06-08-2024, 11:20 PM
== Angriest Unicorn Timeline ==
“She can hold her own but she's better with a weapon in hand than using her hands as weapons so I can only assume she will eventually tap out. Or convince me that we need to start swinging battle axes at each other. We have a 'No Weapons' rule for a reason," Tyra said.
I’m actually pretty glad she ain’t gonna take me up on that. I haven’t sparred with a person since… Well. Ever, pretty much. Maybe once or twice I don’t really remember. And I don’t plan on startin’ any time soon.
Mara’s lethality at close quarters wasn’t exactly a secret. Bare handed, with a blade, with an improvised weapon, it didn’t really matter. The Bandaran could punch way above her weight and frequently did. But at the same time, she stubbornly refused to spar, and wouldn’t even countenance the idea of boxing or anything like it. She’d grown up in an environment so saturated with violence that the idea it could be sport or entertainment was one she found utterly repellant.
"For someone with a very promising career ahead of them, you're offering to commit an awful lot of crimes. I don't need to be worried that I'm going to have to visit you in the brig too, am I? I really can't afford to lose a second good security officer in a week; as demonstrated recently, good security officers are hard to find and good ones with backbones are almost unicorns."
The compliment made Mara’s face flush. She was appallingly bad at taking praise, and even though her caramel skin didn’t go the kind of luminous red that those with more caucasian tones could, she was apparently still giving it a good go.
“Yeah, well…” she started, before taking a sip of coffee and rallying. Calleja had heard about Miller’s lateral move third hand and was still struggling to come to terms with it.
“I heard about Aeryn,” she said. “I… I don’t get it. I’m sure there’s some context there, but right now I don’t know what that is and I haven’t had the chance to talk to her. If she’s happy, I guess it’s none of my damn business. But still. I don’t get it.” She shrugged.
“As for me, no, you don’t have to worry about me. There’s a big gap between what I’ll joke about with a friend over coffee, and what I’ll actually do. I don’t know how much of my file you’ve read but it ain’t one of those that’s all good news and sweetness and light. I’ve been attached to some pretty big fuck-ups and had to rebuild after. Try bein’ attached to protect a diplomatic mission, and that mission not only gettin’ blown to shit but the VIPs you’re tryin’ to protect ignorin’ you completely and walkin’ out into a crossfire.”
The memories of the Tormance debacle were deeply unwelcome, as well as those of the breakdown that Mara had worked herself into shortly afterwards trying to atone for it. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing.
“I come from a violent deathtrap of a planet in the arse end of the galaxy. I had to fight my way off Bandar, make the transition to Star Fleet officer, rebuild my career twice now, and somehow I’ve still managed to end up on Artemis and make a real go of it. Everythin’ I’ve got, I’ve earned the hard way, and I’m not gonna chuck it away lightly. I would dearly love to sneak in to some SF:I prick’s room and shank him in his sleep. And I’d back myself to do it too. But I won’t. Because I can do way more good from where I am than from a cell in a penal colony. I know what it's like to have nothin’ and I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna let myself end up back there.”
A surprising amount of passion had snuck into Mara’s voice as she spoke. She believed every word of what she was saying.
“So yeah. I hope I can be your angriest unicorn for a while yet,” Calleja said with a wry smile. “I’ll find targets I can actually shoot at. For your sake and the new Chief.”
== Back atcha! ==
“She can hold her own but she's better with a weapon in hand than using her hands as weapons so I can only assume she will eventually tap out. Or convince me that we need to start swinging battle axes at each other. We have a 'No Weapons' rule for a reason," Tyra said.
I’m actually pretty glad she ain’t gonna take me up on that. I haven’t sparred with a person since… Well. Ever, pretty much. Maybe once or twice I don’t really remember. And I don’t plan on startin’ any time soon.
Mara’s lethality at close quarters wasn’t exactly a secret. Bare handed, with a blade, with an improvised weapon, it didn’t really matter. The Bandaran could punch way above her weight and frequently did. But at the same time, she stubbornly refused to spar, and wouldn’t even countenance the idea of boxing or anything like it. She’d grown up in an environment so saturated with violence that the idea it could be sport or entertainment was one she found utterly repellant.
"For someone with a very promising career ahead of them, you're offering to commit an awful lot of crimes. I don't need to be worried that I'm going to have to visit you in the brig too, am I? I really can't afford to lose a second good security officer in a week; as demonstrated recently, good security officers are hard to find and good ones with backbones are almost unicorns."
The compliment made Mara’s face flush. She was appallingly bad at taking praise, and even though her caramel skin didn’t go the kind of luminous red that those with more caucasian tones could, she was apparently still giving it a good go.
“Yeah, well…” she started, before taking a sip of coffee and rallying. Calleja had heard about Miller’s lateral move third hand and was still struggling to come to terms with it.
“I heard about Aeryn,” she said. “I… I don’t get it. I’m sure there’s some context there, but right now I don’t know what that is and I haven’t had the chance to talk to her. If she’s happy, I guess it’s none of my damn business. But still. I don’t get it.” She shrugged.
“As for me, no, you don’t have to worry about me. There’s a big gap between what I’ll joke about with a friend over coffee, and what I’ll actually do. I don’t know how much of my file you’ve read but it ain’t one of those that’s all good news and sweetness and light. I’ve been attached to some pretty big fuck-ups and had to rebuild after. Try bein’ attached to protect a diplomatic mission, and that mission not only gettin’ blown to shit but the VIPs you’re tryin’ to protect ignorin’ you completely and walkin’ out into a crossfire.”
The memories of the Tormance debacle were deeply unwelcome, as well as those of the breakdown that Mara had worked herself into shortly afterwards trying to atone for it. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing.
“I come from a violent deathtrap of a planet in the arse end of the galaxy. I had to fight my way off Bandar, make the transition to Star Fleet officer, rebuild my career twice now, and somehow I’ve still managed to end up on Artemis and make a real go of it. Everythin’ I’ve got, I’ve earned the hard way, and I’m not gonna chuck it away lightly. I would dearly love to sneak in to some SF:I prick’s room and shank him in his sleep. And I’d back myself to do it too. But I won’t. Because I can do way more good from where I am than from a cell in a penal colony. I know what it's like to have nothin’ and I’ll be damned if I’m ever gonna let myself end up back there.”
A surprising amount of passion had snuck into Mara’s voice as she spoke. She believed every word of what she was saying.
“So yeah. I hope I can be your angriest unicorn for a while yet,” Calleja said with a wry smile. “I’ll find targets I can actually shoot at. For your sake and the new Chief.”
== Back atcha! ==