House Arrest House Call ((Porter/Spader))

[Jennifer Spader 0]

Spader checked her step walking back from the pylon where the newly-arrived Lieutenant Armstrong had sent her for her first patrol shift, glancing at the guard standing outside of an otherwise nondescript door.

 

"What's the occasion?" she asked the young crewman on duty, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Lieutenant Porter's quarters, ma'am. He fell in with Commander Chirakis," the crewman answered, as if that explained everything. Given the multiple sides of the story making the rounds, Spader was starting to doubt that it explained anything at all, at least as simply as it claimed to, but she just nodded and eyed the door for a moment thoughtfully.

 

"Here to check in on him?" the crewman asked, looking expectantly at her.

 

"No, I'm just--" Spader began, then paused. If she was to be completely honest, she was curious about these people currently behind bars. If they were innocent, she wanted to know how they'd ended up in this mess that had the whole station inside out, and if they were guilty...well, it took a certain kind of person to do that, and that in itself was a bit fascinating. "Yeah. Open her up. We'll make sure he hasn't started breakin' anything to stay occupied."

 

The crewman grinned faintly and turned, tapping the door open and taking up a guard stance at Spader's rear.

 

Porter sat on his sofa, or rather, Porter slouched on his sofa. He had let himself go a bit while confined to quarters. While he had considered not even showering for a while, as a way of protest, he found it impossible to stand the quite offensive BO, especially since he worked out a lot... push-ups, sit-ups and the like, as there was simply nothing else to do. But he hadn't shaved for days and he only wore gym shorts and an under shirt. He wasn't expecting any company he much cared about anyway. He hated being confined to his quarters, he would have preferred staying in the brigg. This was probably a way to make the others wonder what he had done to get special treatment. His life was a mess, a boring, excruciatingly unchanging large pile of vole droppings.

 

Spader came to a halt inside the door and looked around, doing a quick scan of the room and its contents before letting her gaze come to rest on its occupant, who looked about as pleased with his situation as she could reasonably expect him to. "Lieutenant," she said with a nod. She really needed to figure out whether he actually *was* still a Lieutenant; so far she'd been taking pains to treat everyone at least with enough respect to cover her rear in the event that they were all acquitted, but still...it was a weird balance to keep.

 

Porter looked to the door, not so much because he cared much for who came in, but because it was something new. But when he saw who actually had entered he was suddenly interested, he had never seen this gold shirt before, and to top it all off, the shirt was pretty. "I don't know if that's still the case, munchkin." When he heard his voice he was surprised it still worked, and amused that he still automatically tried to annoy the hell out of everybody.

 

Spader's eyebrow quirked up again at the diminutive. "Just bein' polite," she answered dryly. "Not sure anyone knows what's the case around here."

 

At this Porter scoffed: "Ya, middie, no kidding. Frankly, I have not the faintest idea what's the case around here either. The small, crazy man with the sacred cane won't clue me in. Anyway, what brings you to the sunshine cave? The amazing party I announced via the comm was a lie, by the way." It occurred to Porter to be nice for once, just to make sure that the middie wouldn't turn on her heel and walk back out again.

 

Spader smiled. I guess that answers the question of whether mutual respect is still required, at least with this prisoner. "Just doing the usual rounds, you know. I'm sure you're getting used to us poking our heads in every once in a while."

 

"Ah, indeed, but it's usually ugly heads that poke in. I'd offer you something to make up for the party thing, a drink, or cake, but I'm afraid I'm not allowed to use my replicator. The gnome in charge thinks I'm planning to overthrow him and all, so they pretty much left me here to rot." Potrer thought it'd probably not be a very wise move to let the goldie know that next time he saw Drankum he would have to fight his urge to strangle the Ferengi. Instead he just sat there and grinned at her. Yeah, she was really pretty...too bad he hadn't met her under other circumstances. On the other hand, some girls are into bad boys, or so he had heard.

 

Spader's grin widened a little; Mr. Porter was clearly a master of the backhanded compliment. "I wouldn't take it personally; standard procedure." Well...standard-ish, at least. Nothing about this is really standard.

 

"Ah, Midshipman Whatever-thy-name-may-be, everything's personal if they throw you in the brig for doing what you're supposed to be doing. Anyway, are you at liberty to bring me up to date? I mean, nothing classified yadda yadda, but it'd be nice to know whether the major planets still exist and the like. You know, general stuff." Actually Porter didn't really care, but he wanted the goldie to stay, talking to someone felt nice. "Oh, and by the way, I'm Porter; under normal circumstances we would have met at OPS."

 

"Spader," Spader answered, folding her arms. "And I'll be honest; I just got here. Probably know about as much as you do."

 

Porter frowned at Spader: "Welcome to Sky Harbor Aegis Midshipman Spader. You must be thrilled to be here, and under that Romulan, too. Theoretically. Who's in charge of security right now, anyway? At least you were lucky enough to miss the attack, but then you were still unlucky enough to be sent here at all."

 

"Better the wrong place at the right time than the wrong one," Spader said easily. Wouldn't be the first time on either count. "And Lieutenant Armstrong's down there now. Before that, was a fellow named Bean."

 

Not that Porter cared. "Right. So, what do we do now? The party was a lie, the cake was a lie, the allegations were a lie, you can't tell me anything exciting about station life..." Porter trailed off. Great, his boring life made him boring, too.

 

"But I didn't lie," Spader quipped. "So you can't tell me I'm not adding variety."

 

"You're quite right; I just didn't assume you stopped by for a chat. Mind you, you can stay for a chat anytime. Or for a drink, if you bring the drinks." Suddenly Porter was quite glad he had opted for the shower, though he was quite convinced the stubble contributed to his appearance, as everything would.

 

Spader laughed. "You're quite a host, Lieutenant." She shook her head slightly. "But I'm not makin' a social call. And seein' as how you aren't being a disruptive prisoner, I'll be heading on my way now."

 

Porter took the tray that was still on his coffee table and threw it across the room. "Ooopsie."

 

Spader watched the tray clatter by her feet and sighed, fixing him with a pointed look. "Don't do that...I'd have to send one of the 'ugly heads' in to keep watch over you and I don't think either of us would like that."

 

Porter shrugged. "Worth a try. Oh well, I sure hope you'll be coming by again one of these days, you know, to see if I'm being a good boy, or to execute me, or whatever it is that you do."

 

"One of the two," Spader said wryly. "Maybe even both at the same time, if I'm feeling industrious." Turning, she headed back towards the door, tapping on it to indicate the crewman outside should let her out. "You need anything, you know where to find us."

 

Laughing, Porter shook his head. "Yeah, I'll just ask one of the grunts outside to take me to their leader. Have a good day, Spader; at least one of us should have one."