Those Lazy Days
Posted on 07 Aug 2026 @ 8:50pm by Lieutenant JG Douglas McDougal & Ensign Taren Voss
Edited on on 07 Aug 2026 @ 8:51pm
2,807 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
General Sim Postings
Location: Deck - 6 - Security office 3
ON:
Lieutenant JG Douglas McDougal rubbed at his eyes as he trudged down the corridor of the USS Tomcat, the soft hum of the ship almost threatening to lull him to sleep where he walked. He had been on duty for nearly fourteen hours straight after volunteering—or, as he privately called it, “making the tactical error of being visible”—to cover Glenn’s brig shift.
The brig itself had been quiet. Too quiet. The two occupants currently residing in there had not said anything. Which was fine by Douglas. Less paperwork to file. He had taken the time to read the reports though. Ugly business.
Unfortunately, the quite usually meant someone somewhere else on the ship was currently making terrible decisions. So, odds were that he'd be pretty busy soon enough.
Douglas adjusted the collar of his security jacket and carried on toward Security Operations. He still had to sign in for a roving patrol before he could even think about paperwork. Mountains of glorious, soul-crushing paperwork.
Starfleet Security: ninety percent reports, ten percent preventing plasma fires started by ensigns experimenting with “modified” coffee makers.
As he rounded the corner into the main security office, he nearly collided with someone stepping out carrying a padd stack large enough to qualify as structural support.
The younger officer jerked back just in time. Douglas recognized him immediately. "Hey there Voss!" He greeted warmly though he could not keep the weariness from his tone.
"Hi Lieutenant, keeping busy?" Taren spoke though he could sense more than words uttered. "Long night?" Taren was lucky not to spill any of his cargo.
"That is one way to put it." Douglas said. "Glenn is still out. I got put on a double."
It wasn't a complaint. Ensign Steaward Glenn had been missing a lot of shifts lately. He was one of those who had lost his family in the shuttle bay crash a few weeks back. No one complained when he called in. Just adapted.
Once they had made it into the security main office where they wouldn't be overheard, Douglas continued.
"These guys in the brig the last few days, Man. I always considered those Marines to be more disciplined and all I can't believe they attacked their own MXO. World is going crazy." He said, setting his pad down on a small ledge so he could get a coffee from the replicator. "Want one? My treat"
"I'm fine, thank you." Taren answered. "Yeah but what the new MCO did sent a far more clearer message. "They probably thought it was worth it at the time, till he turned up." Taren spoke, knowing some choice details about what happened, against who but also what the MCO did in response.
Douglas shrugged and got himself a hot cup of strong black coffee. 'Only a few more hours to go.' He told himself as he sipped at it. "We have deck five today." He nearly groaned main lounge, Cargo Bay one and two and the junior officers' quarters, along with the secondary science labs.
"It beats being stuck behind a desk." Taren spoke as he tried to ignore the presence of the two that assaulted his partner. No lover liked seeing someone they care about be hurt, but it was harder still being close to the ones responsible.
Douglas snorted into his coffee before lowering the mug.
"Careful, Voss. That's the sort of optimism that gets you volunteered for inventory." He picked up his PADD again, giving the stack in Taren's arms an exaggerated look "Besides, 'beats being stuck behind a desk' is easy to say when you're carrying enough paperwork to qualify as a cargo manifest."
Douglas started toward the door, taking another sip before disposing of the cup in the recycle unit. "Deck Five's got the junior officers' quarters. If we're lucky, we'll only break up three poker games, confiscate one illegal still, and explain—for the fifth time this month—that modifying the environmental controls to make your room 'more tropical' is not a personality trait."
Douglas glanced sideways at Taren with a tired grin. "And if the universe is feeling particularly generous, maybe nobody will set anything on fire before lunch." He paused just long enough to add with mock seriousness, "Though this is Security, so I probably just doomed us."
"Yeah, thanks for that. While you're at it, why don't you go to Sickbay and tell them it's quiet, bet they will remember that the next time you get hurt." Taren spoke. "Remember, they took oaths to do no harm....they can inflict as much pain as they like."
Douglas stopped mid-stride and gave Taren an expression of exaggerated horror. "Easy there, Voss. I spend enough time in Sickbay already. I'm on a first-name basis with the biobeds." He shook his head solemnly. "No, you never say it's quiet to Security, Engineering, or Sickbay. That's one of the unwritten Starfleet regulations. Right after, 'Never ask the chief engineer if they're almost done,' and 'Never tell the helmsman the mission looks routine.'"
Douglas then pointed a finger at Taren. "And for the record, I didn't say it was quiet. I merely speculated that the universe might briefly misplace its sense of humor." Douglas smirked. "Now you've gone and reminded it."
Almost on cue, his combadge emitted a sharp chirp.
=^=Security to Lieutenant McDougal. Reports of a disturbance in Junior Officers' Quarters, Deck Five. =^=
Douglas closed his eyes for a beat, then looked back at Taren with the expression of a man whose fate had just been personally confirmed by the cosmos. "...See? The universe listens." He sighed theatrically and started walking again. "Come on. Let's go find out whether it's another poker game... or someone's tried to teach a tribble to play darts."
Taren sighed. He wasn't in the mood for another emotionally charged poker game gone wrong. The last one was an ordeal enough with 6 people involved. "Alright, lets go." He put the stack of reports on the table and followed Douglas out.
Douglas had barely taken three steps before his combadge chirped Again.
**"Security to Lieutenant McDougal. Disturbance reported in Junior Officers' Quarters, Deck Five."**
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shot Taren an utterly unimpressed look. "See? I *knew* I shouldn't have tempted fate." He gestured toward the turbolift. "After you, Voss. You invoked the Sickbay curse. This one's officially on you."
The doors opened on Deck Five.
A feather drifted lazily out into the corridor. Douglas blinked. "...What?"
Another feather floated past.
Then came the unmistakable sound of someone yelling, "GET IT OFF!"
Douglas rounded the corner into the junior officers' quarters with Taren right behind him and stopped dead.
The corridor looked like a snowstorm had exploded.
White feathers covered everything—the deck, the bulkheads, even the overhead lighting. Crewmen were slipping on them like fresh ice.
And in the middle of the chaos... ...was a goose. An honest-to-goodness Old Earth goose. It was standing atop an overturned laundry cart like it owned the ship.
One ensign was backed against a bulkhead holding a broom at arm's length. Another had barricaded himself inside an open doorway. A third sprinted past Douglas with a pillowcase over his head.
The goose saw Douglas. Douglas saw the goose. The goose lowered its neck.
"Oh no..."
It charged. Douglas took one look at the incoming bird, then casually stepped half a pace to one side.
"Voss..."
Dougal's grin appeared a fraction of a second before the impact. "...you're up."
The goose blasted straight past Douglas and locked onto the next nearest target with military precision.
"HONK!"
Douglas couldn't help himself—he burst out laughing. "I don't know what you did, but congratulations. You've been selected."
The goose wheeled around for another pass.
Douglas grabbed the abandoned laundry cart and swung it around like an improvised riot shield just as the feathered menace barreled toward them again.
**THUMP!**
The goose bounced harmlessly off the cart, landed on its feet, and let out an indignant, offended honk.
Douglas peered over the top of the cart. "I've faced Orion pirates with less attitude than this."
One of the ensigns called out, "It waits until you make eye contact, sir!"
Douglas nodded thoughtfully. "So it's tactical." He looked toward Taren. "Definitely Security material."
The goose hissed.
Douglas sighed. "I am *not* putting 'engaged in combat with aggressive waterfowl' in my duty report."
He tapped his combadge. "Lieutenant McDougal to Operations..."
Another furious **HONK!** echoed through the corridor.
"...I'm going to ask a question I never imagined saying out loud."
He watched the goose begin another charge. "...Who signed off on transporting live waterfowl aboard the *Tomcat*... and are they available for arrest?"
"We could stun it, maybe the new MCO is hungry?" Taren spoke wondering how they would tackle this enraged avian creature.
Douglas gave Taren a scandalized look. "Voss! That is an innocent animal."
The goose fixed him with one beady eye.
A beat passed.
"...An innocent animal with serious anger-management issues."
The bird let out another thunderous **HONK!** and launched itself at them like a feathered torpedo.
Douglas sidestepped again, grabbed the laundry cart with both hands, and deftly redirected the goose into a pile of pillows that had spilled from one of the open quarters.
**FWUMP!**
The goose disappeared into the fluffy mound.
"...Okay," Douglas admitted, "that bought us about three seconds."
Sure enough, the pillows exploded outward as the furious bird emerged, looking even more offended than before.
One of the terrified ensigns finally spoke up.
"Sir! It escaped from the biology lab! Someone was transporting it to Xenobiology and it got loose when Ensign Parker tried to pet it!"
Douglas slowly turned to look at the ensign. "...He tried to pet... a goose."
"Yes, sir."
Douglas sighed. "I'd ask *why*, but I already know the answer."
"The answer, sir?" the ensign asked.
"He thought it would be friendly."
The ensign lowered his head. "...Yes, sir."
Douglas looked back at Taren. "I don't get paid enough."
He tapped his combadge. =^=McDougal to Animal Sciences. I need whoever is responsible for this... highly decorated tactical assault goose... to report to Deck Five immediately with whatever you're supposed to use to de-escalate an irate waterfowl.=^=
A calm voice replied almost instantly.
=^= "Animal Sciences here. Has anyone tried offering it lettuce?" =^=
Douglas stared into space for a long moment. Then he looked at Taren. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
An ensign timidly held up a small bag. "Sir... I have lettuce from lunch."
Douglas blinked. "You've been carrying lettuce this whole time?"
"I didn't think it'd help..."
Douglas snatched the bag, pulled out a few leaves, and cautiously tossed them several meters down the corridor.
The goose stopped. Its head swiveled. One suspicious honk.
Then, with all the dignity of an emperor inspecting tribute, it waddled over to the lettuce and began eating.
The corridor fell utterly silent.
Douglas looked around at the feather-covered devastation—the overturned cart, the battered pillows, the shaken ensigns, and Taren standing beside him.
He let out a long, weary sigh. "...I swear, if anyone asks what happened here..." He looked directly at the group of junior officers. "...we tell them Security successfully negotiated a peaceful surrender."
He glanced at Taren with a crooked grin. "And next time someone says they're transporting a goose through my patrol area..." He brushed a feather off his shoulder. "...I'm requesting hazard pay."
"You could be dramatic in your report, say we battled this ferocious beast for a considerable time, risking life and limb to bring stability and order to the situation in the face of perilous danger." Taren joked. "Think of the commendations."
Douglas looked thoughtfully at Taren. He looked at the goose. He looked back at the corridor, where at least a dozen officers were covered in feathers and trying very hard not to laugh. Then he gave a slow, solemn nod. "You know..." He picked up his PADD and tapped at it as though making notes. "...'Hostile unidentified lifeform demonstrated repeated close-quarters assault tactics, psychological intimidation, and complete disregard for lawful authority.'"
He glanced sideways. "That's technically accurate."
Taren's lips twitched.
Douglas continued, warming to the idea. "'Security personnel successfully contained the threat utilizing adaptive defensive maneuvers, improvised cover, and advanced diplomatic techniques involving leafy vegetation.'"
One of the ensigns raised a hand. "...Sir, are you actually writing that?"
Douglas looked at him with absolute sincerity. "No." A pause. "I'm considering it."
The ensign couldn't tell if he was joking.
Neither, apparently, could Taren.
The goose finished the last of the lettuce and gave a satisfied little honk before beginning to preen itself, utterly unconcerned with the destruction it had left behind.
Douglas gestured toward it. "Look at that."
"What?" Taren asked.
"It knows." Douglas said with a chuckle.
"It knows what?" Taren asked.
"That it won." Douglas said with a nod.
The goose fluffed its feathers proudly.
"HONK."
Douglas pointed accusingly. "See? That's the sound of victory."
One of the junior officers, still clutching a broom like it was a phaser rifle, finally ventured, "Permission to ask a question, sir?"
"Shoot." Douglas said.
"How... how do we explain this to Captain Somers?"
Douglas didn't even hesitate. "We don't."
The ensign blinked. "...Sir?"
"We clean." He pointed around the corridor. "Every feather." Another point. "Every pillow." Another. "Every overturned cart." He looked each of them in the eye. "And by the time the chain of command walks through here, this incident will have become an unsubstantiated rumor started by sleep-deprived security officers." Douglas finished simply.
A beat.
"Understood?" He asked.
A chorus of, "Yes, sir."
Douglas nodded approvingly. "Excellent."
Just then, the turbolift doors opened. A lieutenant in a blue sciences uniform stepped out carrying a pet carrier and another bag of lettuce. She took one look at the corridor and froze. "...I see we're a little late."
Douglas slowly turned toward her. "A little."
"I'm terribly sorry, Lieutenant. This is Gerald." She pointed at the goose, who looked up from grooming himself.
"Honk."
"Gerald is usually very gentle."
Every person in the corridor stared at her. One ensign still had feathers stuck in his hair.
Douglas spoke with remarkable calm. "Define 'usually.'"
She shifted awkwardly. "Well...he doesn't always choose violence."
Douglas closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, his expression had settled into the patient resignation of a man who had long ago accepted that the universe was fundamentally absurd. "Lieutenant..."
"Yes?"
"Please collect Gerald before he decides negotiations have broken down."
"Of course." She crouched, held out another lettuce leaf, and said warmly, "Come along, Gerald."
The goose looked at her.
Looked at Douglas.
Then deliberately ignored her in favor of another mouthful of lettuce from the floor.
Douglas folded his arms. "...He's mocking us."
Taren leaned over just enough to murmur, "Tactical intelligence."
"I heard that." Eventually Gerald allowed himself to be coaxed into the carrier, though not before delivering one final indignant **HONK** that echoed down the corridor like a declaration of moral superiority.
As the science officer disappeared into the turbolift with her victorious charge, silence settled over Deck Five once more.
Douglas surveyed the battlefield. Feathers drifted lazily through the air. A pillow was inexplicably lodged in a ceiling conduit. Someone's boot was still sitting by itself halfway down the corridor. He sighed. "Well." He clapped his hands once. "Let's get this cleaned up before someone from Command asks why Security appears to have lost a war against poultry."
The nearby ensigns scattered to retrieve brooms, carts, and industrial vacuums.
Taren smirked. "So..."
Douglas gave him a wary look. "So?"
"You still think I cursed us?" The Betazoid asked.
Douglas didn't miss a beat. "I think you weaponized probability."
He started gathering feathers into a pile. "And when I inevitably write today's report..." He looked over one shoulder with a grin. "...I'm ending it with the words, 'No further hostile avian activity observed.'"
A beat.
Then he frowned. "...Actually, no. I'm not tempting fate twice in one day." Douglas decided.
"You want to tell the new MCO he's going without his dinner?" Taren joked.
"Nope, You can have that honor." Douglas said with a grin. "Though I think even the MCO would appreciate the tactical skills of that bird."
Taren couldn't help but smirk at the comment as he lent a helping hand. "It's going to be a very interesting report for leadership to read."
A look crossed Dougal's face and he shook his head. "It will be indeed"
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