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The Klingon Kerfuffle [ShadowOfDesire & ThomasRHellsing]

ShadowOfDesire

ShadowOfDesire

Supernova
Joined
Jun 24, 2018
Location
the Shadows
Commander Deanna Troi, counselor aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, was an expert on excuses. She heard them all the time, from every source imaginable. Her job was to listen and advise, and because of her profession, she'd heard crewmen explain away their behaviors in every possible way during her tenure aboard the Enterprise.

She'd also heard every excuse imaginable for rescheduling counseling sessions. The most prevalent was illness. Second was forgetfulness. Third usually involved the destruction of the officer's PADD schedule by a family pet or child. Knowing that some people needed to come to grips with counseling in their own time, she usually let the excuses be and simply rescheduled for another date. Those were the voluntary sessions.

Scheduling for mandatory sessions was far more rigid. Some crew members were required to submit themselves for counseling, especially after traumatic events or behavioral issues. One appointment could be accidentally missed with simply a warning. Two was grounds for disciplinary action by their commanding officer. Three... most never made it to three missed appointments. Those officers warranted a personal visit by the counselor, and no one wanted a visit from an angry empath. But there were always exceptions...

"Computer, location of Lieutenant Commander Thomas Talonis," she called to the ceiling.

> "Lieutenant Commander Talonis is currently located in Holodeck Two."

"The Holodeck?!" Deanna's jaw clenched in frustration as she strode out of her office.

While she normally kept tight rein on her emotions, she found that Lt. Commander Talonis was wearing on her last nerve. She knew he'd received his summons, all three of them, but he wasn't making excuses for his absences -- he was completely ignoring her. When he failed to keep his third appointment, her irritation got the better of her. After a brief lift ride, she strode to the holodeck door and jabbed in her security code. The doors swept open, and she stepped inside the simulation, dark eyes searching for her prey.
 
The room was dark almost black, a harsh difference from the always bright ship walls. With a couple seconds for the eyes to adjust, it would become obvious that it wasn't truly dark, what almost looked like tiki torches, although with a different wood lead to a path. It wasn't a long walk maybe eighty yards.

Assuming the Councillor followed the path, she'd begin to hear noises as she got closer. A crowd cheering, or "wincing". If she approached closer she'd hear the dull sounds of flesh impacting flesh. If the noises didn't scare her off, she'd arrive at a fairly barbaric sight. Eight foot tall wooden posts hammered into the ground. Barbed wire wrapped around them. The occasional crack of energy arcing showed the "Fence" was electrified. Around it stood men, women, and a few children in basic clothing, no doubt from a farming world or colony.

No doubt any good therapist would have a field day, and that was before sharp eyes might notice the pale figure in the ring. Thomas was so pale he practically glowed in the dark. That soft "China" white that made so many crave to touch betazoid flesh. His hair was also straw blond, and covered most of his head. His eyes a deep crystal blue. Had that been all the physical description it would have been easy to place him as a half betazoid like Troi herself. Until you figured in the fact he was every inch of 8 foot tall, and while leaner then the average Klingon, he was still thick with layers of muscle. Ironically enough while he had skull plates, they more resembled the Cardassian ones, without the distinctive "Spoon" growth just the four hind plates. It was also located a bit further forward on his literal forehead.

Thomas was what he referred to as a "mutt". His father a result of a federation officer's capture during the Klingon War, the mother a mistake from a disgraced member of a disgraced house. They'd well never even known they were compatible to breed until 5 months after their meeting a ten pound boy had been born. A boy who was a rare meeting of genetic predisposed for loving and caring, and violence and rage. The young boy had become a young man, and eventually a young officer. Then the Dominion war came, and the young officer, who'd always had a best inside of him prowling and pushing at it's cage for release found it.

The young man currently spitting out blood, spit, and at least one tooth looked at the Klingon, and two Jem'Hadar. Most would be worried, few would choose to take on the genetically bred warriors even one on one. Much less a Klingon battle master, no doubt an amalgam of them since the face was a bit blurry. But if the Councillor used her own ability she wouldn't feel fear. She'd feel excitement, passion, fun. Adrenaline surging so powerfully it almost felt like it could weep away a person. Only a laser like focus was also present, a determination to not lose. So intense it was almost like standing naked under sun on a beach planet. Then suddenly the officer moved.

None of the beings were wearing armor, Thomas himself was wearing only blue jeans, the Klingon leather pants, and both Jem'Hadar the almost plastic full body suits they wore under their armor. The first attack was a dirty one, a savage kick right between the Klingon's legs. Thomas then grabbed him and leapt up doing a pile driver headbutt to his nose and face. The meaty crack showed bones had been broken. Most likely the Klingon's nose. As it stumbled back, few things took a shattered nose without a bit of a reaction, Thomas grabbed his neck, and with a single, violently twist audibly snapped it like chicken bone. The klingon fell and dissolved as Thomas did a forward roll through him. The two Hedar were moving forward. Thomas went low, his left foot lashing out to catch the one on the right in the leg bone, sickening crack noise filled the room. He then stood up and did a sort of twisting fall, based on kick boxing or jujitsu, and drove his right knee into the second Hedar's clavicle, drawing a noise of pain. Grabbing it around the chin, he yanked backwards. The bred warriors neck muscles may have been strong, but a Klingon's full weight easily snapped them, a sharp twist and the Hedar was now looking behind himself. The "mutt" then went into a back roll to avoid the last enemies punch. However he landed awkwardly and before he could get up the Jem'Hedar stomped on the middle of his back, driving him into the ground. Again and again. It then began to press down, choking him. The mud under him prevented him from getting purchase like he wanted, and he realized he could die. Rather then fear, pure unadulturated rage filled him and with a roar he squeezed. The Jem'Hedar grabbed it's chest as a crushing force squeezed it's heart. The distraction let Thomas shove it off balance. Forcing it to the ground he crawled onto of it swearing violently he grabbed it by it's face and began slamming it's head into the ground over and over and over again. Not stopping until the computer began to obviously dissolve the very dead tank bred warrior. He then rolled over and said, "D-Damn, maybe she was right, increasing skill and turning off safety protocols at the same time was a bad move."

He closed his eyes just enjoying the fake air on his face for a bit. He spoke again "Computer, end recording. Save file under today's date to my personal log. Also post said file to "Space Battles" web site, with normal identification blocking software in place please and thank you."
 
"Computer, belay that order. Quarantine all Talonis files and revoke holodeck access, authorization code Troi Beta Epsilon One Five Zero. Initiate program Troi Twenty-Seven."

Thomas' program shifted from his arena to Deanna's palatial office. Rather than upon the ground, he lay on a couch that was long enough to fit his tall frame. The holographic mud caking him was gone. His jeans were sweaty from the exertion, but otherwise clean. The counselor sat in a nearby chair, one elegant leg crossed over the other, a disapproving frown pulling at her sensual lips. "I suppose that fighting simulations can be therapeutic in certain circumstances, but not on my time, without my permission. You missed your appointment with me, Mr. Talonis. For the third time. You've wasted my time, yet again. That is a certain level of disrespect in that act that we shall be discussing in your first session. Your session starting right now."
 
Thomas shrugged, "Maybe because you're a quack, admittedly a good looking one but talking about feelings is for humans and other races too weak to learn how to burn a bridge and get over it. I'm part Klingon doc, out people killed and ate our gods when they displeased us. Did it suck watching some friends die in the war, yeah, it hurt, you know what I did with it? I shoved it down, deep inside, and the next time I saw a Jem'Hedar I imagined it was the one who'd killed my friend as I pulled the trigger on my disruptor rifle. Or the next time I needed to interrogate one for fun, I imagine it was the one whose eye socket I was driving the Pain Stick into."

He looked at her, "I get why the command worries, I've been beaten, tortured, starved, tortured, killed more sentient creatures then any other Starfleet Officer in the last century, if you discount fleet to fleet engagements. I've gone more blood on my hands then any other field commander. Any single one of those would be reason enough to let you and the other shrinks go at me."

Blue eyes met brown, "But Doc, I'm not any of those weak races. Boo hoo, they had families, and blah blah blah. I grew up on a planet where if someone came for what was yours their were two options, they'd end up in a carried by six, or you would. When you grow up in a whore house you see all sorts of things, and I've never regretted killing something. The Tank Bred Bastards even less, they had no friends, no family, no remorse. Killing them was just about the same as turning off a machine."

He smirked a bit, "So Doc, the reason I've been avoiding my "therapy" is because you are going to ask "How did it feel to kill them", and my reply will be "The same slight pull as when I shoot targets in practice with my Disruptor.", and you'd do that frowny thing all the shrinks do. Think I was hiding some deep emotional trauma, and we'd waste the next twoish hours of our lives. I've got better things to do."
 
"An interesting theory," she said calmly after listening to his tirade. "Though one that is completely inaccurate. Command doesn't care about your feelings. They care about whether you are a danger to yourself and the crew. You see, trauma visits us all, and your race is no exception. Each of us processes that trauma in a different way. Some cry, some repress, some of us... get into extremely overmatched battles with holographic foes with the safety protocols removed."

"I don't have to ask you how it felt. I can feel how you feel. I am not just any therapist, Mr. Talonis. I am part Betazoid, like yourself, though my talents lean toward empathy and telepathy. I can sense all of the emotions that you repress, the turmoil boiling within you that you refuse to acknowledge. Your words tell a story, but your emotions tell the truth. You may lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me."

She shifted, glancing to the padd on her lap. "Your counseling sessions are mandatory for a reason. I am tasked with evaluating your readiness for duty, your temperament, your willingness to continue to follow orders. The fact that you've refused to keep your appointment three times tells me that you are wavering, walking a thin line between your battlefield experience and a standard tour of duty. If you are not well adjusted, if you are a danger to this ship, then you will be assigned elsewhere. You are considered a hero, Mr. Talonis, and no one wishes to see a hero treated poorly. However, if you have mental wounds that have not yet healed, you will not be allowed serve aboard this ship."

"Is this in any way unclear?"
 
The mutt shrugged, "Do I really have a choice? Since apparently I don't, does it really matter what I want? Hell, you think someone would realize trying to force me to do something against my will would be more of a "trigger" then anything else. It's sort of funny how similar the federation is. Do what we want, or suffer, right, wrong, who gives a damn it's what we want that matters."

He shook his head a bit. Sitting up he said, "As for my fight, first of all it wasn't extremely over matched. I dunno if you were a prisoner during the war, but they'd often use prisoners to test new batches. You'd be sent to a room a Jem'Hedar, you won, you got a bit more food and drugs to numb the pain. You lost, well they'd mop you up. Rinse and repeat until they got bored. My record was 8 or 9 I think. I want to work with my security staff on how to fight a physically stronger foe without shooting them. It's a fine line between training and massacre. The barbed wire fence is from a memory, how I made money back home, you know how it goes, lock who arrogant brats in a ring, let them beat on each other until blood and mud run together, then get paid. Sixty percent of the bet went to the fighters."

Blue eyes looked at her, "So, Miss Troi, since you seem determined to bug me, ask your questions I suppose if I've had shrapnel dug out of wounds before your probing into my stuff."
 
"Commander Troi," she corrected, meeting his gaze squarely. "That's my rank and what you will use to address me."

"It seems you have a lot of opinions about the way that Starfleet conducts itself, even though you are a Starfleet officer. You are well aware of the chain of command, of following orders. You know that we have rules and regulations in place for a reason, to maintain order and discipline. Security is a prime example of this. You are more than a spear point to strike out at our enemies -- you are the shield that protects us all. For any force to operate above the chaos, there must be command. The Federation is not bullying you into compliance. You are required to comply because it is your duty as a Starfleet officer. You have a choice, but with those choices come consequences -- good and bad."

"You have chosen to disobey a direct order because you believe yourself to be above those orders, that they have no value to you, and that obeying would be a waste of your time. What if the men and women of your security force make the same choices when you give your orders? What if they choose to ignore them because they believe them to be wrong, or pointless? You well know what would happen. You do not issue orders out of spite. You issue them because they are necessary."

"These sessions are the same. You will attend them because they are necessary, whether you believe them to be or not. It is not for you to decide that you have little to gain from them." Her curls fell over her shoulder as she shifted in her chair, resting her delicate fingers upon the armrest. "Answer my questions honestly, and I promise that I will make our time together as painless as possible."
 
Thomas looked at her, "I can call you Commander Troi, and treat you like one of them, the red shirted bastards who sent me to die. Or I can call you Troi, a friend, and treat you like a friend, and be honest with you. I made a realization long ago command doesn't give a damn about the truth as long as they can dot their I's and cross their T's."

The mutt shrugged, "Doesn't necessarily mean questions shouldn't be asked. Do you know why I was assigned what was in essence a suicide mission? I broke the prime directive. See, a science station was on a planet of primitive beings. Unknown to them, they had a coolant leak which over time caused the pollution of the continent's aquifer. They nearly wiped out the species, when we arrived I ordered the vessel I was commanding to take as many of the sentients as we could fit to a nearby moon. That even though we could save lived, the fact I had meant I was unworthy of command."

He shook his head a bit, demanding focus, "So ask, I'll try to answer your questions honestly."
 
"Commander Troi will do for now," she replied. "We are not yet friends, Mr. Talonis, though I am not opposed to the idea. I haven't yet decided if you're the sort that would value friendship with a quack." Was that a joke?

There was a small intake of breath at his story. "Yes, I am aware of the reasons that left you abandoned for so long in hostile territory. I've read the reports on the situation and admit that I do not agree with the judgement. Though it was a violation of the Prime Directive, I believe your intentions to be honorable. I am almost certain I would have made the same decision, were I put in that situation. I do not fault you for that action, Mr. Talonis, but I also cannot agree that you were sent on a suicide mission because of that. Starfleet does not put its officers in danger lightly. Every life lost is a travesty. Some species treat their soldiers like fodder, but that is not the case here."

"I do not care what you feel about killing those that mean to harm you. What I wish to know is if this seeming abandonment by Starfleet is so difficult for you because it echoes the events of your childhood."
 
Thomas sat down and shrugged, "Not really. My mother loved me, and my father didn't hate me. Life is hard on the colony worlds. I know lots of sons and daughters of whores who had it worse. Either sold off as indentured servants or put to work in the houses when they turned 16. I technically abandoned them when I joined Star Fleet. I could have become a dirt farmer. I just, well I'd rather jump off of a cliff."
 
"Is that why you joined Starfleet? To escape the life of a farmer?" Despite her earlier annoyance with the man, she was genuinely curious about his origins. She'd read his file, of course, and knew of his unique genetics, but DNA wasn't everything there was to know of a person.
 
Thomas chuckled a bit, "Part of it. See, the colony was a dead world before being Terra formed. This meant in essence any sort of live stock or fish had to be "Seeded". For example, Tuna was a major thing to eat, to make tuna you had to have eggs imported from earth or another world. You then had to put them in say a pond, and care for them until they aged to adult hood. You then bred let's say half your stock, and caught and sold the rest."

Looking at her he said, "This would eventually lead to all the bodies of water having fish in them right. The problem was, Colony 1313 had a bit of a jump on terra forming. 10 generations in, and we've only managed to populate about 10 percent of the planet. Because of the lack of detritus to rot, literally the dirt has no minerals. So, if you want to say start a farm, you have to buy dirt that's had plant food and such added to it. That's what Pops did, think composting, but on a massive scale."

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, "The other erm, problem is I've always been a pervert. Well, more like a womanizer? Nothing bad, everything was consensual, but well you know what the hormones for a betazoid are like, and add in Klingon impulses and yeah. I remember when my mum caught me with my hand up the local preacher's wife skirt, as I sucked at her tit. She knew it wouldn't end well. I was, 14 I think. Word got out about my less then "Wait until marriage" ways, and it was fun for years. Until I got caught with Nancy McDougal. Heh, the McDougal brothers were those sort, you know "Human and Proud", been in and out of jail since they were old enough to make drugs in their floor-less shack. They were determined to "Get vengance for their sister's honor" like she hadn't been putting out since she was 14 for smokes or to get by. It all came to a head when I tore off Jack's arm and beat him half to death with it. Oh, um Jack had lost his arm in a mining accsident, he had an artifical one with a plasma weapon made. I realized if I stuck around they were going to kill me, or I was going to end up killing them. Plus I'd graduated the year or so previous and everyone I knew was either married, pregnant, or both. I realized I either had to get out, or I'd end up stuck with a baby or two and some woman who I could barely stand. I was getting drunk over that fact when the Federations once a year recruiter came by. I signed up and shipped out less then a week later."
 
"So it was something of an escape," she said, interpreting his story with a simplification. One corner of her mouth quirked at the mention of Betazoid hormones. She'd already gone through the Phase, herself, and it had been something of an experience for all those involved. "Let us talk about your career for a moment, Mr. Talonis, after you left your homeworld. I understand why you would find a career in Starfleet security appealing. I have reviewed your file and found some interesting inclusions, specifically your fast-tracked training and subsequent posting to the Hazard team. Do you contribute your speedy career to your harsh upbringing? Your own determination? Or something else entirely? Boredom, perhaps?"
 
Thomas smirked, "Racism honestly. My commanding officer was an old bastard. He fought in the Klingon wars, and said that their was no way I'd be able to last. So I pushed. All my life pale skins had been telling me I wasn't them. I was good enough, smart enough, fast enough. You know actual Klingons so you know this, but on some of the border colonies they are seen as sadistic animals. Too dumb to turn on a light switch but that eat each other instead. I pushed twice as hard as those around me, it didn't hurt that I had a Vulcan on me team a son of the same house as Commander Spock. Not his son or anything, a cousin, but he was determined to do well. Alara my second in command was also on my team, a Bajorin whose mother was a sex slave during Cardassian rule. The final member of our team was a Ferengi believe it or not. We called ourselves the Federation's little team of Tokens."

He ran a hand through his hair, "During our second year at the academy it got out what our first trainer had been doing, and he was replaced with a Bajorin officer. She saw what we were doing, and pushed us more. We were so used to giving 110% because of the racist bastard, we didn't even notice we were still doing it. We were later told that Star Fleet's training programs were designed for a certain base line, our alien quirks allowed us to blow that away. Klingons for example heal faster then humans, so we can put on muscle faster. I'm about double a human's ability, but a pure Klingon can make muscle something like 400% faster. Most just never bother."

He chuckled a bit, "When we graduated we found out we'd been in essence running double courses both command and our "Basic" job. I know you know this, but in Star Fleet, you train for your basic job, then if you want more you go back into the academy or stay longer. You start out in your assigned area, and eventually as promotions and such come up you get them. By doing a "Double program" we were short listed since the command schools are always over full, but they always need more. I wasn't sure I wanted to command, until I noticed Hazard team, and saw it required what I already had so I signed up. Another year of intense training and I was ready."
 
She nodded knowingly to much of what he'd explained, understanding the motivations of his people well. Her experience with Klingons was vast, both on a professional and an intimate basis. "The Bajoran -- you speak of Lt. Alara Shoye? She is also assigned to the Enterprise, is she not? Assigned to your team here, if memory serves." She tapped the name into her PADD to save for a later date. The woman had a history as varied and harsh as Thomas' own, but had shown no outward sign of trauma. Then again, her trauma was long past, and she'd likely come to terms with it. "I understand that she requested a transfer here once you were assigned to the ship. Do the two of you remain close, even after your lengthy time in enemy territory?"

Deanna stretched out with her feelings, catching a little tendril of emotion from him. She was curious if he would reveal anything in his answer. Her own knowledge of the couple was that they shared certain intimacies, though neither seemed the type for extended commitment. Besides evaluating him, her job was also to determine what support structure he had in place and how well balanced his friendships were. She knew he had something of a social circle, but did not yet know how deep those bonds went.
 
Thomas nodded his head, "I was assigned to Alpha Squad, she was to Delta. The battle that lead to me getting stuck behind enemy lines, her group was one of the ones hit hard by it. I think she said she spent a month or so getting her organs regrown after a photon torpedo knocked her transport out of the sky. She's probably one of my best friends. Keeg'an lost his legs and is currently working on Deep Space 9 with a nephew who lost a leg in the war. Jolie the Vulcan got half her face burned off, I believe she joined one of the Monasteries on Vulcan."

He shrugged a bit, "Alara is a good woman, but well she has issues with the chain of command. She's decked a few superior officers in her time. Refused to follow orders that went against her code of conduct. Before her transfer here she was doing six months in the Federation brig. See, a planet asked the Federation for help tracking down a slaver. Only it turned out the head slaver was the son of a member of the planet's government. They were told to bring him in and release him to the locals. Alara has always had issues with slavers, so when the bastard went for a disruptor pistol she shot him between the eyes. Officially everything was above board. Unofficially the bastard was balls deep in a prepubecent girl when she raided his office, and she's never lost a night's sleep over killing the bastard. So she got six months in the brig, and another mark on her folder."

Thomas rubbed his chin, "You know, I never stopped to think about it before, but all the best H.A.Z.A.R.D. soldiers tend to have shaky records. I wonder why that is."
 
She tapped in a few more notes, deciding that she would likely need to schedule some time with Alara, as well. Her background warranted it, but she genuinely wanted to know the woman and how she'd survived.

"Perhaps it is because one must have a certain level of disrespect for authority or life, for that matter, in order to plunge into the line of fire time and again. Your past has prepared you to make the hard decisions more easily than others. You surge forward where others hesitate. Anyone in command must have this quality." Deanna tilted her head and rested her fingers lightly upon the edge of her chair. "What of your other companions upon the ship? Are you close with your team? Do you have other friends aboard outside of your department?"
 
Thomas shrugged, "Me and some others get together from time to time. We were actually planning a meeting tonight. In alot of the ways H.A.Z.A.R.D. team is alot like a traditional military force. We fight together, bleed together, and become absorbed into each other's lives. It helps us fight that much harder. I tend to be a bit more reserved the first six months, but if you survive that long on a H.A.Z.A.R.D. team you're family."

The quarter Klingon looked at her, "I think part of it is also we are killers. Security officers are just that, they are taught the mentality of defenders. Only going above and beyond that when they have no choice. H.A.Z.A.R.D. are taught kill em all and let their deity of choice sort em out. Did you know Security fatalities are down 200% since I made sure at minimum a H.A.Z.A.R.D. trained solider was on the bridge, lock up, and boarding party?"
 
She nodded as she met his gaze. "I did know that, actually. If you think that we aren't paying attention, you are sorely mistaken. It was a very good idea and one that I am glad they implemented rather quickly. We are all at risk and your team helps to lessen that risk." The pride in his voice was clear even if she'd not been able to sense it.

"What do you do at these gatherings to let off steam and relax?" Did he even know how to relax?
 
Thomas chuckled a bit, "Drink a little drink, smoke a little smoke, and relax mostly. I tend to play the guitar some."

He looked at the woman, "I know I seem to always be stressed. But Deanna, I'm not sure if you're aware of it or not, but I work on The Enterprise, the Federations flag ship. The ship that I swear every week is dealing with some new form of life, pissing off a god like being, etc. The ship that's gone up against Borg, Cardassians, Romulans, Klingons, even rogue faction Vulcans, and a hundred other energy based species or things that only exist because this ship has flown into them."

His eyes were on her, "My job is to be prepared to deal with it. Next time we come across some black oily thing that wants to eat our souls. Or some floting energy fetus that decides to impregnate a member of the command staff. I did research into a type of ablative energy that carries a super charged proton current, that should serve as micro shielding. Ideally preventing all forms of teleportation. Does it work? No real way to no until something tries to get in."

The blond ran a hand through his hair, "I'm a bit stressed, but I have a reason. Half the stuff this ship deal with is insane and no one would believe it, and the other half is walking the edge of a knife. I demand the best from myself and the crew because at the end of the day preparedness is all we can hope for."
 
"Commander Troi," she corrected, her tone a bit more formal than before. She stiffened at the mention of her alien pregnancy and the birth of her son. Drawing in a breath, she dropped her gaze to the PADD in her lap. "All of us are under stress, Mr. Talonis. Everyone aboard this ship suffers through some manner of it. Perhaps not to such a great extent, but serving aboard a starship is, by definition, extremely stressful. As you said, we are the flagship and certain responsibilities come with that privilege and title. It is not that we are under stress, it is how we relieve it, be it with smoke, drink, spending times with friends, playing cards, or holodeck simulations. So long as you have an outlet for that stress, it is enough."

She checked the time and decided they'd gone on long enough. "I believe this will be all for our first session. Perhaps you might think of other topics of conversation that we can cover in our next one. As your holodeck privileges are currently suspended until our sessions have been complete, I expect to see you in my actual office for your next appointment. The schedule will be sent to your room. If you decline to attend, there will be further consequences."
 
Thomas nodded a bit as he said, "A valid point, and normally I do relax. I'm not sure what we'll talk about next time. Most of my issues I've learned to deal with. Like I said before, it's not like it's hard."

He looked at her, "Would you like to join me and the fathering tonight? It's not uncommon for people to bring others. We're a fairly small group, but growing every meeting. Plus I play a mean guitar."
 
She looked at him in curiosity, a slight crease between her brows. "You wish for me to join you at your social gathering with your friends? Would that not be awkward for all involved? Not many desire a Commander ruining their off-duty activities."
 
Thomas shook his head, "You forget I'm the same rank as you, we're just in different departments. Besides Commander Data attends he says it's interesting views on social interaction. My people know they report to me, barring you or Doc Beverly doing your whole medical over ride thing, and even the Captain can be effected by that. Commander Riker stops by sometimes, but he's got a bridge shift today."

He smirked at her, "I can even program a replicator to replicate you appropriate clothes. So what do you say? You can prove I'm relaxing."
 
"Appropriate clothing?" She blinked. "I suppose, if only to see what you deem as 'appropriate'. Tell me when and where this gathering will take place and what I should bring when I attend. Perhaps I will make an appearance, if only to see that you are dealing with your stressful position in meaningful ways."
 
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