"Happy thirtieth," A.J. mumbled to himself. He walked down the corridor
to his quarters. It had been a long day down in engineering. Maybe even too
long a day. It was the price of keeping the ship operational. He walked into
his quarters. He turned on the lights. His quarters were a mess. He then remembered
the individual birthday celebration he threw himself. Actually, both he and
Jack Daniels threw the party. He found the infamous bottle on the floor and
picked it up. A.J. gave it a quick glance up and down and placed it on the table.
He plopped down on the couch and propped his feet up on the table.
[Chief, we have a damaged replicator on Deck 4.] It was an ensign under his command. Ensign Jackman nearly resented A.J. for getting the position over him.
"Ensign, redistribute the work. You know that I'm off duty."
[Sorry, sir. We have crews working on some of the bio-neural gelpack systems. Captain Evans wants them operating at above optimal capacity.]
A.J. sneered, even if Ensign Jackman wouldn't see it. [Very well. This is the last favor I do for you. Understood, Ensign?"
[Yes.... sir...] the Ensign squeezed out. Technically, A.J. should have called Jackman "Sir," but position came before rank in Starfleet.
A.J. rose from his chair and left his room.
The door sensor chimed, as Karissa placed the book she was reading on the coffee table and stood up.
"Enter," she said.
The door slid open and Chief A.J. Talsmin entered. He was tall, dark haired and dark eyed. His demeanor was quiet and reserved.
"I'm here to fix your replicator," he said.
"Oh great!" she smiled, "I wasn't sure anyone could get to it today . . ."
"I might need some tools . . . I didn't bring a lot with me," he said.
"That's not a problem," she replied. "Whatever you need, you can find in my office over there," she said, pointing to a hallway with three closed doors.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied. With a quick nod, he went to the replicator and began looking it over.
Karissa began feeling uncomfortable in her uniform. It was getting a little tight around her abdomen where her pregnancy was now showing. "If you need anything, I'll be in my room, she said and disappeared through one of the three doors.
A.J. quickly got to work. It turned out to be a very simple matter to fix Commander Bentara's malfunctioning replicator. But there was one thing left that he wanted to do. It wasn't necessary, but he felt he might as well make sure that the job was done well. As he started to the office to retrieve the item he needed, he stopped and looked at the three doors. Which one did she say was the office? he thought.
Karissa was only in pants and a bra as she held out a blouse before her. She was examining the cut and color before deciding whether to actually put it on. Just as she was lifting it over her head, the door slid open, and A.J. walked it. His eyes opened wide for a second before his hand flew up to cover them.
"Four sisters, and you still forget to knock before entering...." he mumbled as he began to leave the room.
Quickly, she slipped the blouse over her head and laughed. "Its okay!" she said. "I'm dressed now . . ." She smiled brightly.
She made her way out of her bedroom and into the main living area to find A.J. sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.
"Sorry," A.J. started. "Back home I grew up with four older sisters and two younger brothers. I always forgot to knock, and look what happens." He blushed slightly, as he put the thermal regulator that was in his hands on the table.
Karissa gave him a warm smile. "No harm done, Chief." She gave him her hand, and helped him back up to his feet.
"Thank you, ma'am," A.J. replied. Although she was much younger, or looked it, A.J. followed Starfleet guidelines of her senior rank.
"You don't have to be so formal here . . .," she said, her dark eyes looking at him intently. "Besides, we're both off duty, right?"
"Yes, I suppose we are."
He grinned slightly. "At any rate, before I walked in on you, I was able
to fix your replicator without having to use the pascal inducer." He held
up the malfunctioned relay. "It's amazing the extra crap that engineers
nowadays shove into these
vessels," A.J. said, trying not to get lost in her gaze.
She laughed again. "Engineering was definitely not one of my strong subjects at the Academy . . . " she replied. "Well, now that you have my replicator working, would you care for a drink or something?"
"A drink would be nice, but I wouldn't want to impose," A.J. stuttered slightly under the watchful gaze of Karissa. "I'm sure you've got more important things to do." He glanced almost nervously around the room.
"What's the matter?" she asked, somewhat confused.
"Nothing," A.J. replied, although something was clearly the matter.
"Well, it's obviously something. You're more nervous then a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." She smiled warmly.
"It's just," A.J. started. "I have problems... socially. I don't seem to work well in crowds, and with others... Wasn't exactly the 'life of the party.'"
"Being the life of the party
isn't all its cracked up to be . . ." she said. "But don't worry about
any of that here . . . Why don't you and I work on getting to know one another!
I like meeting the other members of the crew and I know we haven't really had
much of a chance to talk in the past . . ." She smiled. "And its not
like you've needed to see a
counselor . . ." She walked to the replicator and gave a command. Two glasses
appeared and she grabbed them, returning to A.J.. She handed him a beer, while
she held a glass of milk. "Here!" she said, her dark eyes bright.
"Thanks, Ma'am," A.J. said, accepting the drink. "How did you know?"
Karissa tapped her forehead. "Empathic."
"Ahh.. Gotcha." He grinned sheepishly.
"Well, you can't be horribly off. You haven't had to see a counselor."
"According to Starfleet I have," he mused. "They're trying to figure out why I don't want to be a commissioned officer."
Karissa led him over to a chair where he took a seat. She sat easily on the couch next to the chair.
"Tell me about it," she encouraged.
"Well, I'm sure you know the situation that Starfleet's in. Enrollment has been heading downwards. It's not uncommon. They're scaling back since the Dominion war. Also, since the war is over, a whole new commercial enterprise is ripe for the taking. People are retiring from Starfleet to make money in the civilian sector. So, Starfleet sees that the enlisted corps, especially people with ranking as myself, should be given commissions as officers."
"Isn't that what you want? To be an officer?"
He laughed. "Many of my friends did that. I couldn't handle the responsibility of being an officer. I'm the kinda guy that takes orders, and carries them out. I'm a hands on guy. I guess that's what I get for being a farmboy and not a smart Academy graduate."
"Don't say that about yourself. You're obviously a talented individual to be a Chief."
"Thanks much," he replied. "I suppose. Starfleet wants me to either become an officer, or to be moved to a training facility. My experience on one ship isn't worth it. So, this is my last cruise."
"Do you have any plans for after Starfleet?" she asked curiously, taking a sip of her milk, her other hand subconsciously caressing her slightly protruding stomach.
A.J. grinned. "Settle down I guess. I don't know. I haven't been home in close to ten years now."
"Ten years is a long time . . ." she said. "Were you close to your family, or should I ask if you're still close to them?" She smiled.
"Well, kinda," A.J. began. "My sisters have all grown up and moved out. I don't know where they are. Haven't heard from them in ages. Mom died a few years ago. Dad's holding up all right. My younger brothers are still on the farm."
"So you'd return to the farm with your brothers?" she asked. "Is that where you'd want to settle down?" She took another sip of her milk, meeting his gaze for a moment.
"Well," A.J. started, collecting his thoughts. "I've always been a farm boy. I'm just... Oh, I don't know . . tied to the land I guess. Guess that sounds kinda stupid," he said, chuckling. "My only problem would be finding a woman that would want to marry a thirty year old crazy enough to retire to the farm instead of a city."
She laughed softly. "Call me a romantic, but I bet you'll find a girl. There's someone out there for everyone . . . No matter who you are . . ." she replied. For a moment she grew quiet, as thoughts of her genetic engineering came to mind, but just as quickly, she smiled again.
"All right, Miss Romantic," A.J. mused. "I don't wanna bring you down in my self pity." A.J. finished off the bottle and put it on the table. "It's been awfully nice of you to sit down and talk with me, ma'am, but I don't wanna bother you any more." He stood up to leave.
"Oh, its no bother!" she replied with a laugh. "In fact, I've enjoyed getting to know you! By any chance, do you like any kind of games? Card games or something like that?"
"Well, my buddies back home always told me that I was good at poker." He grinned. "Of course I've never played against a lady though."
She giggled. "Well, then maybe you should give it a try! I'd like to play sometime, and I'll need a teacher!"
"Sounds great, ma'am. I haven't really had the opportunity to play a game of cards with anyone in awhile. Haven't really had the opportunity to make friends on this ship."
"Then that's something we'll definitely have to change," she said, her dark eyes shining brightly.
"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a pleasant smile and watched her as the doors closed to the room. Silently, he made his way down the corridor.
Karissa finished her milk and smiled. A.J. was a very nice guy, she thought, and it was time he found some friends. After all, it shouldn't be that difficult, she mused. He'd already made one, whether or not he realized it yet.
Slowly, she stood up from her seat. She turned the glass into the replicator and took her seat in front of the porthole. She stared out into the darkness as she gently caressed her protruding abdomen. There was definitely some one for everyone, she thought, as visions of Ryan entered her mind.
"Computer, music. Play track from Earth, circa 1980s, group - Air Supply."
Suddenly, the soft melody of a ballad filled the room. She closed her eyes and smiled.
A.J. entered his room again. The time was coming up on 2200 hours. He was going to grab some sleep, especially when he was slated to be on the early shift the next day. He sat down on the edge of the bed when his communications terminal began to raise out of the desktop, flashing with a priority message.
Grumbling, A.J. headed over to the desk, and tapped in his security code. It was a text only document. "No one ever wants to talk face to face anymore," he said cynically. As he began to read the message, he finally realized what had happened. His father had died of a heart attack, at home on the farm. A.J.'s two brothers were there and were with him. It was sudden, but his dad welcomed it. He had never been in good health since his mom died, and was always distraught and quiet.
A.J. closed the communications page,
and pushed the screen back into the desk. He looked around for the half empty
bottle of Jack Daniels, and sat down on the couch. It was going to be another
long night.