Yacht you see is yacht you get

Posted on Sat Mar 28th, 2020 @ 5:29pm by Lieutenant Commander William Rogers

Mission: Dead Moon
Location: Hanger bay

Buck stood at the railing and looked across the expanse of the Astraea's hanger deck. Between the fighter wings and the additional Ts'Usugi craft they were pushing the ship's capacity. Then there was this new craft. The yacht. In the tetris game that was hanger bay space allocation it was as welcome as one of the 'z' looking blocks when you really needed a straight bit. Not that it wasn't a nice looking craft, it was, it just needed to be parked somewhere else. Neither the shuttle nor fighter ground crews wanted to give up the space to accommodate it which meant that the problem had been escalated to his desk to solve. Buck folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, wishing he had something small he could throw at the craft. Something like a peanut or a tic-tak. He'd invited the owner to meet him to talk over what would be done with the ship. While he waited he went back to studying the craft. I was a very nice looking ship.

Ghant spotted the man looking at his ship. He was devastatingly handsome and the Betazoid had to remind himself to not be forward and flirtatious as he might have been back home. Instead, he chose a more professional, courteous tact. He offered a traditional greeting from his people.

“Clear skies, Lieutenant. I’m Ghant Xerix, operations. How do you do?” Asked the Betazoid.

"William Rogers. Flight control." He extended a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you." The eyes gave the newcomer away as an alien, but Buck wasn't sure what species. No pointy ears or forehead bumps to help narrow things down.

“Where are you from, Mister Rogers? You don’t seem like you’re from this neighborhood?” Inquired the Betazoid. He had been about educate the man on his species and culture, but humans could be so touchy about invasions of perceived privacy.

"Long time since I've heard that reference. Good one." Buck laughed. "I'm from Earth. Brooklyn, New York City. How about you?"

Ghant’s eyebrow arched at the man’s reaction. “What reference? I’m from Ohmallera, Betazed. Son of the Third House. Custodian of the Sacred Mantle of Matriarchy and Ancestral Viceroy of Darona” He replied.

"It's..." Buck shook his head, amused by the coincidence and a little embarrassed that he'd thought the officer in front of him was referring to a show as old as he was. "Forget about it. 'Son of the third house' huh? That a nobility thing?"

The Betazoid had to restrain himself from scoffing. Had this handsome faced-stranger been living under a rock? Betazed had been a member of the Federation for over a hundred years. “Yes, Mister Rogers...my family were one of the highest ranking in Betazoid society. Even now that we are members of the Federation, the Houses provide leadership and moral support for the people. We are their champions” he said.

"Call me 'Buck'." The explanation was certainly impressive and went along way to explaining the yacht. The elite were not something he cared much for in his own time, but he'd been told pursuit of wealth and status were something of the past and he'd yet to meet one in this day and age to form an opinion. Better to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. "Guessing that ride of your's ain't a rental."

“It was my late mother’s. My father gave it to me as a graduation gift.” Said Ghant. “So tell me, Buck. Would you want to have dinner with me this evening ?” He asked, slightly nervously.

Buck had heard Betazoids were pretty forward but the question caught him off guard. He smiled slightly embarrassed. "Appreciate the offer but you're not really my type."

Ghant couldn’t hide his smile at the man’s embarrassment. “I do find humans’ self assignments deliciously confusing. Well....the offer stands. And if you need the ship moved, just let me know” said the Betazoid.

"Uh, yeah, about that." The turn about in the conversation left Buck thoroughly confused. Aliens. What was evening happening now? "We're running a packed nest here. I think we fit your bird in the back, but you're gonna need to keep her in shape yourself. That okay with you?"

“Yes, Mister Rogers. I can handle the Celestial’s maintenance myself. Thank you” he said. Something about the man was amazing, though Ghant couldn’t quite say what it was.

"Cool. I'll let you know where to park as soon as I figure it out." Buck turned to leave, but stopped and turned back. "And knock it off with that 'Mr Rogers' stuff. There's only one Mr Roger's and he sure as hell ain't me."