USF Personal Log
Outpost Phoenix: Personal Com-Net image
Rendezvous. JL by Ens Sherilyn Vocke and Ens Tomas Mazzi

Outpost Phoenix: Personal Com-Net

by Ensign Sherilyn Vocke & Ensign Tomas Mazzi
[Stardate ]


After spending some time in the astrometrics lab, Sherilyn Vocke picked up a PADD with her findings and made her way down the corridor.  She had been using the specialized equipment to localize the pattern of the transporter so they could prevent the intruders from boarding the Lexington again.  In theory, anyway, it was a good idea.  Power fluctuations and sensor log gaps prevented her from finding much that would help.  The Khadidran mumbled quietly to herself as she stalked toward the bridge.  Bright teal irises lifted from the device when she saw a body blocking the hallway.  Her steps slowed to a stop and her chin tilted so she could study the male form.

Tomas Mazzi was a fairly patient man.  He knew when to bite his tongue and when to speak his mind.  After his wild child years, he’d long learnt how to control the sudden impulses that were natural to him.  He took several deep breaths to keep from screaming with his irritation.  His thick and calloused fingers gripped at his hips tightly as he glared at the gaping hole in the middle of the floor.  His chin was tipped down as he muttered under his breath.  “Who the hell thinks it’s a damn good idea to start carving out pieces of the ship?!” he hissed.  “First I’ve got idiotic doctors who think they can moonlight as programmers and now I’ve got space cowboys carving out pieces of the ship.”  He knelt down and brushed away the burnt ash around the edges.

“I hear you were quite the cowboy yourself,” she mused.  The tone in her voice was playful, her sensual mezzo soprano dipping just slightly with her accusation.  Her smirk grew as she held the PADD at her side and rested her hand on her hip, her weight shifted to one side.  Sherilyn’s uniform fit snugly, almost a little too tightly.  It enhanced the swell of her chest and curve of her hips and backside.  The slacks accentuated her toned legs, the material made of a composite fiber that breathed better to keep her comfortable.

The spanner in his hand fell from his grasp and his other hand gripped the edge of aperture between the decks.  His body swung forward slightly before it rocked back and he pushed to his feet.  He made a mental note to step forward instead of back when he spun to face the source of the sweet voice that filled his ears.  His mouth opened with a snappish retort but it was immediately swallowed.  He made no effort to hide how his eyes swept over her figure, taking a moment to appreciate how the standard uniform seemed to hug her lines far better than most of her gender.  His irritation melted away and he scratched at his jaw.  ‘Hello, hot lady,’ he grinned slightly, but just barely.  “They fired first,” he mused with a carefree shrug.  “Can’t blame a man for protecting what’s his.”

Her lips puckered lightly as she tsked and shook her head.  “That’s what every woman loves to hear.  ‘They fired first,’” she mused, her voice mimicking his accent.  Sherilyn hummed and straightened slightly.  She started to walk toward him, her pace slow and her hips swaying.  Dark grey skin had a cool tone to highlight how her body temperature was several degrees lower than most humanoids.  White hair was a stark contrast, the wavy strands pulled up into a loose ponytail at the top of her head.  Under the uniform, her movements spoke of dangerous grace.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, spotting the spanner on deck below and just to the right.  Tomas was slow to give her his full attention as he gave her another shrug, one shoulder lifting instead of two.  “A smart woman would have heard the more important part of that statement - that a man protects what’s his.”  

The Khadidran paused as she stood next to him.  They were similar in height and she had no qualms about invading whatever personal space he believed he owned.  Sherilyn subtly took in a deep breath to familiarize herself with his musk.  Her lips pulled into a wry smile.  “A real woman doesn’t need a man to protect what isn’t his.”  She trailed her fingertips lightly over the uniform on his arm.

The half-Betazoid took a moment to let his gaze settle on the woman beside him.  Sharp steel blue eyes swept over her features, finding himself caught in the endless teal irises that met his gaze without hesitation.  His head leaned forward ever so slightly, his breath mingling with hers.  There was a crisp bite to the scent that surrounded her.  Refreshing and soft, yet with a sharpness that reminded him of rain frozen in the air.  Instantly, he had visions of mulled wine and being tangled in soft furs.  “A real man doesn’t need to be asked to protect,” he lingered for a beat before straightening.  “Tomas Mazzi.”  The introduction was offered with the slightest rasp to his voice, a gruffness that only highlighted his smooth accent.  He only broke their gaze to stare at the finger that trailed over his sleeve and he grinned slightly with the images that filled his imagination.

“A smart man would be in the astrometrics lab at 2200.”  The fingertip that lingered on his uniform curled before dropping to her side.  An innocent smile graced her features as she pushed into motion to continue past him.  The PADD tapped lightly onto her thigh and she hummed a soft tune to herself.  She moved easily around the hole in the deck and turned the corner without looking back.

He hummed knowingly his gaze followed the sway of her hips as she walked away.  Tomas hadn’t realized just how cool the air had been around her until her body was no longer near his.  He also didn’t mind that she hadn’t given him her name.  The sudden rush of warm had a jolt of electricity moving down his spine.  Mazzi spun quickly and glared at the spanner, who seemed to be teasing him by being so far away.  “Dammit.  Gotta get these repairs fixed fast-  2200 hours is in,” he pulled the sleeve slightly so he could stare at the thin chronometer on his wrist, “fifteen minutes!”  He ran his palm roughly over his face.  “Dammit!  Ahhhh-  Screw it!  Computer, erect a level three containment field around the rupture between deck 2 and deck 3.  Just big enough to make sure no one breaks their neck if they’re not looking.”

The computer chirped softly.  “Please specify perimeter.”

Impatience had his weight shifting from foot to foot.  “I don’t know-  Looks to be one meter square in size.  Just find the damn breach in the floor and put a stupid damn containment field around it.  I’ll have some crewman put up warning beacons or something.”  He knelt down and threw his tools into his kit, deciding he’d deal with the lost spanner after his rendezvous with the mysteriously hot ice queen.  He was flushed with his excitement as he all but ran down the hallway.  First stop - his bunk.  He needed to freshen up and he certainly wasn’t about to show up in astrometrics on time.  Mazzi grinned to himself.

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