Joint Duty Log ~ MCPO Caine & PO3 duPont ~ "You Get To Meet All Sorts In This Line Of Work"

Posted on Fri Jan 23rd, 2015 @ 5:08pm by Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine

2,548 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

Rik was in his final hour of duty; the final hour before the promised dinner and time with that firecracker of a dame. He couldn't help but smile as he clutched a bottle; slim in design and full of a vibrant purple liquid. The label, while slightly tatty was ineligible unless you happened to be fluent in Orion. It had been a gift, for services rendered and now was his prize to take later and share. With a map on his PADD in hand, having become tired of getting lost and deciding walking into a Pilates class in the gym was the final straw.

Arriving at the little bleeping dot like a carrier pigeon homing in he pressed the chime and waited outside a cold metal grey door for the umpteenth time that day.

The sound of the chime left a confused look on Cecil's face. Who could possibly be looking for him? Ivanova and Waterhouse both paged him when they needed something, and everyone else he usually had to hunt down the hard way because they never came to him. He set down his PADD, and turned to face the door. He could reach out and press the button without fully standing up, but why bother?

"Come."

With the acknowledgement being called out like a judge summoning a witness to the stand Rik stepped through the door and into the tiny world within.

The glass and stainless steel desk with a hutch above it took up most of the wall across from the door. The wall to the left was almost entirely covered with a large print of what to the untrained eye just looked like paint splatters, but someone familiar with 20th century Earth art might recognize the work of Jackson Pollock. What little wall there was to the right of the door was occupied by a reddish-brown leather armchair. Cecil stayed seated in his desk chair, one eyebrow raised as the door slid open.

Like a thief in the night Rik looked around, checking the location - an interesting painting on the wall although not something he recognised. Classy joint - compact, said a lot about the man behind the desk. "Interesting piece joe" he commented as he moved in front of the desk. "Figured I should introduce myself - Rik Caine, security investigator and chief of the boat" he said by way of an introduction. "Heard you were the man to talk to about arranging a check-in meeting with the Commodore" he explained.

"You're the guy that's been sneaking in and out of Waterhouse's quarters, aren't you?" Cecil eyed the master chief that stood in front of him. "Please, take a seat." Cecil indicated the leather chair, sliding his desk chair backwards towards the Pollock print to leave a little space between the two of them in the small room. He wasn't sure if he liked the guy yet, but he'd have to work with him... so there was no reason to be rude.

"I only sneak if need be kiddo" he said not directly answering the question he guessed the Yeoman already knew the answer to. He took the offered seat in the small space that was apparently an office and set the purple bottle down on the table. Internally he was surprised and caught a little off-guard. Had he seen them? Who would he tell? "What makes you think I've been sneaking into anyone's joint anyhow?" he said probing the matter a little further for clarity.

"Kiddo?" Cecil echoed with a shake of his head. "You realize, old man, that your lady friend is only a year older than me, right?" He knew that Waterhouse could take care of herself, but he still couldn't help bristling at this older enlisted man who thought he was good enough for one of his command staff. "There's what, a couple decades between you two?"

Rik chuckled, the guy had pluck - he liked that. But he still couldn't quite place his angle. He leaned back in the chair and studied the younger crewman on the opposite side of the desk trying to get a read on the joe. "God I hope I don't look *that* old" he joked rubbing his weathered face "guess the work I do will do that to ya". He paused. "So you never said, what makes you think I've been sneaking around?"

"Let me put this in a way your gum-shoe addled mind can process," Cecil said with a sigh. "You two are about as obvious as two alley cats in heat. I hope you don't plan to behave like that in the ready room."

Rik couldn’t help but let out a laugh at this point. "I like you - you got some grit about ya - but no, on duty I will hide it better - I made a promise". He added chuckling at the comment previously. "Either you're protective of the dame or you're into regs more than the average joe" he added astutely reading the situation. "So can you set up a meeting with the CO, I need to do this proper" he added.

"We had an issue recently with another gentleman disrupting the command team with his interest. Makes my job harder and leaves me a little wary," Cecil allowed, an eyebrow raised at the mention of a promise. "Shouldn't you have already reported in? You got on before we left Utopia Planitia." He collected a PADD from his desk, and pulled up Ivanova's schedule. "First thing in the morning tomorrow would probably work best."

Rik raised a brow "well whatever that bo's interest; mine is nothing but as honest and true as a fired arrow" he said slowly. "I get you're wary... understandable; but I'm no fool here for a game". He winced at the question; technically the answer was yes he probably should have done. But he hated formality. He had hoped the PADD with his transfer information being sent upstairs may have been enough and then he'd met Amelia who drove him dizzy with her spell. He wasn't about to say that though. "I tend to shy away from regulations, being back on a ship is a learning curve. I got distracted. I went to work" he said patting the purple bottle sitting on the desk. "If you can arrange something for first thing in the morning though bo, I'll owe you a smell from the barrel".

"Distracted, right." Cecil shook his head, slipped Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine into a slot on Ivanova's docket first thing in the morning, 0700. That was technically before she was due on duty, but he knew she'd be around early because of the expected arrival at the wormhole's sector. Also, he knew Waterhouse would be up early anyways, so he wouldn't be taking her new play thing away from her.

"Distracted" he repeated appreciating it wasn't going to be convincing however many times he said it. "So are we good? Can you fix that?" he asked after a moment's silence filled the room like water from a burst pipe.

"Oh-seven-hundred. But I can't fix anything, as Ivanova's a woman of actions, not words. That's all on you," Cecil explained, setting the PADD aside again. He looked at the bottle that the Master Chief had brought with him into the room, trying to identify the language that featured on the label.

"You" Rik said pointing a purposeful finger at the Yeoman "are a gent, thank you" he concluded as he nodded heeding his words about actions over words. "Orion" Rik added after a while noticing the bo's eyes gaze to the label.

"Is that even legal?" He leaned closer to the bottle, inspecting it but not touching it... almost as if he was afraid it was going to bite him or infect him if he did.

Rik grinned, the devil controlling his lips stretching out that wicked smile. "That... I have no idea... Not even sure what it is... just that the writing is Orion" he said with a small amount of excitement in his voice. "Was a gift for helping a joe out the Dutch earlier" he explained.

"...A joe out of a Dutch," Cecil repeated, his eyes slowly making them way to the man who sat in the leather chair. "You say words I know, words I know what they mean, and still make no sense."

Rik sighed slowly forgetting this was a whole new bunch that still needed to learn just what exactly it was he was going on about. He wondered if the man had even heard of Raymond Chandler or any of the other greats from the genre that shaped his linguistic syntax. "If only the universal translator could work out hardboiled slang... we'd be firin' on all six" he quipped. "Joe is a guy, out the Dutch is out of trouble" he explained after a beat pause. "Use it sometime, you might enjoy the fit" he added with a grin.

Cecil closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Well, go on then. You're clearly not going to be happy until you tell the story," he finally prompted. Whatever else Cecil could say, his doubts about this man's intentions towards Waterhouse were clearing up, the two seemed to be cut from the same cloth.

Rik couldn’t help but chuckle a little "you're intrigued bo, you know it - this is the case of the missing gat" he quipped before taking the bottle in his hand and admiring its slender fluid lines and deep purple hue. "I was sitting in my office; it was quiet, like a walk through a graveyard and finishing some work on an unrelated matter all the while daydreaming about… Well anyway, in walks this joe. Not an unusual event to take place; sure lots of people need something looked into or another. Not this one. Blue in skin, high in emotion and round and bouncy like a basketball being shot through hoops. Guy was restless and seemed to have the hood in question banged to rights and ready for the big elbow - just needed a gum-shoe who'd listen and take the shot. So I listens to him; tells me how he bunks with a guy who shoots pool, drinks easy and likes to visit a creep joint in the holosuite - a real stand-up chap it seems".

Rik paused for a moment letting the scene be set before continuing "anyway; he says this hood has pinched an antique of sorts, gat from the twenty-second century - graduation gift. Accused him of going to fence it the next time we docked somewhere; if his skin weren't permanently blue I swear he'd be all shades of red. So; we mosey down there… I chat to the suspected hood and he's slimy sure… criminal? Doubtful. So blue joe accuses him of dibbing with another – suspected hood takes a lunge; thankfully with reactions quicker than a cat near a water hose I caught the hook mid-swing and put him on the floor. Pot was about boiling about to blow."

He paused again and cleared his throat a little, dry from the air or the monologue on his lips.

"Do we need to look at a quarters reassignment?" Cecil asked. He had finally realized why the man's style of speech sounded familiar... It was like the detective novels he read, but he'd never actually heard anyone speak like that before.

"No, no... they're right as rain now" Rik chuckled finding it amusing that Cecil's mind had jumped straight to work he may need to follow-up on and somewhat impressed he'd followed along without asking 'what the hell does that even mean?'... or at least; he was good at pretending.

"So. There we were the suspected hood floored; blue joe jumping up and down like a coiled jack-in-the-box released and crying for an arrest…. And a hunch that something hinky was going down. I took a nosey around their joint; small you see, enlisted quarters never much to write home about. Found the gat's carry case wedged under the suspect hood’s bed; too obvious if it had been him. So I asked them; anyone been lookin' around recently. They looked at me like lost lambs at the slaughter. Both in disbelief I wasn’t about to elbow the suspected hood into an interrogation room. Could have done; I suppose. At that point it looked like a clean sneak, save for a gum wrapper."

Rik adjusted in his seat to get more comfortable before speaking again "the middle part of any story is always interesting; where the clues are found, people questioned, tongues loosened but I get the feeling you probably don’t have all day so I'll simply say that like a dog trying to find a bone I followed the scent laid before me. Gum wrapper in the quarters neither claimed, to one of the science staff who worked with the suspected hood who was a fan of old advertising - he recognised the wrapper as he'd seen some down by a replicator near maintenance. Checked the logs and voila - new suspect on the wall like putting up a picture". He took a moment before continuing.

"Had to track him down - we needed to chin. When I caught up with the perp he was as cagey as a bird house and sweating beads like a leaking tap. Few hardnosed questions and he pretty much sung like I was his priest in a confession. Turned out the suspect hood had beaten this no good bindle stiff at a game of cards the night before, to a sum he couldn’t afford to cough up. Figured he'd try blackmail and framing him when that didn’t work to get out of it and it backfired… He's enjoying his stay in the slammer until JAG can do their thing. To cut a long story short; blue joe got his gat safely returned and rekindled a friendship with the roommate while this bottle of pretty purple hooch made its way to me as a reward. Not bad; for a day's work" he concluded with a grin.

"All that from a gum wrapper?" Cecil shook his head again. "I'm glad that the two... joes made amends."

"See it's catching on - funny thing about language, it can be endearing, meaningless or full of emotion depending on the spin and I've found the hardboiled slang of Earth's past to be just confusing and unique enough to throw hoods off their game and endearing enough to loosen a few tongues when required" he explained; wanting the man opposite to understand. "All that from a gum wrapper - everyone is always so busy focusing on the big details that those tiny ones get missed or overlooked... Well I've learned that the smallest of detail can lead to the biggest reward or more importantly where my work is concerned; truth and justice" he said grinning and patting the bottle.


=/\= End Log =/\=

Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine
Security Investigator/Chief of the Boat
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

Petty Officer 3rd Class Cecil DuPont
Commodore's Yeoman
USS Vindicator, USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

 

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