A Quick Bite
Posted on Fri Jan 13th, 2023 @ 7:26am by Lieutenant JG Calanthe 'Cal' Diaz & Staff Sergeant Nathanial "Nate" Cusack
Mission:
Sojurn
Location: Messhall
Timeline: Just prior to arriving at the planet
1062 words - 2.1 OF Standard Post Measure
"Word has it that we've been picked up by the animatronics from Jurassic Park?"
Partway through quickly filling her plate with food that would only take the allocated ten minutes to consume, Calanthe paused to fix the wall ahead with a withering deadpan before she went back to pouring herself coffee. "You sure hit the moonshine quickly again."
Arms folded as he settled in beside her to watch, Nate permitted his own wry smirk before continuing. It had, perhaps, not been the best idea to confide in the Communications Chief, who counted as an ex-lover in his head even if she seemed squeamish about attributing titles herself. It had seemed prudent at the time, someone had to know about the night his superior officer had consented to dance with him lest her recollection of it involve stuffing him into the maintenance closet he'd stumbled into at the time. Of course, Diaz hadn't been sympathetic and now he'd probably hear no end of it.
"Have we or have we not been rescued by a bunch of dinosaurs?"
"I don't have a genetic sample, I couldn't verify a specific lineage. They certainly don't look like they've got any distant ancestors with hairy armpits, so no competition there."
"Well, somebody's tense."
"Yes, Nathan," Cal retorted, glaring pointedly at the marine before dumping some final things on her tray and moving away, more than experienced enough with his tenacity to know he'd follow. "We have less than an hour before we supposedly reach whatever planet we're being towed to and then I'm expected to join the first delegation to disembark. There's quite a lot going on and not very much time to waste on your sudden zoological fascination."
Cusack watched as the petite brunette flopped into a seat, head tilted to the side to properly take account of the agitation in her movements before he pulled back another seat with a scrape and sank into it. It was only several missed beats, a hesitation that lasted less than half a minute, but it was enough to change his tact and his tone.
"They seem peaceful, you think?"
With a sigh, Calanthe blinked several times at the man who technically counted as her friend and relented. It wasn't, after all, his fault that all this was happening and, despite the aspects of his personality that absolutely grated, Nathan had mostly proven to be a decent enough listener when he chose to be. Under different circumstances, they probably never would have spoken, but these weren't different circumstances and she didn't have a lot of room to be fussy.
"They seem to be. As far as I can tell, there's not much we can do if they're not. Their technology seems way more advanced than ours."
Nate frowned as he watched her build her sandwich.
"Not exactly reassuring. And our track record with encountering new species out here is somewhat mixed." Naturally distrustful until the situation proved otherwise, he studied her face as she concentrated on her food and sat back, arms folded across his chest. "You gonna be all right?"
"I'll have to be," Cal said just before negotiating her first bite. As she chewed, she hunched her shoulders and then quipped after swallowing, "I don't think I have a pocket big enough for you to sneak into."
"Hey, I just hope they're assigning you a decent escort. Fighting a pack of velociraptors isn't high on my list of terrifying experiences I want to enjoy before dying."
"I'll be sure to let Gerhard know to pass you over if velociraptors are involved."
Several more seconds of thoughtful silence passed. Cal managed another mouthful.
"Do we know anything about this planet yet?"
"I haven't been to the briefing yet, Nathan. I'm trying to eat before it."
"Okay, okay." The marine held his hands up, palms-first, in supplication. "I'll crawl back into my hole." Leaning forward, he caught her gaze and held it. "Just be careful, yeah?"
It wasn't as if his concerns didn't mirror her own. Calanthe, once she'd been informed that she was now in a position to be considered part of any first contact proceedings, had been torn between exhilaration and fear when she'd contemplated what stepping off the ship actually meant. It had been a while since they'd made any sort of planetfall and the vulnerability of their situation lent this particular visit an air of desperation that left no room for altercation. They were tired, overwrought and dragging themselves forward with about the same momentum the ship had been reduced to. There really wasn't a lot of scope left for more drama.
Suddenly weary, Cal offered a smile and nodded.
"Eyes, throat, groin and knees, right?," she quoted back his self-defense advice. "Though, if they're covered in scales, even my elbows might not do much damage."
Nate grinned. "Maybe if it was plate armor."
"Do reptiles even have noses that break?"
"You have just the left-hook to find out."
"If I want to shatter my hand."
"Now I really want to be there."
A stray piece of bread-substitute lobbed its way across the table to hit him square between the eyes.
"Goodbye, Nathan."
"Call me if they try anything funny."
"They're reptiles, Nate, I don't think I have anything that would interest them."
"Impossible."
There was a harsh scrape of a chair pushed out of the way as Nate, having already risen, laughed and dodged out of the way of the next piece of food on his way to the door. A moment of disorientation followed where the scramble nearly sent him into the back of a departing figure whose bulk made it likely that Nate would have ended up worse off in any kind of scuffle with gravity. He held up his hands to brace, narrowly avoiding barreling into the guy's back, and shot Cal a parting salute before following the other officer out and turning the opposite way down the corridor, purpose to his strides. Protocol would dictate that Command had everything in hand for this upcoming chit-chat with seemingly altruistic crocodiles but that wouldn't stop Nate having a word with a certain superior officer about the commonsense behind sending a marine presence. If anything went wrong...
...well, he could do with some new boots.