02-16-2025, 04:11 AM
Artemis looked around and felt like everybody had coffee. Either in open mugs (frowned upon), in casual-looking travel mugs (better), or tactical-like giant thermoses, it was clear that they had just been given a mission. Not to be left out, Art went up to a food replicator and told it her complicated order.
“Computer, thermos. One order: Double peppermint mocha raktajino, extra mint, extra mocha, extra caffeine. Hold the whipped cream, hold the chocolate shavings.”
In the moment that it took to materialize the liquid into the mug, Art felt slightly as if the computer was mocking her. Well, she was the Security Chief, and if the computer gave her any attitude, she could just rip out some cables. She worked just as well in the pitch dark with a phaser rifle with a light attachment.
Logging into her usual console, Art just stared at it. It would probably be a cold day in Sto’vo’kor when Jen Braggins gave a senior staff mission briefing, and so the COS was back to her usual guessing game of what exactly was going on. She knew what time they would be getting underway, and she knew where (roughly) they were headed. But why were they going there? Were there to be any guests they were bringing with them? She hadn’t even had her first sip of coffee yet, and Art already felt herself grumbling into a bad mood.
The temperature was perfect. The chocolate was creamy, but not too heavy. The extra caffeine’s bitterness was cut by the chocolate’s flavor. And the mint… the mint swirled in Art’s mouth, the overpowering flavor an exquisite finish to the mouthful. The young Klingon closed her eyes and just took a deep breath through her nose to enjoy it all.
Maybe today would be a good day, after all. It was certainly off to a delicious start.
“You’re a little later than usual, Chief.”
Or not.
“My god, shut up, Gary.” Art said, her tone a fake version of exasperation. “I’m the freaking boss here, cut me some slack, okay?”
“Is that mint I smell? Mint, Chief?!”
Art was almost laughing now as her Alpha Shift leader razzed her. “I will cut out your guts and eat them, Gary!”
“Yeah, yeah, big scary Klingon.”
It was the way they said good morning to each other; it was well-known in Security that if you were getting made fun of, you were probably liked. If you were left alone, you were not thought of. And if you were complained about… you would not last long. It was a seemingly-backward way of communicating, sure, but that was somehow just how it had always been.
“We do have a guest, by the way.” Gary said, logging into the console across from Art’s. “So yeah, of course you were right. No one knows about them. One guy on Gamma shift was the escort, and he’s definitely passed out by now.”
Art growled, and held back her biting remarks about the Captain and her lack of communication. Instead, she sipped her coffee, growling and grumbling into the thermos. She watched her console’s screen as Gary sent her what little information they had: the guest’s species, assigned sex, chosen gender, and room assignment. She gave a frustrated grunt now, still an animalistic sound, but a sound that was a way of thanks.
Gary, in his wisdom, nodded a welcome and moved on.
“Computer, thermos. One order: Double peppermint mocha raktajino, extra mint, extra mocha, extra caffeine. Hold the whipped cream, hold the chocolate shavings.”
In the moment that it took to materialize the liquid into the mug, Art felt slightly as if the computer was mocking her. Well, she was the Security Chief, and if the computer gave her any attitude, she could just rip out some cables. She worked just as well in the pitch dark with a phaser rifle with a light attachment.
Logging into her usual console, Art just stared at it. It would probably be a cold day in Sto’vo’kor when Jen Braggins gave a senior staff mission briefing, and so the COS was back to her usual guessing game of what exactly was going on. She knew what time they would be getting underway, and she knew where (roughly) they were headed. But why were they going there? Were there to be any guests they were bringing with them? She hadn’t even had her first sip of coffee yet, and Art already felt herself grumbling into a bad mood.
The temperature was perfect. The chocolate was creamy, but not too heavy. The extra caffeine’s bitterness was cut by the chocolate’s flavor. And the mint… the mint swirled in Art’s mouth, the overpowering flavor an exquisite finish to the mouthful. The young Klingon closed her eyes and just took a deep breath through her nose to enjoy it all.
Maybe today would be a good day, after all. It was certainly off to a delicious start.
“You’re a little later than usual, Chief.”
Or not.
“My god, shut up, Gary.” Art said, her tone a fake version of exasperation. “I’m the freaking boss here, cut me some slack, okay?”
“Is that mint I smell? Mint, Chief?!”
Art was almost laughing now as her Alpha Shift leader razzed her. “I will cut out your guts and eat them, Gary!”
“Yeah, yeah, big scary Klingon.”
It was the way they said good morning to each other; it was well-known in Security that if you were getting made fun of, you were probably liked. If you were left alone, you were not thought of. And if you were complained about… you would not last long. It was a seemingly-backward way of communicating, sure, but that was somehow just how it had always been.
“We do have a guest, by the way.” Gary said, logging into the console across from Art’s. “So yeah, of course you were right. No one knows about them. One guy on Gamma shift was the escort, and he’s definitely passed out by now.”
Art growled, and held back her biting remarks about the Captain and her lack of communication. Instead, she sipped her coffee, growling and grumbling into the thermos. She watched her console’s screen as Gary sent her what little information they had: the guest’s species, assigned sex, chosen gender, and room assignment. She gave a frustrated grunt now, still an animalistic sound, but a sound that was a way of thanks.
Gary, in his wisdom, nodded a welcome and moved on.