04-06-2025, 10:21 PM
"How about you Chief? Those big arms used for anything other than signing brig detail PADDs, and cleaning phasers?"
A particularly vulgar comeback didn’t make it as far as Mara’s lips, as she had started on her second sandwich whilst Hally answered.
"Oh, I think we need to bring Hallowette to the shooting range, don't you Mara?" Aeryn joined in, and the Security Chief rolled her eyes as she swallowed.
“Let’s not,” Calleja replied. “I’m deeply, deeply average with a phaser. If our boom boom savant over there can shoot one tenth as good a game as she talks, she’s kickin’ my arse up and down the range.” The Bandaran’s grin was still firmly in place. “I got other skills. Ask the Cardies. I left enough of ‘em bleedin’ on their own ships. Sneaky fucks had it comin’.”
Mara’s marksmanship was perfectly acceptable and for all the jokes about it, and there were many, she was still firmly middle of the pack amongst the department’s scores. She just didn’t have the same affinity for firearms that she did for melee.
“And hey. Why do I need phasers when I got guns like these?” she joked, dropping her sandwich and curling her arms in a textbook flex, showing off her ridiculous biceps and powerlifter’s muscle tone.
She took a quick swig of coffee. When she spoke next, her accent had disappeared.
“I can, should I so desire, converse just like the rest of the senior staff. I had to study extensively before our glorious Academy would admit me. But I’m fine with being consistently underestimated just because I lift and I talk with an accent. My vocabulary is superlative, thank you very much. But I subscribe to the viewpoint that, for all the fine long words in this language, sometimes the right one is ‘fuck’.”
The grin widened and the accent was back again.
“‘Specially when it comes to Aeryn’s taste in women. As in, what the fuck are you doin’ with that nutjob?” Mara teased.
The tense briefing had undone the CSO’s diplomatic efforts to mend fences between the firebrand COS and maverick doctor, and that particular enmity was back with a vengeance.
A particularly vulgar comeback didn’t make it as far as Mara’s lips, as she had started on her second sandwich whilst Hally answered.
"Oh, I think we need to bring Hallowette to the shooting range, don't you Mara?" Aeryn joined in, and the Security Chief rolled her eyes as she swallowed.
“Let’s not,” Calleja replied. “I’m deeply, deeply average with a phaser. If our boom boom savant over there can shoot one tenth as good a game as she talks, she’s kickin’ my arse up and down the range.” The Bandaran’s grin was still firmly in place. “I got other skills. Ask the Cardies. I left enough of ‘em bleedin’ on their own ships. Sneaky fucks had it comin’.”
Mara’s marksmanship was perfectly acceptable and for all the jokes about it, and there were many, she was still firmly middle of the pack amongst the department’s scores. She just didn’t have the same affinity for firearms that she did for melee.
“And hey. Why do I need phasers when I got guns like these?” she joked, dropping her sandwich and curling her arms in a textbook flex, showing off her ridiculous biceps and powerlifter’s muscle tone.
She took a quick swig of coffee. When she spoke next, her accent had disappeared.
“I can, should I so desire, converse just like the rest of the senior staff. I had to study extensively before our glorious Academy would admit me. But I’m fine with being consistently underestimated just because I lift and I talk with an accent. My vocabulary is superlative, thank you very much. But I subscribe to the viewpoint that, for all the fine long words in this language, sometimes the right one is ‘fuck’.”
The grin widened and the accent was back again.
“‘Specially when it comes to Aeryn’s taste in women. As in, what the fuck are you doin’ with that nutjob?” Mara teased.
The tense briefing had undone the CSO’s diplomatic efforts to mend fences between the firebrand COS and maverick doctor, and that particular enmity was back with a vengeance.