Meeting a Marine

Posted on Mon Jan 11, 2021 @ 3:03pm by Commander Caleb Ryan

1,205 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Si vis pacem, para bellum
Location: Caleb's office
Timeline: MD -04

"Who the devil planned a base with twelve hundred fifty decks?" Travis said in a soft tone as he made his way up from the seventies to the XO's office on Decks 12 and 13. Part of his mind was obviously running through security considerations of a mammoth this size, as well as building a mental map on his way. Upon arrival, he made an appointment with the station's XO for as soon as he could get on the man's schedule.

Having heard of no real history between the Marines and Fleet side of things, a small wrapped box was carried in the left hand. Research had been done on both the station senior most officers, and Travis was ready to start trying to make things smoother quickly. At last the door he had been looking for was in sight, leading to a quick brushing off and straightening of the duty uniform was made before he pressed into the chime.

“Enter,” came the instruction, and the doors swished open. Travis stepped in and found himself staring down the barrel of a silver plated, pearl handled Colt Peacemaker. The hammer clicked back, loudly audible in the sudden silence of going from the corridor to the office. The chamber rotated. The trigger squeezed slowly, and the thumb eased the hammer back down.

“Come on in an’ take a seat. Make yerself comfortable. Can Ah get ya’ll somethin’ ta drink?” the Texas drawl spoke.

The man behind the desk was tall, lean, lanky even, with dark hair starting to silver at the sides, dark eyes studying Travis keenly from a rugged, weathered face with a strong jaw. He ran a polishing rag once more over the Peacemaker before settling it back into its velvet cushion inside a glass topped display box of cedar, where its twin lay with a polished tin star. Mounted above the man behind the large oak desk was an 1873 Winchester lever action long rifle. A comfortable-looking black leather couch sat along one wall. Above it was a long, panoramic holo-pic of a ranch house and horse paddock stretching into a Texas sunset. A couple headshots of a gorgeous black stallion and a beautiful paint were on the opposite wall. 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. Beside the door, a black leather saddle sat on a mount with a black Stetson hanging from the horn. Other holopics on the shelves showed the man behind the desk with a beautiful blonde Trill woman and a young blonde teenage girl, whose Trill spottings weren’t quite as distinct as the adult woman’s. On the desk was a smaller frame with the same teenager, older by a few years, with hair the color of the rainbow.

The man behind the desk got up and went over to the replicator, where there was also a small table containing a real, actual old-fashioned coffee pot. He poured himself a cup into a mug that read COWBOY DAD LIKE A REGULAR DAD BUT COOLER. He took a sip of the scalding black brew and arched an eyebrow at Travis, hooking a thumb to indicate the replicator.

Stepping in as called, Travis took a moment to review the office and admire the choice in furnishings. The lanky station XO was not much taller than himself, but far lighter, yet he didn't pick up the signals that this man would bend easily, or was physically weak. A mental note was made to look more into his background. Despite the reputation of the Marines, Travis was one of those oddities that never touched coffee. "Tea, black, iced, 15 grams dissolved sugar," he called out to the replicator and walked over to the desk, careful not to jostle the package wrapped in a security-red felt.

The replicator hummed and Caleb picked up the glass and brought it over to the desk, setting it in front of Travis. “Make yerself at home,” he said, gesturing to a comfortable chair in front of the desk. “What can Ah do for ya?”

Nodding, he took the chair and sat; it was a bit too comfortable for Travis. The wrapped package was brought up and set on the desk, then gently slid over to Caleb. "Now, don't get the wrong idea here, it's not like I'm bribing the station senior staff. However, from one XO to another, this is for you. Unlike most separate but integrated Fleet and Marine chains of command, I'd prefer not to start us off on a bad note." Travis took a drink from the tea as he waited for Caleb to undo the wrapping on a set of leather backed first run 'Encyclopedia of Texas History, Pre-colonization to World War Three".

Caleb arched an eyebrow and pulled the gift to him, carefully undoing the wrapping. He lifted the hefty tome and opened it. “Impressive,” he had to admit. “Ah don’t think Ah’ve seen a physical copy of this since the one on mah parents’ shelves back at the ranch.” He flipped to a familiar page and smiled, seeing the recognizable picture of his many-great-grandfather, the famous Texas Ranger, and owner of the guns that sat on his desk and hung on his wall. “Ah really appreciate this, Major,” he said, closing the book carefully, “an’ Ah look forward ta workin’ with ya. You got any questions for me?” he asked, almost reverentially putting the book to the side.

"Glad to know it will get some attention, to be honest," Travis stated with a smile, before taking a quick drink and listening. "Matter of fact, I'm wondering what kind of cooperation level and taskers you would be interested in seeing coming from our two groups. I understand the station has been through a rough period, and if any of our personnel can assist, I'd like to start getting them on the mindset and attitude now than later." The direct method was risky, sure, but XO to XO, usually played out. They were always more busy than their respective leaders, so saving time was a premium.

Caleb sipped his coffee, then put his mug down. “Right now, the Marines have jurisdiction over the planet,” he said, “under the authority of our Chief Science Officer, and ultimately Captain Soran. It’s a...technicality in the Fae pact that gave the planet to the ‘commander of Deep Space Nine’. Soran has put everythin’ planet related under the CSO’s purview. Currently Marines provide security at the colony, where they provide general security an’ policin’, an’ at a cave complex that contains numerous space-time portals, where they make sure nobody goes inta those caves -- an’ nothin’ comes out. They’re currently on a three shift rotation, pullin’ two weeks at the caves, two weeks at the colony, an’ two weeks on station duty helpin’ out our Security team. We’ve given them the general populace areas of the diplomatic deck an’ quick response duties. There’s been some...civilian unrest on the station, as of late.”

TRUNCATED

 

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