Wild Stallion

There were times when Beckett Mariner resented being on the Cerritos. Her mother and father continued to kick her back and forth like a football, each hoping to break her like a wild stallion. Their problem was that the stallion didn't want to be broken and yet she didn't want to be thrown off the proverbial ranch either. When she would become too disruptive on one ship, she would be sent off to the other. Her mom was an battle axe. That's old Earth language for difficult and unpleasant due a fierce and determined attitude. She was all of that. On the other hand, her father was a big softy bundled up in a Starfleet Admiral's uniform. At least he was a softy with her. She guessed he was a soft with mom was well. Ewww!

Much Ado About Boimier

"You've got to loosen up, Man," Beckett said, leaning back against her chair in the lounge. "I can see that your collar is so tight that no oxygen is getting to that brain of yours. You're white as a ghost!"

Boimier stared at her with dull, beleaguered eyes. "That is my normal skin color, Mariner. My complexion is fairer than most."

"Well that's not fair, is it?" Beckett said, leaning forward and slamming her half full cup on the table. "Perhaps you should try the tanning salon on Deck 8 or start drinking more carrot juice, or My God, Man, talk to Doctor T'Ana about darkening the pigment of your skin!"

"I'm not going to do that, Beckett and you know it," Boimier said, blandly.

Raising her cup in the air she said: "I do? How do I know what you're going to do? How do I know what anyone is going to do? Did I know that Kirk would destroy the Enterprise on Genesis? Did I know that Tasha Yar never died, but had a Romulan baby? How could I know that Benjamin Sisko was part god, but it took him FOREVER to figure it out? Oh, and for all the Dilitium, IN THE GALAXY, how could I know that after seven years and multiple acts of heroism that Harry Kim, of The USS Voyager, would NEVER BE PROMOTED! So, tell me, Boimier, how in the universe am I supposed to know that you won't get a tan?"

The young lieutenant buried his face in his hands.

Taken for Ransom

At the end of the day, Beckett lay on her bunk exhausted, but not too exhausted to fantasize about Commander Ransom. It was an action that disgusted and excited her. The man was most times an idiot and a few times insanely brave and effective. As an ensign, she really had no grounds on which to judge him, but as a woman, she was attracted to his bold displays of machismo. She considered banging her head again the bulkhead just to rid of these lurid and debasing thoughts, but figured her head would hurt far more than her pride when it was over. She did not know the man, but it was enough for him to wound her in order end their dispute over whom would face the gargantuan Gelraki in combat. He had not only taken responsibility, as first officer should, but he shirtlessly, and easily, dispatched the warrior. It was kind of hot. Not. Yes it was. No, it wasn't.