Ficlet: Aboard the USS Saint Trinian (St. Trinians)
Just a bit of something, written while I was supposed to be writing something else:
First Mate Annabelle Fritton stood up from her chair as Captain Kelly Jones arrived on the bridge. "Captain," she said, as was proper and expected on a Federation Starship. Even a ship as unconventional as the USS Saint Trinian. Her re-assignment to the ship hadn't actually been a promotion for Annabelle, but Aunt Camilla, aka Commodore Fritton, had said, "Nonsense, girlie." (And that was another form of address that reminded Annabelle that her aunt had also spent years aboard the ship.) "It is the best place for you, until the recent unpleasantness blows over. Nobody will look at you sideways on the Saint Trinian."
As the newest member of the crew, Annabelle was still learning the unwritten rules: when she was expected to maintain Fleet regulations and when she was expected to turn a blind eye, how much she could alter her uniform without comment, and whether she should mention the still that the First Years were running out of the hydroponics department.
"Thank you," said Kelly, sitting in the command chair and crossing one flawless leg over the other in her entirely non-regulation skirt. "Report."
"We're still on track to reach Ariansis Four by tomorrow," Annabelle said. "Engineering is worried about the state of our crystals. Polly says they're degrading faster than they should and asked if we could swap in new ones during planet-fall. The ship would have to be powered down for at least 12 hours."
Kelly pressed her lips together. "No, I think we should be ready for a speedy exit at any time. I'll discuss it with her. Crew reports."
The crew members at their stations reported -- largely nothing of interest, although Chelsea said she had managed to start picking up intrasystem chatter around Ariansis.
"Good," Kelly said. "There's something that strikes me as not-quite right with this meeting. Andrea, you'll have the comm while we're planetside. Annabelle, Chelsea, Taylor, you'll come with me."
"Captain," Annabelle felt impelled to interrupt, "Taking so much of the command crew on an away team is discouraged by Starfleet regulations-"
"But not actually forbidden," Kelly said.
"Would that actually stop you?" Annabelle asked.
Kelly just smiled and went on, "Chelsea and Taylor, see what you can find out through unofficial channels."
Annabelle knew enough that that meant Chelsea was likely to seduce someone while Taylor would ply someone else with intoxicants, and both would expertly extract information. The methods of the Saint Trinians crew were notorious and Annabelle had been assured that their reputation was entirely deserved. Misfits, miscreants, and unrepentant agents of chaos from all over Starfleet -- and Annabelle admitted that she was now one of them -- might once have been drummed out of the service, but were now funnelled to a few ships that were sent on the missions where failure was expected and a successful completion would be useful enough that Starfleet could ignore a great deal of unconventional behavior.
"Just in case we run into trouble," Kelly said, "ready the Twins and Flash as an extraction team."
"Tara and Tania are still in the brig," Annabelle reminded her. When the crews of the Saint Trinian and the USS Cheltenham were on shore leave at the same time, a brawl was almost guaranteed, but the Twins had won decisively and visibly enough that they were arrested and brought up on charges, again. Kelly had had to wangle an agreement with the Base Judiciary to keep them confined for the duration of their sentence in order to get them back aboard before the ship left port. She'd obeyed the letter of the law, although visiting hours had been extended and their cell now looked more like a recreation room.
Kelly sighed, and thumbed the intercom. "Brig, I need to speak to one of the Twins. Oh, and release them both."
The security officer said, "Okay, Kelly. But what about the last two weeks of their sentence?"
"Yeah, Kel, what about it?" said one of the Twins over the intercom.
"You can serve the rest of your time when we're in deep space. For now I need you armed and ready to rumble."
"Yay!"
Crossposted here (
comments).
First Mate Annabelle Fritton stood up from her chair as Captain Kelly Jones arrived on the bridge. "Captain," she said, as was proper and expected on a Federation Starship. Even a ship as unconventional as the USS Saint Trinian. Her re-assignment to the ship hadn't actually been a promotion for Annabelle, but Aunt Camilla, aka Commodore Fritton, had said, "Nonsense, girlie." (And that was another form of address that reminded Annabelle that her aunt had also spent years aboard the ship.) "It is the best place for you, until the recent unpleasantness blows over. Nobody will look at you sideways on the Saint Trinian."
As the newest member of the crew, Annabelle was still learning the unwritten rules: when she was expected to maintain Fleet regulations and when she was expected to turn a blind eye, how much she could alter her uniform without comment, and whether she should mention the still that the First Years were running out of the hydroponics department.
"Thank you," said Kelly, sitting in the command chair and crossing one flawless leg over the other in her entirely non-regulation skirt. "Report."
"We're still on track to reach Ariansis Four by tomorrow," Annabelle said. "Engineering is worried about the state of our crystals. Polly says they're degrading faster than they should and asked if we could swap in new ones during planet-fall. The ship would have to be powered down for at least 12 hours."
Kelly pressed her lips together. "No, I think we should be ready for a speedy exit at any time. I'll discuss it with her. Crew reports."
The crew members at their stations reported -- largely nothing of interest, although Chelsea said she had managed to start picking up intrasystem chatter around Ariansis.
"Good," Kelly said. "There's something that strikes me as not-quite right with this meeting. Andrea, you'll have the comm while we're planetside. Annabelle, Chelsea, Taylor, you'll come with me."
"Captain," Annabelle felt impelled to interrupt, "Taking so much of the command crew on an away team is discouraged by Starfleet regulations-"
"But not actually forbidden," Kelly said.
"Would that actually stop you?" Annabelle asked.
Kelly just smiled and went on, "Chelsea and Taylor, see what you can find out through unofficial channels."
Annabelle knew enough that that meant Chelsea was likely to seduce someone while Taylor would ply someone else with intoxicants, and both would expertly extract information. The methods of the Saint Trinians crew were notorious and Annabelle had been assured that their reputation was entirely deserved. Misfits, miscreants, and unrepentant agents of chaos from all over Starfleet -- and Annabelle admitted that she was now one of them -- might once have been drummed out of the service, but were now funnelled to a few ships that were sent on the missions where failure was expected and a successful completion would be useful enough that Starfleet could ignore a great deal of unconventional behavior.
"Just in case we run into trouble," Kelly said, "ready the Twins and Flash as an extraction team."
"Tara and Tania are still in the brig," Annabelle reminded her. When the crews of the Saint Trinian and the USS Cheltenham were on shore leave at the same time, a brawl was almost guaranteed, but the Twins had won decisively and visibly enough that they were arrested and brought up on charges, again. Kelly had had to wangle an agreement with the Base Judiciary to keep them confined for the duration of their sentence in order to get them back aboard before the ship left port. She'd obeyed the letter of the law, although visiting hours had been extended and their cell now looked more like a recreation room.
Kelly sighed, and thumbed the intercom. "Brig, I need to speak to one of the Twins. Oh, and release them both."
The security officer said, "Okay, Kelly. But what about the last two weeks of their sentence?"
"Yeah, Kel, what about it?" said one of the Twins over the intercom.
"You can serve the rest of your time when we're in deep space. For now I need you armed and ready to rumble."
"Yay!"
Crossposted here (
comments).