USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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Putain de Trous

Posted on Thu Sep 21st, 2023 @ 7:09am by Major Amelia St Lacroix & Master Sergeant Michael Buck

Mission: Shakedown Shake-Up
742 words - 1.5 OF Standard Post Measure

"Frankly Sergent I do not care what the Engineers have to say, the fact of the matter is that the idea of locking Marines out of their weapons lockers based on the needs of the dieu maudit Fleeter are unacceptable!" Amelia's annoyance was being accented and coloured by her French-Canadian upbringing, as French words slipped in past Federation Standard and overwhelmed the translator before it could catch up. "If I wanted to ask a Fleeter every time I took a piss, I would have joined Starfleet, not the Corps." She was worked up, and that itself was shown more than in her tone and fluctuating accent. No, the series of carefully constructed demolition charges she had been carefully working on were laid out in an array on her desk, like many would expect of a Marine with their rifle. She preferred distance, sure, but sometimes there was a place for explosives and traps. "If the Captain has a problem with it, he can come down and use the hole as a trou de gloire for all I care," she concluded, intentionally mistranslating the last bit.

Buck let out a sigh, first, he really had no intention of being intimidated or put off by the tone in which the Major had stated his rank. Buck had been around the Marine Corps long enough to demand the respect his rank and experience denoted despite not being an officer, and secondly, he had no idea what Amelia was saying when she started down her French rants. Unlike when they were clad in their smart computerized suits of armour, outside of them Buck tended to stick mainly to a simple earpiece and a weapon leaving him void of the fancy translation sets that were standard in Starfleet's commbadge.

Mostly, Amelia was just pissed at the situation and he knew that, it was all in handling officers. "Amelia, you know I can't understand you when you go down a French rant..." The Sergeant said as he pointed back towards the door leading to the corridor, "Regardless though of wanting access to your weapon and the computer pissing you off, you can't just cut a hole in it, you and I both know you could have gone to deck two and just taken the access ramp to the bridge, but instead you let your temper get the best of you and you cut a hole in the door."

Pointing back towards Amelia he let out a frown, "And we both know that Captain Darrow would have given you access to everything on the deck if you had told him before cutting up the ship. He fought alongside marines in the war, he knows our value unlike some of the newer officers like the ones that obviously designed this ship."

"It's not the access that is the problem," she said, her tone cooling off as she beset herself upon the explosives again, her fingers moving adeptly through the conplicated components. "And it was not the door, it was that damned grate they put in the way. What if the power is out, or the 'olomatrix is offline? The Marines are supposed to, what? Wait for the enemy to arrive, and borrow theirs? On that note, 'ave you seen the Jefferies Tubes? Can't 'ardly fit a child through them, let alone us if our lift is out." She grumbled along, annoyed at the situation in general. "As for asking for the Captain, what good does it do? Sure, he can authorize the damned program, but it doesn't solve the problem of access, there is no other entrance. That space was only meant for the 'ologram. So if we needed to get our weapons in an emergency, then we are fucked. I have solved a problem for the Engineers. Get Jack to put a prop-air door in there, and we'll staff with our own quartermaster. And if the Captain has an issue with that, he's welcome to come express it."

A pause hung between them, Amelia for the first time in a long time of her and Buck's relationship decided to take the space she knew she needed to cool her head. She knew he was right - of course Buck was right - but she still had boiled over and needed to come down from that froth. Her eyes returned to the bombs on her desk, and huffed. "Unless there is anything else, Buck, you're good to go."


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