Confined to Quarters ((Matthews/Caine))

[C.T. Caine 0]

Buddha...what the hell have you been doing?

 

Caine had gone to the marine barracks on the ship looking for Owen Matthews. He had been her closest teammate during the at best unsettling events on Corianis, he had no doubt by now received the word of the Soltan attack on Federation cargo convoys, the same as she had -- and the fact was, she needed someone to talk to. However, upon arriving on the Marine deck, she had been met with a couple of NCOs who had informed her, with emotions ranging from glee to disapproval to some shock, that the marine captain had been confined to quarters after talking with Commander JoNs. Thus, she had returned to the corridors and was now making her way for said quarters, and was wondering just what exactly had happened to put Buddha in this position.

 

Pausing in front of the door, she rang the chime and waited.

 

Owen was sitting on the sofa, a glass of amber liquid sitting on the table in front of him and a bottle of the same liquid 3/4 empty right beside it. He contemplated pretending he wasn't there but then remembered that he had been confined to quarters and that the news must have spread by now. "Enter," he called out glumly instead.

 

The door slid open and Caine stepped through, her eyes immediately tracking to Owen sitting against the far wall with a mostly-drunk bottle of liquor. "Started without me?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow and coming to a halt, hooking her hands behind her back.

 

Owen looked up briefly to see who'd just entered and he had to admit he was almost glad it was Caine. He jerked hi head in the direction of a cupboard with a couple of mugs and glasses and gave a non-committal grunt. It was impossible to misunderstand the meaning. He was inviting her to join him.

 

Caine wasn't averse to a good bottle of whiskey or so on occasion when the fit struck but she was more interested at the moment in figuring out just what had put Buddha in his quarters and drinking alone. "Thanks for the offer. What the hell happened?"

 

"Argument with JoNs," he said, not sure whether he really wanted to go into the details. Once his anger had worn off he had started to feel incredibly stupid about the whole business. Though he still felt that he had a right to be angry and frustrated at their latest orders, he realized that the XO was not to blame. "It's not a smart thing getting into a pissing match with your XO."

 

Caine's eyes narrowed in faint, wry amusement at the younger man. "Generally speaking, that is a very wise statement." She moved to a nearby chair and leaned her arms on the back of it, watching him across the liquor-laden table separating them. "What was the...argument...about?" she asked, though she had a feeling she already knew.

 

Having been staring at the glass in front of him Owen now raised his eyes to meet her gaze. "Sit down, already, will you?" He took a deep breath before going on. "I think I may have told her that making out in the locker room was still better than giving the order to subdue civilians without any cause." He resumed staring at his glass. "I could just as well have told her to go to hell," he added after another pause.

 

Caine angled herself around to slide into the seat she had been leaning on, watching Owen without blinking. When he had finished talking she let out a long, slow breath. "Well, I'll give you one thing...you certainly know how to make your points...dramatically," she said after a moment, her eyebrow quirking up again. "I take it she didn't take it well?"

 

"The Petty Officer did," he said with a wry grin. "Will...not so much. I mean, not that I tried making out with her." Owen broke off as he realized he wasn't talking much sense. "Anyway, I'm confined for quarters for now, as I'm sure you've found out. And I'm awaiting further disciplinary action. I bet she'll have me demoted...not a first, yanno."

 

Caine grunted. "Everyone's on edge; you may not be the only one in line." There was a short silence in which Caine's expression darkened as she reflected on the tension that was definitely making itself felt as a result of recent events, which increasingly seemed to be having the effect of turning the Federation in on itself as well as outward on its enemies. The Avaros insurgents, the Corianis crackdown, and now... "Do you have access to the wireless reports?" she asked after a moment.

 

Drowning the rest of his whiskey, Owen leaned back and groaned. "Yeah, well, if anyone else decided to question the XO's authority and her choices they have one big advantage. Do you realize that technically Medusa is my department head? When she learns of this...and you bet she will, she'll...well, I'm not sure I want to think about that. Come to think of it, she probably already has heard about it and is trying to come up with something appropriate." He opened his eyes again. "It's not gonna be pretty." As he studied Caine's expression he realized she wasn't talking about what he'd done. He suddenly sat bolt upright, staring at her. "What happened?"

 

"I'll take that as a no," Caine said, glancing at him. "Some freighter convoys and their escort got attacked...by Soltans. We picked up a news bulletin with a casualty list. It's...not a pretty sight."

 

Owen kept staring at Caine, the words not quite making it through the alcohol induce fog in his brain. When comprehension dawned he cursed, got up, walked up and down the room, cursed some more, walked again and sat back down, pouring himself another drink and taking a sip. "What's our ETA?" he asked, assuming Agincourt had been sent to investigate the incident.

 

"I haven't heard our orders yet. I don't know if we're being diverted," Caine replied tiredly. "All I know is what was sent to my desk, which is, so far, damned dry reading."

 

"This is exactly what I mean, you know," Owen suddenly burst out, jumping to his feet again. "We're on Corianis watching miners and the Soltans take out our freighter convoys. Tell me, what is wrong with this picture?" he said, looking defiantly at Caine, not even trying to compose himself.

 

"I know," Caine said quietly, watching Owen pace furiously. "The whole situation is coming apart at the seams, on every front." For the first time her tone betrayed a little bitterness, a frustration with the enormity of the problems they faced. It had surprised her how much the news of the renewed Soltan attack had angered her; the first sign of true offensive since the attack on Earth had twisted her stomach. But they had to remain focused, had to think. The situation was too dire to surrender oneself to blind anger, as Owen was doing his best to prove. "There was new tactical data taken in, however. We will keep preparing ourselves. We are still fighting, Buddha -- sometimes I wonder if you think we've already given up."

 

"Given up?" Owen said with a snort. "We haven't even started, Caine, that's what bothers me." He continued pacing, thinking about the time in the Perseus Arm, the attack on Earth, the events since then. Just remembering all this made the anger flare up inside him again. He turned around helplessly, not knowing what to do in his anger and frustration. A workout would have been just the right thing now but he was confined to his quarters. That thought didn't help one bit.

 

He came to a halt in front of a bulkhead, seemingly contemplating it for a moment. "ARGH!" he screamed as he punched the bulkhead as if it was to blame for everything. Then he leaned his head against it, feeling a dull throbbing pain in his right fist getting worse with every second. After another long moment he pushed himself off the bulkhead, swearing loudly as he looked at the piece of bulkhead he'd just punched, seeing it didn't have so much as a dent in it. Of course Owen knew that he wasn't nearly strong enough to damage a bulkhead but somehow the fact frustrated him even more.

 

Caine watched this performance with the same calmness that had marked her expression for this entire conversation, but her eyes narrowed with concern as he struck the bulkhead and she stood up, crossing next to him quickly and laying a hand on his shoulder, partly in a gesture of comfort, partly to prevent him from further injuring himself. She said nothing, however, just let his anger vent itself out.

 

Owen turned his head to look at Caine's hand on his shoulder. This display of concern, maybe even friendship on her part surprised him a little. He knew she was only half Vulcan but so far their relationship had been purely professional. He was also taken aback by just how much this meant to him. So far he had not really had a friend aboard Agincourt...it looked like that had now changed. "I just don't know what to do, you know."

 

Caine nodded. "I know. None of us do," she said quietly. "This sort of thing...well...as the man said, 'war is hell.'" She shrugged, squeezed his shoulder gently and released it, her arm dropping to her side. Then she smiled faintly. "But there's certainly nothing you can do with a broken hand."

 

Owen was actually grateful for Caine's words...not that he'd ever admit it. "Yeah," he said grinning sheepishly. "I guess you're right. Not that JoNs would let me do much at the moment anyway."

 

Caine chuckled. "JoNs knows what she's doing, I get the impression. She's young but she's certainly not stupid; she won't bench an able fighter permanently in this sort of game, not as long as she feels she can trust him. You'll be back in the game before long, assuming you keep your feet under you rather than in your mouth." Her expression grew just the slightest bit teasing.

 

"Oh, thanks for the advice, Junior," Owen answered pretending to be offended. "Mind coming to sickbay with me? I need my hand looked at and I'm not allowed to leave my quarters without security escort."

 

Caine quirked an eyebrow and gave him a mock-skeptical look. "Sure you're not just looking for an excuse to chat up the new Doc?"

 

"You do know me quite well, Caine. But no, not this time." He held out his hand so she could see the huge bruise forming on the back of his hand. "It hurts, yanno."

 

Caine refrained from the available sardonic comments about how punching a bulkhead tended to result in that kind of thing. Owen was taking this hard enough as it was, so she just nodded slowly. "Alright then, Mr. Matthews. Out we go. After you -- gotta keep an eye on you, after all."

[Kansas 0]

Owen leaned back and groaned. "Yeah, well, if anyone else decided to question the XO's authority and her choices they have one big advantage. Do you realize that technically Medusa is my department head? When she learns of this...and you bet she will, she'll...well, I'm not sure I want to think about that. Come to think of it, she probably already has heard about it and is trying to come up with something appropriate."

While I'd never ever ever ever deny that Colonel 'Medusa' Harper is anything but a raven haired, no nonsense, and tough marine bad @ss and may all the divine powers in the universe help you and the angels and ministers of grace defend you -- won't do any good though -- if our commanding officer does happen to be swooping down on whoever has royally screwed up...

 

...what makes you think you'd necessarily need to worry about Medusa more so at this point in time....

 

I really do not know. Where you got. That impression.

 

Mister Matthews.

[H'Rasha Trenral 0]

He came to a halt in front of a bulkhead, seemingly contemplating it for a moment. "ARGH!" he screamed as he punched the bulkhead as if it was to blame for everything. Then he leaned his head against it, feeling a dull throbbing pain in his right fist getting worse with every second. After another long moment he pushed himself off the bulkhead, swearing loudly as he looked at the piece of bulkhead he'd just punched, seeing it didn't have so much as a dent in it. Of course Owen knew that he wasn't nearly strong enough to damage a bulkhead but somehow the fact frustrated him even more.

While I'd never ever ever ever deny that Colonel 'Medusa' Harper is anything but a raven haired, no nonsense, and tough marine bad @ss and may all the divine powers in the universe help you and the angels and ministers of grace defend you -- won't do any good though -- if our commanding officer does happen to be swooping down on whoever has royally screwed up...

While I appreciate the job security, I really do, if this keeps this up we will run out of painkillers. Then I'll have to ask if we can stop at the nearest Class M so I can rummage around for some herbal style substitutes if we don't get a resupply. If you think going to sickbay is unpleasant now, wait until I have to start rubbing smelly home-brewed ointments over y'all. :)

[C.T. Caine 0]

If you think going to sickbay is unpleasant now, wait until I have to start rubbing smelly home-brewed ointments over y'all. B)

 

I dunno, I get the impression Owen might enjoy that. :)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Find a planet that is currently in the rainy season for one of it's hemispheres.

 

If you can, replicate a gun carriage or have the greasemonkeys build one...a cargo crate weighted down with some supplies can work as an alternative.

 

Tie the reprobate officer to the object in question, and leave 'em grounded there in the rainy hemisphere for a good few hours.

 

Tied to a gun carriage and left out in the rain.

 

Mm Hmm.