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Venting spleen

Posted on Wed Jan 20th, 2010 @ 12:41pm by Chief Warrant Officer Akina Jrez & Civilian Haqtaj Matlh

Mission: The Futures Past. Season 1, Episode 4.
Location: Cargo Bay 3, SB 611

=/=St. Helene to Ro’Matlh. What do you think you’re doing? Half the crew are doing my job and doing it very badly. If you want a quartermaster, fine; you’ve got a quartermaster. If you don’t; tell me and I’ll go find a ship that does. You took me on for my contacts, not to look pretty on the bridge. If you want the latter, get some airhead with big tits – I’m sure even you can find someone like that. The Federation has a long history of those types. Meanwhile, let me get on with my job and stop sending out others to procure supplies. One, it’ll cost you a lot more. Two, you won’t get the same quality. Three, when something goes wrong – and believe me it will – you won’t have any comeback.=/=

=/=Beq Marie, If you have a complaint come and say it to my face. That way I can break your unattractive nose for challenging my orders. I told you to dump waste and gather supplies. That includes food stuffs for the Targ. If we run out, we can feed it your pathetic mewlings.=/=

=/=That pathetic excuse for a medical officer you’ve taken on – he’s trying to scrounge supplies and failing miserably. He’s barely competent at doctoring; at procuring supplies he’s.... Let me put it in terms you might understand. The pitiful supplies he’s managed to get his hands on have cost three times what I could get them for. Even at the parsimonious – sorry, cheap – wages you pay he’s set you back two months. Tell him to find out what’s needed and let me know. I don’t even want him to find out what’s available – I know there’s much more here or hereabouts than anyone’s letting on to him. If you have a problem with the way he does things, take it up with him. I am not a Federation Officer who has to hold hands with all of his underlings to make sure they sort out there problems amicably. If we do not have enough medical supplies it will not be we Klingons who die first. =/=

=/=Might be better if you did, =/= Marie sneered. =/= As for face to face...=/= she actually laughed. =/=I’m here, doing my job. I have no time for running backwards and forwards just to satisfy your Klingon need to answer every criticism with violence. Live with it!=/=

This sort of aggressive banter was not uncommon between the Captain and his Quarter master. The Captain didn't want to be bothered if things went wrong, he just wanted someone to blame if they ran out of Blood wine or self sealing Stem-Bolts.

St. Helene turned to the crew-woman loading supplies into the shuttle. “You!” she snapped, “What did you say your name is?”

“Crew-woman Jameson,” the woman replied. There was a distinct edge of intimidation and fear to her voice, laced with intense dislike. St. Helene smiled. She liked it when lackeys felt intimidated – it meant they worked faster. She rather enjoyed creating fear too. As for being disliked – she cared not a jot for how anyone felt about her. They could love her or loathe her, it made no difference. Truth be told, it was more often loathing than loving – she couldn’t remember the last person who truly loved her.

“Move your arse, Jameson! You still have three crates to load and I should have been out of here five minutes ago.”


“Shut the … up. I’m not interested in whiny excuses, only in results. Move!”

Ro' watched the loading of supplies into the rear Cargo bay from the internal monitors. The human female had come as a pleasant surprise. She had landed the job by breaking the jaw of the previous quarter master. She wasn't afraid of Klingons and she respected the house of Matlh. One day, though, he expected he would have to kill her for letting her mouth run off like that. Such a pity.


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