[1205] A Quick Lunch
arcticblast
Member
in Day 2
The Delta Quadrant Briefing had ended a few minutes ago, leaving around an hour to find somewhere to eat lunch, eat lunch and get to the Alpha Quadrant Briefing. Jonas found a nearby restaurant that hadn't been mobbed by convention goers. It was either an unfound gem or a really bad restaurant. Either way, he hadn't gotten the memo. It had a sports theme to it.
Jonas took a seat a table. There was plenty of room for anyone else who wanted to join. He started looking over the menu.
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The problem with having the type of build Mason had was that he was hungry. Continually. By the time the Delta Quadrant briefing finished, his stomach was complaining his throat had been cut and he bolted from the room with almost impolite haste. He didn't really look far for a restaurant, ducking into one of the nearby ones that wasn't full.
Sports theme, he noted, although he didn't recognise the sport. Not one from his homeworld. A broad smile curved his lips as he spotted a face from the night before.
"Head alright this morning?" he asked, dropping into the chair opposite Jonas. "Or should I talk a little quieter?"
"The alcohol's worn off, it's the briefing that has my head swimming. I knew the Delta Quadrant was large, but I didn't really understand how large. It makes me reconsider the class of ships I would like to command. Before, I was thinking about light cruisers. Now I'm thinking I should be hoping for at least a heavy cruiser, something like an Akira." He paused as a waitress approached.
She looked at the two of them. "Are you waiting for more, or would you like to go ahead and order?"
Jonas thought for a moment, "Why don't we order now, and if other's show up, you can take their orders when they're here."
The waitress nodded.
Jonas glanced at the menu, "Bacon burger, fries, and a Coke to drink,"
The waitress tapped on her padd, then looked at Mason, "And for you?"
"Yeah. Tell me about it," Mason said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was rather hoping for something like a diligent... reckon they'll strap some extra guns on it if I ask nice? Like... all of them?"
He sat back in his chair as the waitress approached to take their order. He scanned the menu while Jonas ordered then looked up at the waitress.
"Actually, I'll have what he's having. Thank you," he said with a smile.
"The Diligent is a capable ship. I don't know that I'd want to be out there in a Diligent all by myself, but if I was with a task group, it might be safe enough. I definitely like the Diligent better than the Saber." Jonas paused, "It all depends on the mission. I wouldn't want to be under-powered, but then if the mission involves diplomacy, I wouldn't want to be overpowered either."
"True. The Saber isn't one I'd pick either but... me and diplomacy? Tried that once, and it didn't go too well. Just ask my ex-wife." He shook his head with a small chuckle. "But you're right. It all depends on where they want to send us, in whatever they want to give us. Let's just hope the gods of ship assignments are smiling down on us."
He studied the other man with a quick glance. "Did I catch it right yesterday and you already have your TF assignment?"
Jonas nodded, "I know I'm being assigned to Task Force 38, so I paid extra attention to the Delta Briefing. Although, you know how Starfleet works, just because they initially say they're assigning me to 38, doesn't mean that's where I'll end up. They could also just assign me to patrol duty in the Barzan System and not send me through the wormhole. IF they did that, I could see ending up in a Diligent, or even a Defiant. With the Defiant, we'd almost have to be docked at Starbase 38 when we weren't on a particular mission. You can get claustrophobic really fast on that small of a ship."
Their food arrived. Jonas nodded a thank you to the waitress and took a bite of his burger before continuing. "There's a lot of possibilities."
Conversation paused for a moment as the waitress brought their food over. Mason's stomach growled at the wonderful aromas. Heavens, he hadn't realised how hungry he was.
"They are very small ships. Built for a purpose," he added, slathering his fries in ketchup. "But, you get the advantage of a home base to return to. Could take the edge off a little." At least, that's what he'd hope anyway. He'd never been assigned to something quite that small.
Taking a bite of burger, he closed his eyes and murmured in appreciation.
"Now that is a good burger."
Jonas took another bite of his burger, "That I can agree to." He paused as he chewed. "I've piloted a million shuttles, an Ambassador, an Olympic, and had temporary command of a Nova and a Defiant, so there's no telling what class they'll assign me. What kind of ships would you feel comfortable commanding?"
Raan paused for a moment, fry held in mid-air, as he considered the question. It was one he’d been thinking about a lot recently. Certainly ever since the invitation had been extended for Osiris.
“Something small to middling,” he replied. “I think I’d prefer a smaller crew, people I can get to know and work as a team with, you know? Not that I’m saying that doesn’t happen on a larger ship, but I think as a new CO, I’d prefer a smaller number.”
He polished off a couple of fries before talking again. “You a pilot originally then?”
Jonas took a bite and chewed for a moment to phrase his answer, "Originally, still fly the odd shuttle now and then. There's different challenges flying small craft versus flying the larger stuff. The Defiant handles almost like a fighter whereas the Olympic doesn't turn fast at all, but then it's all about the mission. I've been in combat more than a time or two in a Defiant, but when combat comes calling, the best idea with an Olympic is to run and boy can an Olympic run. You just call for help and go to warp, by the time you come out of warp, you've got help."
Raan nodded, filing the information away. He really hoped he didn’t get an Olympic. If there was a fight, he wanted to be able to fight… not have to run away. He’d dealt with far more than his share of bullies in his life and he didn’t intend on stopping now.
“Served on some of the bigger classes. Canterbury was a Galaxy class and the Tricerdonia a Sovereign. Came up through tactical, so more than enough toys on those to please any gunner.”
Jonas thought for a moment, "Those can definitely hold their own. I think you'll be able to find plenty of action, no matter which task force you get assigned. Although, I've heard that Task Force 93 has their share of pirate and smuggling issues, so if you're looking for more of a police action, that may be the direction you'd want to go. But, then, we won't know for sure until the Task Force 93 briefing."
Raan nodded. “That’s one of the benefits of this kind of thing. We get to see what we’re letting ourselves in for… at least, we get a highly sanitised and approved version. No plan survives first contact and all that, eh?”
The other side of it, he was astute enough to realise, was this. The social side. Networking and making new contacts. You never knew who you’d end up working along side, or holding the line with if the worst came to the worst. Better to have already forged links before you needed them.
"Even edited and sanitized, the briefings still at least give me a feel for what I can expect when I get to the area." He looked down and saw that his burger and fries were gone. Jonas didn't remember eating all of it, but then when you have an interesting conversation going, little details often went unnoticed. "You're right, nothing ever goes according to plan, but that's the difference between being a theoretician and a practitioner."
“True.” Raan sat back after finishing his meal, glass in hand. “Although in my opinion we need to be a little of both. Put theory into practise, then adapt and revise on the fly when Murphy sticks his oar into the plans, as he always does.”
He hadn’t heard of Murphy’s law before joining the fleet, but his people had similar sayings so he’d switched to the more widely known phrase.
“Although, I really wouldn’t want an engineer doing that, not unless things were dire.” He grinned. “There’s a reason they don’t let me fly or near an engine room.”
"Mr Murphy does tend to intervene at inopportune times." Jonas thought about the times in the past that Murphy had intervened in his life. "Whether it's flying or engineering or shooting, the key is to know what your men and equipment tolerances are. Starfleet tends to over-engineer things, so you can push a little harder than the book says you can, at least that's my experience."
Raan lifted his glass, even though it only contained a soft drink and held it out in a mock-toast.
"May the gods bless Starfleet and it's tolerances," he said with a wicked grin. "Used and abused by those who need to get the job done all over the galaxy."
"I'll drink to that." Jonas clinked his glass against Raan's. Jonas glanced over at the clock. "Speaking of tolerances, we'd better head back to the conference room or we'll be late."