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Part of USS Edinburgh: Mission 3 – Take These Broken Wings

A Little Agitated

USS Edinburgh - Quarters - 0700
August 5th, 2400
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“You did…what!?”  Jordan stood in her boyfriend’s quarters, her face red with rage and her arms extended in frustration.  She dropped her hands to her side and stared at him, “You gotta be shitting me.”  Harris remained seated as he let her vent.  She paced the room, muttering for a few minutes before coming back to face him once more, “He said the only option was to end our relationship?”  He nodded.  She let out a litany of curse words regarding their new captain and his mother, father, sister, and just about anyone else she could wax poetic about.  Her hands were still at her sides, but clenching into fists and then releasing and then tightening again in anger.  Still, Harris remained seated.  He’d not seen her this angry before.  Another few minutes passed as she took deep breaths in an attempt to lower her blood pressure.  “I’m going to kick his ass.”

Ambrose carefully stood and walked to where she glowered and took her hands in his, speaking softly.  “If he had told me to go be a Chief Engineer, I would have done it.  Anything he’d asked of me to solve this scenario, I would have nodded my head and shook his hand.  He was asking me to give up on you, Jord.  I’m not some lovestruck 19-year-old ensign who thinks the assistant chief is kinda hot.”  A quiet smile broke up the furious scowl that had laid on her face since she’d walked in.  He continued, “I’m thirty-five years old.  I know what I like and what I love…and you fit the bill on both of those things.”  A sigh escaped his lips, “He asked something of me that I couldn’t imagine doing.  I can’t begin to think how that conversation would have gone…for you or for me, Jord.”  He pulled her close, and they embraced tightly, “I’m not about to let some idiot captain break your heart…and mine.” Ambrose kissed her forehead, and they pulled apart and sat down on the couch.  “You can’t kill him…and you can’t hurt him.  My guess is Patton prepped him for you.”

Reid gave him a look, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Harris chuckled, “Imagine saying that to your new captain.”

She considered his gentle warning, “You’re not wrong.  I get a little agitated sometimes.  This whole thing has got me spun up without any idea how to get back in a straight line, ‘Brose.  The rest of the crew is going to lose their minds.”

Ambrose shook his head, “You gotta make sure they don’t, Jord.  They gotta trust in each other and fly right by this guy.  He doesn’t know them, he doesn’t know the Eddie, and he doesn’t know much about what’s out there.  If any one of them fails him intentionally…it’ll hurt more than just him.  It’ll go wrong for all of us.”

She grumbled, “You coulda’ fake broke up with me and then stayed on the bridge.”

He shook his head, “I’m not the lying type, Jord…soap opera machinations are not in my genetic makeup.”

“I can still yell at him, right?”

“Ask for permission to speak freely and as long as you don’t clock him with a haymaker, threaten his existence, or suggest that he shouldn’t be in command…you’ll probably be fine.”

“You’re asking for a lot, ‘Brose.”

He pulled her close to him on the couch and kissed her cheek, “You can do this.  Use your imagination.”

She kissed him back and stood, straightening out her uniform, “That is a dangerous suggestion.”

“Not if you take it within the context of our conversation.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, but an impish smile was forming as she turned and walked out of his quarters. 

Harris had been worried before.  Now he was concerned.