Joint Duty Log - LtCmdr Neyes PhD, Cn duPont - "Pulling Lace and Shoe-Strings"

Posted on Mon Aug 25th, 2014 @ 8:57pm by Commander Tristan Neyes PhD.

2,035 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: In the Dark
Location: Enlisted Messhall

=/\= USS Vindicator =/\=

Tristan was no more a stranger to moving in the plain cover of everyday mundane activity, than he was uncomfortable treating a minor mental ailment. The crew moved about the ship, working on difficult repair situations and new staffing procedures. He went as unnoticed as a child at a schoolyard, watching as they worked and toiled about him. Training and routine would consume their normal motions as the days docked to a Klingon shipyard ticked past. Neyes felt just at home with them and their humdrum tasks as he did on any mission. He had his own work to accomplish, of course, but theirs warranted at least some special attention from him as their counselor.

Since his brother's and the other hosts memories had flooded into his mind, he felt new. Things he would have never said, at least not since being a young teenager with Landon, seemed second-nature to him now. He brushed passed a crewman on the way to the enlisted messhall just minutes earlier, and he had unwittingly winked at them with a forgiving and friendly charm. An 'excuse me' would have normally sufficed and he would have just forgotten about it, but now he found himself prepared to order food while thinking about his every action. Analysis, in this case, was not suiting his preferred state of mind.

Eating in the enlisted mess hall felt like a move to welcome those around him. He wanted them to see him as approachable, and using the less fashionable enlisted mess was just the way to get that done. It wasn't bad at all actually, he found himself thinking. The bristling atmosphere created by the more populated space was warm, and excited his sense of adventure for being on board.

This was a ship with an eager crew. A crew eager to back into 'the game'.

"Thalasian salad with tera-sauce, please." He ordered from the replicator, "and a glass of cucumber water."

An odd disappointment at not ordering something called 'spaghetti' washed over him. He shrugged it off. He noticed the Yeoman sitting alone at the far end of the mess, and made an immediate bee-line for his table. Crewman Cecil duPont, a handsome, dark haired youth new to the ship.

Cecil hardly paid any mind as someone approached the table. They did that all the time, usually without so much as a how do you do? It wasn't civilized down here, not like the officer's mess, where he'd managed to slip in a few times on errands. There people spoke with each other while they shared tables, and asked before they sat.

Neyes casually sat across from the young man, smiling warmly as he did so. After shuffling to get comfortable, he set about greeting Cecil. "Yeoman. How's lunch?" Tristan asked, then immediately taking a bite of his own salad.

Cecil looked up in surprised. Someone was actually making conversation down here? "It's uh, fine," he returned, looking up to find a pair of blue eyes, a face framed with spots and a set of lieutenant commander pips on the medical blue collar. "Sir," he tacked on, surprised to find an officer down here in the wilds. "And yours?"

Tristan made a face, his mouth turned sour as he poked at the plate with a fork. "I already know what this is going to taste like. Salad is not a replicator's... forte. But that's alright.

"Excuse me." Tristan shuffled again, "I'm Tristan Neyes. You can call me 'Counselor' or Neyes if you'd prefer. 'Sir' is a little formal for my kind of work, so either of those is fine." He held for a moment, waiting for the inevitable. So far each and every crew member he'd introduced himself to had all but slammed their teeth together in nervousness. While he wasn't their former Captain, his brother, everyone had a frustratingly sobering reaction to him as a result. It didn't faze him so much, it was just a matter of waiting for their initial reaction to subside.

Neyes. This was the man the gossip brigade would not shut up about. Noise of a ghost walking the corridors, a counselor where the dashing captain had once been. Now he was down in the enlisted mess? The expression that painted Cecil's face now was far from flattering; it wasn't distrust, nor dislike... it was confusion and curiosity.

"Interesting choice, for the fleet to send you here as a counselor," Cecil mused. An officer daring the wilds invited a candid tongue, and Cecil was riding high on his success of getting into the good graces of the command team.

Tristan smiled, "I think so. Do you think it was a bad decision?" He took a pained bite of his salad, full attention on the crewman. Taking in Cecil's response would be important, because what Tristan was about to request of the young man would put him in a delicate situation. Rather, it would put them both in a potentially awkward one.

"Well, there's a reason why the phrase May you live in interesting times is not considered a term of endearment," Cecil said, almost dismissively. "I certainly think whoever wrote the orders could use your services to explore their brain matter." Cecil had caught noise on the grape vine of the visit the counselor had paid to Ivanova in her ready room, and how later that evening, she disappeared into Waterhouse's quarters like she had so often while recovering from the events of the frozen planet.

Tristan blinked and looked down at the plate before him, taking in the words for a moment. The tone duPont used only served to underscore what Tristan already knew. People were looking down at him for Rochelle's suffering. Not because of Landon, but because he was here now, awake and alive. To them he was as close to Landon as they'd ever come again, and rumors were rumors. The former Captain caused the new one emotional pain. She was loved by her crew, he's already known that.

He half-jokingly pointed the fork at duPont, "I'm not a neurosurgeon, crewman. I imagine whoever ordered me here, assuming I didn't know them, thought you could all benefit from a little more help. I'm not the man our Captain is mourning." He eyed the crewman, "Has she said anything to you regarding this?"

Cecil's left eyebrow rose slowly, as he turned the counselor's words over in his head. "She doesn't speak to me about personal matters, sir," he admitted. "I do believe it would have been easier on everyone if you'd been posted elsewhere. Not because of anything you did, but because the circumstance surrounding the situation make it especially difficult for those outside of your culture." Cecil knew that being a Captain's Yeoman meant being diplomatic, so he decided to try his hand at it. In truth, he didn't see what the big deal really was. This was a different guy, right?

"No she wouldn't talk about it openly. She is a guarded woman," Neyes said like he knew her well enough to say so. In a way he remembered more about her than her file would seem to indicate. "That's why I'm afraid she won't speak to me at the moment.

"Does she have someone she confides in? Even if she didn't say so, you might know someone she'd be open with." Tristan was smart enough to see when the ship's crew was keeping him at arms length. People would whisper after passing him in the corridor, and he would catch them looking at him from across rooms. It didn't bother him any, but the attention was unwarranted.

"She spends a lot of time with her new XO, on duty for understandable reasons, but also off-duty. Before she named Waterhouse to the position, the ship grapevine made note of the time they spent together," he admitted. "Waterhouse got her fingers into everything quickly and easily when she got here, before Ivanova was officially in charge." Cecil's attention fell to his food he'd been ignoring. Good thing it was a cold turkey sandwich.

Ivanova... even when under the careful eye of Landon, had been reticent about her past. She was quiet and slow when it came to talking about her relationship with anyone except the crew. She had nearly broken into tears with Landon the night she was captured, talking about her lost loves. To think there was someone else on the ship who she trusted, ... it bothered him. More-so it bothered him that something like that would give him anything but a moment's pause. As the Yeoman talked though, Neyes found himself hanging on his words. Each new revelation about Captain Ivanova felt like another piece to a puzzle he desperately wanted to complete. He needed to understand this woman, this Captain who loved his brother.

Rochelle.

Neyes eyed the sandwich. "They're friends?" The words were professional, but almost thirsty in their delivery.

"If they're not, they're having a lot of tea parties for nothing," Cecil pointed out with an amused snort.

A satisfied smile escaped Tristan's lips, he praised the young Yeoman, "You're very informed, Mr. duPont. How long have you been on board? From the sound of it you have been doing quite well. Enjoying the new post?" Nothing in the man's file had caught Neyes' attention, and he wouldn't need to meet with him officially until after the next mission. Turning the conversation away from the command team felt like an easy brush-cover for his questions.

"A few months maybe?" Cecil seemed surprised when the conversation turned to himself, but he smiled for the attention. "It's been interesting, I don't think Waterhouse likes me. I can't read Ivanova yet. I hope to eventually learn to, in order to anticipate both their needs." He beamed with pride when he said this. "Despite the antics on the stage, I believe I was quite adept at assisting in the ceremony."

"Oh and I heard the ceremony was fantastic! You were a part of that? What was it like? I've been meaning to get to a holo-deck here soon. I heard the larger space on the Vindicator just makes it seem... more real. I don't know if I believe it or not, so I'll have to try it out for myself." Tristan beamed. Despite his covert drilling for information, he was rather enjoying just having a conversation for once, since joining the ship. No one seemed to want to talk to him. Normally all that was fine, but after Landon and moving back into a fleet atmosphere, a little chit-chat was nice.

"As for the XO and Captain," Tristan added, "you'll get a feeling for them. Give them some time to settle in, don't you think? I have no doubt you'll win over Commander Waterhouse."

"You should check out the program Waterhouse put together for the ceremony, I mean... wow," Cecil insisted, shaking his head in amazement. "I think they recorded the ceremony, you should be able to get it to play back. Ivanova made Waterhouse walk the plank, and there were handcuffs and... I was speechless."

"Thank you, Crewman. You've made my day. I think I'll go check out that recording, it sounds wonderful." He feigned ignorance. Tristan knew what he would find in the hallowed recording of that award ceremony. A group of the people Landon called friends celebrating a mission completed. Knowing they probably mourned his brother didn't seem to improve his image of the ordeal. He was happy they found some solace in the party, but there were a few things about it he'd heard weren't quite what you'd expect to find at a Starfleet event. Ivanova and an Admiral together for one. This young man wasn't the only one on board who'd been eager to gossip.

"Enjoy that sandwich." Tristan smiled, giving duPont a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Cecil looked down at the sandwich he hadn't touched yet, then back up at the counselor. "Thank you for the conversation," Cecil returned. It had been truly a pleasant surprise to find conversation in the mess hall for once.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Lt Commander Tristan Neyes
Chief Counselor
USS VINDICATOR

Crewman Cecil duPont
Yeoman
USS Vindicator

 

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