Strangers in the Night

[Commodore Moose 0]

Strangers in the Night

June 7, 2154

 

The tavern was crowded and noisy, in spite of the late hour. This did not surprise Fitzgerald M. "Bull" Moose as he sat at the tightly packed bar waiting for his drink. The increased production schedules meant there was a lot of steam to blow off. Work hard, play hard ... it could have been the fleet motto.

 

Finally, the bartender set his drink down on the counter, but before he could respond, and woman holding a data padd took the glass from him. She sipped it and started telling off the bartender. "This is the well liquor," she scolded the bartender. "Do you think the Commodore wouldn't notice inferior scotch? Top shelf only, and quickly. He's been waiting long enough."

 

Moose stared at the woman intently. She was young, anywhere from 18 to 23 he guessed. Her long, brown hair waved fully, framing her face. She had more freckles than Moose had ever seen on a single person, and they circled her face in a neat row like an asteroid belt. "What the hell are you?" he asked.

 

"I'm your assistant," she answered calmly. "Mirona Alces, Yeoman 1st class. Admiral Forrest sent me to look after you."

 

"That isn't what I meant," he said. "And what do you mean you're here to look after me?"

 

"If we're going to work together, we'll have to be blunt with one another. Your record is clear, Commodore. No one gets the job done like you do, but you're not the best with paperwork and status reports. Admiral Forrest felt I could be an asset to you."

 

"Why that meddling, son of a dog," barked Moose in a tone that brought a hush to even this loud a crowd. "He has been doing nothing but interfere with my staff since he hired me. He promises the First Officer job to any diplomat who puffs his chest ... he takes calls from Engineers requesting spare parts ... do you know he even went down to the Caribbean to drag some weapons guy off leave? If he wants to run around the planet handing out patronage jobs, he can Captain the ship himself and spare me the trouble."

 

"Shall I tell him that, sir?" asked Mirona innocently?

 

"I'll tell him that myself, thank you," said Moose, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. "You've got spunk, Yeoman. I'll give you that. What tattoo parlor did he find you in?"

 

"Oh, my spots? I'm from the planet Trill," she said. At that moment, a young blonde woman came up and whispered in her ear. Mirona responded in a language Moose didn't recognize. They chatted back and forth for a bit before she addressed the Commodore again. "My family has ties to the Denobulan government. They brought me into Starfleet through the Species Exchange Program."

 

"And who is she, your assistant?"

 

"Oh no," giggled Mirona. "That's Liona. She's my guardian."

 

"Your guardian? Just how old are you anyway?"

 

"How old do I look?" asked Mirona coyly.

 

"Not old enough to be drinking scotch in dark bars late at night with old men," he responded. "You're 23 at that most."

 

"Lucky guess," she said. "I'm 23 exactly. My people seldom travel off world, sir. It is our custom to be accompanied by a guardian when we do."

 

"So she follows you everywhere?"

 

"Everywhere. Yes, sir. It is our way."

 

"I see ... does she drink scotch too?"

 

"No, sir," said Mirona. "Liona doesn't relax much."

 

"How lucky for us," said Moose, taking a long draw from his scotch. "Have you met Commander Moore yet?"

 

"No sir," said Mirona. "I haven't had the pleasure."

 

"Find him first thing tomorrow. I don't want that Sieben guy turning into a problem. We can't stop the Admiral from butting in, but Elias can make sure that no one does an end run around him a second time."

 

"I'll see to it, sir."

 

"And while you're out and about, swing by the armory. I need a volunteer or two for a little security project. I hear there's a new gal out there who's tougher than nails."

 

Mirona consulted her padd briefly. "Would that be Liliana Hamilton? She just arrived yesterday."

 

"That would be her. I'm very concerned about the destruction of the Vulcan ship T'Kel and what that means to Challenger. We're going to have to take a pro-active stance with security. Have Mr. Hamilton come see me."

 

"Mr. Hamilton?" asked Mirona. "Her name is Liliana."

 

"No fleet officer is going to be discriminated against based on their gender, Yeoman. If I don't address someone by their title, then I'm going to call them Mister. That is my way."

 

"Understood, Commodore. I'll have Mr. Hamilton find you."

 

"Excellent."

 

"Is there anything else, sir?"

 

"Yes. Go get some sleep, and report to me at 0700 hours tomorrow. Be prepared to run yourself ragged. We've got a lot of work to do."

 

"Aye, sir."

 

Moose watched the young woman as she left the bar, her faithful "guardian" Liona following respectfully behind her. There was more to that relationship than Mirona was letting on, but Moose knew better than to bulldoze his way through an alien's personal secrets. She'd tell him when she was ready.

 

He watched her stop near the door to talk briefly with the bartender. The conversation was short, and very animated. With moments, the bartender had scurried over with a fresh scotch for the Commodore.

 

Forrest was right. Mirona was going to be quite an asset.

 

Commodore Moose

The Challenger Project, Earth