Checking In

Posted on Tue Feb 19th, 2019 @ 12:49am by Lieutenant Aemilia "Millie" Stepanova & Patricia Crow

Mission: Shore Leave
Location: Moscow, Russia, Earth
Timeline: 7 Days into shore leave

Millie sat at a small cafe, tucked away in a back corner of Moscow. She looked over the PADD in front of her, making notes as she worked. She'd sent Vox away for the evening, insisting that she have a little bit of time to herself. Besides, she felt bad about the fact that he was spending his entire shore leave...well, watching her work.

It wasn't so much of a vacation for her, like it was for the rest of the crew. There was much to be done with the Bolshoi in the few days she had remaining on Earth before they were sent off on another mission. There were patrons to contact, schedules for the next two seasons to plan out, contacts to make on other worlds to bring...unique cultural artistic offerings to the Bolshoi. The latter was starting to stir up talk. Some good, some bad. Even after all of these centuries, humans were still resistant to change. But the arrival of a Klingon opera performance in Moscow in a few weeks was already drawing significant approval from the Klingon diplomats who had been invited to attend, and the theatre was almost entirely reserved for the production run.

Still, there was much to do before they returned to the ship. So, it was a working dinner. Millie took a sip of her wine, not looking up from her PADD.

Banks had been doing surveilence of her own, sitting across the cafe. She had noted no known operatives she recognized in the past hours. Luckily she and Chance had dropped off Keiran to his maternal grandparents and Chance himself had been called up to the ship for sickbay's upgrading so left to her own devices she did what came naturally. Subtly adjusting the dark brown wig she continued to read her own PADD, the latest issue of Weapons & Ammo.

From the front of the cafe, a man approached Millie's table. He reached his right hand into the breast of his jacket, gripping something out of view.

Banks' eyes flickered to him and immediately she stood, intercepting him just as he reached the table. Grabbing him by the back of the neck she put him face first on the table with a thud. "Who sent you?" She hissed, her eyes determined behind her faux glasses.

Millie, acting as if on instinct, stepped in and grabbed the woman by the arm. "What do you think you--" She stopped suddenly, realizing that she recognized the voice. "Patricia?"

Banks eyes raised to Millie's. "Uh, hi." She still held her grip on the man pinned to the table.

"What are you...?" Millie looked down to the frightened man face-first on her table. "Could you let my costuming designer go?"

Banks looked down at the man, then Millie, then the man before releasing him and gently patting him as if brushing off his back. "So I guess I know who sent him." She tried to make light of it.

Millie sighed, giving a quick apology in Russian, taking the PADD the flustered man offered, and quickly sent him on his way. "Da, they were finishing the costuming designs for the productions we have coming up next season." She held up the PADD. "So, I suppose since you're insisting on following me, you might as well join me for dinner?"

Banks sat, pulling off the wig and glasses. "Soooo....what's....new?"

Millie seated herself, passing the wine list across the table. "You realize that I am capable of working through dinner without the need for a babysitter?"

"I'm not babysitting, I'm just observing." Banks glanced around. "Kinda surprised you're alone is all."

"I'm fine, Trish." Millie stacked the couple of PADDs on the table, setting them aside. "I gave Mr. Templar a few hours off. He practically hasn't let me out of his site since this whole ordeal started. I just wanted a couple of hours without someone watching over me." She folded her hands on the table in her customary 'counselor' pose. "But, apparently that was too much to ask for, da?"

"Speaking of him, it was kind of odd that he showed up the other day wasn't it? I mean, I found you and brought you home and called Chance. I was very surprised that he was able to just walk in, especially since we'd locked the door. Did he ever say how he knew to join us?"

Millie shook her head. "He didn't say, exactly. Though, he did bring my communicator badge to me. When James took me, I reached for it and it wasn't there, so I think whomever he had pick me up must have tossed it." She flagged down a waiter, indicating she was ready to have another glass of wine, and made a quick gesture to show that she had another guest with her. "But then, those of you in intelligence tend to be a secretive group."

She looked across the table at Banks, giving a soft sigh. "But please tell me you haven't spent your whole shore leave following me around?"

"No, I gave you some space. We took Keiran to his maternal grandparents when we got to Earth so he and I spent a few days sight seeing and then down at the homestead. I just wanted to make sure there were no followups concerning you. But I do have one question."

Millie nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"How long has it been going on between you two?"

The Counselor took a long sip of her wine. "How long has what been going on?"

"The no pants dance."

Millie sputtered, coughing in a moment of wine-gone-awry. "There's...nothing going on." She put the napkin to her lips and coughed again. "Nothing serious."

"Spill it."

Millie set her glass down, unable to hide the slight flush of her cheeks. "There's nothing serious between, Trisha. We're just...well, I don't even really know what we are. And it's not like I would get in a committed relationship, anyway."

"You just need to be careful with guys like that. He's not looking for something long term either if you know what I mean."

The counselor smirked. "Weren't you the one that told me that I needed to 'let my hair down'? The one who customized those holodeck programs with that exotic dancer so I could go 'blow off some steam'?"

Banks leaned back in her chair, then put her hands up. "Alright, alright, point taken. Just be careful, okay?"

"I will." Millie gave a smile, passing a menu across the table. "Besides, if there's someone that's most likely to cut and run on a relationship, I would be that person."

Banks glanced at the menu. "What's good that I'm not going to hate?"

Millie laughed. "Would you rather I just ordered for the both of us?"

Banks nodded, setting the menu down. "Please."

"As long as you promise to stop hovering." The counselor winked, flagging down their waiter.



Lieutenant JG Aemilia "Millie" Stepanova
Chief Counselor, USS Mercutio



Patricia Banks
Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Mercutio