Part of USS Sacramento: The Shakedown

Pier and Parr

Starbase 72
2402
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The Sentinel Café was a welcome luxury after camping with the senior staff on Minos Korva. Ayres positioned himself at the table at the very edge of the pier, occupying a corner so that he could see the lake and the rest of the patrons. He enjoyed watching without inviting company. The PADD rested at the table’s edge was his armour against intrusion: if anyone he knew, and luckily there were not many for he was an unsociable man, were to catch his eye he would nod but deliberately, slightly pointedly, look back down at the screen.

The screen was useful, he was reviewing the latest repairs to the Sacramento and bemused by the frequently changing estimates as to how long it would take to repair the ship. His first command, he thought, had not remained in one piece for long. He shook his head at the thought. He had read the reports earlier in the day, resting in bed in his temporary quarters in the starbase, so this was all a show. He imagined that if he studied the details of the engineering needed, he would somehow come to some greater realisation as to what the ship and crew had gone through at Boreth. It was an optimistic self-deceit.

He found himself gazing into the middle distance as his mind caught movement coming toward him, recognising the shape of the person approaching as his executive officer, Parr. He gestured with the PADD, a noncommittal greeting. He was pleased to see her and watched as she walked over. He felt awkward and glanced too fast back to the PADD and off to the lake. Parr reached the table, he pushed out the chair to his right with his foot.

“Commander,” Ayres smiled slightly and briefly, “good to see you”. He meant it. Whenever Parr was around he felt lighter, and the problems that preyed on him took on a more achievable flavour.

“How was the romantic hike? Any affairs among you captains?” Parr grinned widely, and then more heartily as Ayres scowled.

Ayres ignored her question, “Do you want anything? A coffee?”

“Not yet, I’ll get something in a little while,” Parr settled into the chair and breathed in deeply. The weather of the arboretum was perfect, a warm breeze coming off the lake, “So how was it really?”

“Good. I enjoyed it. Who would’ve guessed? I even got drunk with Captain Conrad and debated boxing.”

“Hah! You actually had a vacation. So did I, running, reading, relaxing. Getting too hot and then taking a cold plunge. You should come next time.”

Ayres felt his body skip a beat, “We can’t both be away. Who would the crew turn to? Vennock?”

Parr rolled her eyes, “The crew would survive. They might even like it. Vennock would run the ship like a stern matron, scolding the bad and rewarding the good with a full physical”

Ayres allowed himself a small laugh. It came easier than he expected, “That’s supposed to reassure me?”

“You’d be surprised. She’s got a decent sense of humour if you calibrate for the three-day delay.”

She leaned back, letting the chair’s rear legs creak against the wooden planks of the pier, “Besides, you wouldn’t actually be relaxing with me. You’d be pretending you weren’t ticking off the time before you could check in on the crew.”

“I don’t pretend,” Ayres said, though the smirk gave him away.

Parr tapped a finger on the PADD still clutched in his hand, “What are we looking at?”

“Timetables,” he slid it toward her, though he knew she wouldn’t care for the estimates any more than he did, “They change every few hours, depending on who you ask. The Sacramento will be ready ‘soon’, which could mean a week or a month.”

She glanced at the display but did not pick it up, “A lot of ships to repair, most of them more important than ours.”

The breeze shifted, warmer now, carrying the faint scent of something sweet from the café’s kitchen.

Parr’s gaze lingered on Ayres a little too long before she looked out at the lake, “Anyway, you’d hate a real vacation. You’d have to talk to people.”

“I’m talking to you,” Ayres said, shifting the PADD just far enough away so it no longer sat between them.

She smiled at that, “Ah, but I’m not a stranger. You’ve already learned most of my bad habits.”

“Most,” he echoed, eyebrow raised.

Parr leaned in, elbows on the table, “Some you’ll have to work for. I don’t give everything away on the first tour of duty.”

Ayres felt the corner of his mouth tug upward despite himself, “Work for them? You say that like I don’t already have a full-time job keeping you from corrupting the crew.”

“Me?” She looked mock-offended, “I’m the picture of professionalism. You’re the one hiding out at the far end of a pier with a fake workload.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” he said. “I was strategically placed.”

“To avoid company?”

“To choose it,” he corrected, and then glanced back to the lake as if that would make the remark sound casual.

Parr tilted her head, “And so here I am, chosen.”

“That’s one word for it,” Ayres said.

She laughed softly, and the sound made something in his chest loosen, “Careful, Captain. People might start thinking you like having me around.”

“People would be right,” he did not look at her when he said it.