caucasion and lieutenant commander.  Still, he seemed intrigued by her program.  The Spanish caught her ear, and out of habit, she slipped back to her first language when she replied.

"No te preocupes por mí, gringo. Preocúpate por ti mismo.  Computadora, dos cascos de vuelo por favor."¹  Alessia tossed the man his mask and opened the door.  They were stepping into the belly of a remarkably well-outfitted Casa aircfraft, specialized for skydiving.  A few friendly faces waited patiently for rhe newcomers in comfortable looking seats with full saftey harnesses.  Outside the plane's windows, the sky was a brilliant shade of midmorning blue.  Only a few puffy, whispy clouds disturbed it's ethereal surface.  To their left,  the rear hatch was lowered already and Alessia caught breathtaking glimpses of the Kamchatka Mountains.   As promised, some of the mountains were active volcanoes with smokey plumage rising into the air from their cratered peaks. All were covered in snow, but the tundra below was vibrantly green in color.   Alessia had chosen early May, hoping that the spring colors would be on display but it would be cool enough to enjoy the hot springs.  Since the temperatures on this peninsula were kept consistently cold due to the arctic winds across the Siberian tundra, she picked the season based on travel guides recommendations.  

Everything looked ready. All that was left to do was enter the plane.  She stepped inside and turned to her assumed companion.  "Vamos!"

---

1. Don't worry about me, gringo. Worry about yourself.  Computer, two flight helmets please.

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #4 – January 23, 2018, 11:05:45 AM

[ Subcommandante Leon "Goleador" Marquez | Holodeck | USS Theurgy ]
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Leon reactively caught the helmet chucked his way, but inspected it first. Unimpressed with its blandness, he pulled a patch from his pocket and sand showed it to the arch. "Thea? My old callsign to match, Por favor?" At his request, his helmet and his billowing suit changed colors to olive-drab with a constellation of gold stars over a shield which emblazoned a lion and a soccer ball. It was the symbol of his father's team, Club Leon and the one Marquez himself was deliberately named after. Now wasn't the best time to talk soccer with this woman, even if she looked like she could probably play that game in her sleep.

Leon hung his jacket on the Arch and wasted no time donning his wingsuit outfit. The jacket disappeared with the Arch, and a synthesized crowd of well-wishers arrived to the backdrop of a perfect day on Earth. Marquez wanted to wince at the stinging reminder that this wasn't his homeplanet, and these well-wishers weren't real, but being a former First Officer and a reluctant diplomat during the Eagle Project meant he had to learn how to act by example.

Besides, these were crewman Krukov's people, whom Sergei assured Leon he would give the Resolve's XO a hero's welcome for bringing their son home. Maybe this synthetic Earth wouldn't be as bad as he feared. Striding in a noticeable march (or as best he could in this bat-suit). Marquez allowed his skydiving partner to go in first while he respectfully gave the crowd a polite farewell, "Das Vidania!", he smirked with a wave, momentarily displaying he was cultured to the regional Terran dialects. Other species too, though this was his first time visiting Earth in a peaceful setting since the Breen attack on Earth, it didn't hurt to at least act like this wasn't a Federation dreadnought in a volatile nebula hunted by almost every ship in the sector. Semantics. He was here to get a breath of fresh air and possibly relax for once in too long a while.

"Vamos!" came that accent again. Leon wasn't far behind, closing the door behind him and settled in, making another inspection of his suit. Safety settings or not, he had more faith in his own ability to make sure his gear was properly prepared to create lift in his outfit. Marquez only hoped Jimmy or Suq never spotted him wearing this. He'd never hear the end of it, even if it was the same color as an old Air Force pressure suit apropos to this era. He could recognize the early 21st century setting anywhere by the clothing of the well-wishers and the plane's flight crew. Marquez gave them the 'okay' gesture and let the crew inform the pilot to take off.

She had a flight suit attitude, allright. Leon noticed as he allowed the latina to lead on, not one to forget the formalities of a gentleman, least of all before an adventure or an exercise. He couldn't quite identify the woman's accent, but he would deduce or find out after he got his own flight suit attitude loaded for bear. Fortunately, still believing she was still a medical officer on the sky turquoise color of her top, he allowed the 'Gringo' slur to pass until they were fully suited up in the holodeck, with the arch closing in behind them and the empty grid being occupied by a craft. Besides, at least it wasn't 'Pink-skin.' He'd earned the right to be called 'Leather-skin', at least by Keval. "Soy Mexicano; de Guanajuato. Gringo, pues... no"/'I'm Mexican; from the heartland states. Hardly a yankee.' Leon had a modicum of pride but waved it off as he checked his wrist altimeter and made an inspection of his parachute ripcord and 'lollipop' reserve chute.

"Digame/ So, Tell me...', Have you done this before, or should I give you some pointers in Experimental Atmospheric Controlled-Evacuation?" Leon asked her as he used the cabin space to psyche himself up by doing some warm-ups, starting with pushups-and-claps to get some airflow into his lungs, as the plane rumbled to life; he went on between breaths. "I've done my share of 'parachuting' back at the academy flight school a few years ago... maybe more than a few." He admitted, awaiting her answer before continuing. 

"I'm still a *chile frito/before any op. Exercise clears my head. I wish I would've had one before I knew what was gonna happen when my ship docked at Starbase 84." Even though that topic probably wasn't the best way to start up a conversation, Leon wanted to know more about who he'd be jumping with. Not that he suspected her of being a parasite or a Morali-ist, but he was as direct as they came when he wanted to know something. A new perspective of a collective experience might be beneficial to him later on.

---

*.  Jalapeno on a frying pan (literally). Restless -- someone-who-doesn't-sit-still.

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #5 – February 03, 2018, 10:44:42 AM

LT JG Alessia Garcia, Callsign "Angel" |  Holodeck | USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Striker N7
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Perhaps she had misjudged this man.  Alessia hadn't paid him much attention at first, but the way he flip-flopped between Spanish and English caught her ear.  His tone was authoritative but friendly, and his willingness to jump in was refreshing.  It also gave her pause to take another look at this hombre while she donned her own wingsuit.  He sure looked like a gringo.  Then again, who was she to judge a person based on their looks?

Alessia stepped into her suit and pulled it up over her clothes.  She'd picked this particular outfit because it was form fitting but not restrictive, and because she happened to love the color turquoise.  It wasn't often that she got to wear it though, since it was a shade of bright blue away from the medical teal of Starfleet.  Her wingsuit, like most of her clothing, was embroidered with the special project that she was a part of.  The valravn project logo was larger on her new outfit than it had been on her pants.  It was stitched above her left breast, along with her callsign "Angel".  Once she had the suit on, she checked her safety harness and double checked the straps, zippers and flaps.  Even though this was a holodeck exercise, it still paid to be safe.

Alessia hooked herself into the safety net and took a seat on the bench, gesturing for the Lieutenant Commander to join her.  He was easy on the eyes, even in that ridiculous wingsuit, and she smiled at him at length.  The holodeck arch closed and the flight crew began their pre-flight checklist while he chatted.

"Ah, that's my mistake.  I mistook you for a gringo.  My name es Alessia, by the way. Alessia Garcia.  Nice to meet you.  And mi familia lives in Barcelona, Spain on Earth.  I know there are some nice places there for this exercise but it's not the same."

He began some warm-ups of his own and she chuckled.  He looked ridiculous.  She couldn't fault his enthusiasm though.  A sly grin crept up on her face as he asked about her experience with wingsuiting.  "Oh?  What do you know about EAC-E?  Indulge me."  The letters in the acronym were individualized and spoken the Spanish way, made all the more beautiful by her flowing Barcelonan accent. 

He asked many questions as the plane took off.  She didn't mind.  They had a 30 minute flight to the jump point and she appreciated the company.  "There's no such thing as too much exercise, I say.  Keeps the body sharp and the mind focused.  But I know what you mean.  Captain Slayton was tight-lipped about the engagement, so most of our information came from the news vids."  Even though they were on the holodeck inside a simulation that she'd created, they were still aboard the ship itself.  Alessia's eyes roamed the plane, but stared beyond the holographic details.  "If I had known what was going to happen, I don't know that I would have flown out with the pack.  But I did, there's no changing that now.  I'm here and I'm alive.  God has a purpose in this, I just can't see it yet.  But I have faith and I know He walks with me."  She glanced back at her partner. 

Religion was a touchy subject in Starfleet.  Most people either were or weren't, and those that were mostly did not share her views.  Her glance wasn't a challenge, but rather a steadfast reminder to herself.  She'd lost sight of many things over the last two days.  She was using this as a chance to refocus while doing something fun.  She smiled again.  "Lo siento, I've just had a lot on my mind lately.  And I don't normally jump out of planes.  Usually I try to stay in them so I can dust the other guy."  She made little guns with her thumb and pointer fingers, then moved them in tandem horizontally, 'firing' 3 shots at the other side of the plane.  "Pew, pew, pew!"

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #6 – February 04, 2018, 02:58:57 AM

[ Subcommandante Leon "Goleador" Marquez | Holodeck | USS Theurgy ]
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Marquez finished his exercises and raised his feet as if practicing to kick a door down to let his blood circulate as he felt their craft rise. "Leon Marquez. Jefe de Tactico/CTO. I was the Resolve's Numero Uno under Captain Kendrick. Mucho Gusto, Ale'thee'a." Somewhat jokingly, he gave a nod to her Spanish heritage. Leon introduced himself with a handshake and a half-smile. He'd gotten his first look at Alessia up close and in the moment of their handshake, he got to study her facial features, subconsciously committing them to memory, especially her smile and those prominent coffee-colored eyes; even the many Trill and Betazoids he'd known over the years weren't as easy to get lost in as hers.

Marquez noticed, but pretended not to noticed "Angel" on her suit, focusing more on his own safety harness; he'd let her explain what it meant, rather than do what Jimmy would do and attempt a ham-handed attempt at flirting; it wasn't in Leon's form. His current form told him his current suit felt loose, but that was his familiarity with form-fitting Starfleet regulation black-and-grays. Despite his team colors, he felt ridiculous; even a cape would be preferable to this, like the fictitious superheroes of old Terran lore. On Resolve, he preferred his leather jacket on top of a sleeveless variant of the regulation uniform. It was more of a daily reminder to bring that ship home more than anything. He stood up and cracked his neck and took some meditative deep breaths as he listened.

"Vaya/wow. I've never been to the Old country, but I always wanted to. Flamenco, Soccer, and some of those architectural marvels that your ancestors brought over for mine." It probably wasn't a good idea to jokingly thank her for some of the... other... things the ancient [/I]conquistadores[/I] brought along with them. In all due respect, they made his home city a particular marvel. Something to show firsthand, not do undue justice in a holodeck rendering. All the same, "I'd like to see your rancho/hometown(slang) sometime." Leon followed her example once he'd likewise triple checked every detail about his suit out of memory for his own experience with parachuting; he was always willing to educate others, but tried to steer clear of sounding too professorial like his own instructors, and thus indulged her.

"I was a pilot before I was invited to join tactical and later, command. Back when Starfleet was contemplating a new-series vessel to have its own 'U.S.S.' prefix as a standalone ship while being an exploration and defense starship on its own right." Leon gave a brief history lesson as he checked his PaDD's instruction manual, taking a seat facing his partner before returning his attention to her, finally sitting down and making time as the plane made its ascent.

"It wound up being what we now call the Danube runabouts. Parachuting was a part of Admiral Al-Fadil's syllabus for test-pilot cadets. Back in the 20th, along with aircraft, pilot safety became an important consideration to fill the ranks of the newly-invented concept of the Air Force, and later, specialist infantry units. Even the M.A.C.Os had to undergo EAC-E training in the event of a doomed shuttlepod. Of course, back in Archer's era, they didn't have as modern transporters like we do, so around the time when Starfleet was founded, some units still became familiar with the training. Only intermittently ever since. I heard Jim Kirk and Hikaru Sulu might have attempted it over in Yosemite Park for fun." He explained, citing some of what he'd been taught and demonstrated in photographs.

"Climbing ain't my idea of exercise, personally. Soccer's my favorite hobby for staying in shape. In flight school, no one could pronounce goleador, much less my alien wingmen, and 'goal-maker' best translated to Striker, so it stuck as my callsign." He concluded when replying to Alessia's notion on exercise... before Starbase 84 was brought up. Those scars were freshly healed for him, but he could see the intensity in Alessia's stare, letting her express her feelings on duty and faith. Leon sighed thoughtfully in agreement. "Ever hear the saying, 'There's never an atheist in a foxhole'? I've been in a lot of foxholes." He admitted, gazing into whatever fortress of solitude she looked out into, as if he could see the profundity of their situation. It was... good to know someone out here lightyears from home appreciated the invisible but omnipresent light.

"Starbase 84 was just another foxhole in the long, sad history of foxholes. So I hardly think it was luck or fate that got you off the Orcus." He responded with his own belief in a higher power, though he wasn't as open about it as others were; but it was glad to meet someone who understood his own philosophy. Leon half-smiled back at her 'guns' gesture, momentarily acting as if she 'got' him.

"I'd like to think it was our skills and will to survive that got us both out of there. With some help from the great Admiral-in-the-sky, of course." It was then that he understood she was a pilot. Not a medical or science officer. That was something else they had in common, and somewhat accounted for her willingness for airborne adventure. "Not all Angels are pacifists, you know. Archangel Michael, according to myth led the battle against the forces of evil. Other beliefs respected gargoyles as sworn protectors of their castles and villages. That would've been my callsign if it wasn't already taken. Some smug Vulcan lifted it off one of my designs for a transport with a ground vehicle aboard. Looks like Starfleet renamed that craft to something more... 'classical'. Here's hoping we can give that thing a drive later on."

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #7 – February 11, 2018, 08:45:39 AM

LT JG Alessia Garcia, Callsign "Angel" |  Holodeck | USS Theurgy] ATTN: @Striker N7
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This officer was charming in a strange way.  He had a smile that made her grin, and the way he spoke Spanish with his Mexican accent was cute.  Very different from her Barcelonan spin, but appreciated nonetheless.  She watched him stretch and flex, curious how much was actually for exercise versus for her.  She folded her arms across her chest and shot him that unimpressed eyebrow, chuckling as she looked away.  But she kept his form in the corner of her eye.  He was pleasant to look at, but half the fun was sneaking peaks while he wasn't watching.

At the mention of a visit home, however, she sobered.  She hadn't been home since graduation.  She'd been accepted into the valravn project and had taken a ship posting.  That was years ago.  There was no way she could go home now, not after the Battle.  At best, she'd been listed KIA.  At worst, she was branded a traitor.  Either way, her parents would be devastated and there was an entire fleet between them and her.  Home seemed like such a far away place.  "Si, maybe one day.  When we aren't being hunted like dogs.  It's been a long time.  I miss the sun on my face and.. everything.  But one day, when all this is over, I'd love to show you the sights.  Barcelona es muy bonita."

She had asked to be indulged and she was.  As it turned out, Leon knew quite a bit about the EAC-E training they were about to do.  She knew her fair share about early piloting, fighter history and safety procedures.  He was more enthusiastic about the subjects than most of her professors had been.  It brought a smile to her face and a small chuckle to her lips, as did his quip about his callsign.  "I like activities that get my heart pounding.."  She flashed him a flirtatious raised eyebrow.  "You know, things like base jumping, wind surfing, para and hang gliding, free climbing.  And of course hand to hand combat. I go in for capoeira with a little krav magaw and kickboxing for fun.  I'm always looking for a sparring partner, if you think you've got the chops.  But I got my callsign from my brother, Jonas.  He used to call me his little angel.  I took the callsign Angel so I could feel close to him, even though he's the one watching over me now."

Jonas was still a sore spot, even after all these years. She guessed that the ache would never go away, but time had healed the worst of her wounds.  Thankfully, Leon was quick to change the subject, and fall for her shooting gesture.  She laughed.  Humor was highly underrated in Starfleet. It was nice to meet a man who hadn't lost that spark.  Or maybe it was his way of flirting back?  Hmm.. maybe.

She was pleased to hear that he'd been a pilot before.  It meant in addition to his knowledge on the training they were doing today, he'd be able to fly a fighter in the advanced sim she planned on running.  She doubted he had any experience with the valravns, but she was always willing to teach if he was willing to learn.  "I dunno what this vehicle is, but after we get our bearings with these suits, I thought we could try some advanced simulations.  Feel free to drop that in when we get there.  And I'm well aware that not all angels are sweet, serene, pious beings.  I never said I was either."  She winked at him. 

As the plane flew to their jump location, Alessia alternated between staring out the opposite window and staring at Leon.  He was easy to talk to.  Even the language barrier that usually existed with others was gone with him.  It was surprisingly refreshing to chat in broken Spanish without having her translator on.  "Donde esta su familia?  Su esposa?  Sus ninos?  Todavia estan en la tierra?"¹

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1. Where is your family?  Your wife?  Your kids?  Are they still on Earth?

Re: Day 03 [0800 hrs.] Putting the Argo back in Gargoyle

Reply #8 – February 14, 2018, 09:59:51 AM

[ Subcommandante Leon "Goleador" Marquez | Holodeck | USS Theurgy ]
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"I'm sorry about your brother. Piloting always has been a risky endeavor, even to this day. Probably more so, but it's my job to protect its professionals. Present company included." He returned his gaze to her, giving a silent pledge with that regard.

Leon felt he'd shown off enough as he sat still at last. He'd save his showboating for the drop itself which would come soon, judging by the all too familiar sensation of his ears popping as the holodeck accurately stimulated the lifelike sensation of an increase in altitude. He liked that she was direct, probably testing the atmosphere in more ways than one and returned her guile. "I may be as good-looking as an angel myself, but no, I never married. I couldn't show favoritism in my role as a first officer... but I didn't have it in me to try. " He bluntly stated, thinly veiling a tone of regret in his gravelly voice. It almost seemed sad.

"I turned down more than my fair share of opportunities for romance... probably for the best, given how many familiar names turned up on the weekly casualty report I had to post every Friday during the Dominion War." He averted his gaze momentarily before making light of the matter. "Ironically, my career's been the last thing on my mind after... after Cardassia. Maybe I can re-prioritize." It was rare for him to hesitate, but those were bad memories to revisit. Contrarian to the reason he was here in the first place... and he wasn't one to discuss that matter. Not yet anyway. Perhaps on their next holodeck adventure?

"I've got a brother too, but he's with the J.A.G. office, probably in the pocket of the parasites; he always did want to be the highest-ranking member of our family, no matter the cost. Must've been the younger-brother inferiority complex." Marquez admitted as if describing a criminal's list of charges, before changing his tone to a slightly more positive one. "I've also got an hermanita<younger sister> in R&D taking after my academy research contributions. I heard she's got a land posting on New France Colony, so she should be safe from all this." Lex was one of the few bright stars in Leon's mind, but took their mom's death particularly hard, losing her fiancée in the same accursed Breen attack.

"But really, the crews of the Hornet and Resolve were-- are-- my family... but I admit I consider Ensign Mariner like a little brother, even if he is a travieso<troublemaker/prankster>... He whistled your way when Lt. Rawley unveiled that fighter from the future; don't think I didn't notice." Marquez recalled that instance back when Captain Ives, Commander Trent, and he himself gave their speeches back over the hangar deck, which almost seemed like it was another lifetime ago now. "I suppose Keval ch'Rayya is an honorary primo<Cousin/Clansman> too. Just don't ask if shelthreth was ever a thing; I'm not into that stuff. I tried to hook him up with one of my Hornet alumni, but they didn't... 'click'." he made the 'quotation marks' symbol with his fingers, over his forehead where Andorians had their distinctive facial features.

It was a bad joke, but was a reminder that he was otherwise at home making references (or fun of) the customs of other races, almost conversationally indifferent to his comrades and their practices. That included Mariner's flattering habits. He segued out of that topic by raising another common interest after a light smirk. "I coached self-defense as something of a common practice while Resolve was MIA." he recalled with some interest to his expression, "Some said I pushed them too hard, but those that stuck around learned a thing or two insofar as survival and later thanked me for riding them during martial arts classes.  Captain Kendrick and I encouraged morale-participation points, giving participants greater say in karaoke, movie night or happy hour. Together everyone advanced marvelously--T.E.A.M-- philosophy." Ironically, Leon himself had no actual belt, but his time with the Vulcan Tactical experiment included a wide variety of Federation member species' repertoire that made him a reasonable jack-of-all-trades in that field, adding with a challenging regard, as if accepting her dare. "I'd be glad to teach you a thing or two. Or would your significant other have some say in the matter?" It wasn't his intention to blindside her with that last inquiry, but in the nature of quid pro quo, he determined then it was time to make good on his earlier claim of thinking like a man, not an officer. She'd asked if he was married, it seemed only fair for him to ask in kind.

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