IX: You Just Gotta Make Your -Own- Fun
Mess Hall, TCS Gallante
0828 Hours, Local Standard
“Sack-bellied strumpet!”
“Limp headed jackass!”
“Mealy-mouthed crotch pheasant!”
Finally, the heated verbal exchange began to take its toll on the two combatants. Imoen was the first to flinch, her eyes going wide as saucers; her jaw began a slow, inexorable trek towards the floor. For several seconds, the rest of the Omegas - the rest of the Mess Hall even - stared blankly at her, whereas nobody noticed Jaheira taking her frustrations out on the wall next to her.
Abruptly, however, the younger Llyr burst out laughing. She found the nearest chair and sat down hard, laughing so riotously she’d gone silent. An instant later, Falynn followed suit, barely able to remain standing herself. Most of the Mess Hall’s occupants had stopped what they were doing, all of them oddly - perversely - fascinated by the unfolding exhibition.
Falynn grinned, her smile playing counterpoint to the words coming out of her mouth. She planted her fists on her hips, trying her best to look intimidating and failing miserably. She kept trying, anyway. “Hey, what is this, people? None of you ever seen a familial spat before? Get out of here… DISmissed!” She kept up her “annoyed stare” for several seconds, then finally called it quits and pulled up a chair next to the still chuckling Imoen.
“So… can I have Lester back now?”
“Sure… (Snicker) here’s your goat back… I won’t take him again, I promise. Now how about you hand over Mr. Bonkers?”
Lynn gave the bear another squeeze; the bear’s arms flailed slightly in response. “I think that’s a fair trade… though, uh…” She frowned, sympathetically, “the stitching on the back of his left ear looks to be coming loose.”
Imoen’s hand shot to her mouth as she tried to stifle an astonished gasp. “Oh, no…” she looked up, her apprehension clearly evident. Sitting only a few feet away from the two, Jaheira was staring at the pair with a mix of mystification and wry amusement. Imoen made a plaintive, desperate appeal. “Jaheira -“
Omega 3 was not moved. “I am not suturing up your bear…”
“B- but…”
“And before you ask, if you impale yourself with a needle while trying to fix him yourself, I won’t be treating those injuries, either…”
“You’re mean.”
A twisted smile. “Got it in one.”
Falynn wrapped a compassionate arm around her younger sister’s shoulders and hugged tightly. “It’s ok… I’ll help you…” With a sense of timing clearly possible only through some… semi-mystical twin thing… the two siblings turned in unison and stuck their tongues out.
“Thppppt.”
Jaheira merely rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the childish gesture.
“So… how are the eggs this morning?”
Imoen, disgusted, let her fork drop. It clattered against her tray. “Oh, it’s like a party in my mouth, Lynn… and everyone’s throwing up…”
Omega 1 winced. “Could be worse. Could be ‘corn and mayonnaise’ day.”
“I hear ya, sister. Hey… check it out…”
Someone familiar was approaching their table.
“Major…” the new arrival said politely, in her crisp, Aldebaran accent. She stood barely over three feet tall, but exuded enough confidence for someone three times her height. Her uniform was impeccably pressed – everything just so. The rank bars were perfectly straight, though aside from that, the only device she wore on her shirt was a silver insignia depicting a pair of crossed rifles – that of the Army Infantry Corps. Her short, reddish hair was cut just shy of regulation length; it hung tidily around her ears, stopping well above her shoulders. She saluted smartly; Falynn idly returned the salute, though the halfling didn’t notice. Her attentions seemed to be focused solely on Imoen.
“Lieutenant Llyr…” she said, neutrally.
“Captain Fentan…” Imoen’s reply was equally devoid of emotion.
Mazzy Fentan skipped the preamble and got straight to the point. “I suppose you thought that was funny, hmmm?”
Imoen shrugged innocuously. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about…”
“Oh, I see. So it wasn’t you who treated all the 8 Deck toilet seats with Icy-Hot…”
“Someone put Icy-Hot on the toilet seats? He-hey… now there’s a good idea…” Imoen snapped her fingers, as if lamenting something. “Wish I’d thought of it…”
“Don’t you have better things to do than play all these juvenile pranks on people?”
Imoen stood her elbow on the table, then planted her chin on her fist. “Well…” she began slowly, “I suppose I could come up with some pre-pubescent pranks… or maybe some adolescent ones… you know, as opposed to the juvenile ones…”
Mazzy’s shoulders seemed to slump in defeat. “Lieutenant, are you… physically incapable of taking anything seriously?”
Serious pondering ensued. The eventual reply was no-nonsense and businesslike. “According to the neurosurgeons who excised a quarter of my brain’s frontal lobe? Yes.”
Fentan’s jaw dropped. Her mouth worked silently, but she couldn’t seem to find any words to go with her jawing. Finally, she determined it was a futile endeavor. “Bollocks…” she grumbled, then walked away.
Imoen smirked, raising her hand to add another tick on an imaginary chalkboard. “Mazzy: Zero. Me: Well… a lot…” She chuckled softly to herself then caught note of Falynn’s somewhat surprised expression.
“Did she just say ‘bollocks’?”
“Why, yes… I believe she did!”
Lynn sniffed. “Baby’s first vulgarity… I’m so proud!”
“Makes ya just wanna cut her tongue out and stick it in a scrapbook, doesn’t it?”
Blink blink. “Er… nooo…”
“Awww, c’mon… we could just give her a cloned replacement from an Altairian prairie mouse. Not too hard a surgical procedure. You could handle the operation, couldn’t you, Jaheira?”
A sigh. “I suppose… wait… NO!”
“You people are no fun.”
Valygar cleared his throat audibly. “Major? Respectfully, if we could-“
Falynn held up a hand to cut the NCO off before he could really get going. “All right, all right, gang… pull up some chairs. We need to have a little chat… I’m guessing you all have some idea as to what…”
“Why do I get the feeling this discussion is going to involve the Alcor situation?” Jaheira Marael was -always- well informed.
“That’s because you’re smarter than you look…” Lynn grinned. She picked up a straw wrapper from Imoen’s tray, rolled it into a little ball and plinked Jaheira on the nose with it. The half-elf wasn’t laughing.
“Ok… before we get started, introductions are in order.” She motioned to Valygar. “Sergeant Valygar Corthala, 82nd Army Rangers, say hello to Specialist 2nd Class Jan Jansen, Confed Engineering Corps – Omega 5. Lance Corporal Minsc Vaonnor, ConWeaps – Omega 4. 1st Lieutenant Jaheira Marael, SpaceOps, 1st Pararescue – Omega 3. You’ve already met Omega 2, and, of course...” Falynn indicated herself with an overly dramatic gesture “I’m your host, Chuck Woolery…”
The ranger nodded politely. “A pleasure.”
Imoen smiled teasingly. “Liar.”
Falynn’s mood sobered quickly. “Anywho… down to business… newsnets have been hopping these past few hours. I’m sure you’ve all heard what happened,” she said, somberly.
The crew nodded glumly. They’d all expected it to happen sooner or later… though, obviously, they’d all hoped it’d be later.
Lynn sighed, suddenly feeling her age… and then some. “So, it looks like we’re back in business. Here’s the situation: Best we can tell, a Dominion invasion fleet hit the Alcor system early yesterday afternoon. They stormed through the jump point, waxed a Confed medical transport.” Jaheira in particular, grimaced more than the rest at that one. “Then, they decided to use the Alcor III orbital platform as target practice.”
“The few reports we have are sketchy at best, but we believe the platform personnel managed to follow through with Cole protocol before evacuating to the planet’s surface.”
“Not like it’d help much…” Imoen commented morosely.
“Right. Anyway… the Gallante’s hooked up with the Concordia task force… we’re going to try and hop in, see if we can’t cut the legs out of this little invasion the orcs got going. Specifically, we’re probably going to get shipped down to the planetary surface. We’ll likely be hitting troop marshaling points, supply convoys, maybe even orcish command and control centers… anything that looks like the Dominion built, we’ll smash.”
“Extended deployment…” Jaheira muttered.
Falynn grimaced and nodded in the affirmative. “Probably.”
Nobody liked that idea much. Most elite units (the Omegas certainly counted as such) weren’t really intended for extended field operations. Quick, precise strikes. In and out before anyone even knew they were there: that was their strength, that was what they had trained for. A long-term campaign to retake an entire planet seemed far beyond their scope, even with several full divisions of Confederation Army troops on the ground with them.
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more… we don’t have the data for it. The Captain ordered some recon drones out a couple of hours ago; they should be hitting the Alcor jump point fairly soon, and I’ll let you know as soon as we get something tangible outta them. But for now…”
Valygar almost smirked. “We hurry up and wait?” he asked.
Falynn -did- smirk at the age-old military “joke.” “Yeah. We wait. Navigation claims they’ll have us on station some time this afternoon. I want you all ready for an op by then. Do what you have to. Hit up the quartermaster for gear if necessary. Beg, borrow or steal what you need. We get top priority on equipment requisitions, as always.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
Jaheira raised an eyebrow, not fully satisfied with that answer. Falynn certainly seemed to have something else on her mind. “Not really?”
Lynn shrugged and took a breath. “Well… I’d suggest you enjoy your last couple of hours before we have to get all serious and mission-y, but I’m sure you’ve all figured out how lousy the Gallante’s rec facilities are.”
Imoen got that look in her eyes. “Not a problem. You just gotta make your -own- fun.”
And she was off…
“I get the feeling I’m not going to like what’s going to happen,” commented Jaheira.
“It’s probably just gas. Are you gassy? It’s ok if you’re gassy, just tell me if you’re gassy.” From serious to silly in the blink of an eye, Major Falynn Llyr was a chameleon.
“What do you think she has planned?” Jaheira had gotten mostly accustomed to the wackiness a long time ago. She’d perfected her methods of ignoring the worst of the asinine offenses.
“Not sure… though it’s definitely got something to do with that container of maple syrup she’s got hidden behind her back.”
Jaheira sighed. “I’ll go find a medkit.”
“Probably a good idea.”
