Shards of History (Part 1)

Posted on Sun Jun 30th, 2019 @ 8:00pm by Lieutenant Commander Amber Quinn & Lieutenant JG Paris Deville

1,183 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Caverns of the mind
Location: Paris Deville's Quarters

ON:

Paris sat at the table, a Mataline II piano unrolled in front of him, with a glass and bottle in front of it. He was playing a beautifully, which could be heard in the corridor, before stopping to fill his glass again. He was waiting for his company to arrive. He was entertaining this evening and apologizing.

As it was after duty hours, Amber was dressed in a pair of slacks and a dark blue blouse. She wasn't sure why Paris wanted to meet with her, and was a little leery. She heard the music as she approached his quarters. She paused to listen for a minute before ringing the door chime.

Paris stopped playing and smiled, looking over to the door, before finishing his drink. "Look sharp, Giz, we have company. Try not to embarrass me." He standing up and headed toward the door. He tapped on the small panel and opened it, smiling as he saw her, taking a moment to look her over. "Welcome to my quarters, First Officer Quinn." He bowed his head slightly. Paris look far different. He was in a black suit pants and vest, with a white buttoned shirt and black dress shoes. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing some of his tattoos on both arms and he had a thin black tie which stayed tucked behind his vest. His hair was slicked back and he seemed much more pleasant then when they first met. If this was him out of uniform it was surely unexpected. "Can I get you something to drink?" He gestured inside.

She took a quick glance at Paris and the room. She had a feeling she was going to need a drink. "Yes, please. Whatever you're having."

"Wonderful choice." Paris replied with a smile before walking over to a corner of the room with several bottles and glasses laid out. He picked up a glass and walked back to the table before pouring a small amount into the glass. He picked up both the bottle, and the glass, before returning to Amber. "Try it first." He said as he held the glass out to her. "Its a special wine I've picked up in Italy. Like me its aged."

She swirled the wine, sniffed it, then took a sip. "That is good. It's aged well." She cocked an eyebrow at Paris. "Have you?"

Paris placed his hand on his chest and let out a quick chuckle. "Ouch. Shots fired. Evasive Maneuvers recommended." His chuckle ended in a smile and a soft sigh as he walked back to the table to pick up his own glass. "I believe that's well deserved on my part. We didn't start off on the right foot." He poured the wine into his glass and walked back to her, holding onto his smile, before stopping in front of her. "But to truly answer your question, due to personal bias, I would prefer someone else decide that."

"You didn't make a very good first impression," she admitted. "So we'll have to see how things progress." She held up her glass. "This is a good start."

"Then allow me to say this." Paris replied softly before holding up his glass slightly with a smile. "I apologize for my first impression and your reaction to it. I'm not..." He paused slight with bit of a laugh before continuing. "I'm not a follower. I'm not a team player. I'm used to being solo and taking all the risk on my own and not having rules and regulations to follow to boot. While I have been here before, I wasn't planning on coming back. I was up against a wall and had to do what was best for me. And so, I apologize for not being up to par and pushing buttons."

"If you're not a team player, and you're not used to rules and regulations, why Starfleet? There are a lot of places you could go that don't have such high standards," she asked.

"Did you miss the part about the other option leading to my death?" Paris replied softly with a smirk. "Judge gave me two options. Starfleet or Prison Colony. Prison Colony had a few people in there that would lead to more than just trouble for me. So I took the option that didn't lead to my death or life being threatened on an immediately from day one." He took a sip of his wine and playfully added. "Threats I can deal with, but death would just be bad for business."

"Well, this is Starfleet. Death is not out of the question."

"But at least I have the choice to face it and move to run should I require it." Paris replied with a smile.

She raised her glass to him. "That's a valid point."

"I'll try not to make them all the time, First Officer." Paris said with a slight chuckle before taking a sip.

So, this was to be business. All right. "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"First, to apologize, which I have done." He smiled as he looked at her contently before gesturing toward the small table in front of the couch by the window. "Please... join me." On the table was an old fashion trunk. It was quite big a kept in very good condition.

She nodded and walked over to the couch, curious to learn what the chest was. She sat down and looked at him.

"You said you were a historian, or you are, but that gives us something in common and something to built upon." Paris replied as he put his glass down one of of the end tables before turning his attention to the trunk. "Gizmo." He said in a firm tone before adding. "Give me the key to my keepsakes, please."

The white ferret popped out of his little bed, which was tucked in the corner of a room, and let out a chirp before crawling out and scurrying into the bedroom.

"I have always believed that History can always be viewed in three different ways. The Educated: From someone who has learned about the time and never experienced it. The Outsider: From someone who knows nothing of the time and has never experienced it. And The Personal: From someone who knows about the time and has experienced it first hand." He paused slightly, running his hands over the trunk before adding. "Of course, this is my view, and it could be wrong on many levels but its been what I have come to experience."

Gizmo emerged from the bed room and ran toward the two. Leaping on to the couch and taking a position by Amber, which a old fashion key in his mouth.

Paris leaned down and took it, giving his friend a pet, before inserting it into the keyhole and turning to Amber. "You may want to stand up. You won’t be able to see everything from that angle."

(To be continued...)

Lieutenant JG Paris Deville
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Aurora

Lieutenant Commander Amber Quinn
Executive Officer
USS Aurora

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