Scratchpost

Posted on Thu May 3, 2018 @ 11:15pm by Lieutenant Marisa Cheshire & Lieutenant Colonel S'er'in'e

Mission: History
Location: Flight Deck
Timeline: MD 34 || 08:00

There was a spring in Marisa's step as she approached the flight deck, even the sight of the haggard Bolian crew chief flanked by the squadron leaders did little to dampen she spirits. The rest of the maintenance crew and the pilots were lined up, slowly walking across the deck, inspecting the ground for spare debris while she got the morning briefing from the senior staff. They saluted, which she promptly returned

"It wasn't too bad was it chief?" Marisa asked, lowering her arm with a sympathetic smile.

The Bolian let out an exhausted sigh and folded his arms. "Working overtime is never fun boss, but it's part of the job. Only issue was," He rubbed the back of his blue scalp "Well the engineering staff weren't saying anything, but you could tell by the looks in their eyes that the new CEO is a monster."

"It's just teething issues." Marisa replied "Venus is very career focused and new. It will be smoother once she's settled."

"On a first name basis with the Chief Engineer?" Larry said with a smug expression.

"I'm just facilitating better interdepartmental relations" Marisa replied with a sheepish smile. "Its all going to work out for the better of the squadron."

"Whatever you say ma'am." The pilot replied, suppressing his smirk.

Marisa sighed. "Alright, we're still on lock down until there's a combat alert or an operation. Alert Fives are to remain on standby, everyone else who's on duty can hit the simulators." She said looking between her squadron commanders. "Chief, any maintenance crew that pitched in for engineering can take their next shift off unless something urgent comes up."

"They'll appreciate that." The Bolian replied with a nod.

Marisa sighed again. "As for me, I'll be in my office if you need me, catching up on some paperwork." She placed her hands behind her back and stood up straight. "You're dismissed gentlemen."

As her staff dispersed she relaxed sightly. "I need a coffee." she muttered to herself.

S'er'in'e had asked for the Lieutenants location, the word still on his mind. He'd been called a number of things in his time and tradition demanded that he go to her, a female after all could not be asked to come to him and it was a minor matter anyway. Were it duty things would be different but he saw no reason to make a fuss over it.

It was no surprise that when he saw the officers filtering out of a room on the flight desk it didn't take long for the feline to be noticed especially since tall, broad, white and wearing green was clearly out of place. He asked for the CAG when one pilot approached and was happily pointed to the room they just left.

"Lieutenant Cheshire?" His feline voice spoke, a soft rolling tone with a faint purr at the end for the R and E.

Marisa looked up from her desk, only having just settled in to her seat. "Colonel." She said with a pleasant smile, omitting his name not out of rudeness, but because she hadn't quite wrapped her head around how to pronounce it yet. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

A slight bow as afforded all females and then righted himself. "I hope I am not interrupting you or the duties you have." That after all was something he sought to avoid. "I was hoping for a moment of time to discuss something?"

Marisa was a little taken aback by the cat's deferential behavior. She'd not had much experience with Catians, (based on S'er'in'e's stature she suspected that might be because they have issues getting into a cockpit) but it didn't strike her as respectful. It was more obsequious, which in her experience meant the request for some kind of large favor was up and coming.

She eyed the Caitian warily, but none the less maintained her pleasant smile. "Whether you are or are not interrupting, any damage has already been done. However it's only paperwork so I'm not overly torn up about it. There's no need to pussy-foot around."

"As you wish." Heeding what she said. "I wanted to talk to you about what you called me during the mission, Scratchpost." He spoke. "While I understand given what I am being the cause for such a title I find myself slightly conflicted. While I am sure the title was meant in jest it does feel slightly racial and disrespectful." It was not the worst thing he'd been called in his career nor the most colourful, however those in the past he didn't have to work with, the Lieutenant however was different.

Marisa breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all?" She shook her head with a smile. She sucked on her lips pensively for a moment. "You know there are rules to these things. The granting of a callsign is stepped in centuries of tradition among my people."

She leaned back in her chair and held up her fist next to her head, extending a finger "Rule number one, you do not pick your own callsign, one will be appointed to you. Rule number two," She extended her middle finger "You probably won't like it. And the final rule," her ring finger was next "If you complain, you'll be given a worse one." Her hand then came back down. "So, yeah, it was meant to be a little disrespectful." she admitted with a shrug "But then again its not often that a Marine gets a callsign from a pilot."

"I see." S'er'in'e replied. "Then I will take up no more of your time." S'er'in'e poker face, if one could be applied to a Caitian was stuff of legends however he felt nothing more would be achieved from arguing with a female set in her own ways.

"Colonel, wait." Marisa said raising a diplomatic hand, tough still smiling. "If it's honestly an issue I will consider other options. It was spur of the moment naming. It didn't go though the naming committee so there is precedent to have it changed without it getting worse."

"Might I suggest Colonel, Sir or S'er'in'e." He turned towards her again as he was mid turn towards the door. "To impose something on another is not only rude but to Caitians especially given what you call me, offensive." Now it was obvious that S'er'in'e was clearly unhappy. "While I accept various races, professions and such have respective customs, we are not suitably acquainted enough for you to do such to apply such to me." He hoped that was clear enough.

"Aboard ship, no problem. However in ship to ship communications there are practical and security reasons why we don't do that." Marisa explained, her inflection and manner becoming more professional in the face of the big cat's ire. "Especially during that last mission. We weren't really supposed to be in that nebula. And we don't necessarily want to give away what officers each ship has onboard even in friendly space."

"Practical and security reasons aside, lieutenant," S'er'in'e rumbled as a brief image of himself using the skinny blonde as a scratching post went through his mind. "Referring to me as 'Scratching Post' is racially insensitive. I thought Starfleet trained their officers better. If you wish to call me something, call me 'Actual' if I am in command, or Colonel, Sir or S'er'in'e."

"It was a spur of the moment decision mandated by operational security protocol, Colonel." Marisa replied, staring up at S'er'in'e with a steely expression. To say she wasn't intimidated slightly by the tall, muscular creature would be a lie. But there was more at stake in this interaction than the colonel's feelings. As CAG she couldn't let the Marine CO bully her into changing her department's protocols. To do so would set a bad precedent. None the less, under the table her feet maneuvered in to position to flee in the event the cat decided to let his claws do the talking.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but it didn't enter my mind for a moment that a front line Marine officer would be so thin skinned as offended by an irreverent but affectionate nickname." Marisa made sure to imply that whatever action he took would reflect on the marines as a whole. "Now like I said, in the interests of interdepartmental relations I'm willing to compromise on 4 centuries of tradition and let you select a less irreverent callsign. What I will not do is compromise opsec and risk the lives of everyone, yourself included, to protect your feelings. This means your name, rank and seniority are off the table."

The implication that S'er'in'e was soft skinned worked well to get under it, the blahzey attitude of this officer was indeed testing. "Lieutenant, I want to make this very clear to you, from one ranking officer to a junior one." It was clear at this stage he was grossly displeased by the flared whiskers, alert ears and the slightly broadening of shoulder and stance. "I do not need a callsign let alone require one from you. Actual, Colonel or Sir." Making sure to leave the less formal option of his name now very off the table.

"If I am not leading a mission then a callsign will be chosen, by me, no one else. And as for being thin skinned, no, my skin is rather thick but what I will not tolerate is such disrespect from an officer who values her own opinions and position so highly above that of others without consideration afforded to the consequences of her actions." His voice slightly raised towards the end of his sentence.

Now S'er'in'e made his own implication known as his tail aggitatedly swayed behind him. "I would suggest, strongly, you do not test me on this, you are a Lieutenant, I am a Colonel, I am not asking you...I am telling you, ordering you if that cements it firmly in understanding, ." Infuriated as he was by this woman he felt it best to leave before she try his patience, and tolerance, any further.

His gaze was cold, almost predatory as if he was sizing up the blonde woman as nought but prey at this moment. He was not sure if she was brave or stupid, but only time would tell as quickly and quietly he came, he left the office again and beelined it back to his office where he could vent his frustrations behind a closed door.

Marisa held her tongue. She had about 100 things to say in response, though from the big cats body language and posture she realised that the chance he'd listen to any of it was remote. Instead she reflected his own glare back at him, unwilling to be cowed. She waited until he was out of sight before she collapsed back into her chair with a sigh.

She took a longing look at a bottle of Jeremiah Weed on the shelving unit behind her desk, followed by a sideways glance at a chronometer she'd mounted on the wall. "7 hours." She whispered to herself with an exhausted expression "No drinking on the job. Suck it up princess." she said to herself as she turned to her console. Heavy synthetic music began to play as she returned to her paperwork.