Green Trim Blues
"You're not happy to be here." In theory, the security shop on an Excelsior was run by officers. But officers were transitory things. The six security teams each had an Ensign in charge, who was more or less told that until they were a JG they were in the second stage of their training and could be overruled by the Chief Petty Officer who was their team XO. Branwen, who was theoretically running the whole thing, was seconded by Malark ap Grann, a Tellarite Master Chief Petty Officer whose service history traced back to the Battle of Kadesh aboard the
Sarek and whose suggestions arguably carried more weight in the security shop than the Captain's orders.
Branwen regarded the Master Chief for two seconds before responding, settling into sardonic grin. "No, not particularly. No disrespect to you or your troops, Master Chief. But if I wanted to be a Ranger, I would still
be a Ranger. I took tactical and command courses in the Academy."
ap Grann snorted in amusement. "You didn't try very hard to escape it, either. Volunteered to get yourself six days in sickbay, too. Are you really surprised it came back to haunt you, Lieutenant?"
"How many times did Kirk end up having to settle issues with a fistfight?" Branwen asked rhetorically. "I remember the needs of the service trump my feelings, Master Chief. Besides, no permanent marks is a pretty small price to pay for containing the Pact all things considered." Branwen paused and her head dropped slightly, then raised again. "And we are close to Chrystovian space, as the crow flies. If Royal sprinted across Ittick-ka space...they might let us. This is exactly the sort of thing they fear their neighbors will do to them."
ap Grann unconsciously rubbed his hip. Apparently the scuttlebutt that he'd been burned by an EPS vent at Kadesh had some basis in fact. "I don't think we'll do that. The Ittick-ka are a big question-mark and we'd be late to the party anyways. Then the Cardassians would grind us under. I've done one forlorn hope in my life. You only get one."
Branwen raised her eyebrows. "I've done three, Master Chief."
"Three? No wonder you quit being a Ranger." ap Grann's boggling at her may have been faux-serious, but Tellarite sarcasm was an art too well-developed to be sure. "Phaser drills. Lots of phaser drills. And we'll have to start issuing more to non-Security personnel."
"The XO will lose their mind." Branwen pointed out mildly. Discipline was usually the province of the XO, and there was nothing quite so horrifying to contemplated from a shipboard discipline standpoint as half or more of the crew having working phasers. Weapons beyond personal daggers like those of the Amarki or the occasional larger bladed weapon kept in someone's quarters were the province of designated security personnel aboard ship. The captain and XO were also in theory allowed to go about armed, but it was a privilege few availed themselves of. Members of away teams had weapons issued to them before they left the ship if required, and taken back from them when they returned. An Excelsior was at least a decent-sized town in the sky, with a crew of eight hundred, and it was vastly easier to maintain order if security was the only group with weapons.
"The XO wants to live. Imelak bioplasma burning through their chest tends to ruin that." But the lesson of
Endurance at Deva had been that a ship going into combat should issue weapons to all qualified hands
before battle commenced, and that more was better. Once a serious boarding action was underway, it was often too late.
"Imelak stormtroopers tend not to be real until one's actually in front of you. I speak from experience." Branwen shook her head. "I don't know, maybe the XO's experience with Orion cyaugs back during the Anti-Slavery Task Force taught them better. But it's the book, and I suppose I'll just have to sell it to the XO if they don't like it. Or at least to the Captain."
"See, you already have the important part of the job down. Security is basically negotiating with the Captain to let you do your job despite the fact it interferes with the smooth and quick running of everything else." Once again it was impossible to be sure if the Tellarite was serious or sarcastic.