Post # 12: From the Admiral Busted Relicator Thingie

By:
Lt. Tri Alsa Qira

Tri sat on the edge of the seat in her office and continued her report. She had just finished her workout on the holodeck but she still felt as though she should head back and get some work done. She wasn't feeling as tired as she should have been. No matter how much reading she tried getting done, she thought of Kalder and what he was doing. Maybe she shouldn't put too much stock in him because he was so far away. He was so - so - warrior-esque and she was so stubborn. She knew they couldn't work out but images of his wall of a chest flash through her head and she remembered how hard he had felt when she had kissed his cheek. She had braced the tips of her fingers against him.

At that moment she wanted him to hold her. She sighed and melted backwards into her chair with her eyes closed. What would it feel like to have a man such as Kalder? Would he be gentle, rough? Would he kiss her eye lids while she slept? Would he ever tell her he loved her? Klingons were known to be unloveable, hard, cold. Could he smile at her under the dark QonoS sky?

Tri cleared her throat and pushed forward in her seat. Her body tingled sweetly from her thoughts and she had to fight not to run home and call Kalder. She struggled with not waiting until it was late on his planet and call him just so he would answer shirtless once more. She had to be good. She had to try and forget him. She had to---

"This is dumb," Tri frowned. "You are way too old to have crushes."

She walked to the replicator and stood there, "Ice-crean...chocolate."

What came out was a bowl of brown liquid, "damn it to Zliak," she swore. She dropped the bowl against the replicator and watched it disappeared. Her communication console beeped and she arched a brow, "oh you may have one the battle," she threatened the replicator, "but I will win the war..."

Tri dove for the communicator, "Yes? Go ahead."

"Ah Lt. there is a message for you from Fleet Admiral Adam Drakes."

"Oh!" Tri gasped and flailed happily. "Put him through please."

She sat back and when the starfleet insignia disappeared, the handsome face of Adam Drake popped on, "Adam! or should I say, Admiral?"

"Oh Tri you look as lovely as ever," he beamed at her. He wasn't as old as the other Admirals but then again he was somewhat of a genius. "You can call me whatever you wish."

"Oh flatery dear, Adam," Tri batted a wrist at him. "Is this a social call or a fleet call?"

"Must you always think foul of me, Tri Alsa Qira?"

Tri chuckled and leant forward, "well, prove me wrong. Business or pleasure."

Adam wrinkled his nose at her that caused Tri to laugh, "pleasure. I am calling in to ask when you will be in Britian again. I would like you to come over for a spot of tea. it has been ages since I've seen you."

"I miss you too, Adam," Tri sighed. "But alas, I was just posted on board the USS Silor as their Cheif Security officer. I don't know when I will get some time off."

"Well, I have some time off," Adam spoke, "and I have it on good authority that your captain is due for some as well. I believe he will be taking it. Would you like me to come along?"

"Oh Adam! Would you?" Tri flailed happily.

"But of course," Adam s miled. His lips curled up sexily to one side. "I shall speak with your captain and let you know."

"Thanks Adam. It will be like old times," Tri beamed.

"That is what I am counting on, farewell."

Tri waved and the screen went back to the starfleet insignia. She squeel, jumped and clicked her heels then went back to work on the replicator, "oh, you're going down!" she smirked.

Post #11. Does Anyone Have a Better Idea?

What was I thinking?

Syra leaned back against the wall of her room and stared anxiously at her form in the mirror. Quickly she went into action, washing and brushing and trying to find something to wear – she looked at one dress after another, holding up a blue one to the mirror, and then a green one and a burgundy one.

Why the hell was she even thinking of wearing a dress? This was dinner with the Captain… …it had to be something casual but proper at the same time. This was dinner with Sebastian, the white lace.. that was it, the white lace dress that fit her body to above her knees. She took it from its hangar and threw it down again. No, no, no – this was all wrong. Causal, but formal – she dug through her things again.

Syra frowned – a dress suit would make her look like his accountant. She reminded herself that was actually what she was, and what she should look like to him and yet Syra tossed the suit away quickly. Jeans were too casual, she threw them on the floor as well and a fluttery tie back blouse found its way into her hands next. She held it up against herself in the mirror –

--oh no, too – it said too much. It said, well, in her eyes for this occasion the shirt overly shouted …I want you.

She tossed it away as well.

It had been so long since she had to dress like a woman, for a man, but this was someone she couldn’t love. Turning from her things she sat on the edge of her bed in dispair, “I want you,” She said the words out loud that had ripped through her mind. It hurt her to say them. It burned inside her every time she saw his eyes, heard his voice, and touched his hands. Syra sighed. He eyes drifted to the simple, white lace dress again and she picked it up and looked at it.

It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It was better than the blue strappy thing. Pulling herself together she got into the thing before she changed her mind and checked herself in the mirror. Did it work? What would he think? Would he like it, “oh hell!” she shouted, “why the hell should it matter.” A thought came to her and she nodded, “I won’t wear shoes, that will keep it casual. Yeah.” Then she turned and decided to try to find next what could possibly be made into a dinner for him.

This was bad, Syra thought, as she threw everything together quickly in the kitchen. This is really – really not a good idea and yet she was so looking forward to it and nervous as though it was an actual date. It was not a date. They had to figure out the shore leave, and he had to tell him about what happened with Anya. She smiled at the thought of the amusement that would be in his beautiful eyes as she reached for the crystal glasses and put a bottle of his favorite year of wine in to chill…

How did she know this things?

“Oh yeah,” she said, “worked together for while now…worked…”

Together.

The thought trailed off. She should probably find shoes after all, or sandals or something. It was close to seven.

With the food ready Syra made herself not light the hoardes of candles she always kept out in her quarters, there was something about candle light that…

“Shoes,” she told herself, glancing at the time again, for certain, by now – he was almost here.

Post #10. Making a Deal

By Cilor and Kalder

“You want to do what on my beach?” Cilor looked at him with a wary eye. Cilor was grumpier, older and most always a softie under it all.

Kalder just put his hands together in the most child-like mimic he could manage and offered the fakest grin possible, “please?”

“No.”

Kalder’s posture slumped, “dammit,” he said, trusting his hands through his hair he looked at Cilor again, “come on Cilor?”

“Let me think about his,” Cilor said, “still no.”

“You didn’t even think about it!”

“I don’t have to, they are a Federation crew.”

Kalder rolled his eyes, “stop living in the past, old man! They’ve been our allies not for – for forever!”

“Nope.” Cilor folded his arms across his chest.

“But I already promised,” Kalder was almost starting to panic now, and when that happened it got dangerous – knives were known to fly. He tried another attempt, “I’ll bring you bloodwine, from the run tonight – lots of it.”

Cilor shook his head, “lemme know when you have something better,” he then turned to walk away from Kalder. Kalder had enough and grabbed him back, spun him about and shook him a bit, “come on, Cilor,” he said to him, “its – he’s my brother!”

Finally, a smile cracked Cilor’s face and his stern attitude melted away. The older man folded his arms, “well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” he beamed. Kalder just looked confused until Cilor slapped him on the back, “your family is family here, too. When are they coming?”

Kalder’s mouth dropped open, “just like that?” he asked.

Cilor just grinned at him, “I still want my bloodwine…”

“What, huh?” Kalder asked. Then he understood. Once again, Cilor had been messing with him, “Cilor!” he accused, putting his hands on his hips, “that was not nice!”

Cilor just shrugged, “whomever said it was?”