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re: Part 2
 by SATC Krahe on 01/01/10 9:27
One Month Ago...
"It is with great honor and pomp that I, Admiral [insert plot/time relevant Admiral's name here], hereby promote this class of cadets to Ensign and thereby graduate them from the Starfleet Acadamy. You have all shown yourselves to be members with high morals, technical proficiency, and leadership qualities. In short, keeping with the traditions and ideals of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets..."
Krahe let the Admiral's speech wash over him, like a warm wave on the beach. The specific words were not important, rather the fact of the moment that he, a Romulan from a refugee family, was finally entering an arena were he could truly make something of himself, was paramount. Becoming something worthy was the one thing above all else that his parents drilled into him from the moment of his birth. Sometimes Krahe just wanted to forget it all, jump out of the race, and relax, but for the most part, he was determined to prove himself. Now he had his chance.
After the speech and ceremonies finished, Krahe took his time leaving the building. It was as he slowly went down the steps, amidst the crowds of excited, freshly minted ensigns, that he was approached by Rowly and Wynne. The Romulan would be the first to say that he had no friends during his time in the academy, but he did have several classmates that bothered him much less than the others, and for whom he had respect. Rowly and Wynne were two of them.
"You look a little lost, Krahe." Rowly commented.
"Just enjoying the moment. Before we have to get back to work. Endless work."
"Always such a positive disposition," the man replied. "Well, before all that hard work, are you going to the Gala?"
Krahe looked at Rowly with a question on his face. "A party? With me? Do you think that wise?"
"He does have a point," Wynne chimed.
"Nonsense, Krahe. Even you can enjoy yourself sometimes."
Krahe looked up at the sky. San Fransisco usually had a lovely blue expanse over it, and today was no exception. "I suppose you are correct, Ensign Rowly. I am, at the very least, enjoying myself now."
"So you'll be there?" Wynne asked.
Krahe let a moment pass before responding. "Maybe." Rowly shrugged, and together, he and Wynne made their way down the remaining steps and into the crowd. Krahe was left, for a moment, by himself to , once again, reflect on his future.
Later that Evening
The Gala was in full swing by the time the sun set. A live orchestra provided the music, and newly minted officers were laughing and dancing and generally having a great time. The male officers were still in their full dress, while most of the female officers had found the time to switch to more elegant dresses and gowns. The whole affair had an enchanting air about it.
Krahe was perched at the bar, finishing up his fourth glass of tequila. The bar was serving real alcohol, not the synthihol, but it was all Earth based drinks. The Romulan had asked for the strongest the bar had, but it still paled to what he was used to amongst his family. So while several Ensigns were starting to totter near the bar, Krahe felt like he had just consumed a quantity of sour water. He sighed as a he signaled for a refill.
The Gala was not his 'cup of tea', as the human colloquialism went, and Krahe began to seriously reconsider why he came. Wynn and Rowly were off on the dance floor, enjoying themselves immensely. That was good for them, but Krahe was beginning to feel impatient, ready to move on to his first assignment. He was ready to take the next big step in his life.
"If ever I saw a fish out of water, it was probably more comfortable than you," a voice chimed behind him. Krahe turned to find Freja standing there with a smirk on her face. She was in what was the most 'interesting' dress he had seen so far that night, and its deep crimson color reminded him of the flashes he saw when he got angry. The dress suited a woman like Freja. Her blond hair, normally in an orderly bun, hung freely about her shoulders.
"It's my party, and I'll sulk if I want to," Krahe said into his glass, turning back to the bar.
"Krahe, was that a joke?" Freja asked as she sidled up to the bar beside him. "I didn't think you were capable."
"I am capable of many things. Many things."
"Are you capable of dancing?" she asked in retort.
Krahe looked at the woman. She was smiling, smelled faintly of alcohol, and was definitely already under its effects, if ever so slightly. That could explain her being so completely out of the character that he knew her for. Or she could be feeling the absence of pressure that the Academy put on every cadet.
"I.Don't.Dance," Krahe replied in a gruff tone. A tone he hoped she would take for dismissal.
"Wow. So the great Iounus Krahe has something he cannot do," Freja said, exaggerating almost every word. "Who would have thought? Not I, to be certain. You always expound upon how capable you are, and here I find out that you have two left feet! I am crushed."
Krahe looked harder at the woman. She was definitely tipsy. Her goading was usually more subtle than that, but in this case it was just as effective.
"I said I 'don't' dance. Not that I couldn't."
"I don't believe you," she whispered into his ear before heading off in the direction of the dance floor.
Krahe could only shake his head, finish his latest drink, and follow. A challenge had been issued, something that the Romulan never had been able to ignore. Fortunately for him, his parents had equipped him well to meet challenges in almost any arena.
He approached the small orchestra's conductor just as they finished a piece, The man turned to him inquisitively, and Krahe whispered into his ear. "Tango Argentine, classic, if you please." The man nodded, signaled the rest of the orchestra, and waited for the dancers.
Krahe moved to the dance floor, and as he did so, the space quickly vacated of other ensigns. Either they had no idea how to tango, or his reputation preceded him. Whichever it was, it did not bother him. He simply stood, waiting in the floor, almost impatiently. He began tapping a beat with his foot, and no sooner had he marked of a third beat, the music began with one violin playing a long, mournful note. It stretched on, changing in slight variations of pitch, and various forms of percussion joined in lightly. Using the mood of the music, Freja slid from the crowd, a mask of petulance on her face. She made her way lightly to Krahe, taking her time, but her steps were still full of command and brashness.
As soon as she was within arms reach, Krahe struck, reaching out and firmly pulling her into him. The music crescendo-ed, more instruments joined in, and the soing was afoot. Krahe led Freja through some basic steps, nothing complicated, so he could gauge how well she knew what she was doing. Her face told him she was dissapointed at the simplicity, and in time with the music, she pushed herself off him, spinning to her own spot on the floor. The musicians deftly followed the mood with their music. Krahe, in time with the deep sounds of a viola's counterpoint, strode forward once again to reclaim Freja. This time he grasped her in a manner that would not be broken so easily. He lead her around the floor in broad steps, taking pauses to dip and roll Freja in time with the music. Their steps intertwined, their hips gyrated, but through it all, their torsos did not separate, and their faces remained masks of anger and defiance towards each other. The song progressed, and changed, and their dance changed to match. Lifts followed spins, and stutter steps lead to twists, all the while accompanied by the strokes and grips that made the Tango a national dance on ancient earth.
The Gala as a whole seemed to pause as the two danced, with every celebrant there watching them. At the songs climax, with the whole orchestra playing at a frenzied pace, someone started clapping to the beat, which was quickly picked up by the whole crowd. Whistles and cheers eminated from the crowd, chasing the two dancers across the floor as they strutted their stuff. Then the music game to a crashing end, the dancers ended in a final repose, with Freja's head almost to the floor, her body arched back precariously, and Krahe glued to her. The crowd erupted with applause, and a few of the female officers fanned themselves.
"Do you believe me now?" Krahe asked, his face still a few centimeters from Freja's.
"Most assuredly," she replied with a smile. Krahe straightened, helping Freja up in the process. He bowed slightly to the audience, as was appropriate, and made his way back to the bar. Freja followed. "Where did you ever learn to dance like that?" she asked, still catching her breath.
"My family," Krahe replied. He signaled for more tequila.
"Your...family?" Freja asked as she signaled for the same.
"Yes," the Romulan managed before gulping his drink and signaling for another.
"How does a Romulan family know about an ancient Earth dance?"
Krahe looked at Freja as he considered the question. "While my father was a weapons engineer, my mother was a historian that specialised in Terran history. When my parents raised me on Khitomer, they taught me everything they knew. So I learned about Romulan history and culture, weapons, and how to fight from my father, and about Human history and culture, and also how to fight, from my mother."
"She taught you how to tango?" Freja asked with a laugh.
"Yes. The Tango, Waltz, Charleston, Merengue, Mambo, Jive, and almost anything else you can think of. She taught me how to ride horses, how to fence, Akido, Jujitsu, Ying Jow Gung Fu. She taught me customs of different Earth cultures from Victorian English, to 20th Century Mimbuthu, to 22nd Century United. I know about the Pharos, the Holocaust, the Schism, and the Divining. Chances are, I know more about Earth than the average Human."
Freja stared at Krahe as he listed his training. "Wow. Must have been some childhood."
"I hated it. As much as I learned about Humans, I also learned about Romulans. I was constantly training or studying. Constantly. My parents wanted me to be prepared for either world when I grew up, so they took all of my time as a child. I loathed them for it." Krahe downed another tequila, then looked at Freja. "Know that I am older, I realise they equipped me with the best tools possible to succeed in my current life, and for that, I am appreciative of them." He examined her more, taking in the details. "Right now, I am especially appreciative."
Freja smiled. She leaned in to him. "You're a big softie," she whispered before sauntering off.
Krahe watched her go, then shook his head. He signaled for another drink, and as it got to him, he was assailed by the one thing he couldn't stand- a crowd. They all wanted to comment to him how spectacular his dance was, with many females asking for a turn on the floor. Krahe grimaced inwardly, and mentally cursed Freja. Somewhere, she was surely laughing bout this.
The Next Morning...
Krahe awoke sharply at 0600. No alarm has sounded, no device had alerted him to the time. It was simply a skill he had. He could tell himself before sleeping when he wanted to wake up, and he would wake up at that time. It was a skill that had proven its worth many times over, and that moment was no exception. He could get started with his next big step, but more importantly...
Krahe turned and looked at Freja. She was still soundly sleeping, her hair covering her face as her lithe body rested under his covers. The Romulan started to reach out to her, then held back his hand. Better to let her sleep, he thought as he deftly got out of bed. He bathed and clothed himself as quickly and quietly as possible, then stood at the door to his quarters one last time. His few possessions were all packaged, stacked neatly in a corner, awaiting a destination to be sent to. Freja still slept in his soon to be former bed, and Krahe let a half smile crack his face. She would likely kill him if he was still here when she woke and realised what they had done, so Krahe, not seeking any further complications, pressed on.
After a quick workout and breakfast, Krahe made his way to assignment office. The night shift was just in the process of handing the office off to the day shift, but they quickly located and issued Krahe's orders to him. The Romulan glanced over the data chit.
"ENS Krahe - Report without delay to Starbase 643, 7th Fleet, TF - 79 Exploration and Science, USS Midway NCC-41221..."
An exploration and science task force, Krahe thought as he read the orders. Great. His expertise was in weapons, and a science ship was about as exciting for a weapons officer as grounds keeping was for academy cadets. This would not do. He needed something with some potential for action and advancement for one in his position, not to play shepherd for a bunch of scientists. He continued reading the chit, examining the orders more closely. The Midway....
Realisation hit Krahe like a shuttlecraft falling from space. This Midway was one of the newer Excalibur class starships. The Excalibur, while not the largest of ships, was certainly not a science vessel. Based on what he had read on it in the academy, it was a class fully loaded for bear, and brimming with toys...weapons...for Krahe to enjoy. Most of his negative thoughts evaporated as he reconsidered his future posting.
"Well, this should be fun," Krahe said to himself.
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