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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 6, 2014 10:04:00 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother, Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 7, 2014 2:43:20 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother, Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
tag
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something drink."
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 8, 2014 1:35:56 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 8, 2014 2:45:17 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 8, 2014 8:38:34 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little. "Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other. Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door. Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place. "Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered. Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty." "Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?" A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway. "Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off." "I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold." tag. |
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 8, 2014 13:22:00 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 8, 2014 13:44:34 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 9, 2014 5:53:24 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow farrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 9, 2014 14:36:07 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow furrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
Tanner's eyes scanned those of his commander for several long moments, and then he nodded slightly, mostly to himself. "I'd ask if the Federation is among them, but honestly, the answer's not all that important for me to know." He was very subtle about how he phrased that. "I just fly the ship, and that's what I'm happy doing. If you really want to know why I was still an ensign while most of the people in my graduating class have been promoted above me, it's because that's the way I liked it. Best way I can think of to stay on a small ship. If they stuck me on an Excalibur or Sovereign, I'd die of boredom waiting for it to complete a turn. Mind you, I wouldn't want to be on one of those hockey-pucks-with-guns they're cranking out these days, either." He said, his grin putting in a slow reappearance. "I hope that that explains everything in there?" He concluded with a nod towards her PaDD.
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 10, 2014 15:15:01 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow furrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
Tanner's eyes scanned those of his commander for several long moments, and then he nodded slightly, mostly to himself. "I'd ask if the Federation is among them, but honestly, the answer's not all that important for me to know." He was very subtle about how he phrased that. "I just fly the ship, and that's what I'm happy doing. If you really want to know why I was still an ensign while most of the people in my graduating class have been promoted above me, it's because that's the way I liked it. Best way I can think of to stay on a small ship. If they stuck me on an Excalibur or Sovereign, I'd die of boredom waiting for it to complete a turn. Mind you, I wouldn't want to be on one of those hockey-pucks-with-guns they're cranking out these days, either." He said, his grin putting in a slow reappearance. "I hope that that explains everything in there?" He concluded with a nod towards her PaDD.
"I prefer ships that don't take age to turn, too." Ana agreed. "Yeah, sounds about right to me."
tag.
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 12, 2014 5:06:12 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow furrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
Tanner's eyes scanned those of his commander for several long moments, and then he nodded slightly, mostly to himself. "I'd ask if the Federation is among them, but honestly, the answer's not all that important for me to know." He was very subtle about how he phrased that. "I just fly the ship, and that's what I'm happy doing. If you really want to know why I was still an ensign while most of the people in my graduating class have been promoted above me, it's because that's the way I liked it. Best way I can think of to stay on a small ship. If they stuck me on an Excalibur or Sovereign, I'd die of boredom waiting for it to complete a turn. Mind you, I wouldn't want to be on one of those hockey-pucks-with-guns they're cranking out these days, either." He said, his grin putting in a slow reappearance. "I hope that that explains everything in there?" He concluded with a nod towards her PaDD.
"I prefer ships that don't take age to turn, too." Ana agreed. "Yeah, sounds about right to me."
"Well, alright then." Tanner concluded, the cocky, self-assured grin now firmly back in place. "I'd like to log a little simulator time before we launch. May I be dismissed?"
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Post by Anahera Chernova on Aug 12, 2014 6:11:34 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow furrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
Tanner's eyes scanned those of his commander for several long moments, and then he nodded slightly, mostly to himself. "I'd ask if the Federation is among them, but honestly, the answer's not all that important for me to know." He was very subtle about how he phrased that. "I just fly the ship, and that's what I'm happy doing. If you really want to know why I was still an ensign while most of the people in my graduating class have been promoted above me, it's because that's the way I liked it. Best way I can think of to stay on a small ship. If they stuck me on an Excalibur or Sovereign, I'd die of boredom waiting for it to complete a turn. Mind you, I wouldn't want to be on one of those hockey-pucks-with-guns they're cranking out these days, either." He said, his grin putting in a slow reappearance. "I hope that that explains everything in there?" He concluded with a nod towards her PaDD.
"I prefer ships that don't take age to turn, too." Ana agreed. "Yeah, sounds about right to me."
"Well, alright then." Tanner concluded, the cocky, self-assured grin now firmly back in place. "I'd like to log a little simulator time before we launch. May I be dismissed?"
"By all means, Mr. Dale." Ana replied.
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Post by Tanner Dale on Aug 12, 2014 14:04:54 GMT
As he materialized upon the Deimos' transporter pad, Tanner heaved a sigh, Marcus' words still ringing in his ears. Why did he always wait to talk to his brother last when something came up? "Have you looked up the personnel file on your new Commander, Tanner? You should. They didn't give you a promotion. They're crumpling up all their rubbish in one big ball and tossing you in a trash can." Nicely dated reference there, Marcus. Tanner's perfect brother; Marcus was the Chief Ops officer and second officer on a starbase, bravely shuffling PaDDs and pressing his nose between admirals' butt cheeks in search of his third pip. And if he found it there, Tanner wagered that he'd need to clean it off a little.
"Hi, chief." He said, stepping off the pad to present himself to the non-comm behind the console. The ship didn't look like a trash can, certainly a lot more spiffy than the Jian when it was a few weeks overdue for a refit and still running a picket on some disputed border or other.
Ten minutes later, after a visit to the quartermaster for his new digs, and a quick trip there to drop off the small tote full of belongings he'd brought with him, and to set his personal access codes on the computer, then headed off to the commander's office. There was a time in his life when Tanner was almost aggressively passive-aggressively by the book in order to set a good example for his little sister, Rhea; mirror-polished shoes, uniform spotless and pressed sharp enough to shave with, and spouting out parenthetical sirs, but Rhea was in the Academy now, taking after big-brother Marcus' example by majoring in Ops with a side of sciences, and Tanner was feeling just a little bit disgruntled by his little chat with his brother. So, while his uniform was crisp and pressed and his shoes nice and shiny, he wasn't feeling up to going the extra mile today as he pressed the chime of the commander's door.
Ana was starting to see a pattern in the bio's of her senior staff, the majority seemed to have criminal records, and psychological and/or disciplinary problems, but had exemplary work records. Herself included. It appeared that Command was putting all of their 'difficult children' in one place.
"Enter." She when the chime sounded and looked up to see who entered.
Tanner strode into the Commander's office and came to attention, but not rigidly so, like a cadet would. "Commander." He nodded slightly in greeting. "Lieutenant Tanner Dale reporting for duty."
"Lieutenant Dale, welcome to the Deimos, take a seat, would you like something to drink?"
A faint grin played about Tanner's lips at her offer. "No, that's alright." He said, relaxing from attention and moving to seat himself before her. "My orders have me as your chief flight officer." He added; a statement not a question, because he certainly wasn't unsure of the facts in the matter. Well, that particular fact, anyway.
"Indeed." 'Typical flyboy.' Ana thought. Cocksure, mildly charming, thinks he can get any girl with a smile. She met hundreds, just like him in her life and admittedly the routine had worked on her, when she was a lot younger. Picking up the PADD she pretended to read it, even though she'd memorised it earlier. "It says here that you have an exemplary flying record, but your contempt for authority and inability to find constructive off duty activities, kept you as an Ensign for nearly 5 years. Wow, you must really have pissed some people off."
"I probably have." Far from being abashed, Tanner just smiled as she summed up his career. "Though I wouldn't say the things I do off-duty aren't constructive." He leaned forward a little, and continued in a confidential tone of voice. "There was this one starbase commodore, real armchair pilot, liked to brag about how many races he won back in Academy... So I got some guys and gals from my crew together and we took apart a flight trainer and put it back together inside his office..." He said, shaking his head and chuckling softly. "We were a pretty tight crew after that. As for contempt for authority?" His expression sobered a little. "No. But I'm very selective about those I trust. I like to trust my crew, because I take their trust into my hands whenever I'm at the helm. That's a trust that I work my hardest never to endanger. I remind myself of it every day, because sometimes it's easy to forget when you're just tapping icons on a console. But when I tap those icons, the ship moves underneath me, so I am reminded of the... tangibility of the trust I hold. So, I suppose you could sum up my feelings towards 'authority' as mistrust for those who aren't so tangibly reminded of the trust they hold."
"We had some officers like that when I was a mercenary. I remember one who was an incompetent glory hound, we abducted him in the middle of the night and tied to stakes in the middle of a desert plain then cut him so that it would attract native fauna to devour him alive. Fun times." Ana told him checking his reaction. Then as if she had not just gleefully told him about killing a man, she said. "I can understand your mistrust in authority and I for one am thankful for the effort you put into your job, Mr. Dale."
Tanner's reaction to her story was far from amusement, and the look he gave her after she told it was more one of quizzical incredulity. A hotshot and smartass he was, but cold-blooded murder? Yeah, that was a little much for him to stomach. "Commander, you'll pardon my incredulity, but... they gave you command of a starship? Don't take this the wrong way. but... why?"
"Well, first all I earned this command, it wasn't just given to me and secondly I'm a reformed woman and lastly even when I was a killer, I was a force for good. You can ask anyone." Her brow furrowed and then Ana added. "Except the Klingons, to them I'm a tale they use to scare their children. Or the Cardassians, they see me as a terrorist. Or the Romulans, but that was more of a misunderstanding. Or the Syndicate, and best no to mention my name to the N'Val Collective, or the Z'Vini. On second thought just ask the Bajorans or the people of Bhatal IV, they like me. It appears, I've pissed off whole governments."
Tanner's eyes scanned those of his commander for several long moments, and then he nodded slightly, mostly to himself. "I'd ask if the Federation is among them, but honestly, the answer's not all that important for me to know." He was very subtle about how he phrased that. "I just fly the ship, and that's what I'm happy doing. If you really want to know why I was still an ensign while most of the people in my graduating class have been promoted above me, it's because that's the way I liked it. Best way I can think of to stay on a small ship. If they stuck me on an Excalibur or Sovereign, I'd die of boredom waiting for it to complete a turn. Mind you, I wouldn't want to be on one of those hockey-pucks-with-guns they're cranking out these days, either." He said, his grin putting in a slow reappearance. "I hope that that explains everything in there?" He concluded with a nod towards her PaDD.
"I prefer ships that don't take age to turn, too." Ana agreed. "Yeah, sounds about right to me."
"Well, alright then." Tanner concluded, the cocky, self-assured grin now firmly back in place. "I'd like to log a little simulator time before we launch. May I be dismissed?"
"By all means, Mr. Dale." Ana replied.
"Then I'll catch you at the pre-launch briefing, Commander." He said, rising from his chair and coming to attention before turning and heading for the door. Of course, he now had some serious misgivings about the woman commanding the ship; who wouldn't after hearing her boast blithely about contributing to the torture and murder of a sentient lifeform, reformed or not? But he could play ball, fly the ship, obey orders, have the occasional bit of raucous fun... In short, be himself and do what he was so good at doing. And if he had further reason to suspect that Marcus was right, he could always request a transfer or resign his commission.
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