Wishing for a Breen

Posted on Thu Jan 4th, 2024 @ 10:22am by Warrant Officer Gen'Terta CrystalCliff

Mission: Season 6: Episode 4: Memory Lane
Location: Warrant officer Gen'Terta's Quaters
608 words - 1.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Mist wafted from her breath as She paced back and forth in her quarters, the Temperature of the ship cranked down as cold as the ship would safely permit. She still felt warm, though she was at least able to walk around in just her uniform’s under suit, rather than the heavy Environmental combat armor she typically had to wear when she worked her duties among the rest of the crew. Silently Gen’Tetra Crystalcliff, warrant officer Of the Arten Confederacy Defense Force, pondered if she would have been better off stationed with the a Bunch of Breen. She hissed out a curse as she rounded herself back towards the bulkhead that lead out into the Corridors of the USS Elysium. The Federation Starship that, much to her chagrin, had become her new home.
She paused her pacing and took a deep breath, the scent of her own musk, faint, and crsip, with a slight tinge of something vaguely floral, wafted back to her as she flicked her long, white furred vulpine tail in frustration. She smelled stressed. Something most the crew wouldn't be able to pick up. Other than her superior officer, and a handful of other Non-humanoids, She'd appear as Stoic and cold as she always did. But Reo'thanra would know. Hell, he probably already knew, and was giving her the space, she needed to sort herself out. She hated him for that fact, if for no other reason than He was half the reason she’d been pseudo-banished to the federation on this damned mission of peace in the first place.
Gen let out a frustrated growl and began to pace again. The Federation was, well, the Federation. Soft, and squishy, and too kind, too nice. Still pretending their precious Star Fleet wasn't a Military force. And since the overwhelming majority of their members were Humanoid she was always the odd one out in the Galley.
A sudden shiver ran down her spine as a wave of cold washed over her, and she glanced up towards the ventilation grate in the ceiling, her eyes narrowing. A moment later her comm badge chirped. “Warrant officer Crystalcliff, please report to the Stellar Cartography lab,” A nasally wheezy voice said over the link, likely Ensign Vorstik, the Vulcan who manned the science station during gamma shift. Gen sighed. That could only mean one thing.
With a final growl, the Arten snapped up her combadge. “On My way,” she said in a husky tone, letting her words growl out into the universal translator, using a Glitch she’d learned over the months of duty was there. Some intonation of the Arten Language that the Federation’s standard Translator couldn’t parse well. With a hiss, the Arten slipped into the Sleek black chest plate that made up her Uniforms outer layer, the heavy fabric feeling oddly comfortable. Almost like a second skin, though it did also house the environmental regulators that made life tolerable among the other races of the galaxy. Like two thirds of all Arten her Biology had been engineered for environmental extremes, A product of the early Expansion into their home system.
The heavy fabric settled over her lithe body, her Tail sliding through the gap in the back, and she stepped through the bulkhead door. The Arten paused for a moment and inhaled, her nose twitching slightly as the heat the rest of the crew found comfortable made her flinch, the armor taking a solid second to kick its Regulator system into gear. Her breath fogged as her eyes scanned the corridors, and with a huff, she set off for the Stellar Cartography lab.