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How not to make friends and influence people

Posted on Wed Apr 11th, 2018 @ 1:56am by Commander Alexandria 'Alex' Harper & Captain Calvin Myers

Mission: The Junk Heap
Location: Captain's Ready Room

Miasma wasn't a word that Alex typically associated with ships, but the Century had this presence. There was this smell that pervaded everything like a theme. A slight metallic taste to the air that leaned more towards coolant leak than blood. A regular pattern of staining that claimed disuse and a lack of caring that actually felt a little like home. Maybe for her, but Eric deserved better. If shotty maintenance had killed her husband, she'd be damned if her brother would serve on another rust bucket and risk the same fate. That meant there was only one thing to do: kick the bitchfest into overload right off the bat. It'd only hurt her record- not that it could suffer more than it already did without dropping ranks. Even then, Alex didn't really care.

She swept onto the bridge like a storm rolling in hot and livid, fed wild energy and a general need to protect Eric. She padded it with every insult, pass over, threat and disappointment that she could find before charging, uninvited, into the captain's ready room. As the computer had said, there he was: Starfleet poster boy pretty. Somehow that pissed her off even more. Alex pointed an accusing finger right at the man and bit off a hearty "Fuck you!"

Calvin looked up from his PADD, confused, and regarded the woman for a moment before nodding, "Okay, sure. Seems like that fits for today," He said, simply, clearly non-plussed by this sudden insubordinate interruption.

Alex balled up her fists and placed one on each hip as she pinned the man with a sour expression. "You're supposed to go along with this shit. I'm not causing a scene for nothin'."

"Calvin cleared his throat and sat back in his chair a little, eyes narrowed at the apparently very angry woman before him, "Why... uhm... why are you causing a scene again? I mean, I appreciate the emphasis, but 'Fuck you' leaves so much unanswered," He said, conversationally.

"You'll get tired of me in about two days, ditch me after three months, so I'm circumventing the small talk and just going for the gusto." She leaned against the doorway, still coiled like a cat ready to pounce if need be. "Fuck off. Kick me now and bar my brother from the ship. You need me to throw things, I can do that. I'm not above setting fires, either. Whatever works for you, darlin'."

"Ooooohhh," Calvin said, slowly nodding his head. "I get it. You think I want to be here. That I got choices on who my crew was and all that and that I can just call up my old buddies at Starfleet Command and boom, I've got me a new XO, huh?" Calvin asked, smiling sweetly. He stood, somewhat abruptly and the sugary facade faded, "I'm stuck with you, darlin', and you're stuck with me. So you can 'fuck off' your way back down to your quarters, get in uniform and get to work, or you can stand here and try to light shit on fire until I kick you in the head. How's that sound?"

His bluster back didn't even phase Alex, who quirked a dark brow as if to further some unspoken insult. "Fine, then I'll stay, but keep him off, okay? I'm not losing my last relative to another bucket of bolts 'cause some drunk-assed tech didn't service a shuttle right. Bar 'im and I won't give you the shitstorm that I reserve for most people."

"No," Calvin said, flatly.

"Why? You plan on taking care of your marines? 'Cause most captains don't. You plan on riding roughshod on engineering to make sure that everything's dotted and crossed? 'Cause most COs don't. And if you don't want me bein' an iron bitch about all of that, then I'm not your best pick. I swear to god, I'll break his legs rather than give him up to one more person not giving a shit. So you'd best promise me- and make it good- that you aren't 'most captains' or so help me.." The glare Alex gave him was pure murder in three easy steps. "My threats are the least of your worries, hoss."

"I. Am not. Most. Captains," Calvin bit, back. "So fuck your threats, fuck your attitude, and fuck you for *still* being out of uniform when I gave you a direct order to get into uniform or start lighting fires so I have reason to kick you in the head," He replied, never cracking a smile, even though the insane humor of what he was saying was not lost on him.

"That ain't a promise," Alex roared in response. "And I don't follow every order 'specially when I'm tryin' to get booted off a ship!"

"You come into my ready room, telling me 'fuck you', you never even bother to ask me who I am or what I'm about, but now you expect me to be making all sorts of promises about my ability to do my damn job? You can kiss any hope of getting booted from my ship. I'll block every request you make to get off this ship or get your brother off, you mark my words on that. I'll do my damn job, you better damn well do yours. What is your job anyway? Huh? Who the fuck are you?" He asked.

"I'm your damn XO," she sniped back. "So yeah- we better work this shit out- 'cause I'll dog the ever loving fuck out of you if you walk on the backs of your crew. I don't care about rank or status or looking good. Treat 'em right and you'll smell like a freakin' flower. I can make that happen. I can be good at my job. My last four COs failed that test and I'm tired of stackin' bodies."

"How about you let me stand on my own two feet, huh? Stop assuming I'm like your other COs. Go get in uniform, Commander. We'll talk later," Calvin said. If this was his XO, he didn't want to meet the rest of the crew. At least the Sec/Tac officer seemed nice enough.

"Guess I said my peace anyhow. Just know that I'm watchin'," Alex fumed. She kicked his doorframe for good measure, then stomped out without anything resembling a salute.

Calvin held a glare until he was sure she was out of earshot, then started laughing incredulously. Holy hell... He marched back over to his desk and found her entry in the PaDD of crew assignments. What was her problem, anyway?

 

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