Doing Time
Posted on Tue Mar 2nd, 2021 @ 3:03am by Lieutenant Serra V'lon
575 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
What Lies Ahead, Between, and Behind
Location: USS Essex
Timeline: Prior to arrival at Haumea
The guest quarters on the USS Essex were adequate, for what they were. Aside from the occasional shudder of the old Excelsior-class vessel's warp drive kicking in, the noise and distractions were few. Indeed, even her former partner Agent Renwick - DTI (he insisted everyone add the DTI part despite it not being his name) had left her to her own devices for the last portion of their trip. It was gratifying to have the space to mentally prepare for a change of assignment.
Renwick had insisted on sharing a drink with her as part of a 'going away ritual'. As with most humans of his age, Gus Renwick had these little foibles. His penchant for 'traditions' that he had apparently invented on the spot had not escaped her notice. Yet she accepted the offer, and here he was with the bottle of curiously-sourced Saurian Brandy, brandished in his hand as though it were a trophy. In his mind, it possibly was.
"Can't tell you how sad I'll be to see you go, V'lon," he exclaimed loudly, pouring far too much of the beverage into a pair of oversized glasses. Saurian Brandy was meant to be served as a human might take whisky, yet Renwick had poured at least three measures worth. He held one out to her, which she took but didn't sip immediately. It required approximately seventeen-point-four seconds of air distillation to settle in the glass. Of course that didn't bother her (former) partner.
"Indeed. The time has passed somewhat rapidly," she admitted.
"Was that a little time joke?" he snorted, poking out a finger. "Telling you, V'lon...got the makings of a comedian in there somewhere."
"Regrettably, I fear your instincts are misplaced this time," she replied, holding the glass in front of her.
"Say - remember the time we had to pull those two Ferengi privateers trying to steal the Queen of - what was that place?" he started, catching himself as he couldn't quite recall.
"Paratus IV."
"Yes! That's it. Paratus. Matriarchal society. Little bit angry with aliens." Renwick snapped his fingers. "Yeah. They were really not happy with you, were they?"
"I believe your recollection is not in error this time," she replied. "It was regrettable that they attempted to flee with their temporal contraband."
"No kidding. Their time crystals broke and they ended up regressing twenty years." Renwick sniggered. "And...what was it you said?"
"I merely remarked that they would serve a term of incarceration-"
"You said that they'd be doing *time*, V'lon. That's a sick burn for temporal fugitives right there!" Renwick laughed loudly. Serra merely raised an eyebrow. She'd learned not to correct his 'selective' memory after this much time.
"Indeed. I trust you will find a suitably adequate replacement," she said.
"Tough gig. You do most of the thinking. Going to be hard to follow," he lifted the glass in a little salute. "Impossible even."
"Unlikely. But not impossible." She considered that for a moment. "As with many scientific endeavours. Perhaps words for you to remember me by?"
"Hey, I'll drink to that."
No doubt, she thought to herself as she took a small sip of the brandy. "I wish you well, wherever time may take you."
"Same to you, V'lon. Enjoy retirement, huh?"
"I'm sure I will," she replied. Although Vulcans rarely 'enjoyed' themselves, some time apart from Renwick's curiosities would undoubtedly feel like retirement by comparison. One could only hope.
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