Someone Horny

Posted on Thu Mar 18th, 2021 @ 7:11pm by Qaraq (Deceased) & Federation Diplomat Briya Valriya

Mission: The Gauntlet
Location: Qaraq's Ship
Timeline: parallel to Bump in the Road

ON

ON

Briya Valriya and the young Broot Rognerek had been in the middle of quite a nice conversation when Rognerek's father, Qaraq, and the other passenger, whose name Rognerek couldn't remember, had interrupted them. Now, he and Briya were alone again, save for their drinks at the mini-bar of Qaraq's small but luxurious ship.

"Now," Rognerek said, once again turning to the woman he had called "petite" to much protest just a few minutes ago, "I've told you all about my father and me. What is your story? How long have you been in The Starfleet?"

For some reason, drinks were always more fun to enjoy from a tall glass through a long straw and in good company. Briya rushed to finish her swallow so she could respond to Rognerek. "The United Federation of Planets is an interstellar union of planetary governments that embrace a single central government based on the principles of peace, equality, progress and comprehensive rights, and those planets share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation, scientific development..." She cut herself off abruptly, sipped her drink and fidgeted with the long straw, looking up at Rognerek and smiling. “Sorry, I am accustomed to introducing and reiterating the Federation’s philosophy to new species and go into auto-nav at times. I know it sounds like a slogan or rallying cry, but I've heard it my entire life and have come to see that it is true; it is the fundamental mindset at the core of everything the Federation stands for. However, there are those even within the Federation who occasionally need help coming to a peaceful resolution to their disputes. I am a member of the Federation Diplomatic Corp; we are not part of Starfleet, though we work alongside Starfleet very closely. Many members of Starfleet have aptitude or training in diplomacy, but that is not their primary function. Members of Starfleet are trained for combat, but are not soldiers. They facilitate the elements of space exploration and defense. But above all, they are scientists; brilliant scientists whom I envy and respect thoroughly. In the hopes of avoiding self depreciation, let us simply say that my grasp of scientific theory and its application renders me unqualified to serve within the ranks of Starfleet. But it was never my ambition to serve as such, so I experience no insult or grievance in this. Naturally as a Federation Diplomat, diplomacy, negotiating peace treaties with foreign states and maintaining inter-state relations, these things falls under my domain. I joined the Diplomatic Corp nineteen years ago. After many years and many assignments, I was dispatched aboard a Starfleet vessel, seven years ago, and each of my assignments since have been aboard one Starfleet vessel or another.”

Briya took another pull from her straw and exhaled in mock exhaustion. “Phew, that was a long answer to a short question. Perhaps I should also take this opportunity to confess that we of the Diplomatic Corp tend to be profuse talkers. What can I say, it gives me pleasure to talk to others. To pleasure,” Briya lifted her glass in salute.

Rognerek, wide-eyed, lifted his glass in small reply, but did not have the presence of mind to drink the salute. His mouth hanged agape for a moment before he realized he could speak. "You have the appearance of a pink, pasty humanoid, but the mouth of a Broot woman!" he said, his voice a lighter rumble than his aging father's. But when he laughed the resemblance was undeniable. "If you were not so ghastly and small, I would propose! Any man would be privileged to be betrothed to such a confident woman!" He laughed again, and drank once more. "But I am afraid I like my females a bit more horny!" he said, tapping his finger on one of the white spikes piercing out of his face.

Seated at the leisure bar as they were, and being the easy-going woman that she was, Briya swiveled her stool around to face the Broot, taking the occasion to uncross her legs, switch her lead leg and recross them in the beguiling way so many pasty humanoid species in the Alpha Quadrant had come to associate with seduction and - let us say, encouragement. She wasn't convinced Rognerek's double entendre was the result of the universal translator's misapplication of vernacular subroutines. In fact, the entire approach to double entendres required a relatively firm grasp of the language in which it was plied; specifically the binary meaning of words and phrases.

Briya skipped any feigned look of resentment altogether and went straight into timeless coquettish exhibition. Her crossed leg began to brush against Rognerek's, grazing up and down. "We have only just met and so far you've called me short, petite, pasty and pink." On that last word her foot hooked against his leg and pulled gently. "You have also advocated a union between ourselves, were I not so ghastly and small. So, let us begin negotiations." She wrapped her lips around the straw of her beverage in a ravishing manner and with locked eye contact, took a slow long draw, sucking down the drink and draining it dry. With a slight whimper of disappointment, she placed the empty glass on the bar and licked her lips. "I will likely never grow accustomed to being thought of as short, and the doctors assure me I will always be 'small' as is keeping with the mostly benign symptoms of Coreopsis Syndrome. It is hereditary, but isolated to Risians so any children I give you would be unaffected and you would be in no danger of being rendered 'little' by any physical dealings between us. In fact, I'd argue that at my side and under my skillful aid, you'd appear all the more magnificent and unmeasurable. As a prospective husband, you have a right to know my thoughts on this. In light of these deplorable shortcomings of mine that I bring to the table, I will commit myself to make up for any deficiencies through the vigorous application of surrogate skills." Briya's foot tucked against the Broot's leg again as she leaned forward, reached up and gently caressed both white tusks. "As such, I ask you at this time, how horny must I become in order to secure an immediate proposal from you, Rognerek?"

"Uhhhh..." Rognerek stammered, the foot on the back of his knee giving him ecstatic chills. "I meant... you would literally have to have horns... on your face..." Unable to stand it, Rognerek grabbed her foot and swiftly placed it next to her other one. "...and also, Broot males breed through their knees. I am sorry, but it is literally impossible for us to have children... or marry. I did not mean to mislead you. I was merely stating your personality is very similar to the ideal Broot woman, and that if you were a Broot woman, you would be attractive. That said, I am enjoying spending this time with you. You seem more fun than the other passenger! Andorians are so anti-social!"

“Your knees...” Briya’s confidence wobbled. “You mean... Oh!” She sat up straighter and shielded her mouth with her hand as if she could hide from the embarrassment. “I’m ever so sorry, Rognerek. I was only teasing, but would never have been so forward as to...your breeding zones. Really? Your knees? Amazing. How do you - you know what, never the mind; please accept my apology and my misunderstanding, and we will agree to pretend I accepted your compliment with grace.”

She was quick to gain her feet and whirl behind the bar, intent to keep the conversation aimed in an outward-bound trajectory with regards to her anatomical oversight. “Allow me to mix for you one of the signature drinks of my people,” she said as she moved from bottle to bottle, reading the labels of some, or making an effort at it. “Many an ineptitude has been drowned in a Risian Mai Tai.” And just as frequently has love blossomed, but given recent events, now was not the time for such revelations. “I’ll need something blue,” she mumbled before looking across the bar for Rognerek’s advice. “Nothing too potent, mind you, it won’t be swimming in the bowl on it’s own.”

Perhaps Rognerek was not much of a drinker, or this being his father’s ship, he was unfamiliar with the inventory behind the bar. When he met Briya’s eyes there was no alcoholic advice to be found. She shrugged and continued her exploration of carafe, decanter and phial.

“You may be unfamiliar with Federation planets? I suppose that makes more sense out here in the expanse.” Briya seamlessly shifted to full on bartender mode, picking up a clean cloth and polishing two huge fishbowl sized glass goblets while she struck a casual pose and bantered with her guest. “I come from the planet Risa and our entire economy, our entire ideology, embraces one simple avenue towards success: pleasure. And to save you the asking, yes, I do mean all pleasures. Risians are open about such things and do not judge others for their desires. Within the Federation, Risa has become that fabled place that we all want to visit; of pleasure, general fun and debauchery. While it’s designed specifically for all sorts of pleasurable activities, it also has some hidden dangers. Case in point; my spin on the Risian Mai Tai. Traditionally it should not be blue, but at times breaking with tradition brings me pleasure and who am I to stop myself?”

Rognerek nodded. "We Broots value tradition, but are not bound to it. Do many Broots visit Risa?"

“I’d not met a Broot until I met your father,” Briya answered. “And when it comes to alien species visiting Risa, I consider myself to be well-informed. Knowing even a few core traits of each visiting species can help to avoid just the sort of mix up you and I encountered. It can also help ensure that there are adequate performers on hand during such a visit.” She gave him a curious look. “Do you know of Risa here in the Expanse?”

"I have heard of a pleasure planet before, but I never knew the name," Rognerek said. "There are many kinds of people in the Expanse. We've learned much maintaining our businesses on Delavi and elsewhere. We even knew of a Federation, but not of the Starfleet... at least, not anything very specific. It has only been in the last few years that there has been a Federation presence in our Expanse. My father seems to think having good relations with the Starfleet will be very lucrative. Frankly, I'm not sure the Federation or the Starfleet have a place here."

“From my review of the events surrounding Pandora’s mission, Starfleet has not put its best foot forward,” Briya admitted. “I am here to help mitigate the damage caused by this less than stellar first impression. It is my hope that the species and governments of your Expanse will come to realize that the corruption displayed within isolated ranks of Starfleet’s upper hierarchy are not indicative of Starfleet has a whole. But we must correct that problem internally before we can expect others to work past this terrible failure. I am confident that in the fullness of time, the harm will be mended accordingly and talks between all parties can commence or resume in good faith.”

Rognerek chuckled, his laugh deep like his father's. "That is a very 'diplomatic' response," he commented.

“Thank you very much,” Briya beamed. “I strive for such courteous commendation. And I strive to be ‘more fun’ than the next daughter of the trade. It does not hurt that I was practically raised into such an amiable nature. Would you believe, I was born on a ship not too dissimilar from this one? It was far larger, but it too was built for luxury and comfort. My mother was the Director of Hospitality -a role I would later go on to perform- so naturally I learned from the best.”

Rognerek sat forward. "My family is all about hospitality! My father is a wonderful proprietor of the largest drinking establishment on Delavi! I also work there part time. We take pride in our service! Many people believe Broots to be some savage, aggressive race. That is not true. Yes, we are born warriors and fighters, but we also believe in family and loyalty. We are not primitive like Klingons, who strive to die in battle. It is because of this that Broots have not had a civil war in centuries. Not when a simple offense can be solved with a punch to the face and a round of ale!" Rognerek laughed again.

“A dispute that leaves your opponent breathing when it’s all over ticks more boxes on my diplomatic checklist than trial by combat, so I suppose compared against a Klingon’s sense of familial revenge, your way of punching and drinking is much more civil, Rognerek.” Klingons were born warriors and fighters, believing in family and loyalty as well, but pointing that out to Rognerek would hardly show that she’d taken his point. Still, if she were interested in defending the ‘hospitable’ nature of Klingons she should probably say something more in their defense. But Briya did not care for the Klingons; she felt they were the true brutes of the galaxy, and while they were certainly capable of behaving in a civilized manner, Briya never believed it to be their true nature. It always struck Briya as an affectation unfurled by Klingon diplomatic delegates; an affectation that was apparently reserved for occasional use only. Briya considered herself far to attuned to the core demeanor of a Klingon to fall for their eye batting routine towards the proverbial teacher. Watching how the species handled their enemies when there was no table of diplomacy between them spoke far more towards the Klingons’ true nature.

Yet to her knowledge the Broot was a species unknown to the Federation. So Briya was surprised that the Broot would know anything of the Klingons. She’d allowed herself to make assumptions regarding the Expanse and it’s inhabitants; assumptions that her mind had filled in the absence left by lack of information. It was partially her own fault, but the last minute nature of their departure hadn’t left much time for familiarizing herself with every aspect of this mission. That was no excuse, just the ongoing result of a series of cause and effect that was currently being influenced by this rather informal interview progressing between Briya and Rognerek. For all she knew, the Pandora’s computers already contained a full cultural datalog on Rognerek’s species, but since she did not have access to those...

“Are there official diplomats among the Broot, Rognerek? Diplomats in the sense that they refrain from striking their enemies no matter the transgression? Or would this be seen as a weakness?”

Rognerek laughed again. "We don't need any diplomats! Our diplomacy is to strike fear into our transgressors! If we cannot make them fear us, then we fight them! And whoever loses buys the ale! That is our way of negotiation!"

Briya raised an eyebrow and quickly busied herself with the pouring of her blue concoction; determined not to ruffle any feathers by voicing her full opinion on the matter. “It is nice to know we may always rely on alcoholic beverages to help mend the differences between one another.” She slid a stemmed bowl of Risian Mai Tai across the bar towards Rognerek and hefted her own with two hands. “To mixology diplomacy,” she called out cheerily.

"To good relations with new allies!" Rognerek shouted, and downed his drink. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand he said, "That is a very good drink! You say it is from Risa?"

Briya finished her first sip and nodded. “I cannot in full confidence assert that the first Mai Tai ever poured hailed from Risa, but I like to think we perfected it. On Risa, we have more resorts and bartenders per capita than any other planet in the Alpha Quadrant so we learn at a young age how to mix drinks.” There was a twinkle in Briya’s eye and a mischievous smile on her lips indicating her claims would be more at home on a travel brochure than a historical almanac. “What of your childhood, Rognerek? Were you raised behind six feet of mahogany in your fathers bar?”

Rognerek laughed again. "I am not a very good bartender, I'm afraid," he said. "Father prefers me to do other jobs. All of my grown brothers and sisters work for him. Because we're family, we're the people he trusts the most. Normally I'm captain of this vessel. Father brought me along because I know this ship better than him. If something breaks, I'm the one most qualified to fix it."

“An Engineer; I should have known. I always fall for the Engineers.” Briya let out an exaggerated shoulder-drooping sigh and searched for solace in her oversized drink; her face nearly disappearing in the cavernous bowl. Unlike her drinking partner, Briya could not hope to down the beverage in one go and attempting to do so would probably warrant some sort of flag in her psych file if anyone from Starfleet were to witness. But to her credit, the depth of her Mai Tai was considerably diminished when her search turned fruitful and she came up for air with a hopeful smile. “Rognerek, I wonder if you would be so kind as to take a look at this.” She stood up and began fumbling with a fold of her gown. “My fingers may look long and nimble, because they are, but I’ve never been good at pressing just the right button, especially if they are into tight spaces.” Briya parted the extraneous folds to reveal a circular device clipped near her waist.

Rognerek's brow furrowed as he examined the small device. "Very fascinating," he said, carefully touching it by the sides. "Is this Federation technology? It doesn't look familiar to me. What does it do?"

“It is a repeating pattern buffer for simple matter streams. I don’t really understand the science behind annular confinement beams, electromagnetic focusing and the use of a gravitational compensator, but as I understand it, no, this is not standard Federation tech.” Briya glared helplessly at the device then covered it back up. “In the past, I traveled with a contingent of junior envoys, and conveying my...our luggage from one location to the next began to involve logistical concerns that were disproportionate to the estimation associated with such a wardrobe. This device is one of three in a set gifted to me by a mentor and close friend, and is designed to safely store those clothing and personal effects in a sort of informational, energy state. Would you believe it contains various articles of regalia sufficient to fill five large trunks? When connected to the Transporter system aboard Federation vessels, my luggage can be rematerialized. It works flawlessly, when it works. I’ve been warned that this flashing green light is not an optimistic indicator of proper functioning.”

Rognerek blinked. "So it's where you keep your clothes?" he asked, not sure if he'd drunk a little too much.

Clothes? Briya tried not to look indignant, but she was troubled by the perceived tone in which Rognerek had asked that question. Clothes were very important to Briya. They wrapped, protected and presented a person. Like a screenwriter penning down life’s cosmetic action lines and extensions, clothes conveyed something real and optic in every meeting. Briya’s hand instinctively went to the concealed device at her waist. “Clothes yes, and other personal effects.” She didn’t sound as confidant in her defense of clothing as she’d intended. Perhaps she felt silly now that she had to admit it to herself. She dispatched another huge swig and gave a guilty smile. “But...mostly clothing.”

Just then, Qaraq rounded the corner into the nook. Rognerek saw him and stood.

"I've been having a nice conversation with Ms. Valriya," said Rognerek. "She has told me many interesting things about her world, Risa." Rognerek's words were slightly slurred.

"I see," Qaraq replied. "Ms. Valriya we have reached our destination. Please make necessary preparations to depart."

Briya stood crisply and lined her straightened hand against her brow, offering a civilian’s take on a salute. She immediately regretted the gesture. It felt like a pretense she should have known better than to make use of. Was she drunk? Her eyes slumped to the near-empty goblet of Risian Mai Tai; the aim of her blame. “Yes, Qaraq,” she muttered. “Thank you, Qaraq.”

Qaraq looked at Rognerek. "I have some business to tend to on Paradise, Rog. From there we will see if the Pandora will need any more assistance."

Rognerek stood. "Very well, father."

When Qaraq was gone, Briya looked around at the bar and the mess they’d made. “I enjoyed spending this time with you, Rog. May I call you that? I hope it isn’t too forward of me. Oh, right, the horn thing, what am I saying.” She came around the bar and stood awkwardly at Rognerek’s side. “I feel as if I may have imbibed too freely.” She held the back of her hand against her forehead as if checking her temperature. She sighed. Then drew in a long deep breath and composed herself. “Alright. Let’s go do this.”

OFF