Step One

Posted on Tue Nov 22, 2016 @ 4:22am by Vashkele & Master Chief Petty Officer Thomas Barnes

Mission: An Orion to Die For
Location: Brig
Timeline: MD 3 || 0900 Hours

Vashkele looked at the food that the replicator had produced for her and nearly threw it back at the infernal device. "This gisjacheh¹ is not fit for a Targ!" she yelled at the guards who stood impassively outside of the forcefield that separated her from them. In fact, she was the only one in that area of the brig other than the female guards who had been assigned to her.

"I requested chili cheese fries and it gives me something that would make a wing slug preferable!" she yelled at the unperturbed guards. "Is this how the F'deraxt'la² treats people who requests immunity?" she demanded as she went to the very edge of the forcefield and glared at the guards.

"We were just told to make sure you stayed where you are," one the guards told her impassively. "You're here and that means we're doing our job."

"Get me someone who will fix this or I will never give up another drop of information!" Vash yelled.

The guard who had spoken looked at the other who shrugged. "Couldn't hurt and she's just asking for something edible. I don't blame her, really. No matter how improved the replicators get, they always seem lacking. Maybe it's genetic?"

"I don't know and don't care," the second guard said. "If it'll shut her up, I'm happy to help." She tapped her combadge. =^=Petty Officer Sophi to Chief Barnes.=^=

=/\= "Barnes here," =/\= came his disembodied voice over the comm. =/\= "What is it, Miss Sophi?" =/\=

=^=Our guest is complaining about the food the brig replicator is giving her.=^= Sophi said as she rolled her eyes.

=/\= "On my way," =/\= said Barnes, almost too eagerly.

He arrived a few minutes later with a toolkit in hand. With a smile, he nodded at the Orion behind the forcefield and then to the Petty Officer in charge. "Let's get this taken care of, shall we?"

Vash went to the edge of the forcefield when the human came in and looked him over blatantly. "Well...the food may suck, but dessert looks very good," she purred. She stepped back and leaned against the wall with one hip out and her arms crossed under her breasts, her emerald green eyes half hooded and every part of her oozed sexuality.

"Dessert?" Tom muttered, doing his best to not let his gaze linger on the Orion. Though he and the ship's first officer seemed to be starting something, it would be best that he not endanger that. He could not, however, completely ignore the woman. The chief approached the forcefield and gestured to the nearby guard to lower the field. "What seems to be the problem?"

"The problem," Vash purred as the forcefield came down. "Is that I am under a Medical requirement to have a specialized diet and the slop your replicators produced aren't fit to feed wing slugs." She wore a simple one piece gray flight suit that did little to hide her figure and the top few buttons on it were undone to show a bit of cleavage.

Careful, Tom... Careful... he mentally cautioned himself, trying not to let his eyes go where they shouldn't. "Then I should have a look, should I?" Nice, Tom. "At the replicator, that is."

"You can look all you want," Vash said while reaching up to undo her jumpsuit a bit to expose a hint of cleavage. "However, I doubt the replicator will respond to looks alone unless the Federation's technology has improved much more than I've heard."

"It's a figure of speech," Tom said, setting aside his tool kit and pulling his tricorder out from its holster on his waist. "When one says they'll take a look, it often means that they'll do something about it."

"Is that so?" Vash asked him as she watched his every movement. "It must be a boring job for a Senior Chief Petty Officer such as yourself being sent to do menial labor."

He scoffed, smiling as he used the tricorder to access the replicator's logs and settings. "Only the Captain or the XO can send me," he told her. "I'm the ship's Chief Operations Officer. Besides, it's not that menial. I have a knack for transport technology."

Vash made a note of that information as she watched him. "Oh my," she purred. "An enlisted man who runs an entire department on such a large ship? You must be very skilled in many subjects to have achieved that, not to mention being very handsome."

"I just do my best," he told her, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the logs. He tapped a button on the front of the unit for it to reproduce the last item ordered. Within a moment, a plate of chili cheese fries appeared. "That's quite the specialized diet," he remarked, picking up the plate to have a sample.

She gave a throaty laugh and started to step away from the wall before one of the female Security guards stepped in. "Stand back against the wall, prisoner," the guard said. Vash sneered but stepped back to where she was.

"Actually, I just wanted to try certain human foods," Vash said. "The Chief Medical Officer seemed rather accommodating to my needs so I decided to see what I could get. It gets so boring eating the same cultural food all the time. What do you prefer to eat, Chief....?"

"Barnes," he said just before sticking the fry into his mouth. His tastebuds, expecting a savory and cheesy bite, were rudely greeted with one of the most foul tastes he'd ever sampled. His displeasure certainly bled into his face. Immediately, he reactivated the tricorder and began to look deeper into the replicator's programming.

"I did warn you about the taste," Vash said without a trace of humor in her voice. "I may be many things, but I'm not a liar, Chief Barnes. If anything, I only want to help and I find myself here in the Brig after turning over slavers and pirates. I request immunity and the Commander put me in here. Hardly fair, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll say," Tom replied, though he was referring more so to the terrible taste that so gracefully harmed his senses. "It appears the restricted diet the Chief Medical Officer imposed on this replicator is forcing certain nutritional requirements on whatever you wish to eat. Hell," he said, looking back to her voluptuous form and pausing before finishing his statement. "It'd replicate Romulan Ale for you, but it would still taste like prune juice."

Vash wrinkled her nose. "I've never understood why the Klingons adopted that as their second favorite drink after blood wine," she said as she took note of his attention on her body. "I think the environmental systems are also a bit messed up in here." With that, she unzipped the front of her suit a bit more and crossed her arms under her breasts. "I am not used to such heat."

Tom couldn't help but notice her actions, after all, he was looking at her. The way her nose wrinkled, how graceful her limbs moved... Tom... his mind cautioned, working to maintain control that other impulses were attempting to command. Clearing his throat, he stated, "Environmental systems in this deck are kept close to Earth-norm. And, that one is stuck in the hands of the Security Chief. I'd have to mention it to him first."

She gave him a sultry smile. "I would greatly appreciate it, Chief Barnes," she said. "After all, it wouldn't do for me to have to lounge around naked in such accommodations without even a fur and pillows to lay on."

Of course his mind took a moment to enjoy the mental image before snapping back to reality and clearing his head. "Sure," he said with a kind smile. He made a couple of quick tweaks to the replicator and told her, "This should help a little bit. I can't override the Doctor's orders, but I can help the food taste a bit more natural. I'm sorry I can't do more."

"You've done enough," Vash said with a smile. "Thank you, Chief Barnes."

Tom returned the smile and gave a nod. "You're welcome," he said as he exited the cell. "All yours," he told Petty Officer Sophi.

"See you next time," Vash said and went over to the replicator to check the results of his work.

Sophi brought the forcefield back up and gave a curt nod. "Thanks, Chief," she said. Vintmore, the other woman with Sophi merely gave a smile but kept her eyes on the Orion.

[OOC: Still waiting on some MD 2 JPs to come out before this can be posted]

¹ Possibly a profanity. For example, "this gisjacheh drug" that caused an Orion pirate ship a great deal of misfortune.
² A term for the Federation, pronounced as to rhyme with "Federation" in the Trader's Tongue, referring to a person born of three parents, all of whom were related.