USS Antares

Posted on Wed Nov 11th, 2015 @ 6:22am by Captain Charybdis MacGregor
Edited on on Sat Apr 28th, 2018 @ 1:20am

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Taking Chances
Location: USS Antares, NCC 501
Timeline: 2265
Tags: Antares,Ford Matthews,spy

Ford Matthews always woke before his alarm... it was an old habit from his days on the farm, back in Georgia raising peanuts on the family homestead. Up before the dawn would get a headstart on chores, and then he could ease into his day, have time to enjoy a cup of coffee and be ready to start work before his brothers. It had served him well on the farm, and it served him well on his starship.

His starship... he did like the sound of that. He had never really thought of the old vessel as 'his'... she had always just been 'the' ship to him. But his perspective on it had changed, as had so many of his thoughts in regards to his command. Due in no small part to one of the more persistent and energetic crewman that he would be losing today.

They would be putting in at Starbase 4 for another refit, of course... on a ship this old, she was always in need of a refit somewhere, as Chief Engineer Algernon Greene was fond of pointing out to him. But he would be taking on new crew, while losing a few ensigns he was promoting to JG as they exited, a Chief who was retiring to mine asteroids in the Delta cluster, and his Chief Science Officer... who was snoring gently in the crook of his arm.

The crew had suspected for quite some time that the hotheaded Vulcan was sneaking into the Captain's quarters for late-night rendezvous (and on a boat this size it was practically impossible to keep secrets), but he had resisted her advances... which had been in no way subtle on more than one occasion... until last night. Her last night on the ship, and she had expressed it as his last chance... and she had been right. Starfleet was military, so there was always a possibility that they might meet again, on shore leave or on another vessel or perhaps a Starbase. But the odds were against it, as were the odds of the opportunity being there should that chance meeting actually come to pass.

He knew better than to fraternize with the officers assigned to him, but damned if the woman couldn't exhaust you with arguments... and it had taken entirely too much of his willpower to hold out this long. When she had pinned him against the bulkhead and rammed her tongue into his mouth, he had been reminded that Vulcans were considerably stronger than humans... and that Lieutenant Junior Grade Charybdis pursued what she wanted with a single-minded determination, often at the cost of anything else. So when she wanted him, he had two choices... give in to what he himself wanted as well, or risk what might happen should she go stalking the corridors of the ship looking for someone else to pounce upon, either in lust or fury... or both.

He stroked her hair idly with his free hand, listening to her heavy breathing and feeling the softness of her form against his body. Vulcans were vegetarians... but not Charybdis, and perhaps that was why she was so much more curvaceous than other Vulcans. Not that he had seen that many, and in their native garb they tended towards shapeless robes and drapes, not the tight velveteen of Starfleet uniforms. But she was so unlike what he had heard to expect from a Vulcan, both good and bad. In all the time that she had served under him... four years now, how time had flown... she had never been what he had expected. Sometimes she had disappointed him, sometimes she had amazed him, but never had there been a dull moment with her on board.

He was going to miss her, he realized. Quite a bit, actually. His morning shift on the bridge was always brightened by one of her sarcastic wisecracks, and he smiled as he pictured her grin, always seemingly combined with that eyebrow raise that made her seem mischievous, insubordinate, dangerous and sexy all at the same time. He swore she arched her back that much more when bent over the scanners, knowing that it would make those damned skirts ride up that much higher. Whatever evil genius at Starfleet Command had designed those uniforms must have had crew morale in mind, but to Ford Matthew's eye they were just a damned distraction... a welcome one at times, but they certainly made it hard to concentrate on duty rosters and general quarters drills.

He wished that he could keep her on, if only because he understood her and could work with her. Some of the other senior officers didn't understand why he put up with her... she was so often argumentative and abrasive, and she could be difficult to manage, particularly when she was dealing with those whom she considered to be of lesser intelligence or capability than herself. He had more than once interrupted shouting matches on the bridge between her and Lieutenant Commander Henri Clay, his executive officer. Clay was a by-the-book, everything according to the numbers hardliner, and he and Charybdis mixed like matter and antimatter... particularly since the science officer made it abundantly clear that she found the XO unimaginative and dull, and she would often find ways to work various inferences to his intelligence into arguments... or rather, his lack thereof to her mind.

But as a science officer she was a storehouse of information, and she was fearless... she had saved his life when the bridge had slowly decompressed, and she had done it without hesitation. He barely remembered her carrying him down to engineering as he gasped for breath, where his access codes had put them back in the fight... a fight that she won nearly single-handedly with a well-timed and placed torpedo. Then she had never spoken of it... to her it was simply what had to be done, but to him it had been the difference between life and death, and he had never forgotten it.

He looked down as she shifted, and she placed her palms flat upon his chest to rest her chin upon their backs. Her nebulous violet eyes sparkled a bit, as they tended to do, and she raised an eyebrow quizzically as she cocked her head.



"You have been crying. Are you ashamed of what we have done, Captain?"

Ford realized with a start that she was correct... his eyes had indeed dropped a tear or two, and he cursed himself for being a sentimental old man before his time. "No... no, I'm not. We shouldn't have done this, it's true... but I couldn't say no to you forever, Vulcan."

She raised herself up to prop herself up on her forearms, and he became reminded of her body once more as that of an extremely desirable woman. "You always call me that when you are feeling sentimental, Human. Fear not... our liason will remain a secret, and I will not betray you to Command. I did this thing because I wished it, and because I admire your willpower in resisting me for these years that we have served together. And because..."

She traced a circle idly on his chest, looking at her finger before meeting his eyes once more. "Because I have grown fond of you, Captain. You have been a good commander and treated me well, defended me from my enemies and encouraged me to do well in Starfleet. And you have helped me to gain the position that I have sought." Her trademark smirk and eyebrow raise were absent, and Ford realized that she was being genuine with him... and in four years serving together, he had seen her drop the mask of sarcasm and aloof arrogance so little that it was surprising to him. He reached out to stroke her cheek and smiled.

"You're going to do great on the Bonaventure, Charybdis... Lieutenant Charybdis, actually." She raised both eyebrows in surprise, and that just made him smile a bit wider. "Yes, I put the paperwork through right before your transfer. You're going to have to sew a solid stripe onto those sleeves before you join your next command."

She smiled again, and it was not a comforting sight. It was the same smile he often saw on the bridge when Clay lost an argument to her, or when she figured out the subharmonic range of a primitive form of shielding in order to bypass it, or when she had some ensign in an armlock while sparring that he was not going to escape from without breaking his arm.

It was a predator's smile, he realized in a moment of sudden clarity. It was the smile of a dangerous thing that had spotted its prey and was about to close in on it. It was a smile that held no warmth, no humor... a display meant to warn others that this animal was dangerous.

The moment passed, and she smiled at him with her usual cocked eyebrow and quizzical head tilt. "Is there something wrong Captain?"

"No... no, it's nothing, Lieutenant. I should be getting up anyway."

She invited him, in no uncertain terms, to stay and linger for a bit more morning exercise, and to take advantage of the rare opportunity that she afforded him in his quarters during her last few hours on the Antares. But he found he didn't want to anymore.

He somehow felt as though he may have made a terrible, terrible mistake.

 

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