TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Thu Nov 17, 2016 4:38 pm

Did Marcus just bed my Vulcan NPC?!?

Great log, dude.

And huge praise for the previous ones, too. You and Soph make a brilliant writing pair.

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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Thu Nov 17, 2016 4:52 pm

Well, he's not sure he did, you see. Wine, dreams, ... probably not, but he can't be sure.

And thanks, it is indeed nice to write with Soph, too.
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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby C. J. Short » Thu Dec 01, 2016 4:49 am

That's one way to neutralize potential threats, anyway.
"As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death." - George Bernard Shaw, Overruled

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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby Einar S » Thu Dec 01, 2016 1:52 pm

C. J. Short wrote:That's one way to neutralize potential threats, anyway.

works for James Bond
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TAC LtJG Marcus Trevanion - sd11612.01

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Thu Dec 08, 2016 7:31 pm

With Aoibhe as the royal regal princess glory lady.

.


"You're not very young," she observed as she turned and settled herself on her pile of silken cushions. Her round, purple irises examined the Tactical officer with vague interest.

Marcus smiled and offered a generous bow, eyes closed and arms wide and all, just short of the "overdone" treshold.
"Thank you, your grace." Straightening up again "In the town where I grew up, tradition also taught us to initiate a conversation with such kind of amicable compliment."

She raised a correcting hand, extending one elegant digit. "'Your glory,'" she reminded him before taking a long look at him. "I mention your obvious age because usually, by this time, the males on my planet are off, busy raising their children and are not required to hold a job. You, however..." she seemed confused "are you need not capable of fathering a brood...?"

"Your glory."
A curt nod, then his turn to pause and look.

"You see, I, and my people, do not live on your planet. We uphold and enjoy the freedom of choosing our own destiny and purpose, all genders alike. So, to answer your question: No, I personally do not feel a need of fathering anything. Yet or ever. Although I, I assure you, am quite capable."

Her arched brows lifted in mild wonder at his reply. Such confidence in a man was remarkable. Boasting of his ability, while stating his unwillingness to do the one thing that would give a man's life meaning was... singular in her experience.
"And what, prey, have you chosen to devote your life to instead...?" she enquired softly, her voice laced with amusement.

"Prey?"

A mild chuckle as he looked away to his right hand side for a second or two; Trev didn't exactly regard himself to be devoted to anything at all.
He turned his eyes back and locked with hers, intently.

"Dear princess, as a pragmatic opportunistic hedonist and a firm believer of free will, I tend to engage in almost anything... pleasurable. No target, no oathes, no greater purpose."

"Just,"
One slow step forward.

"pure,"
Another.

"Simple,"
One more.

"Joy."
He bent forward a little, winked, then gently lowered his bottom onto the pile of pillows opposite to hers, settling in a quite relaxed pose.

Ria had no ritual, no protocol, no set of rules to deal with such an affront. If her Mothers had been here, this shocking display of familiarity would not had reached its conclusion. Trev would surely have found himself face down with a boney knee on his neck before he'd taken his second step.
She glared at him, unused to taking action herself and completely at a loss.

He just sat and looked around at the room, the ornaments, colours, pillows, and the young woman who suddenly seemed completely out of place amidst all this plush.
Softer, sincere: "Speak freely, your glory. There's nobody here to measure your words now."

She shifted on her pillows, settling her layered skirts. "It is no wonder your people are always at war," she huffed, hiding her discomfort as best she could, "when men are permitted such liberties, such... impulses..." She eyed him briefly, closed her eyes, rested her fingers delicately on her lap and took a deep, calming breath. She had promised Sumner she'd see this meeting through. A real, honest conversation with a man, Baio help her, this wasn't going to be easy.
"Why do you think Captain Sara Sumner chose you for this assignment?". She refrained from looking in his direction.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I was just as surprised as yourself, really." Marcus shifted his knees a little. "But I suspect the, eh, counterpoint."

"You think your Captain Sumner sent you here to shock me." She swept her snow white hair off her shoulder and considered this. "Or perhaps you were sent to me to learn your place. Perhaps she, too has had enough of your intransigence and wishes to solve two problems by way of one plan. That would be very neat, indeed."

"There we go again, talking me down as if I represent the whole entirety of Man in known space. Well, I'm sorry, little princess, but I don't and you know it. The Captain? She's well strong enough to put me in my place herself when the need arises. Sara Sumner does not need you to control me. She leads by example, compassion and respect, and to me, that works far better than trying to squat me with a rolled up newspaper."
After letting that ring out while taking a few deeper breaths, Trevanion leaned even a little farther forward (even with the pillows being pretty uncooperative).
"Counterpoint, you see... You are order and tradition, I am chaos and individuality. There are those worse than either of us out there, but they aren't many. We need to know about each other to be able to realise and accept our proper place. I am content with mine, you, clearly, aren't."


"Our traditions ensure peace!" she said suddenly, her voice raised slightly. "Our ways have been perfected over centuries of female rule to ensure no misunderstandings arise, that no-one is needlessly insulted, that at every social gathering formality and precision aid the wheels of diplomacy!" She turned and glared at him. "The men on our planet had their chance before the dawning of my predecessors' rules... they squabbled, and bickered, and made secret alliances, and insulted each other and my entire planet came to the brink of annihilation! Millions perished because of men... men... with their weak impulse control and brittle egos are best kept away from the throne, away from responsibility... away from power entirely!!" her cheeks had flushed a deeper shade of purple, her eyes shining with more emotion than she had displayed during her entire time on the Bremen. "And you have not given me any reason to think otherwise!"

Trev just blinked and sat still for a moment, before answering calmly.

"Right. Who is he and why does it hurt you so much?"

She let out an unsteady, nervous laugh, giving Trev a sidelong glance. "Not everything is the result of an individual man's actions. It's...collectively...that your gender become a problem. My world still bares the scars of that great war. They are protected landmarks, preserved for future generations, lest we begin to forget... No, no, Mr. um..." she realised that she had never learnt his name, a desperate breach in protocol.
"Trevanion" he replied helpfully.
"Trevanion... my issue is not with any one man. I have not been jilted, or rejected... indeed, I have rarely been in the company of a man at all." She spoke as is this was a source of some pride.

He couldn't really suppress that little smile of his.

"So... You have no rapport with men whatsoever, haven't spoken to your own male citizens at all and you blame them for everything you can. Yet, you do trust men to raise your children and assume they feel content with just that as the only possible purpose in their life. Remarkable."

To his 24th century mind, the lack of equality was a horrendous abomination. Still, he knew this culture wasn't about to change because some de-winged pilot didn't agree with it.
He sat back in the pillow mound and seemed to study the princess' obviously well cared for hair and satin-like skin for a couple of seconds.

"Rarely, eh?"

"I have... " she swallowed in some distress,"... a male envoy or two. A few trusted men who travel and assist in trade negotiations and treaties. And some of my best... secretaries are men."

A bit surprised to hear the princess mentioning any males without an immediate negative addendum, Marcus' inherent curiosity stirred, almost.
"And are those men also mean and irresponsible, your glory? No gentler flame in their eyes?"

"Our men aren't animals," she corrected, studiously avoiding his gaze. "They are simply aware of the actions of their gender in generations past and are encouraged towards the gentler arts. Some, who are unable, or are too old to bond and breed, remain in service in certain fields. It is a good system. It ensures peace remains. What resides in their eyes is of no concern," she added, finally facing him. "In addition, society as a whole favours a more... docile... male, so be it by nature or nurture, men like you are blessedly rare."

Of no concern.

That rang in Trev's head like a town bell during a hurricane.

Animals, encouraged, breed, docile, no concern.

Men aren't people to these women, they're pets, cattle, breeding stock. Merely a sad necessity for the continued endurance of their race. Until science can bypass even that, probably. Fuck... Marcus shut his eyes and inhaled sharply, holding the air inside, letting it settle and desaturate before slowly exhaling and lifting his eyelids. This talk could become a fight over the very values the Federation upheld. One that was not to be won by arguing with this lady here. One of which Marcus wondered why Bantree had set it up. One he did not fancy playing out.

So he didn't.

Half a mutter, in a lower voice.
"You people really don't like to have any fun, then. Hm?"

"Fun... is a luxury reserved for the lower classes. For me... I have my obligations, and duties." She seemed less than enthused but highly determined about this fact. "I must ensure the continuation of my unbroken line and the peace of my world by choosing a suitable partner. Then, perhaps, there may be some... fun..." she shifted on her mound of pillows. "I admit, part of my willingness to entertain this meeting at all, is to gain some experience dealing a male. I have known only men at a distance. Once bonded..." she picked at a piece of dust on her jeweled dress, "that will likely change."

Right, sex slaves then. Not much Trev hasn't seen yet, but it still leaned too close to that man-herd of theirs.

"Well, milady, allow me to suggest a swift process then. I'm quite sure your... mothers, will have seen to the genetic research and all. Get it done and over with, fulfill that destiny you got so involuntarily born into, and for whatever gods you worship's sake... have some fun then, would you? The stress is visibly numbing the curious individual who's trying to breathe underneath that..." free hand making some general direction gestures encompassing the mound of regal pillows and robes "...facade".

She threw him a curious look then her expression melted back to its placid default.

"You may go," she informed him.

"I was never obliged to stay, your glory. I could have walked out at the first word I would not like, but I chose to remain and learn instead."

The admittedly older guy rose and straightened his uniform jacket.

"I can only hope you'll try the same,"

Replicating the bow with which he entered the place.

"your glory."

Turn away, walk out, shake of the head, done.

.
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby C. J. Short » Thu Dec 08, 2016 8:32 pm

Perfect :D
"As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death." - George Bernard Shaw, Overruled

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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby Einar S » Tue Dec 13, 2016 10:39 am

damn that was fun to read.

I love what you are doing with this story, Aoibhe. It's sexism and racism all in one great story. Very Roddenberry.
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TAC LtJG Marcus Trevanion - sd11612.08

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Thu Dec 15, 2016 3:47 pm

.

"Thank you. Finally."

Marcus huffed and scooped up a forkful of the delicate zucchini mash brought to him by the third waiter to attend to him over main course tonight. Damn, it was good, really. Almost worth the twenty minute wait, the indifference of the first server and the utter confusion of the second.

"Sorry, sir. Something must've gotten mixed up or something."

Trev just nodded OK and waved away the poor kitchen cadet. Not the boy's fault, but Marcus wasn't in the mood to see things in perspective.

Not with him being demoted to some piece of trade ware by that cocky brat of a princess. A cheap piece of ware, at that. Worth one whole bowl, hurray. You'd need to drop in a high warp intersector racing tender to even have a start at negotiating with anything material for his... services. And then some.

He wasn't too dim to get the advantages, see the opportunities, no.

Yes, the deal could include a permanent embassy to the Federation on that planet.
Yes, they might not need him for very long, and he wouldn't let himself be disrespected while at it.
Yes, in the future, that line of offspring might be more lenient and open to different viewpoints.
Yes, one man might be not much to trade for a chance of uplifting millions.
Yes, nice face, six fingers on each hand, probably pretty well taken care of underneath that double bedroomfull of drapes, too.

But,
Nope.
This kite ain't gonna fly. Not like this.

Anyway, the mash did actually go really well with that sweet stewed carrot gravy and those flash grilled leeks. Pity someone up the chain had managed to forego checking the dietary preferences addendum to the attending officers' roster, dampening the joy.
Perhaps it was intentional, steered by their dear visitors. Those mothers oozed a whole lot of contempt, spawning intense mistrust wherever they set foot on the Bremen decks. Probably wasn't anyone's fault altogether, but it did not easily unstick from his thoughts.

Trev was a man who could let go of anything, simply because his natural inner conversation with himself resulted in a nevermind kind of resolve, most of the time.
He was actually a pretty forgiving guy towards individual faults. Really.

Just, don't mess with his food. Ever.

"Sooo... That talk of yours, with Her Glory, must have been a whole string of revelations, hm? I wouldn't know, ofcourse, just guessing here. Was it? Trev?"

Morello, something. Damn, first names... Chokra Mahassiné had introduced him personally, short after the Base attack. Trevanion acted on dread of potential loss when Chokra asked him about her longtime lover, right after the mop-up operation had begun. Turns out the guy's badge just got blown off by the blast, nothing else. Oh, the elation. Yeah, just Morello then. Sat right next to mister hot shot race pilot, here at this segregation table.

Marcus startled out of his food obsessed frustration and blurted out the simplest thing he could think of.

"Heck no, man. Boring as hell, that one."

The freshly promoted Lieutenant from Science dpt. just blinked, hoping for a morsel of cultural view about the princess, anything to gain insight from. After all, Trevanion's already famous mystery talk with Ria must have yielded very valuable inormation! At least, for a specialist in all things Xeno.

Marcus just sighed into his plate and mumbled to himself.
"...gonna need a shot of something sharp..."

"What?"
Morello hadn't heard what Trev said.

The older guy took an investigative look around the room, clearly aware of so many eyes darting their focus towards him momentarily, trying to steal every bit of reaction they could. Escaping to his room was a no-no now, perhaps he didn't want to, really. Talk to Sumner first, see how much his valuable genes fetched on the apparently open market...
He shrugged, then turned back towards the curious science man, leaning closer and speaking a little more clearly, yet still underneath the soft hum of subdued dinner table chatter.

"Say, Mister Morello... You wouldn't know which of them bartenders back there stocks the good stuff, eh?"

.
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
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USS Bremen
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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Thu Dec 15, 2016 4:06 pm

Hah!
Summer's furious, Raq is uncomfortable, the princess needs to get laid, and Trev is about to get drunk.
This is gonna be fuuuuuuun.

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Re: TAC Ensign Marcus Trevanion

Postby C. J. Short » Thu Dec 15, 2016 7:37 pm

The captain stocks the good stuff, but she's out of bourbon. She's got gin and a variety of whiskey, however! Nicely done, G.
"As long as I have a want, I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death." - George Bernard Shaw, Overruled

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