Missing Contraband

Posted on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 11:59am by Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi & Lieutenant Cyrin Xanth

Mission: Onboarding & Departure
Location: Deck 13, Cargo Bay 2
Timeline: Shotly before Starbase departure

"Its gotta be here somewhere!" The distressed voice echoed through the cargo bay, bounced off the walls and stacks of crates, barrels, and massive chests that contained much of the ship's stores for the upcoming voyage. The poor Operations department must have been working overtime to stock the bays to nearly overflowing, or so he figured, but that definitely made tracking down the one personal shipment he had hoped had managed to arrive.

Cyrin tried to avoid thinking about the ramification if the shielding had failed on the little crate, or if an overly zealous security officer had picked his box to perform a spot check on. Certainly what he tried to sneak on board was illegal, though with certain items being a time-honored tradition among Starfleet crews, well, he'd hoped it would make it through. PADD in one hand, the other absently scratching at the back of his head, Cyrin came around a corner and went back down the next aisle, a desperate look on his face.

As the Lieutenant, Junior Grade would pass the corner, the full Lieutenant would be standing there. Arms crossed, a stern look on his face, PADD in one hand as he eyed the junior Lieutenant with suspicion and - what to appeared to be - mild concern. He stuck his arm out, nearly shoving the PADD into the chest of the approaching Cyrin, then cocked his head slightly. Oscar's voice came out a deeper shade of Russian mix than normal, possibly due to the influence of his present emotions. His voice was stern, however, controlled and very regulated.

"Would you mind explaining to me, Lieutenant, why one of my officers sent me a report concerning possible contraband from a crate you supposedly owned?"

A few quick thoughts ran through Cyrin's mind as he beheld Security's mustard department color at the worst possible moment: outright denial, a dash for the exit, pretending he was some other Trill maybe. "Uh..." He definitely looked guilty enough right now, with a faint blush creeping up his spots. In the end his mind settled on the first really coherent thought he had, and a direct answer to the question, "He probably reported it to you because he didn't realize if he wanted some all he'd have to do is ask. Uh, sir." That was quickly followed up with a wince at the admission.

Oscar sighed, heavily. He didn't betray his disappointment. He seemed to mutter something underneath his breath as he looked further past the Lieutenant.

"Romulan Ale is highly intoxicating," the Chief Security Officer stated firmly as he glared back at Cyrin, "but...I am not foreign to ale myself. If you promise me to not get absolutely drunk on this ship, I'll turn a blind eye. But I state this clearly, should you in any way abuse this trust I've placed into you, your next destination is the brig for disorderly conduct. Is this understood?"

The reply seemed to surprise Cyrin as much as getting caught had, "Really? I mean - of course, yeah. No problem!" He started to smile, and glanced around as if his missing crate was going to appear now out of thin air. "Romulan Ale is definitely to be appreciated, not to get stupidly drunk. That's what shore leave is for. I see you have some experience with the finer spirits, Lieutenant...?"

"I am Russian," he said, his accent showing. His expression remained stern. "Of course I do, but you won't if you keep loitering here. Proceed to the corner there, retrieve your belongings. I preemptively logged it as supplies, just in case you weren't stupid about this. Since you showed some common sense, I'll expect a share of that Ale at a later date."

"Yes sir!" Cyrin flashed a wide, excited grin, then trotted around the corner. His voice echoed off the stacks around them as he called back. Terran geography wasn't exactly his best subject - he knew California and France, that was about it. "I've been saving this for a special occasion. Not sure if anything has qualified yet, but you're welcome to join in on a toast when the time does come, Lieutenant Russian!"

"It's Lieutenant Vladinchi," practically growled the man as he watched Cyrin. "And make sure you keep saving that drink."

A moment later the Trill came back out of the stacks, arms wrapped around the crate he'd been searching for, and grinned broadly, "I really appreciate this, and I'm sure others will too. Do you think it'd be too soon to pop open a bottle when we reach the Delta Quadrant? I guess we'll have to see the mood then. Anyways, sir, thanks again!" The faint rattle of glass came from the crate as he shifted the weight and headed for the door before the Security Chief decided to change his mind.

As Oscar watched, he couldn't help but feel that this decision was going to come back to haunt him eventually. With a sigh, he shook his head and grunted under his breath as he returned to his prior duties. :)