USF Personal Log
USS Aldrin Personnel Recordings image
Blood for the Blood Gods

USS Aldrin Personnel Recordings

by Lieutenant Commander Gideon Salieri & Lieutenant Magnus Morgensen
[Stardate ]

It’d been easy enough to put Marielle to bed and slip out of their shared quarters.  The researcher was truly exhausted and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.  Irritation had slowly built within him, mostly that he wasn’t going to be able to sneak around anymore, but also that Lieutenant Magnus Morgensen had the audacity to talk to his fiance.  Gideon growled to himself as he neared the turbolift. He would have to go to a random console in order to erase the programming he’d entered into CASSI’s subroutines. The half-Bajoran recalled one of the few super secure rooms that the physicist had taken him to during the Aldrin’s shakedown cruise and he made his way to the sentient computer’s server.  He entered the code and stepped inside. “Hey CASSI. I found a couple lines of programming that’s redundant and need to be removed.  I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Very well, Commander.”  The sentient computer responded pleasantly and would not further probe Gideon on his actions.

The Betazoid mix tapped on the console and looked through the lines of code.  They were difficult to decipher, but with the artificial intelligence’s help, he was able to isolate the algorithm he’d inserted into the programming and he deleted it.  Gideon also managed to find the sensor logs that put him into different women’s quarters. There was no way for him to edit them, so he simply deleted them as well. Once the task was complete, he backed out of the console and sighed.  “CASSI, where’s Lieutenant Morgensen?” He turned and made his way to the door.

“Lieutenant Magnus Morgensen is located in the Apollo Lounge.”

“Perfect,” he murmured as he entered the hallway.  Gideon stalked down the corridor and entered a turbolift.  “Deck 20.” The lift moved quickly and soon the door opened for him.  The chief of security knew the way to the Apollo by muscle memory and he soon found himself stepping into the larger lounge.  His gaze shifted slowly as he searched for Magnus. Anger flared and he gripped his fists at his sides as he stalked toward the security officer.  It was only the influx of people in the crowded space that kept him from striking the Scandinavian. “Hey,” he nearly snarled as he pushed aside another patron to stand next to the man.  “You had no right talking to Marielle.”

It was certainly a rightful place for a Viking to recover, the closest thing to a mead-hall, and things were going well in that regard until Gideon had found his way in, and made a beeline over to where he was sitting, at the bar of all places.  Choosing, especially being out of uniform, to ignore his superior, he looked to the barkeep and raised two fingers up. “Make mine a double, seems I’ll need it.” Turning slightly, he looked over at the Casanova he had helped reveal and smirked to him.  “Gideon. Nice to see you. If I heard correctly from Ellie, wedding bells should be tolling sometime soon?”

His jaw clenched briefly and again, he managed to keep his hands at his sides instead of letting his fist fly into the blond’s smug smirk.  It irritated him beyond belief to hear yet another man calling his fiance by her nickname. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re getting married. That means you keep your grubby hands and wandering eyes off her, capiscimi?”  Gideon had yet to change out of his uniform. There simply hadn’t been time between finding Marielle in Security, taking her home and putting her to bed, then erasing his tracks in CASSI’s programming. The half-Bajoran had all but forgotten he still wore it.

“Ah, Gideon, Qu'est-ce qu'un homme qui traite sa femme comme tous les autres? (What is a man who treats his woman like all others?) To anyone I’ve ever known, he is but a commoner, and a commoner has no place speaking at the table of honored men.  It is only a matter of time before you lose everything, and though you may think like a Viking, pillaging and raiding, taking what you can, you aren’t one by blood.”

He raised his brows and growled at hearing the ancient language from Morgensen’s tongue.  “I treat Marielle as she deserves- you know what? Va te faire foutre. Je peux le parler aussi, connard. (Kiss my ass.  I can speak it too, asshole.)” His pronunciation of the French language was horrid and he butchered every word. Gideon lifted his hand and flicked the back of his fingers under his chin in the Scandinavian’s direction.  “I’m not losing anything, and certainly not to an ant like you.” When Algerone brought Magnus his drink, the half-Bajoran reached to steal the glass.

Morgensen had certainly had enough of his superior’s rash behavior over the past two weeks, but grabbing the glass of a Viking had consequences of its own.  With a swift motion, Magnus had a knife in his hands that he slammed, point down, just between Gideon’s hand and his glass, as he glared to his superior and leaned to get right into his face.  “As I said earlier, commoners have no place at the table of honorable men, and those who have broken their honor by dishonoring their woman and their kin, in your case, your subordinates and fellow crewmates with your disappearances, soiling whatever hole you can stuff yourself into-”

His palm had gripped the blade that was jammed into the bar between his hand and the glass and the lance of pain that surged through his arm had him seeing red.  “Cazzo, sai?! Niente! Voci dalla bocca di donne gelose! (What the hell do you know?! Nothing! Rumors from the mouths of jealous women!)” Gideon reached up and snagged Magnus by the back of the neck, pushing forward with force in an effort to slam his face into the bartop.  

That was all the provocation necessary, and with Gideon having made the first actual attack, Magnus was only obligated to respond with the same.  His forehead collided with the bartop, but a hand pushing against the sidewall kept him from having further injuries other than splitting it open.  His right hand, that once clutched the knife, which was now embedded in the bar, reached over to grab the first crystalline bottle in reach, swinging it with intense force towards the side of Gideon’s head, and he stood in the process, kicking the bar stool at the legs of his assailant.  “Come at me then, snake! Let us both fertilize the Lounge with blood!”

His ears rang with the crash of the glass bottle against his temple and the shards ripped at his flesh.  He howled with the pain and was further disoriented by the barstool tumbling against his legs. Gideon blinked and shook his head once to clear the haziness from his vision.  His hands gripped the stool and he lifted it by the seat to swing at Morgensen’s side. The half-Bajoran wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t imagined he would get into a fight and thus wasn’t completely prepared.  His fist swung toward the blond’s face, only to be pulled back when another patron gripped his arm. “Let me at him! He dares to speak to me like I’m worthless! I’m the godsdamn Chief of Security! A lieutenant commander!  I’ve achieved more than your family has pissed on!” Nonsense continued to ramble from his lips as he struggled against the men who held him back from Magnus. “She’s mine! She chose me! You stay away from my woman!”

The barstool had missed by only inches as Magnus jumped backwards momentarily, still clutching the neck of the broken bottle in his hand, blood pouring from the wound on his forehead and coating his face, which combined with the wicked grin he wore, made him intimidating to anyone brave enough (or dumb enough) to try and take him on.  Of course, though a Viking at heart, he was not one to swing on everyone who tried to break them apart. The first to grab his arm was merely shoved aside, but the second and third? They succeeded, only because he let them, evident as he simply dropped the broken bottle. “She will make her choice, once she realizes the truth.”

“She knows the truth.  That I love her and she’s choosing me, stronzo.”  One eye was closed due to the blood that seeped from the cuts on his face.  When his struggle eased, he felt the patrons that had restrained him let go.  Gideon yanked his arm away and scowled at the crowd that had gathered. “Go back to your drinks!” he roared.  “There’s nothing to see here!” The security chief pointed toward Morgensen. “You’re paying for that.” The promise was made in a whispered tone.  He lifted his hand to wipe the back across his temple. Another low growl rumbled in his chest as he muttered to himself and walked away from the bar, intent on leaving the lounge.

“Bah! You love any woman dumb enough to sleep with you, at least for the few seconds of bliss!  I wonder how many of them faked their enjoyment? Get a hint, Gideon, if I wanted Marielle, I would’ve slammed that blade right down on that little third finger of yours.”  A quick shove pushed the two patrons who restrained him away, and he immediately went and grabbed his drink, downing it before wiping the blood from his eyes, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor and retrieving his knife with a yank, placing it back into the holster on his side.

Gideon snarled over his shoulder.  “Giddy’s dead! Everyone knows that!”  A smug grin found his features and he turned to face Morgensen.  “At least he’s had more women than you’ll ever meet in your lifetime.  All of them wanting more. No one denied the Italian Stallion.” After turning, he raised his hand to keep a medical crewman from approaching.  “Stai lontano da me. Vado a Sickbay. (Stay away from me. I’m going to Sickbay.)” The half-Bajoran glowered at anyone who looked at him as he made his way out of the lounge.

Morgensen could only help but to laugh at the cowardly words of his opponent, and simply spat blood in Gideon’s direction, watching him back-pedal his way out of the Lounge.  The medic was quick to move over to where Magnus was now leaning against the bar, and he raised a gentle hand. “Just a quick stitch. Leave the blood where it’s at.”

Algerone could only shake his head as he wiped down the bar, clearing it of glass, liquor, and blood.  He tossed the towel toward Morgensen. “Next time you want to have a pissing contest, don’t do it in my lounge.”  The bartender frowned and made a mental note to request that Gideon Salieri be banned from the Apollo. The chief of security had been spiralling out of control for far too long and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

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