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Yeoman C.

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About Yeoman C.

  1. "Captain!" A particularly bouncy yeoman... bounced into the Dameon's ready room. "Here's your coffee... and your morning steak... and I brought you a bone from the kitchens!" Corizon looked up from his coffee, ears lifted. What had gotten into his yeoman? "Mmm... thanks.... I think." "It looked nice and juicy." She looked very proud of herself, flopping happily onto his couch. "And your coffee is prepared the special way." Taking the mug she provided, he all but discarded the former. "So, what has you all excited?" "Well..." She grinned. "Have you seen the new security enlisted boy? The one who just moved up to Beta from Gamma shift? He has... well... even Xenexians would envy his eyes!" He held back a laugh and went back to the report he was reading on the first day of training. "No, but do tell me all about them." "They're... sparkling silver... like a beautiful metal or something... and kind of..." She blushed hotly, then glowered. "Well. He's not really Xenexian, anyway..." Looking up Corizon mentally ran through the species he knew that had such anatomical features. "We have a Morian aboard? You'd think I'd remember one of them." "No no... he's not Morian. Well. He could be, partly. He's a hybrid. I can't remember what the other species is. Eight-twenty-two-seven or something... they still aren't Federation. That's not the planet number, though. I can't remember it; I'm bad with numbers. But... they're those Romans," Odile added with a slight flare of disdain. Coffee flew onto the sceen. "Tell me his name wasn't something Quintus..." "Augustus Quintus," she replied, frowning at the mess that she'd have to clean up. Dutifully, she fetched a cloth. "Why?" "Oh dear god." "What?" Odile dabbed at the screen, wrinkling her nose a bit. By now the Dameon was laughing; after a few moments he caught his breath. "I knew his mother.... and his father.... wow....oh my." "Oh." Odile shrugged, tossing the towel in the 'cycler. "He seemed nice enough..." she added, trying to put in a good word for the lad. "I am sure he is... but let's just say that as unlikely couples go...those two were somewhere near the top" "At least he got nice eyes," the Xenexian observed. Unable to stymie his curosity, Corizon pulled up the personnel file. "Ha!" Hurrying behind him to spy, she peered over his shoulder. "Ha, Captain?" "I bet Julia was irate when he signed up for enlisted training instead of the academy." "Oh." She squinted at his education. "That school's pretty expensive..." "Not really an object. His mother was a Starfleet captain and his father was a commander and then Ambassador cum Secretary of State. I never knew they had a child." "Huh." Odile frowned. "Well, Starfleet does make some of the oddest couples," she noted, a little ruefully. "It'd be like Mac's kid being an enlisted," he said, looking through the file. "Did I mention they were Captain and First Officer on the same ship?" Odile's eyes bugged out at the mention of the very man she'd just been thinking of. "Well... uhm... and no, you didn't, but that's not unprecedented," Condacin glowered slightly. "Oh.... right..." "Yes," she mumbled, looking away for a moment. "Well it looks like I know who I am going to grab for your next day off." "Careful, Sir. You'd frighten most yeomans," she teased. He smirked. "I doubt I am the scariest thing he's seen. Besides I can tell him stories on his mother." Odile grinned. "Let's hope so. Did you want more coffee?" She half bounced to a cabinet -- that didn't store coffee -- waiting for his reply. "Oh yes, yes... I can't wait to talk to Julia when we get back."
  2. Corizon glanced at himself in the windows of the ready room, running his hands through his hair he considered his look. His normally straight hair lay unkempt and wavy at either side and gently fell on his shoulders. The black, coarse, calf-length leather jacket was dramatic, but it gave him plenty of places to hide weapons, communicators and a tricorder. A form-fitting top with buckles across the midsection and utility pants with knee-high boots completed the outfit. He thought he looked like a decent enough smuggler... or assassin. He wondered how long it would take before the door chimed. She was already late. About five more minutes. But the willowy Xenexian, as usual, didn't chime before entering, buried in a padd and toting a coffee for the captain. "I have a report from..." She glanced up; she stopped talking. A few blinks, and she gaped. "Um..." It took her more than a few seconds, but she smiled slightly. "That's... impressive, Captain..." He didn't turn to face her, simply continuing to stare out the window. "Your own outfit is laying on the desk, I pulled your sizes from your file." "Umm..." She glanced towards the parcel, then back towards the Dameon. "My... outfit?" "I am going to go scout around myself," he said, still not turning. "And I am sure as hell not going alone. Besides, if you're anything like the other Xenexian I know... well ... I am sure you know your way around the seedier places of the galaxy." Odile grinned at that. "It comes naturally -- my whole planet is seedy." She traded padd and coffee for the package, unfolding the contents carefully. "What's it look like?" "Nothing to risque," he finally turned, motioning to the folded clothing. "But you'll have no problem blending in." "I'll be back," she promised, picking up the clothing and looking it over. He was right -- there was nothing that she could complain about (and it was nothing like the lurid rumors of what the Orion and vampire went over wearing). Dark olive shirt, with loose sleeves (that almost looked like something in Xenexian fashions) with some kind of dark, basic pant that appeared to be some kind of skin, though not leather. She could work with it. "If I'm going seedy, I need my knife, and thanks to a certain captain, it's back in my quarters." "We'll get it on the way," he said through a smile. "Let's get going." She nodded, tucking her new clothing under her arm. "So who's the other one?" They'd already made it into the lift when she'd asked the question and he glanced over to her. "The other one?" "The other Xenexian. There aren't all that many in Starfleet yet. Maybe with admittance to the Federation..." Odile shrugged. "Oh," he said slyly as the lift stopped and they headed out to her quarters. "I don't know if you know him or not..." "Oh." She shrugged. "What province?" She chimed at her door, interestingly enough -- likely remembering some ill incident when she hadn't -- before blundering in. "Mac Calhoun ring any bells?" Odile stopped dead -- dead -- in her tracks, and when she finally turned around, her eyes were wide as saucers and she'd gone an ashen shade. "M... M'k'n'zy of Calhoun?" she squeaked out. "The Liberator? The M'k'n'zy of Calhoun?" "He hates that name you know." O'd'yl blinked, not able to comprehend. "You know him?" "We were at the Academy together." She half-collapsed, slumping against the support of the bunks. "You went to the Academy. With the Liberator. The savior of my people..." The expression she was wearing suggested that Corizon had just been elevated to god-status. "You... you've spoken to him, then..." "Drank with him on more than one occasion," Corizon smirked, nearly laughing. "Gotten kicked out of more than a few bars, too..." "Oh my gods..." She suddenly had the urge to bow or do something to show the highest respect possible. "You... I can't even imagine what that had to be like... he's so..." "So jackassed?" Odile's jaw dropped. "You... he... what?" "He's maybe the only bigger jackass in the fleet than me." "He's... a brilliant man... and so are you!" she added quickly. "I don't think "jackassed" is respectful enough for either of you..." She grabbed the knife and sheath out of her little safe, and re-gathered the clothes. "I'll just be a moment." Changing was half the excuse -- the other was that she felt very light-headed and didn't want to collapse in front of the Dameon. A minute or two later, she re-emerged, strapping on her dagger proudly. "There. First time I've felt properly dressed all day. So have you seen the sword?" she chirped. Corizon nodded and they headed out the door. Once they were back in the lift again he looked over. "Practiced with it." "You aren't serious." The doors opened and they were headed to the airlock. "Yup," he said non-chalantly. "We used to trade swords for practicing." "I... can't even imagine, Captain. How awe-inspiring..." "Not really," he said shaking his head as the passed through the air lock and the stench of the station hit them like a wave of photons. "We were both at the academy at the same time, we had a couple classes -- and we might have frequented the same bars. Besides, Shelby thought I'd be a good influence." "Oh. Her," she answered, wrinkling her nose at the scent -- and only the scent, she assured herself. "I hardly think the Liberator needed anyone to be a 'good influence'. He's about the..." She glanced at some short, stubby alien that looked to be giving her the evil eye and tried not to shudder. "I was saying that he's about the paragon of anything a person should want to be..." "Hero worship," he said pushing the drunk, blue-purple skinned alien out of his way. "Well, yes," she admitted, blushing darkly. "So what are we looking for here, anyway?" she asked, managing to tear the subject away from said hero. "The Orion and the Kitty's teams have found some information," he said as they came to a hall way lined with drunks, merchants, rodents and more drunks. "They've done a good job, but I want to see what I can find out for myself... I have a little more history in these places... although..." Odile squished a cockroach as they passed with a triumphant stomp, following onwards to try to keep up with him. "Good in the seedy spots yourself?" she prodded, suppressing a grin. "Yes," he was slightly distant. "...although..." "Oh, go on," she urged quickly. "I won't share any stories." "Last time I was in a place like this...." "You didn't have a Xenexian to watch your tail? I mean... metaphorically..." "I woke up in a Cardassian cell getting to know their hospitality." "A..." She peered at him with a horrified expression. "Captain, Sir..." again she was thrown far off, but not exactly in the same, bouncy way as she had been before. "You weren't... I mean they didn't... seek information?" she attempted, tact coming through for once in her life. "Tortured?" "Yes," she answered, her mouth suddenly dry. "As they defined it," he answered, as if it were a rather normal subject. "No... at least not that time." "You've been abducted by them... more than once?" she ventured hesitantly. "I've been a guest of the Obsidian Order and the Dominion twice now," he said, pushing his way into the nearest bar. "What lives we lead," she murmured, piecing together that "not that time" meant that the "other time", he had... "If I found those who responsible," she said quietly, "I'd rip out their hearts," O'd'yl promised, and from the anger in her eyes, she entirely meant it. "His name is Gul Mahet... he's running around my head," his voice half-lost as he went to the bar for a drink. The Xenexian puzzled over the comment, missing any irony of her trailing the Dameon in a puppy-like fashion. For the moment she kept silent -- and didn't order a drink (after all, she was still on duty), rotating between watching Corizon and the rest of the bar. Corizon had started a discussion with the barkeep, they were, after all, usually the best source of information in any bar, and generally, the only ones not two-sheets from the wind. "So tell me," he said taking a drink of something he could only describe as what he imagined the taste of liquid plasma to be. "If I were looking for something the Auntie has... how would I get there?" The barkeeper, a four-eyed, six limbed mangle of a thing looked at him rather oddly. "Which Auntie?" "More than one?" Odile asked, the half-trained sci-enlistee in her taking over. She slipped into the seat next to Corizon, tilting her head as she considered the... thing. "You two aren't from around here are you?" the bartender asked, and Corizon nodded. "I don't know what the jhamdj is going on," he continued, "but you're about the fifth person to ask where to find an Auntie..." A deep sigh escaped him and glanced to Odile. "They're already here...I told you we didn't need to stop at that last port... but no... you insisted." "They..." Odile took about half a second to pick up the banter. "I thought you insisted. You were the one who went off about their tailors." She sighed, eying what Corizon was drinking, and took the plunge. "I need what he has, clearly." The bartender handed her a drink, nodding his three chins. "So which Auntie do you have bounty to collect from?" "Wort," she answered, hand gripping her dagger's hilt reflexively as she processed the taste of the alcohol. Just a little less abominable than so-called "sand ale" -- which wasn't saying much. All four eyes blinked reflexively, then a low, deep chuckle that turned into a full out laugh. "You... are going... hunting for something of hers?" Odile looked to Corizon and shrugged. "The pay was right..." "Not all the kadenza in the sector could get me to go into the Thicket... not even for the Crownstone itself and all the money they would pay to have it back." Something told Corizon to ask the question that was in his head, the bile that passed for a drink told him not too... which was ironic. "So, how do we get there?" The tender took a drink himself; he wasn't sure anyone this dumb really existed. "Normally I charge for information, but good gods, you've got a deathwish." "Yes," Odile piped up, smiling a little. "I've heard it before. Now -- spill it." "Yeah, we've got deathwish covered," Corizon tipped his head towards Odile. "Now, like the woman said, where is it?"
  3. "I...I....ugh," the Xenexian fumbled for words. "I wanted to apologize for the other day..." She glanced around the ready room, suddenly wondering if this had been the best of ideas. Corizon looked up, "Huh?" "You know... when I accused you of..." she looked down again. "J'gztch't... with the vampi...err Lieutenant Victria..." Corizon chuckled. "Oh yes, the bestializing incident..." Odile looked ready to die. "Uhhh.... yes. So," she continued, hoping to mimimize the awkwardness of the situation, she handed over a lump of... paper wrapped around an object. "I bought you a present to apologize." "A... bone..." She nodded quickly, grinning. "It's a Satarimi amulet, though you could chew on it if you'd like, I'm sure. Maybe it's your lucky bone!" The Dameon looked at her for a very long moment, trying to proccess the situation and failing utterly. "My... lucky bone..." "You know... canines... always have bones to chew on..." Odile suddenly had the sense of being in a very deep chasm and using a shovel. "And it's a good luck amulet..." she stammered. "I'll make sure to get the slave a whip next place we're at," he said ruefully, biting on the bone and finding it utterly disgusting. She blinked a few times. "Sir?" "You know... slaves... always need a whip." "Slaves?" she asked, clearly baffled and horrified all in one. He pointed to her, trying his best to be serious. "Xenexians are to slaves, what Dameons are to the common canine." Her eyes widened. "Oh... oh!" She shook her head wildly. "Sir, I wasn't implying that you were... a dog... I'd just heard someone in medical commenting that you chew on bones... and..." "I do." "Oh." She tried thinking about that, then realized she was giggling. "Then it is a good gift..." "Now run along," he said chuckling. "I am sure you have duties to attend too." "Yes, Captain." She stood, nodding once, and unable to keep from smiling. "Enjoy the bone." He placed it on the edge of his desk, as not to offend the little Xenexian, and she scampered out, happy and certain that the captain would enjoy his present. See, she thought to herself. She was good at picking gifts.
  4. There was a decided "ew". "You eat those?" "Why yes! Though not at this stage -- only in the larval stage. They flavor drinks as tadpoles." Odile leaned closer, peering at the multilegged, oozing black... frog? It hardly seemed a frog. Most frogs she'd seen (offworld, naturally -- it wasn't as if Xenex had marshes and swamps to breed their own) were cute, and made pleasant 'ribbit' sounds. This sounded like an off-key dirge. "They spawn quite easily," the man hovering hopefully nearby was prattling. "You could have one... two... maybe three drinks a week with as many young as these produce." "Oh." She didn't quite know how to reply to that, tapping on the side of the cage. The frog-thing opened its mouth wide, and she saw several rows of serrating-looking teeth. "I don't think so. Maybe I'll think about it?" she tried. "Nonsense! I'll bundle two up for you!" "No!" she answered emphatically, distantly aware that a diplomatic incident would ensue from this. Oh, wait... a few of their boys had gotten arrested, so Odile couldn't do that badly... "But... you must!" "I can't pay! I don't have anything to barter with! I can't afford even half of one of these!" she volunteered in a moment of grand-idea. His eyes went wide, and his hand moved away from opening one of the tanks. "Oh... well then... yes... if you get something valuable to trade..." "Yes, this will be my first stop," she replied, relieved. "Very well. Good afternoon to you," he answered, finally, and Odile breathed a sigh of relief as he moved to his next customer. Pleased to be rid of that, she started moving through the market square with more careful glances at booths lest she be sucked back into a similar situation again. With a happy pat to the knife at her hip (she was off-duty, after all), she set out, quite in her element. Xenex had been on a barter-system since Odile was born. And though the Federation would attempt to bring in the omnipresent Credit as the unit of currency with Xenex's admission, the manner of bickering over prices for this scrying mirror for that goat wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. "I like those," she commented, looking at a few nicely-polished, gleamingly colorful gems. "What are they?" she asked the dealer, a timid-looking young girl. "They're... just some things my family has on the property. We sell larger boulders carved as furniture," the girl commented, pointing to a few chairs that had been hewn from the highest quality rocks. "But they're very expensive, as you'd guess... I just sell the little pebbles myself, for cheap, in case someone collects or something..." "Hmmm." Odile considered, picking out a few of the rocks. "Trade for these?" she offered, pulling out two ration-packs she'd... procured... while on Excalibur. "Ooh... food?" she asked. "Alien food!" Condacin had to snicker. "Yes. Alien food for alien rocks." "But these aren't alien... oh, I see what you mean." She nodded, grinning. "Very well -- that suits me." "Then thank you. But tell me... if I wanted to buy somebody a present... something... special, where would I go?" The sales-girl considered. "Maybe an amulet? There's an amulet dealer in that stall over there. Does your friend need good luck?" Odile considered, then nodded quickly. "Definitely. All the luck possible." "Then you want to get an amulet." The sales-girl grinned. "Have a nice day, stranger." "And you," she answered, already off on her next mission.
  5. "Ugh... what is that smell?" "What smell?" the command trainee asked, breathing solidly and only through her mouth. "It's over-freaking-powering! It's.... it smells like a pizza place in here!" "Pizza?" O'd'yl grimaced. "It's for health." "There's garlic..." her roommate complained, "everywhere!" "A lot of health." "Garlic?" "Well, we have a vampire on board. I looked it up. Garlic keeps them away." "... And makes our bunk smell awful." She waited a moment. "Is that why there's a crucifix over your bed, too? And here I thought you subscribed to old Earth religions!" "By all the gods, no." She looked around warily, tugging something out of her uniform that was on a chain; another cross. "See? I wear one for protection, too. Just had it replicated." "Ugh..." Clearly, she was wondering why she was stuck with such a roommate, and didn't say anything else before she flopped on her bunk -- and promptly bounced back off it. "Don't leave stuff on my bed!" she complained. "And what's with all the wood shavings?" "Well, I can't wear Knife, but there aren't regulations against carrying a stake..." "Oh, lord..."
  6. Someone was in Corizon's Ready Room, fiddling through a pile of padds and... stacking them, neatly. In fact, it looked like she had taken great cares to make his office look even neater than usual. She turned, eyes widening when she saw the fellow occupant of the room. "Oh, um... Captain! Just... dusting..." Corizon assessed the oddly eyed Xenexian. "Oh...you..." "I'm your new yeoman, Sir," she said, glancing down. "For awhile, anyway... I'm still in training, but I was the only free one on the station, and they said that you'd probably need one..." Growling he waved at the door. "I've never needed one before..." She looked up, and her face fell. "The commander said you'd be pleased to have the help with paperwork, and such... and I wanted to try out the command program..." Letting his frown dissipate, he took a deep breath. "Just...try to stay out of the way." The trainee smiled. "I won't cause any trouble, if that's what you mean. I'm not a typical ditzy yeoman, Sir -- I'm a science yeoman." "Oh so curious about everything...that helps..." He was clearly being sardonic. "Yes, indeed. I was lucky to be assigned to you. They said we were a good personality match, though I have no idea why..." She looked him over. "I never thought I was very caninoid." Rolling his eyes he took a seat behind his desk, frowning because now all of his things were out of order. "You're a Xenexian...I think that speaks for itself." "I am sure I don't know what you mean, Captain." She reached over, pulling out one padd. "Unless you mean because we're both fearsome warrior species." She set the data before him, and pat her knife. "Today's duty rosters, for your perusal..." "Don't wear that thing on duty," he said, looking at the padd. "Captain," she said, softly, "it has quite a bit of meaning. I'd prefer you granted me a permission for it..." "I am sure it does," he said, almost off-handed, "But I'd not let a Klingon carry around a bat'Leth. I am sure as hell not going to let my Yeoman carry around some Danteri knife she no doubt took from him before killing.." O'd'yl of Condacin blanched. "How did you know it's Danteri?" "It's clearly not of Xenexian origin..." he laid the duty roster down. "You can tell by the hilt and by the way it's forged. I can't imagine a knife from any other species being important enough for you to keep around." Condacin was staring at him in wonder. "You're right, Captain..." she murmured, awestruck. "But, please... I've been through the weapons courses, and I promise not to stab anyone with it... and if you insist it can be peacetied..." Looking up at her, his cold, yellow eyes now focused clearly on her. "I am sure you have; but I thought I was pretty clear. Don't wear it in my presence." Condacin nodded, numbly. "Very well, Sir," she replied, mumbling. "But it's my knife..." she added, longingly. Corizon didn't respond and went back to working on his paperwork. "And fetch me some coffee..." "Oh, yes. Time for a few quick questions," she was reminded, pulling out a padd of her own. "How do you take your coffee -- or tea?" Cooly, he kept working on whatever it was and only looked up to hand her a PADD before looking back down. "Black." She accepted it. "Do you have an alcoholic beverage of choice?" "An entire cabinet full," he said, pointing absently at the burled wooden cabinet on the far wall. "Ooh..." Odile glanced over and grinned. "Very well. I won't bring you liquor." She started to leave, and looked nervously at him on her way out. "You aren't one of those captains who thinks that a yeoman's duties go... into the realms of non-duty, I hope?" Non-plussed he again looked up at her. "Do I look like that kind of Captain?" Odile tilted her gaze, and then finally shook her head. "No, Sir. Pardon my asking, Sir. Dismissed, Captain?" "I am waiting on my coffee..." "Oh!" She scurried to the replicator, mentally chiding herself as she ordered the black beverage. "Here you are, then," she replied, pleasantly. "Anything else I can get you?" "A big juicy bone," he said, with heart-attack seriousness. Her eyes widened -- but he was a dog, she told herself, starting towards the replicator again. Rumor had it that someone on the ship drank blood. "T-bone steak," she almost whispered, her voice gone. "Extra rare," she ordered, and brought the tray over. "Anything... else?" she willed herself to ask. A slow, tempered grin formed on his face, and he took the cup holding the beverage into his hands. "It was a joke, a bit early in the morning for that kind of food. Check back in about an hour...I'll have some errands for you to run." "Oh..." Odile mentally kicked herself. "Sorry, Sir," she replied, and nodded. "I'll be back later, Captain." Almost cackling, Corizon mentally high-fived himself and went to work.