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The Experience Of A Lifetime, Part 1

Posted on Saturday January 23, 2021 @ 1:38pm by Canaan Serine [GM]

Mission: Lower Decks
Location: Skippers Quarters, A Deck
Timeline: Alternate Reality

Previously, on Star Trek: Yeti

"To the ship, yes. To the life." M'erah gave another toothy grin, "Not by a long shot."
The lift stopped at the top deck and opened its doors, showing a short corridor leading to the bridge, with one side door held the Captain's quarters behind it.

"Therrre you go, pup." M'erah motioned towards the door, "Go ahead and trrry to find out what's behind doorrr numberrr one."

Canaan was about to ask why M'erah wasn't going to accompany him, then realized this was exactly what the Caitian had referenced just a moment ago. ' Trust in yourself, or nobody else will.' "I will." He stated resolutely, stepping from within the lift onto the deck. He turned to thank M'erah for the words of encouragement; however, the doors had closed and the lift descending before he could. Taking a deep breath, Canaan approached the door M'erah had gestured towards only a moment prior and depressed the door chime with the nervous poke of a finger.

And, now, the continuation

It had been a long week, and Opak was glad to have found a proper physician just before they really needed to get underway. She didn't want to venture out and cross the quadrant without a physician on board. She was sitting on her couch, with her foot resting on the far side armrest so that it was elevated. She was giving it as much of a rest as she could, as ordered by her newly minted physician. The door chime rang, announcing the arrival of their latest walk-in applicant. It hadn't exactly been a rush to fill the Yeti's positions, the pay wasn't amazing, and the reputation that clung to the name was even worse. She got up from the couch and moved over to the desk to sit down. She then turned to face the entrance, "Enter."

Canaan didn't so much as enter as he did tumble over the threshold and into the captain's private quarters. The door was sluggish in opening, its panels not completely receding into either side of the bulkhead, one panel even going so far as to open wider than the other. The greenhorn regained his balance, righting himself before considering the door with a scrutiny that betrayed the silly thought that the doors had been intentional in causing his embarrassment. After a passing second, the door closed in perfect operation, as if nothing had just occurred.

"That..." Canaan started with some exasperation, "Could use a bit of oil." He gestured to either panel, brow furrowed as he pushed aside the thought that it was his own clumsiness--not the doors doing--that had been the source of his agitation.

Canaan redirected his attention, "Um, hi!" He found the captain seated behind a rather ornate desk; its mammoth size dominated the front half of the cabin, which was expansive in-and-of-itself. "Oh wow..." He glanced around, taking in the stately condition of the woman's private refuge. The cabin was not as one would have expected if having toured, say, a Starfleet vessel. There was nothing sterile about the room; it was neither clean nor organized, betraying a chaotic lack of housekeeping that worked well for the woman in charge. Canaan didn't judge, understanding that the captain's attention was undoubtedly elsewhere and not in the general cleanliness of where she lay her head. Regardless, the unkempt condition offered the room a homey, lived-in feeling further enhanced by the personal touches found throughout. The stateliness came from the ornate pieces of furniture, pictures, rugs, and other decor that truly made the cabin feel like something more than a room on a simple cargo hauler. "Nice digs." He commented, eyes constantly surveying the cabin.

"I was not aware I requested the aid of an interior designer." Opak quipped back. She liked putting strangers at unease; it gave her an edge over them. She folded her arms and looked at the man in front of her, "So I guess you're approaching me in regards to some other business." She leaned back in her chair and awaited the response.

"Oh, you weren't, but you might get injured... I mean, if the door doesn't open fast enough, or you're not paying attention, or you're paying attention yet walking too fast. And it's not so much interior design as it is functionality; although I suppose you could dress up the door, what purpose would that serve? A fresh coat of paint might be nice... probably unnecessary though." Canaan rambled before falling silent upon the captain's focused eyes. "Um..." Canaan cleared his throat in an attempt to subdue the surge of nerves that were somehow inflicted by the captain's relaxed yet willful presence. "Y-yes, um, well... you see," He swallowed hard, "I was kinda looking for a job, to be honest."

Opak nodded a bit, waiting a moment to add anything, then motioned towards the couch, "Please, take a seat, and tell me what I can hire you to do."

Canaan flopped down onto the couch with a huff, sinking into an overstuffed cushion, "That Caitian asked me the same thing..." He paused, lightly scratching at his stomach. "I don't think he was too impressed with my answer." He confessed.

"Make yourself at home." Opak had spent so much time on her appearance, on body language, on how to make the best first impression. It always took her a bit off guard to come across people that clearly didn't mind so much. "What was your unimpressive answer?"

Canaan shrugged, "That barring Orion Slave-type duties, I'm pretty much up for whatever you need me to do." Growing up, Canaan had been timid, not so much as in a crippling way, but one that betrayed a mindful disposition. He was observant and thoughtful and very much an active listener; however, when he did speak, it was with a puckish sense of humor that made him fast friends. Canaan's lips pursed in a cheesy smile, "I mean if you need someone to stack cargo... I can do that; I can scrub bulkheads, clean latrines, wash dishes, or heck, I'll even give cooking a try." As he offered up ideas on ways to contribute as a crew member, there was a hint of optimism that ticked-up in each word spoken. "Really, though, you probably don't want me cooking... I'll burn a bowl of cereal." The dowdy grin transformed into a handsome smile, genuine as he laughed. "My best friend lives the freighter life and urged me to give it a try when they saw how rootless I was feeling with school drawing to a close." He explained, scooting to the edge of the couch. "Look, I know I don't know much about, well, this." He gestured all around him, trying to indicate the Yeti, "But I'm a quick study, and I like to learn, and I'm willing."

"Where are you from, kid?" Opak wasn't sure where, to begin with, this boy. She wondered if she was ever like this? Maybe when she enlisted? She couldn't imagine being this green.

"Earth," Canaan replied quickly, then realized perhaps she intended him to be more specific. "North America, I mean... um, Maine specifically... it's on the East Coast, near Canada... but I grew up more in the backwoods. Umm, but I've been living in Paris for the past two years. J'aime les français; ça me rappelle la maison, mais avec plus de culture!" His transition to French was seamless and fluent. The universal translator had made speaking other languages a lost art, yet Canaan had a savant-like gift for linguistics; he'd intended to continue language studies in the academy, but that could wait.

"Ever been outside of the Sol system?" Opak continued her questioning. She needed to gauge exactly how much of an asset and how much of a detriment he would be to the crew if she decided to drag him into this.

Canaan remained silent for several seconds, contemplating the question and considering whether to lie. He was an obnoxiously honest person, inherently devoid of any facet that lent itself to deceit; being honest was easier and often led to less heartache when the truth finally did come out. Opak's gaze never faltered, fixed squarely on the white-haired boy. Letting out a heavy sigh, Canaan's shoulders sagged as he seemed to deflate further into the couch. "Until now... I'd never left Earth." His teeth racked his bottom lip, "It was inevitable, though." He pointed out, "I was due to start at the academy sooner rather than later, so life on board a starship was an eventuality."

"Ah. The academy. So you have officer credentials then." May had never really appreciated the officers that came straight from Earth and feeling like they could run the place exactly as was written in the book. Which made Canaan stand out in her book; at least he'd make an effort to get his hands dirty before enrolling into Starfleet. "Any specialties? A track you were aiming for already?"


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