USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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Cinnamon, Spice, and Everything Geukyeom

Posted on Sun Oct 29th, 2023 @ 8:00am by Lieutenant Commander Asahi Kita

Mission: Shakedown Shake-Up
Location: Esquimalt Station
649 words - 1.3 OF Standard Post Measure

It was a normal day on the Esquimalt landing pad. Shuttles were ferrying passengers and crew in and out. Customs officers were having their usual arguments with cargo pilots who 'could have sworn they labeled everything' and should have just been let through. It could have gone all day without being eventful.

But, as the sleek, blue and purple-lined shuttle came to dock, a crowd of men and women of various ages, races, and professions began to amass. They all stared at the shuttle's doorway, waiting with anticipation behind a pre-established waist-high force-fence that served as a barrier between them and the well-parted walkway between the shuttle and the rest of the station. As the door opened, the crowd fell silent. They waited patiently as a quartet of enlisted red-uniformed security staff strode out of the shuttle, solemn and serious. Their silence broke into an eruption of excited screams and cheers upon the first sight of the tall, dark haired human exiting the shuttle. He smiled charmingly at the crowd, giving a casual wave before pulling his bag over his shoulder and stepping off of the shuttle. He and the quartet of security types made their way past the barriered mass of people, who only got louder as he neared.

Their screams and cheers subsided only when he disappeared from sight, leaving an excitable chittering energy among them as they discussed amongst themselves.

He, however, did not seem the least bit concerned about them. They were harmless in his eyes. Fans tended to be on the general. It was only a few specific fans he had to watch out for.

What torture it was to be so famous.

As he kept on, his four-person entourage turned into a six-person entourage. His handler, a stern-faced Vulcan woman who wore the most non-descript grey they could find was among them. "Lieutenant," she started, "You have a meeting with Captain Kai Penner, they/them, and Rear Admiral Yoshi Minawara, he/him, in an hour. I highly recommend you make a stop by your quarters before this meeting."

Her pressed but neutral tone did not phase the human, who gave her a sideways glance and a wink. "I'd wanna freshen up before meeting the brass. Can't give them the wrong impression, can I?" It would not be long before they reached said quarters, and after promising he would stay put before his entourage came to get him, the young Lieutenant was left all on his own.

It was then that his smile softened into a tired one. His eyes rested upon the replicator; the source of all things comforting and caffeinated. Setting his bag down on the ground, the man trudged over to the wall, poking blearily at the controls. He could have opened his mouth to say what he wanted, but he had to save his voice; he was going to be talking quite a lot in the coming days. Maybe his handler would give him a little freedom to walk about the Station on his own, or maybe he could convince someone to let him have his space in some way.

But without the safety net of his entourage, there was also that fear of those crazed fans coming after him.

Brushing away the anxiety, he tapped the console one more time. One hot, black coffee. Straight. Nothing else. Biggest cup the replicator could give him. As the device dinged, he hastily opened the door to take his glorious mug of go juice.

What he received was a giant, orange gourd to the face. As he fell, the smell of clove, cinnamon, and warm graham crackers filled his nostrils. Orange goop spilled out of the softened vegetable and all over him; a macabre crime scene of autumn proportions. He sat up, nose scrunching in horror and disgust as he looked at the mess all over him.

"Oh Fuck no."


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