BoB-F: Hey guys… How's it goin'?
Rath: I see you feel guilty for neglecting your story?
BoB-F: I do….and I apologize. I've had life things to deal with.
Rath: That's an awful excuse…mainly because it would be unbecoming to question you on the matter.
BoB-F: You mean you're not going to break down sobbing wondering what happened?
Rath: Of course not, I'm a creation of your mind and therefore know all of your inner workings.
BoB-F: O_o I am slightly terrified by that knowledge…
Rath: You should be. Like right now I know that your legs itch as if they are on fire because the hair is slowly growing back.
BoB-F: Why did you have to remind me of that? I was doing so good to ignore it, but now... *scratches legs* T_T why does it have to grow back so fast? One day and BAM its back, and heaven forbid if it's cold outside, I swear it acts as an accelerant.
Rath: Well the cold air does cause the follicle to contract, which-
BoB-F: You're making it worse!
Rath: Good, you should suffer for your neglectful nature. I hope your readers revel in it and find it in their hearts to forgive you.
BoB-F: So cruel…
Chapter Three: In Memory
Missouri had weaved through traffic with a grace that only a wheeled vehicle could achieve. When she reached headquarters she parked out front, pocketing her keys and packing her helmet inside with her. She could have just called, but with her recent troubles with the organization she figured that she owed it to them to show up in person.
The blonde receptionist sat at her raised desk with a hands-free device tucked into her ear and simultaneously typing upon the keypad in front of her. Missouri admired the woman's rather stylized hair-do; it gave the woman a very feminine quality, one that Missouri was sure would be lost on her. Not that Missouri was troubled about her looks, she thought she was rather pretty in a mischievous and confident way, but not in the purely proper lady way that this woman was. The two women exchanged smiles when Missouri approached the desk, laying her helmet upon the counter that separated them.
Missouri waited patiently for her to finish up her conversation, which she was sure the receptionist was thankful for. While she waited, Missouri glanced around the hustle and bustle of the place, everyone seemed to be in a rush, but she quickly recalled the recent damage to the area and figured they were still trying to recover. The familiar feeling of rational annoyance came back to her; how could they think it was a good idea to yank her from her ship while there was still so much to do here? She was able bodied and she had been nothing but loyal to the Fleet and her crew.
The sound of a soft voice clearing their throat brought her head around to regard the lovely blonde in front of her. They both exchanged polite smiles again, but this time, Missouri's was a bit forced.
"What can I do for you?" The woman asked. Squinting, Missouri read the nametag pinched to her excellently pressed uniform; it spelled out the name Lt. Corine Mathewson.
"I would like to meet with Admiral Mendler, if he's free." She told, but knew that Admiral Mendler was likely just sitting in his office snoozing. Mendler was the oldest Admiral in Star Fleet and when he'd taught Planetary Diplomacy he'd always nod off during lectures and presentations.
The receptionist smiled and asked Missouri for her name, which she gave absentmindedly. Her thoughts were drawn to the proposition that Kirk had sprung on her this morning. She wondered if he would be able to get her suspension lifted; he might succeed, being a hero and all. Missouri was brought from her thoughts again by Corine's easy way of speaking.
"He said that he'd see you right away." Corine's smile was pleasant as she relayed the message and Missouri decided that the woman deserved a compliment for her good graces.
"Thank you. I love your hair; by the way, did you do it yourself?" Missouri asked and watched as Corine's hand went up to self-consciously touch her hair.
"Thank you. But no, I can't say that I'm that talented when it comes to my hair. I got it done over on West Chester Street; it's the only salon there." Corine helpfully supplied, and Missouri was a bit tempted to try the place, but knew she wouldn't have the time. Maybe before she was scheduled to return to duty she'd make a hair change.
"I'll keep that in mind. Have a nice day Lt. Corine." Missouri smiled as she walked away towards the stairs that lead to Admiral Mendler's office. Corine sat there a bit confused at the casual conversation she'd just had; she must not be from the city, she decided, because city folk were never that polite.
Missouri climbed the stairs and offered pleasant smiles to the people who made eye contact with her on her way up. The first door was Admiral Mendler's office, she gave it a solid knock rather than using the page button beside his nameplate. There was a muffled response and Missouri took that as her cue to enter. Pressing the correct button had the door sliding open with that annoying hiss she had grown to ignore while she was aboard the Reliance.
She took in the neat room, save the desk which was cluttered so bad that trailing pieces of synthetic paper were in fear if dropping to the floor. The old man sat in his full uniform, with his shaggy white hair, and equally shaggy eyebrows. She always wondered if they impaired his vision.
"Daniels, how are ya girl?" He asked, standing gentlemanly despite his age. He'd always liked her, even if their frequent arguments and the throbbing vein in his neck said otherwise. The real reason he liked her was the fact that Missouri reminded him of his late wife, Clarrissa. A picture of the two at their wedding some decades ago sat on his desk, unencumbered by the mess scatter everywhere.
"I'm well. And you Admiral, when are they going to force you to retire?" Missouri teased, as she always had in the past. She's asked the same question during their first argument and it hadn't been anywhere near as polite.
"In five months from what I hear. Apparently my methods are outdated, even though all of the diplomats that Star Fleet has were taught by me and still implement my methods; which are highly successful." He replied in anger, though she was far from taken aback. Star Fleet was the cause of her own anger of late, and she couldn't bring herself to defend the organization.
"It's a shame what they did to you too kid. My Grandson tells me you were the figure of power while you were in the Laurentian System fighting the Klingons." He nodded his head as if agreeing with his grandson's words. She remembered Ensign Pu'ral's overly excited face when she was down in engineering assisting with damages when the battle was over.
"It's a shame that you won't be teaching anymore sir, and I'll have to thank your Grandson for the flattery. He's a good kid." Missouri was a bit sad that she wouldn't hear of Mendler's weird antics from new recruits anymore.
"Don't give me that shit, Daniels, you know you'll be glad I'm gone. What was it you said that day in class 'I'll be dancing on your desk the day your sorry ass never sits in that chair again'?" Mendler laughed at the memory and Missouri smiled at the old man, a bit surprised that he could remember that far back.
"Well, I'd hold true to my word but you've not left much room for dancing." She gestured to his desk and wondered if the mess had somehow grown since she'd last looked at it. Mendler let out a gruff laugh.
"So, what did you come here for kid, I know it wasn't to reminisce with an outdated old man." Most people would think the Admiral was being rude and self depreciating, but Missouri knew that this was just his odd brand of humor.
"I just stopped by to have it filed that I'm going back home for awhile, just incase my suspension is lifted early." Missouri hinted and followed up with a wink. Selfishly Missouri hoped that Mendler would still be around when Kirk appealed her suspension.
"Pike approached me about something like that, I'll keep you posted Daniels. Now get the hell out of here before I get even more white hairs." Mendler gestured at the door and through the growth of his beard she realized he was smiling.
"Take care, sir." Missouri said, but paused as she reached the door and turned back to him. This was likely the last time she would ever talk to this man, a man that had taught her to shut up and listen, and when to push buttons. She felt an overwhelming since of pride for the Admiral and with the upmost respect she clipped her boots together, straightened her spine, and raised her hand in salute. Their eyes met and she was positive that there was appreciation in his eyes. He lifted his own arm up in a salute and after a held moment they both lowered their arms. No other words passed between them and Missouri slipped out the door.
Missouri took to the stairs at a brisk pace and didn't bother with politeness as she did before. Once in the lobby she said a quick 'take care' to Corine and hurried on outside. She really could say she hated Star Fleet right now, and with the intention of putting as much distance between herself and the institution she stuffed her helmet on her head, mounted her bike and took off.
"Damn it, Spock, why the hell is it so hard to get the details of Daniels demotion?" Jim had been attentively flipping through files in the hopes of learning more than the brief 'Altercation with another Captain'; it didn't even say anything about who the other Captain was. While Kirk was complaining, Spock was making much more progress on the matter.
"Jim, I believe the information we are looking for lies with Ms. Daniels' crew. Several have submitted reports on the incident, and have even included recorded content. I shall compile a report and catalog their accounts." Spock felt rather accomplished as Jim patted his shoulder in a job well done.
"Good work, Spock, maybe we'll pull through after all." Jim said enthusiastically and it was then that Spock knew that Jim wasn't doing this because he thought they needed another commanding officer in engineering, but rather he was doing it in memory of Admiral Pike.
"I believe we will raise a compelling argument, Captain." He offered in a way that might ease Kirk's worries.
Missouri rifled around her little apartment looking for the photo album her mom wanted her to bring. She hadn't looked at it in ages and couldn't readily recall where she had stashed it away.
Acquiring her dad's favorite cigars had been a much simpler task; she'd merely drove over to Mallory's, a bar that was geared for older gentlemen. She'd discovered the place when she'd attempted to date an older man, but the rentals of classy evening wear had quickly squashed that would-be relationship. The only good thing to have come from the experience was the cigars, which she'd originally stolen from the guy after he'd blatantly told her that he'd merely wanted to try to 'Pretty Woman' her, but after discovering she wasn't a prostitute he had little use for her.
The declaration of her supposed hooker status had brought out a vengeful side, so she had made it a point to invite several of her Star Fleet colleagues to Mallory's for billiards, in full dress uniform to boot. The display of influence and power had the bastard power-walking out the door so fast he may have vibrated his molecules right through the door. So any time her dad requested his favorite cigars she got a twisted feeling of glee.
Missouri was brought out of her revere when she'd yanked a box down from the shelf in her closet. She hadn't realized something else lay on top of it, so when the object flew forward and tried to take her head off she was a bit surprised. Luckily her reflexes hadn't suffered from her lack of active duty and she had been able to move out of the way before it struck her.
She peered down at the object and rolled her eyes, of course it had to be the same damn thing she was looking for. Replacing the box onto the shelf she bent and picked up the photo album. In all honesty it wasn't really hers. The album had been compiled by her mother, and every time Missouri returned home her mom added to it. The pictures were mostly portrait types that her various siblings had done professionally for holidays. There weren't any pictures of their picnics, or the crazy water fights, or the time she'd smeared paint of her mom's face during one of her remodeling phases. That had been a happy day; she remembered her mom's laughter and the looks of supposed fear from her brothers and sisters.
Those were the kind of pictures she wanted in the sturdy leather tome, not the generic poses of her nieces and nephews. Missouri sighed, not bothering to have a look inside. She needed to leave before she was late for her shuttle. She tossed the album onto her bed and swiftly replaced the other items she'd unearthed. Checking the time when she finished told her she had forty-five minutes before her shuttle took of.
Not willing to waste the rest of her time, Missouri grabbed her small Star Fleet issue backpack, the one she'd owned since her first day at the academy, and shoved the items on her bed in it; cigar box, photo album, toothbrush, deodorant, underwear, and socks. Another, small bag joined with all her other items, and lastly, her wallet and PADD were stuffed inside. All in all, she was a light packer.
Shrugging the small weight onto one shoulder she hit the lights on her way out of her bedroom. Missouri patted her pocket to confirm the lump of her keys was present, and then took a cursory glance around the apartment.
Everything was in its place and accounted for, so feeling confident with her assessment; Missouri lifted her helmet from the counter and left her apartment. She made sure the door was locked before walking out to her bike. There was a young boy taking pictures of it and she couldn't help but smile.
"I take it you like what you see?" She asked as she hooked her helmet on the handle bar and slid her Star Fleet backpack into the saddlebag.
"Yes! Is this yours?" He asked enthusiastically, moving to get a closer look. Missouri couldn't have overlooked that wide-eyed wonderment even if she'd tried.
"Yup. Here-" Missouri produced a business card from her saddlebag and handed it to the kid. "If you ever want to build your own, this is the guy call. Tell him Missouri sent you." She smiled and winked at the slack jawed look the kid was sporting.
"Like the State?" He asked.
"Yeah, just like the State." She swung her leg over the bike and inserted the key. She pulled her helmet on and started the Pan-Head, grinning when the kid jumped at the god-awful roar it made.
"See ya around kid." And with that she pulled away and onto the street, being a bit of a showoff with revving the engine to make it rumble even more.
It didn't take long to get to the transport station, but once she did the traffic became unbearable. People were honking unnecessarily and she could only roll her eyes at the behavior. Maybe she should have just driven? But a long distance motorcycle ride would be leaving her stiff for weeks and then there was the weather she hadn't bothered to check.
So with patients Missouri eased along with everyone else until she was finally at the toll. She relayed her ticket information and the cargo she had, and the man pointed her in the right direction so it could get loaded up.
With little time to spare, and a particularly harsh warning regarding the treatment of the Pan-Head, Missouri finally made it to the front of the shuttle. Security checked both herself and her Star Fleet bag, then when all was clear she was ushered onto the shuttle after her ticket was confirmed. She settled into the comfortable seat and buckled in, her bag tucked under her seat behind her legs. Few others joined her on the shuttle, and when everything was a-go, they closed the doors up, checked the passengers, then off they went.
Missouri woke when she felt the quick decent of the shuttle. She'd learned to get whatever sleep she could when she attended the academy and it had transferred over to her time on Star Fleet vessels. She hadn't talked to anyone on the small shuttle, thanks in most parts to her two hour power nap.
Once the shuttle landed and the all clear was given she unbuckled herself, grabbed her bag, and went to collect her motorcycle. The personnel were already rolling it out when she arrived. Thanking them for their troubles she left the loading dock. Finding her way out of the airport, no matter how many times she had come here it was always confusing to navigate. So after asking three different people for directions she was finally out on the highway, heading to the place where she grew up.