1123: I Do Declare

by TC Blane and Dabin Reece
101109.2100
After Like a Bucket of Cold Water

-=Crew Quarters, USS Serendipity=-


“You are an absolute peach, you know that right?” Dabin said, as he plopped Sophie down on the floor of Fleur’s quarters.

“Tell me something I do not already know.” Fleur answered.

Sophie immediately clamored for the nearest toy, in this case a small set of wooden blocks with hand carved Bajoran letters on them that Jariel had had replicated for Tress to play with. Sophie cheerfully began to stack them up into a small tower.

“Easy to entertain this one.” Dabin remarked, as any worries he had about leaving Sophie with the sitter for the evening melted away.

“Like her dad,” Fleur muttered.

February knelt down and kissed Sophie on the top of the head. The girl mumbled in response and kept right on stacking her blocks.

“Thanks so much Fleur, we’ll try not to be too late,” Bru said.

Fleur’s features softened a bit into a smile, with a twinkle in her eyes as she watched Sophie play, and Tress approach to see what her little friend was up to. “Is all right, really. Take your time.”

“We should go Dabin, Commander O’Sullivan will have dinner ready soon.”

“Right!” The couple stepped out into the corridor, and proceeded in the direction of their next destination. As soon as the doors snapped shut, Dabin remarked to February, “Has it always been this easy to be a parent?”

“No,” February chucked to herself. “You know that as well as I do.”

“But, like, it doesn’t get more complicated than this right? We’ll always be able to just give her some blocks, and know that is all she needs to keep herself content and occupied, right?” Dabin asked hopefully.

February shot him an Are you kidding? glance.

“Are you sure this shirt goes with jeans?” Dabin asked, changing the subject and tugging uncomfortably at the collar of the polo shirt he had chosen to wear. He knew bonfire or not, it gets nippy in Ireland, no matter what day of the year it is, so the t-shirts stayed in the closet.

“You look fine. You’re just not used to wearing a shirt with a collar.”

Dabin continued to fiddle with his collar and sleeves, until they reached their next destination. He pressed the door chime, and waited a moment for a response. He was about to press it again, when the door slid open. Instead of looking directly into the eyes of Salvek or Lair Kellyn, he found himself looking down, though not nearly as far as he used to, into the eyes of Lair Arie.

“Hi Arie! How are you!” Dabin said, excited to see the girl who was, truthfully, one of his best friends.

“I am well, Commander Reece?”

Dabin furrowed his brow, and looked at February, who just frowned back.

“Commander Reece? People only call me that when they are mad at me.” Dabin paused, then added, “You aren’t mad at me, are you?”

“Anger is illogical. I have no need of such hindrances anymore.”

“O….. kay. Well, I just wanted to see if your mom or dad were home, I thought we could walk them to the transporter room.”

“Mother and father have already departed for the planet’s surface.”

“Are feeling all right, Arie?” February asked. Worry bounced back and forth between Bru and Dabin, not so much in words but rather in emotions.

“I am well.” Arie replied flatly, offering no other information.

“So, what happened to Raff? That’s what you used to call me.” Dabin asked, now wondering what he had been thinking when he commented just moments ago about how easy parenting was.

“A name I assigned to you because of your resemblance to the giraffe, a long necked spotted mammal native to Earth’s African continent. I was simply too young to realize that you were in fact a native of Trill. To continue to refer to you by a name I know to be factually inaccurate is not logical.”

“But I liked that name,” Dabin said, almost pleading. February could feel his heart breaking.

“I am sorry.” Arie said, robotically.

February stepped up to speak, “We left Sophie with Fleur, Tress and Pace for the evening. I’m sure Fleur could use a hand and Sophie and Tress would love to play.”

“I would prefer to meditate.” There was a moment of awkward silence, as everyone waited for someone else to speak. Arie finally added, “Is there anything more?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Reece said.

“Then, good day.” Arie took one step back, and the doors hissed shut.

Dabin turned towards his wife and shrugged. “Transporter room it is then.”

-=O’Sullivan residence, County Cork, Ireland=-

The couple materialized a safe distance form the bonfire. Before they even turned to walk towards it, the voice of Keiran bellowed out that the food was ready.

Dabin ushered Bru in the direction of the table. Keiran had created quite and impressive array of choices. His appetite had vanished after speaking with Arie, but the sheer smell of this place began to reawaken his empty stomach.

“Help ’rself Dabin, Ms. Grace. I went into town and visited my old friend Timmy today. I promise ya, ya won’t find fresher cuts than these.”

“Just the one in my heart,” Dabin said softly.

“Come again?” Keiran asked, not quite sure what he had just heard.

“Nothing!” Dabin smiled. “It’s beautiful, thanks for going to the trouble.”

Keiran was far too sharp to believe it, but he let the matter drop for now. “When ever’a’one has their plate, we’ll begin.”

"Wait, aren't we missing somebody? Tall? Brunette? Wrinkled nose and four pips?"

"As I've already said," Keiran said, adding softly under his breath, "maybe I should put up a sign..." he looked up, pasting on a smile again to try to hide his own worry over the uncharacteristic lateness of his wife to a gathering of her crew. "The Captain has been detained and gave us her blessing to start without her."

"Swell. I'm starving. Thirsty too."

"We have an array of beverages out, Reece, or I can always pop in and replicate something for you..."

"A Slurpee, perhaps?" A voice interrupted from behind them. Dabin gulped. February cringed.

*Great, just fine.* Bru thought to Dabin with frustration. *Somebody told him about the Declaration...* She tried to force her lips up into a smile and turned toward the man she'd dreaded having to try to explain this situation to: none other than Commander TC Blane himself.

"You're still hurt," Bru frowned suddenly, surveying TC's arm as it was secured to his chest with a sling. He'd nearly refused to wear it, but the LMH had said it was mandatory if he wanted to return to duty and since the Captain was still unavailable and Salvek had needed to see to some pressing family matters upon his reunion with his wife and daughter, TC had been 'it'.

"Just a toasted wing. I'll be back to normal in no time." TC said, shrugging. "But as sweet as you are, February Grace, I refuse to let you change the subject so easily." TC turned toward Dabin, who suddenly felt as if he was wilting beneath the heat of the Commander's stare. "What did you do to it?"

“Huh, well.” Dabin scratched the back of his head with one hand as he held his plate with the other. “Hey! I think the fire is going out! Maybe I should get some wood.

Blane looked over his shoulder at the roaring bonfire, which flames extended a good three meters off the ground. He then looked back at Reece.

“Not even close, eh?” Dabin asked.

“Nope.” Blane said. “Spill it.”

“I already did spill it. That’s the problem. What’s the big deal with this Declaration thingie anyway?”

TC shook his head. “I find it really depressing that such a historic document has withstood numerous world wars including near nuclear holocaust only to be nearly destroyed by you and a slurpee.” TC shook his head. “What is a Slurpee anyway?”

Dabin smiled and was about to reply but TC held up his hand cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You are about to find out the significance of the Declaration of Independence. You see, as acting captain, I’ve had the pleasure of having a stimulating conversation with an Admiral Hancock from Starfleet Command today.” TC sat down next to Dabin. “Do you know Admiral Hancock?”

“No I don’t, but that name sounds familiar.”

“Oh, well he is from Starfleet’s Federation Affairs division. You know, the guys who keep all of the worlds of the federation all touchy feely with Starfleet. They keep the peace when a Starfleet ensign starts a bar room brawl on Bajor, you know, stuff like that.”

He paused to make sure Dabin was listening. “Well it seems that even though you talked your way out of incarceration over this, the head curator of the Smithsonian is, understandably, still quite…” TC paused again looking for a socially acceptable word. “…displeased by the ordeal. In fact he is screaming that he would like to add a one Dabin Reece to the extinct animals display.”

TC sighed and rubbed his eyes. “For reasons beyond my own comprehension I informed the Admiral that it was not Dabin season and I assured him that I would personally come up with a suitable reprimand to fit the situation. At first I thought about having you pull custodian duty at the museum, but I figured they would never allow you back in. Then I thought there might be some sort of aid you could render in the restoration of the Declaration, but I figured they would once again not allow you any where near the museum.”

Blane took a swing of ale and continued.

“But I think I’ve come up with one for you. Since you do not seem to understand the significance of the document, I think you should figure it out. I want a dissertation on the Earth’s Declaration of Independence and how it relates to current political and social view of the Federation.” TC smiled. “And I want it in seven days.”

Dabin’s mouth hung open. “You want me to write a book report? I’m older then you, pointy, and the Captain put together!”

TC stood up and straightened the pull over sweater he was wearing. “Oh, and make it good because I am going to have a history expert grade it. The grade that you get will determine if any further discipline will be required.”

Dabin sighed. “Who’s going to grade it?”

TC smiled evilly. “Commander Briggs.”

“Can’t we just go the restoration route? I’m a scientist, I can separate glucose from cellulose!” Bru tried not to grin as Dabin pleaded.

“But then you won’t learn anything will you? Besides I don’t think letting you anywhere near that document is a very good idea. Compared to some of the accidents you’ve cause we were lucky to get off for the price of a slurpee.” Blane moved to step away, but Reece caught him.

“Wait! How long does this report have to be?”

“At least 10,000 words, and yes it has to be in Federation standard. I know the Trill language is much more wordy so no cheating and using it to get to 10,000 quicker. And I’ve taken the liberty of sending a message to the crew informing them that they are not to help you.”

Dabin snarled and stomped his foot, Damn Blane, always one step ahead.

“I’m always one step ahead of you Reece, remember that.”

“I’ll be back in a bit Dabin,” February turned to leave. He gave her hand a quick squeeze as she headed off.

“All right, all right, I’ll write your report on the thingie that means stuff.” Dabin lowered his voice, “So I’ve only had time to scan a few reports. What happened to you all out there?”

TC shrugged. “The same thing that always happens to us. Bad guys come seeking revenge, try to take over the ship, find out that we won’t cooperate, someone of the crew displays some incredible ingenuity and we beat aforementioned bad guys.” He smiled. “Just another day in the saga that is the USS Serendipity.”

He patted Dabin on the shoulder. “Enjoy the meal.”

“What about Liisy?” Dabin asked, his voice even softer now so that O’Sullivan would not hear.

“You know the Captain. Her feelings are between her and whoever she chooses to share them with. Suffice it to say this mission took a greater toll on some than others.”

TC slapped Reece on the shoulder, eliciting an “Ow!”, then made his way over to the food table where O’Sullivan was hovering around watching his guests enjoy the meal that was spread out for them. TC picked up a plate and paused as he thought about what he wanted.

“Admiral Hancock?” Keiran asked quietly with a slight smile on his face.

TC looked back at the big man with a thin smile. “Yea.” He then turned his attention back to the food. “Nice spread, how are the sweet potatoes?”

*********************************************
Commander TC Blane
Second Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Commander Dabin Reece
Chief Science Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012