Dropping a Bombshell on an XO

Posted on Fri Oct 16, 2020 @ 3:01am by Lieutenant Commander Vilana Gene (Bombshell) & Commander Caleb Ryan

1,527 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Et In Arcadia Ego
Location: Executive Officer Office
Timeline: MD 07 1030 hours

Gene was in her contouring flight suit; her helmet being polished at the barked order of her new Flight Crew Chief. She wore the flight jacket rather than normal uniform jacket that signified her as a pilot and not to be assigned as flight control. She had her rank insignia all pressed and proper, as one should try to make a favorable impression. She took off the pilot's shades before entering the control deck. She normally would have changed uniform, but the station was a bit under conditions, so they escorted her, a male yeoman who had trouble keeping his eyes from her flight suit lines.

"Thank you, Yeoman. I think I can find my way from here. Just look for the man with the most pips and I should be right," she told the yeoman

Gene winked and moved away. No time to care how the flight jacket did not go past the waist, and she felt a warming stare from behind. Sometimes comfort came with a leering price. Such was the life of a lady who makes rank and has to wear very fitted flight gear. She found Commander Ryan and stood near, waiting for eye contact so she would be acknowledged.

"Commander Ryan." She gave him a smile. "I apologize for my appearance, as I have only just landed, and was brought here to check in." She extended the padd with her orders. “Lieutenant Commander Vilana Gene reporting aboard as your new Commander Air Group." She never broke eye contact. "If you approve, you will have a new CAG, sir."

Caleb had been going over some paperwork on a padd with one of the orderlies that ran around like monkeys in ops. There was always something that needed signing. When he turned around, he was surprised to see a rather stunning blonde standing before him in skin tight flight gear. Caleb took the padd from her and looked it over. “From what Ah see, you’ve got nothin’ ta apologize for, miss,” he said with a Texas drawl and a smile. “Why don’t ya step inta mah office an’ we can have a chat.” He gestured to the nearby door. Cowboy instinct to let a lady go first warred with Starfleet protocol that said he should proceed her as the superior officer, and so he headed in and waited for her to follow.

The standard Starfleet office had plenty of personal touches. Besides the desk and chair, there was a long, black leather couch against one wall. Over the couch was a large landscape holograph of a ranch. Above the holograph was an antique Winchester 1873 lever action rifle, “The Gun that Won the West”. Smaller holographs of Texas landscape and horses, as well as an older couple and some antique photograph reproductions of a man in a shirt and string tie and cowboy hat on a horse with a star on his chest, holding a rifle, decorated the other walls. A hook near the door held a well-worn black Stetson cowboy hat. On the desk was a small wooden box with a glass top. Inside, lying in a bed of black velvet were two polished pearl handled Colt Peacemakers with an ancient tin star. A small holoframe rotated through pictures of Caleb with a blonde Trill woman and a blonde teenager with mottled, less defined Trill spotting, or with just Caleb and the same teenager, only now she was a bit older and her hair was a rainbow of colors.

Caleb gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Can Ah get ya anythin’, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked her as he went to a real coffee maker sitting on a side table next to the replicator and poured himself some coffee into a mug that read COWBOY DAD LIKE A REGULAR DAD BUT COOLER.

"Lots of cream, three sugars, and some coffee please to flavor the mix." She took the seat and crossed her legs at the ankle. "Traditional type, I see." She glanced around. "Never let a good tradition be forgotten." She grinned at the man who had such an office.

"I flew with a man who called himself Cowboy and wore the hat and boots, but nothing like your homage to your history and the legends. He was..." Gene said, and thought for a second. "What was that movie calling the non-cowboys? Ah, yes, he was a dude with a clean 38 liter hat?" She guessed that was right. "But no beautiful guns like those anywhere near him." She giggled a little.

Caleb prepared the coffee and brought it over, setting it in front of Gene with a smile. “Real coffee, none of that replicated garbage,” he assured her. He tossed her padd down on the desk and sat in his chair, sipping his cup. “The boots an’ hat ain’t regulation kosher, so Ah had ta give them up, except when Ah’m ridin’,” he said. “But Ah come by mah six shooters an’ rifle honestly,” he said. “They belonged ta mah many-greats-grandfathers. The earliest one was one of the original Texas Rangers -- that’s his tin star -- though the guns belong ta a later great-grandfather. Long line of Rangers an’ lawmen in mah family.” The holograph in the frame shifted to another picture, this one of a pair of horses, one a massive black stallion, and the other a beautiful paint.

“So why don’t ya tell me a little about yourself?” Caleb prompted.

"Not much to tell." Gene took a sip of the coffee and closed her eyes in delight. "I always demand my crews make coffee, as it is the best keep awake in the galaxy." She opened her eyes. "But to your request; when you are a girl who lives in a city in the clouds what else would you expect me to do but fly?" She smiled brightly. My family were flight control for Stratos, so I was raised with gliders, shuttles, starships, and just not being stuck in the mines or on the ground. We were among the Elite; the uppermost middle, as we worked, rather than just existing."

She took another sip. "I found a love of fighters, as they could be the closest thing to having wings in space. I seem to have a knack for it, and if a man tried to pass me because I am a woman I will flame his butt." She grinned with no regret. "Though I do admit football; or soccer, as some call it, was the best thing Humans brought out into the stars." She winked playfully. "You might say I have always had my head up in the clouds, so fighters keep me there."

She thought, to make sure she went down her list.

"Oh, and I hope you are open to more than just escort and patrols being what my birds do. Fighters are diverse and worth more than most people give them credit for being." She took another longer sip. "Planes have been called eyes in the sky, and now you might add stars to that." She nodded. "End of bio summary." She tilted her head and smiled up to him.

“Well, escorts an’ patrols are what we normally need from our fighters,” Caleb admitted. “Also interdictions. We sometimes get unauthorized attempts ta go down ta the planet. The region’s gotten a bit hotter with the Xi’Cadian secession crisis,” he admitted, “so we’ve added a ready response team ta back up the normal CAP,” he told her. “So far it’s mostly been hurry up an’ wait for the time bein’, thank God. But ya never know. We’d certainly be willin’ ta entertain any other suggestions ya might have once ya get settled in. Ya got any questions for me?” he offered.

"Do you have a friendly air boss?" Gene asked with an almost shy smile. "You know, flight control officer and the man who will be parking my wings, bird-dogging our launch and recovery operations?" She made eye contact. "The person that I will be in a close and personal relationship with?" The cat-like grin grew. "I do not know why the billet is nicknamed air boss when all the person does is park and launch the fighters. Once in the air they are mine.”

“Yes, though Ah can’t give you a name at the moment,” Caleb said. “Ah’d have ta talk ta Personnel,” he admitted. There were too many people working on the station for him to know everyone. He mostly knew senior staff and a good chunk of Security from having worked with them.

"No worries, Commander." Gene winked. "I have learned to treat my air boss with a tender but respectful manner. I like having my Kitten a little pampered and an air boss is the one to give her the care she needs." Smiling, just another thing not to put on your mental list; I will have the birds and boss under my wing soon enough. Don't fret none, this is not my first rodeo, sir."

OFF



Cdr. Caleb Ryan
Executive Officer

Lt. CMDR Vilana Gene
Commander Air Group

 

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