People, Ick...

Posted on 15 Nov 2026 @ 6:20pm by Lieutenant JG Tate McRae & Lieutenant JG Faith Benson & 2nd Lieutenant Elora Rykov

2,505 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: General Sim Postings
Location: Deck 04, Main Cafeteria - USS Tomcat
Timeline: Shoreleave

[ON]

The soft hum of the replicators filled the Tomcat’s cafeteria as Tate McRae stepped through the doors, dark brunette hair falling in deliberate waves over one shoulder. Off-duty looked good on her… tight black leggings that clung to the dense muscle of her dancer’s legs, a soft, low-cut top in deep wine that dipped just enough to be noticed, and the kind of posture that made every step feel like she was still on a stage. Very long clip-on nails clicked softly against the replicator panel as she ordered...

“Iced coffee… extra cold, heavy on the cream. Take-out cup.”

A standard take-out cup materialized with a soft chime… plastic lid snapped on tight, straw already punched through the center. Tate snatched it up carefully between those long nails and immediately wrapped her lips around the straw, sucking hard enough that her cheeks hollowed. She didn’t stop. Even as she reached into the small satchel at her hip for one of the protein bars she never left her quarters without, she kept sucking… slow, constant, almost absent-minded.

New ship. New faces. New people she was supposed to… like.

She hated that part.

Her hazel eyes swept the room once, sharp and assessing even while the straw stayed between her lips. Near the far bulkhead, two officers sat together. One tall, slender, brown hair… the other athletic, chestnut braid, a faint scar catching the light. Security and Marines. Useful. Necessary. Annoying… but maybe not completely...

Tate’s mouth quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile around the straw. She sucked again… then again… never really letting go of it for more than a second or two...

She walked over, still sucking, still working the protein bar wrapper open with those long clip-on nails. The take-out cup never left her mouth. Condensation beaded on the plastic as she kept drawing on the straw like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. When she reached the table she didn’t ask. She simply… sat. Smooth, deliberate, like the chair had been waiting for her the whole time. Another long pull. The nails clicked once against the side of the cup as she adjusted her grip without ever removing the straw...

Elora paused mid conversation as the unfamiliar woman claimed the empty chair without so much as a question. One eyebrow lifted beneath the loose strands escaping her chestnut braid, and her green eyes briefly met Faith’s before returning to their unexpected guest.

The relentless pull on the straw, the clicking nails, and the carefully casual posture suggested nerves hidden beneath a generous layer of attitude. Elora recognized armor when she saw it, even when it came disguised as leggings, iced coffee, and indifference.

She leaned back in her chair, more curious than offended. “By all means,” Elora said with quiet amusement. “That chair wasn’t doing anything important.”

"Well hello there," Faith just smiled and back for a moment to thinking about what she wanted to eat.

McRae took the empty seat across from her without asking, like inserting herself into other people’s conversations was just another part of the job. Like the table, and the people at it, were already her business...

Tate sucked again… harder this time… eyes flicking between the two of them over the rim of the take-out cup. The lid clicked softly against her teeth with every constant pull. She tried to soften the edge in her voice, just a little...

“…Hi,” she said finally, voice low and a little too sweet around the straw, the kind of tone that could still turn sharp if she wanted it to. She bit into the protein bar, chewed once, then immediately went back to sucking. “Tate McRae. Flight Control. Just transferred in.” Another slow, deliberate pull. “Figured I should meet the people who might keep me from dying in a firefight… or a staff meeting. Whichever comes first.”

She leaned back just enough to look casual, one boot hooked under the chair, the take-out cup still pressed to her lips like it belonged there. She sucked again… and again… the second protein bar already in her free hand, long nails carefully holding the wrapper.

Elora’s lips curved into a restrained smile. There was something refreshingly honest about the introduction, even if Tate had wrapped it in enough sharp edges to discourage anyone from looking too closely.

“Second Lieutenant Elora Rykov, Marine Executive Officer,” she replied. “In a firefight, I can probably improve your odds. In a staff meeting, your best defense is sitting close to the door and never making eye contact with whoever brought reports.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the protein bars before returning to Tate’s face. “Welcome aboard.”

There was no suspicion in the words, but Elora continued studying her with the quiet attentiveness of someone accustomed to evaluating people under pressure. “So, did you choose the Tomcat, or did Starfleet decide you hadn’t suffered enough?”

She still hadn't decided yet, oh well, she can still ponder on it, "Faith Benson, Chief Tactical and Security."

“…You two look like you actually know what you’re doing around here. That’s rare.” A small, almost ditzy little tilt of her head, eyes half-lidded as she kept sucking. There was a flicker of something almost friendly under the bitchiness, careful and calculated. “I’m terrible at this whole… friends thing. But I need a few. Figured I might as well start with the ones who look like they won’t immediately hate me… right?”

She never really stopped. Another hard pull on the straw, cheeks hollowing, then another softer one right after… the cup resting against her lower lip only long enough for her to breathe before she was sucking again… watching… already deciding how much of herself she was willing to give away. She was vulnerable at the moment; ick, she hated that immediately... They seemed nice...

Elora’s expression softened. She could see the moment Tate regretted allowing even that small admission to escape. The woman made vulnerability look as though it left a terrible taste in her mouth, one she was apparently determined to wash away with an entire cup of iced coffee.

“That depends,” Elora said, adopting an appropriately serious expression. “Is this you asking to be friends, or are you conducting a risk assessment?”

She let the question linger for only a heartbeat before a genuine smile touched her lips. “Either way, you’re in luck. I don’t generally hate people when I first meet them. I prefer to give them at least fifteen minutes to earn it.”

Her humor faded into something quieter and more sincere. “You don’t have to be good at making friends, Tate. You just have to show up, be honest, and occasionally tolerate sitting with people when every instinct tells you that people are…ick.”

Elora nodded toward the seat Tate had already claimed. “You’ve managed the first part. You can stay.”

Her eyes dropped pointedly to the cup. “Although I’m becoming increasingly concerned for the structural integrity of that straw.”

Tate paused. Ok. That is funny! The Marine was fun… She let a smile break through her pensiveness. “That’s funny. I like that.”

McRae relaxed in her seat...

“What’s with this one? Does she not speak, or telepathy?” She turned to face Faith. She looked to Rykov. Each ship Tate was on in her short time in Starfleet had seemed very hard. She met friends, she had… Friends! But, they always seemed to be chatty behind her back. This hurt her. She never felt she could be herself, because when she was herself, it always had come back to being hurtful.

She joined Starfleet. She joined to find friends, perhaps something nice?

“Thank you for letting me have a seat.” One deep suck more on the straw, now letting it circle in the tumbler. Relaxing Tate placed her hands on the top of the mess hall table.

“I don’t want to do this whole, here I am thing, if you both are having a serious conversation. If so I misread. But…” She eyed them both. We’re they a couple, friends. She just wanted friends herself. This seemed like a good place to take a seat.

“I see you are a Marine!” McRae let a gittiness break out in her speech… “That means you like have a lot of guns and combat alignments. This ship is FULL of them OMG. So many cuties!!! I need to pace myself, and I just arrived yesterday.”

Elora laughed softly at Tate’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Faith speaks,” Elora assured her, glancing toward the other woman. “I suspect she’s deciding whether you’re entertaining or dangerous, but I’ll let her introduce herself.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “You didn’t interrupt anything classified. You’re welcome to stay.”

At the mention of Marines and cuties, Elora leaned back with an amused lift of one eyebrow. “Yes, I’m a Marine. That means guns, combat drills, paperwork, and an alarming number of people who think scars improve their flirting.”

Her green eyes danced with friendly humor. “Pacing yourself is probably wise. The Tomcat has plenty of attractive trouble, and most of it comes with rank insignia.”

Tate’s shoulders dropped a little... the constant pull on the straw slowing as something warmer settled in her chest...
Safety... that was new...

She set the iced coffee down... long nails tapping once against the table... and the words came out bright and eager...

“Okay so... Flight Control...” she said... voice lifting with real excitement... “I’m the one who actually flies this thing... every thruster vector... every attitude adjustment... every micro burn... that all runs through my board...”

She leaned forward... hazel eyes lighting up...

“The flight control computer has to talk to the inertial dampeners in real time or the crew turns into paste... and if the EPS prioritization is off even a fraction the thrusters lag and you lose the envelope...”

Tate’s hands moved as she spoke... the guarded quiet completely gone...

“On my last ship I rewrote the docking macros... cut final approach by almost twelve seconds without spiking the dampener load... and I held a sustained forty degree bank under fire while the ship still felt smooth...”

She grinned... the kind that reached her eyes...“I love the math... the feel of the ship answering... knowing that if I do my job right everyone else gets to keep breathing... and now I get to do it on the Tomcat...”

Faith glanced up from her now empty drink. "That sounds pretty impressive."

"Not impressive. Just doing my job!" Tate shrugged.

There was a tilt to her head a little bit for a moment, "There's always something impressive about those even just 'doing their job.' You'd wouldn't have picked that field if you didn't want it. Don't forget however, don't do it just as a job. It's something you love. Treat it that way and it will always be impressive." Faith gave a reassuring wink.

Tate grinned. Benson was a cutie, and she enjoyed her attention... "I will take that advice. Faith. That is your name right? I really like that. It's... Special." Tate set down her annoying cup with the straw.

"What do you like to do on the Tomcat, Faith?" Tate could not help but question, while she found someone as interesting as Faith. She had a calmness, a quietness, but also when she spoke it meant something. She could just tell.

"Me? I do mostly my duty. I do have hobbies however. Like anyone else. I do have to figure out new things considering as old as I am, it's fun to do so." Faith smiled.

Tate tilted her head, hazel eyes lingering on Faith with open curiosity. The straw had finally left her lips for good, the cup set aside, long nails resting lightly against the table.

"Mostly your duty," she repeated, softer than before. "That's… honest. Most people lead with the fun parts and pretend the rest doesn't exist."

A small, almost shy smile tugged at her mouth.

"You say 'as old as I am' like it's a problem, but the way you said figuring out new things is fun… that doesn't sound old. That sounds like someone who still cares enough to try." She shrugged, one shoulder lifting... "I like that. Makes me want to know what you’ve been figuring out lately."

"Of course it was honest, why would I sugar coat things. No one likes to hear the truth about things most of the time, but someone has to lay it out there." Faith gave Tat a little grin. "Figuring out in what context?"

"As in... Figuring out things and having fun at your age. I like that. I never thought of it that way, from an El-Aurian's perspective. I'm sure..." Tate cocked her head slightly sideways. And lent a small bite to her lip, tossing her hair as her eyes moved from the starscape in the background to Benson.

"I mean..." She stated coyly. "I am still finding out things... That..." She then eyed Faith; she was gorgeous. "That I like."

"Well, you know there are particular ways to figure those out," that was neither an innuendo, or an invitation. "There is also things like just asking if one doesn't know." That may have been an innuendo. Faith finished off what she had left on her plate, which was only one bite.

Tate glinted with a smile. "Well. Faith, Rykov." She sighed. The feel of her watch silently vibrating that her cardio hour was due on the holodeck. "It is time for my spa program." She gently swirled the now-melting ice cubes in her tumbler.

"You know, sometimes you're both welcome to join me. It gets lonely in there." She then eased herself up. Sincere as she was, she felt she could be herself now around some people on the Tomcat. "Ladies."

"Just give me a ring, we'll see if I'm free or not." Faith glanced to Rykov a moment. Since she'd been particularly quiet. Looking back to Tate, "Don't worry about it, before you say anything. She's just got a lot on her mind. She means well and enjoyed listening to our banter and wouldn't mind having lunch again."

Elora and Faith both stood about the same time. "Lieutenant." Faith nodded her head, "Till we meet again." Faith watched Tate leave out and then cleared the table. Also leaving out behind Elora. Just seeing her home and then Faith headed to the Bridge.

[OFF]

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