367: In a Handbasket

by TC Blane and Dane Cristiane
Concurrent with The Heart of the Matter

-=USS Serendipity=-

Finally released from Sickbay with a warning not to exert himself for fear of dizzy spells due to his concussion, Dane Cristiane still held his hand up to the freshly regenerated crown of his head.

Dr. Breaux had said he'd never seen so much damage done to one head with a single beer bottle.

He said it almost proudly, knowing that Lair Kellyn had been the one wielding it.

This really pissed Dane right off because if he'd hit HER with the bloody bottle, he had no doubt that he'd be taking up a bunk in the brig at the moment instead of stomping back to Illusions to give his official statement to Commander Blane.

The whole ship had gone to Hell in the past day and a half and it was really getting old.

Replicaters were offline for the most part. People on the crew were all sniping at each other- well, most if not all by this point. Everyone just wanted to get the hell to Vulcan, get the ship repaired and then get on with life.

Dane just wanted his headache to go away.

Stepping into the lounge, glass ground into the carpet under the soles of his boots as he watched several crew men with vacuums and brooms, sweeping and sucking up the mess that had begun with one drunk Irishman and one Bajoran priest.

*I didn't think Jariel had the...* Dane thought, shaking his head as Commander Blane approached.

"About time, you're my last one and then I can get back to doing my real job." Blane shook his head at Dane. He tapped a clear screen up on the PADD and stared at Dane with eyes of ice.

"State your name."


*Still a smart ass,* Blane’s eyes narrowed into a look that telegraphed a lack of tolerance. "Ensign, I haven't the temperament for your tantrums. Let's go."

"Dane Cristiane."

"Full name and rank, Ensign!" TC snapped.

"Ensign Dane Marion Cristiane."

TC's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Got a problem with that?" Dane cringed as pain coursed through his head once again and he felt a little woozy. "Sir?" he was quick to add, not wanting to risk getting held down in a hold like the one Blane had used on Keiran earlier if he shot his mouth off too far.

*Keiran,* Dane thought sadly. *What the hell is going on with the man...*

"Okay, Ensign Dane Marion Cristiane," TC repeated for effect. "What happened here tonight, from your perspective?"

"I got my ass kicked by a girl." Dane complained.

"Yes you did. You can take that up with your therapist later." TC replied in a matter of fact tone. “I mean before that.”

"Sir, you were there, do we really,"

"For the official record, Ensign, yes we do so let's get this over with shall we?"

"Sure. For the record," Dane felt dizzier than before and leaned against the bar. "May I sit down, Sir? Before I fall down?"

TC hooked one of the few intact barstools with his foot and kicked it over toward Dane. “Sit.” He ordered.

Dane righted the stool and plunked down. "For the record, O'Sullivan was absolutely shitfaced, and,"

"Is that a statement of Mr. O’Sullivan’s mental condition or a remark about his looks? Could you put that a little more tactfully, Ensign," Blane snapped, "For the record?"

Dane scowled.

"Okay, try this. Lt. Commander Keiran O'Sullivan imbibed in far too much alcohol earlier this evening and disturbed the peace by inciting a brawl."

"Better." Blane nodded, tapping away. "How did he start it, and who threw the first punch?"

"He insulted the Captain's boyfriend and he replied with a sign that was direct and to the point. Specifically, to O'Sullivan's grill."


"Okay, okay. He insulted Vedek Jariel's worthiness to court the fair Captain Zanh Liis, Queen of all Starfleet."

Blane glared. “My tolerance is at an end.”

"Keiran said Jariel better pray to be worthy of her. Then Jariel showed how much he appreciated the comment by slugging him."

"Noted." TC acknowledged. "And then?"

"Then I got owned by a girl."

“Once again, yes you did.” TC flatly stated with out looking up from the PADD. "Can you be specific?"

"Lair Kellyn beat my bloody brains out with a beer bottle."

"Bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"Do you see the dent in my head?" Dane pointed. "Doc says it's going to take multiple regeneration treatments to fix it. Not to mention the concussion. She could've have frakking killed me."

"Yes she could have. But she didn’t." Blane replied, "In her statement, Lair Kellyn said that you were threatening her with a piece of furniture. Is this true?"

"Not in as much as,"


"Yeah." Dane admitted, now somewhat sheepish. "I shook the bar stool at her."

"So she hit you in self defense."

Dane knew that there was no point in trying to claim otherwise. "Yeah, she did."

"So you consider the matter closed then? Or should I start asking why you had the barstool in your hands in the first place?"

"Consider it closed, Sir. Just like my head injury." Dane said. "I think I'm going to throw up. Can I go now?"

"You can go." Blane concluded.

"Thank you, Sir."


Dane turned back. "Sir?"

"Next time, try to pick the side that Lair is on or at the very least learn to duck."

"Noted, Sir."

Commander TC Blane
Second Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012


Ensign Dane Cristiane
Resident Smart Ass
and Whipping Boy
USS Serendipity NCC-2012