Dungeons & Dragons

Posted on Sat Apr 18, 2020 @ 9:13pm by Captain Lazanos Torena & Civilian 'Key Holder' Yolanthe Ibalin

4,229 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Et In Arcadia Ego
Location: Marine Country
Timeline: MD03 2000

[ON]

Laz was staring down at his cat, Moo, who gazed back up at him. The black cat’s left eye was squinted half-closed, a thing she did from time to time. He’d picked her up during an operation, after feeding her some of his rations. The scrawny gremlin followed him around after, and he brought her along when it was time to go. He held out his arms. “How do I look?” Moo kept staring up at him, her tail flopped once, then again. He was wearing a black sweater and gray pants, going for a little nicer look since he was going to be showing Yolanthe around Marine Country and didn’t want to start any gossip.

“You’re no help,” he said. She let out a gruff meow at him, and he bent down and scratched her head until she was satisfied and jumped up on the cushion he kept in the window. Laz grabbed the brandy he’d offered to share with Yolanthe, set it on the table with a couple glasses when they came back. “All right. Don’t be nervous. She’s just a stunning Amazon woman from space. No problem.” Then he went out of his quarters, heading to the elevator to meet her.

She arrived a few minutes later. She'd chosen a tightfitting sheath dress that molded to her curves, coming to mid thigh, but with cut outs that teasingly revealed bare flesh at shoulder, waist and decollete. It was matched with a pair of spike heeled strappy sandals that cris-crossed her calves up to her knees, that made her tower over him, and she'd piled her rich purple hair up into a tumble of waves and curls further emphasising her height. "Good Evening Captain. I hope I'm not late?"

“No,” he said. “Right on time. Welcome to Marine Country. It’s a little quiet right now because most of the Marines are probably in your bar making you a nice profit. You look amazing.” He felt suddenly slightly underdressed. And short. But then, there were much worse problems to have.

"Thank you." the violets and purples turned to shades of blue, "I'll admit I welcome the trade. We've got gravity, so I'll serve, but people still feel safer in their quarters with all the power still fuzzing out now and again." She gave him a smile, "on the otherhand, if its quiet, I can enjoy a night off."

“Then we’ll call it a win-win for tonight.” Laz gestured down the corridor, walking with Yolanthe. “I’ll get to serve you drinks for a change. I’m not as good at it. My talents lie mostly with edged weapons and bad dancing.”

"I run a bar, I'm familiar with those too." She grinned, walking along the corridor. "You're going to have to work hard to impress me with those."

“You haven’t seen how terribly I dance, yet,” Laz replied. “You’ll sing songs to your people of it.” He stopped at a set of large doors. “This is the gym, where we spend the first part of the morning, every morning.” The doors slid open to reveal a large gymnasium, with a track that ran the entire perimeter of the room, a large obstacle course taking up a good half of the gym. The other half had several sparring rings laid out, with gloves and equipment set up. False knives and deactivated phasers for hand-to-band combat training were set on racks nearby. There were ropes and cables set up in the tall ceiling for training with rappelling and zero gravity work. The equipment looked heavily-used, but the gym itself was immaculate. One corner of the room was set up with weight training equipment, and more basic exercise gear. “We spend a good chunk of our time in here.” He gave a gentle punch to a heavy bag as they passed it by. “But you’re probably used to a lot of this stuff. You walk like somebody that knows how to handle herself.”

She looked around the gym, noting the equipment. It wasn't anything she was unfamilier with, just plainer and more pragmatic. She pitied the marines a little though. One of the joys of coming to the federation was never having to run a track when you could run somehwere interesting in a holosuite. "Watching the way I walk?" she purred. "Captain, I don't believe I know you well enough to allow that."

“I’m a quick learner when I’m interested in the subject,” he said. “And you are interesting.”

The doors opened again, and a Marine came in, wearing a white t-shirt and black exercise pants. It took Laz a second to place her, PFC Forrest, one of his newer transfers. She stopped short at the sight of Yolanthe and Laz. “Um...hello, Captain. Ma’am.”

“Don’t mind us, Private. I’m just showing Ms. Ibalin around the place.”

“Oh.” She looked around the gym, quiet and plain, and not terribly interesting, and then looked back at him. “Why, Captain?”

“Uh...” Laz shrugged. “Fun?”

“Oh. The Holodecks are cool,” Forrest offered. She looked at Yolanthe. “Yours are fancier, ma’am, but ours have all kinds of cool programs.”

Laz looked at Yolanthe. “How much do you like dragons?”

"Dragons?" She asked, "As in big flying lizards that breathe fire?"

“Just like that, yeah.”

"Reminds me of home. Except ours don't breath fire.”

“Mine do. I’ll show you on the holodeck.” He led her out of the gym, and towards the stairs going to the next level. “When I was stationed on Qo’nos, I developed an interest in Klingon mythology. And from there, fantasy books. Swords and monsters and magic and that sort of thing. Are you familiar with them?”

She gave him an amused look. "Yes we have myths, and monsters. And swords. Not familiar with yours though. Or are you hoping to change that?"

“Not technically mine,” he said. “On my planet, they stopped teaching myths, really. It’s not germane to business. Maybe that’s why other people’s’ is so fascinating. I want to know about yours, though. Your planet sounds interesting.” He stopped at one of the holodecks and typed in his program. The door opened and they went inside. “So, anyway, I started working on this program a couple years ago. I’m no holo artist. But I wanted something I made myself. I haven’t shown this to anyone else yet.”

The black-and-yellow grid around them shifted into a new environment, one of a massive stone ruin, the ancient buildings all around them jagged and broken. Three moons of varying size hung in the night sky, casting a silver glow down on the two of them. The landscape in the horizon was a bizarre alien one of a high desert, with high, flat bluffs. The air carried a scent of sharp, spicy herbs. A sword rack was against one wall, with a half-dozen swords on it. Each were unique and looked carefully crafted. “I forge knives,” he said, looking at the swords. “As a hobby. So I designed all the swords myself. The ruins are inspired by Earth South American ruins, old Klingon strongholds and some other places I’ve been I can’t talk about.” He looked at the moons. “I sometimes worry the moons are a bit much. What do you think?”

Yolanthe took it all in. With Three moons, even though only one was full, there was plenty of light for her to see by. The ruins framed each view artfully, the desert mesa that stretched for miles, the forbidding cliff that cradled the ruins high on their own perch, one of the moons, sickle thin, the ribbon of the galaxy trailing like lifeblood from its point. The violet hues left her, and for a moment she glittered molten silver in the moonlight. "Its breathtaking."

He looked at her in the moonlight, the way her skin shifted and virtually glowed. It took him a moment to realize he was staring, and then he smiled. “Watch this.” The program moved forward, and the dragon swooped across the moon, a black silhouette with wide wings and a long tail. The dragon shifted, and the beating of heavy wings echoed in the night air, and then it came down fast, landing on the ruins in front of them. Some of the stone cracked where it landed, as the talons gripped the rocks. It was a deep, dark red with streaks of blue lightning that seemed to work all the way through the scaled. The dragon’s wings were huge and spread out wide. The dragon’s head was covered in scales and horns, and the eyes glowed a bright blue. It roared, just loud enough to get their attention.

The silver turned to azure blue, and she laughed. "Very Impressive," she told him, offering him a tiny burst of applause. So what happens now? Do I slay the dragon and save the boy?"

“If you can pull it off in those shoes, you’d earn all the treasures in the kingdom,” he said. “To be honest, I’ve never gotten around to slaying the dragon. Maybe the missing piece was the prince or princess in distress.”

She chuckled, "If I'd known fighting dragons was a possibility, I would have brought more suitable footwear." She admitted. "What do you normally do with it?"

“I keep working on it,” he said. “Perfecting it. I make holoprograms for training, it’s part of the job. You’ve gotta get everything right. The smell of the air, the sound of disruptor fire, the way people sound in combat. That way, the training and the combat become one thing, and people have a better chance of staying alive. It has to be real. This isn’t real, but I can make it feel real. I like that.” He looked at her. “Does that make any sense at all?”

"Yes," She watched the Dragon settle down on the ruins above their head. "You can find out how much more you can do when you are confident you can't die trying."

She spoke like she had some experience in that. "Yeah," he agreed. "Sometimes knowing the opposite can push you farther than you ever thought, though." He looked up at the dragon with her, and the moons. It was a peaceful feeling, for a moment.

"You come here a lot." It wasn't a question. She walked over to the rack of blades and picked one, a short bladed sword that all business. She checked the balance thoughtfully, then sighted down it. "What got you into smithing? Its a dying art on my world, and we're nearly three hundred years behind the federation."

“When I was on Qo’nos. It was my first assignment after the war, when I got into special operations. You get posted up at embassy guard duty to settle in to your training, get some cultural experience, that kind of thing. There was a smith in the capital city I got to know, and he...well, he didn’t train me. But he showed me the ropes. I went from there.”

"Are these designs native to your world?" She put the short sword down and picked up a different, just over a meter long, the blade slightly curved, the cross guard a solid piece with the ends curled under, and slightly overweighted. "There's a lot of variety here."

“That one you’re holding is actually an old Vulcan replica,” he said. “That’s why it’s so heavy.” He went to the rack and selected a straight piece, a bit extravagant, with a golden basket hand guard, fitted with jewels. It was straight and double-edged. “This is from my planet. Even two thousand years ago, we liked our fancy little baubles.” He looked at her. “What about your planet? What’s that like?”

She took the basket hilted sword, tried it experimentally. It was terribly flashy. She could see that the first knock down fight it got into, those pretty gems would go flying. "It depends. Most are like machetes, practical, for chopping. Others are short, because, lets face it, if you don't hit something vital in the first ten centimeters, shoving another half meter into someone isn't going to change that. But our best ones aren't forged. They're grown. They're made out a form of crystal. They're incredibly hard, can be shaped to monomolecular edge, and nigh impossible to break."

“That sounds incredible,” Laz said. “I want to look that up. I never did get a talent for swordplay, but I always liked them. The art in designing them. Shaping them. Taking something that’s raw and plain and turning it into something useful and beautiful. I enjoy it.” He watched her wield the sword with grace. “I think I promised you a drink.”

"You did. some Acamarian Brandy." She looked around the beautiful landscape. "Did you bring it here, or are we leaving?"

“I wish I planned things out that well,” he admitted. “I didn’t really plan on showing you this. But.” He called up the program, and a couch materialized behind her. “Sit down. I can go get the brandy, it’ll just be a minute.”

Yolanth sat, stretching out long legs onto the seats. "Don't be long."

Laz smiled at that, and the archway appeared as he exited. His quarters were just downstairs, and it was a simple enough thing to go down and get the bottle and glasses. When he came in, Moo rolled over in her window to peer grouchily at him. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” Laz said, snatching the bottle and glasses up. She groaned in response, and he was back out and upstairs, to the holodeck where he’d left Yolanthe. “Acamarian brandy,” he said, showing the label. “I picked this up a couple years back from a collector. He was reluctant to part with it.” He handed her a glass.

"So how did you persuade him?" She swirled the brandy round the glass, taking in the rich scent. It had been aged in wood over steel, for sometime. "That sounds like a story?" She took a sip. It was rich with a strong taste of dried fruits and and hints of chocolate. The Marine had good taste.

“Well.” He poured himself a drink and sat down on the couch next to her. “He was an arms dealer, and he got on the wrong side of...basically everybody. It was his specialty. So, anyway, this guy decides to get out from under his trouble by selling out to the Federation.” He took a drink and smiled. “However, he also didn’t want to end up in prison, so he tried to fake his own death by setting up a firefight between the Marines sent to extract him, and people who wanted him dead. It was a stupid, stupid plan and I told him so when the handcuffs went on, but not before he tried to buy me. I accepted the bottle for my troubles.”

"Sounds dangerous, what makes you want to do it?" She tucked her feet up. "The Federation is full of comfort and safety. Why give it up?"

“I didn’t grow up in the Federation,” he replied, shifting on the couch to face her squarely. “I grew up on Theta Zibal III, and it was never comfortable or safe. If being here taught me anything, it’s that none of this exists without people willing to fight for it. I’ve always liked to fight, even when I was a kid. It just made sense.”

"I get that. Sometimes you just have an affinity for things. though where I'm from, we don't let boys fight. We don't like them getting hurt."

“Oh, I see,” Laz replied. “So what are the boys supposed to do where you’re from?”

"Look pretty and make babies." she grinned at him over the rim of her snifter. "Anything more complicated or dangerous, that's a woman's job."

He smiled back. “Would you say you agree with the prevailing culture on your planet?”

She thought about it. It was a good question. A complicated question. the violet of her skin took on a grey, dusty tinge. "There's a lot I don't like.... but without it, we'd have been extinct a lot sooner. It may only be delaying the inevitable for another half millenium, but we do not, as a species, go gently into that dark night..."

“So in your case, it’s survival, not sexism.” He poured them both another drink. “So why are you here and not there?”

"Oh, its that too." Yolanthe admitted. "Don't think because we're dying out we're not a bunch of arseholes. You wouldn't want to live with us. Being a man isn't all rainbows and candy, but neither is being a woman. We have expectations that we can't live up to. My mother's desperate to have son. The thirteen or fourteen daughters she's popped out so far are irrelevant inconveniences. Her mother managed to have a boy, so she's not stopping till she gets one."

“Shit. I admire her physical endurance, if nothing else,” he replied. Fourteen daughters? Growing up, he’d never known a family with more than two. “I guess that answers why you’re here and not there. I don’t think I’d be interested in living with those terms, either.”

Yolanthe shrugged. It wasn't the reasons, but she wasn't going to disabuse him. "You've got an annoying self absorbed mother too?"

“No, they’re both great. I was adopted, and where I’m from, taking on that kind of economic responsibility wasn’t easy. Most orphans on my planet stay that way. I got pretty goddamned lucky, and they got a lot of goddamned headaches for it.”

"You were a naughty child?" She gave him an impish smile over the glass. "Why am I not surprised."

“I caused my share of rough nights,” he replied. “But I guess it got me here, doing something I love in a place I like, so I can’t complain too much. You strike me as a rebel yourself.”

"Me? No." she snorted in amusement. "CHildren are raised in a group, mostly by the menfolk, you don't really have much to rebel against. I did the minimum at school and was all about the training from about eight. After that my coach had more to do with me than my mother. And you crossed her at your peril."

“She sounds intense,” Laz said, taking a drink. “So what did you train in?”

"She was very intense, but she got results." Yolanthe gave a short laugh "I never skipped leg day. I didn't dare."

“There’s nothing wrong with learning a little discipline,” he said, laughing with her. “I’d probably be dead or in jail without it.”

The blue turned to grey again. "That would be a pity," she said after a moment staring at her drink. "Then I would likely have never got to drink such excellent brandy."

“Unbelievable,” he said in mock pain. “You just want me for my booze collection. I’ve never felt so used in my entire life. I thought we had something real, based on dragons and swords and...gym equipment.” He paused and thought that over. “This has been a really strange date I’ve put together.”

"Is that a bad thing?" the moons shining made it quite bright, the dragon was majestic, the drink excellent. "Would you prefer some low effort dinner and a dance?"

“Not the way I dance. You don’t strike me as somebody that’s impressed by normal and low effort, anyway. You seem to me like somebody always looking out for new and interesting things. You want to see as much as you can. Am I right?"

"To be honest, I'm still figuring that out." Yolanthe admitted. "Back home, everything's arranged for you. how often, who, when. You don't get any say in it. The man doesn't get any say it. You turn up, you perform, same again the next time. There is no courtship, no dates. I'm still getting a feel of what I like."

It sounded like a sterile kind of life, one where everything that should be personal was distilled down to something almost industrial in its function. Where Laz had come from, hopes and dreams seemed an impossible distance off, with an entire world trying to get in your way. But at least you could try to make your own decisions about some things. At least you were allowed to figure out who you were, even if everybody was trying to spit in your eye while you did it. “What have you figured out so far?”

"I like enthusiasm, and imagination," She gestured at their surroundings. "And I always appreciate something active."

“If I ever get boring, I hope you’ll let me know,” Laz said. “I’d hate to think I wasn’t giving you my best.”

"Not bored so far, but I have to ask, is making weapons and staring at dragons all you do in this program?"

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready to see the dungeon this early,” he joked. “But I can think of other ways to pass the time.”

"Such as?" She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

Laz looked at her for a moment, as he thought about the question. He really liked this woman, which was the only reason why he was even considering showing her. She was tough and it was tough to sometimes get around her wall, but she was surprisingly sweet underneath it all, and he liked when he caught the glimpses of that. Finally, coming to a decision, he nodded. “Okay. There is one more thing I’ve put together that I think you might like that isn’t a battle sequence,” he said. “But it doesn’t leave this room. Agreed?”

"What happens in The Box, stays in The Box, same with here." She promised, thoroughly intrigued now

“Okay. Computer, open program Torena 722.” The landscape shimmered back to the standard black and yellow holodeck grid before resolving back in front of them. They were in a clear glass dome in an ocean that glowed a radiant blue. There was the hint of life in the ocean, in varying colors. Music filled the air, sounding like an odd mix of different musical styles from different cultures. And all around them, in a tableau of life, was a collection of alien creatures, dancing and talking in a strange language. The aliens were tall and beautiful, their skin shimmering in the light of multicolored orbs that floated around them. They wore close-fitting gauzy clothes in colors of gold, purple and blue hues.

“I, uh...I’ve been creating a species of people since I was about sixteen. I’m realizing now they don’t wear very much. Which was because they’ve adapted to life underwater by using solar magic radiating from their sun to create climate-controlled domiciles.” He gestured at the glowing domes which kept the water out, swirling with barely-visible rainbows of color. “And I was sixteen when I started. So. Hormones.”

She laughed. "Where I'm from, covering up is considered rude and hostile. We have to see our colours. This is positively modest." She looked around. "You have a very vivid imagination. I'll admit, its not what I'd expect from marines. Though I only ever see them when they're partying hard and engaging in competitive drunkenness."

“I’m good at that, too,” he said. Though now he was realizing that he’d given all of his holographic creations crooked eyes. It was weirding him out, so he turned off the program, leaving them alone in the holodeck with a couch and a half-empty bottle of brandy. He hadn’t shared these parts of himself with anybody in a long time. Being in charge of his own team, and now this unit, it was easy to just do the job and maintain command distance. But Yolanthe was easy to talk to, and he had enjoyed himself more here than he had in a long time. “I don’t know what your situation is, or what it is you’re looking for, if anything. But I’m having a great time, and I would like to keep seeing you. Outside the bar. Is that possible?”

She looked him up and now, like she was buying a horse. "I think so." She put her glass down. "Maybe next time I can show you my dungeon."

That sounded promising, he had to admit. “I’m always happy to compare notes with a fellow enthusiast,” Laz said, smiling. Even under the spare lighting of the holodeck grid, her skin almost glowed. He set his glass aside before leaning close to kiss her.

She offered him her cheek with a smile, "I think you'll find it...invigorating." she promised. "So no exerting yourself before hand."

“Luckily, I stay in pretty good shape, and I love a challenge.”

"Then I look forward to putting you through your paces another night." She promised.

[OFF]

Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner
The Box of Delights

Marine Captain Lazanos Torena
21st MEU
DS5

 

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