Building a brighter future, one hole at a time

Posted on Wed Oct 16th, 2024 @ 1:19pm by Llaudh Drusilla Creon & Ambassador Oriath Velt & Lieutenant Onda Duros & Warrant Officer Reksim Floth & Centurion D'Dora Mirok

1,405 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: DownTime [1]
Location: Holodeck 35
Timeline: During the Dreizhen V away mission

Oriath Velt would never be called a natural sportsman, as a child he much preferred the stage, throughout his starfleet career diplomacy was his sport. Doctors spent decades trying in vain to get him to exercise. Through years of uncharacteristic practice, he'd become very good at golf. It didn't hurt that one of his favorite courses, the Carpenter Green, was on Risa, only a brief ride from a mountain fertility temple and hot spring resort, run by an order of all-female priestesses.

His ball landed close enough for him to entertain the idea of a hole-in-one. It wasn't, but it was still a putt he'd make easily from there.

"Romulans have a similar sport, played mostly by youth. Instead of a club however, one has a rifle. The objective is to keep the sphere away from the hole by shooting it. The sphere was a species of spherical mollusk with very effective natural camouflage and surprising speed." Ambassador Creon said before taking her swing, landing not quite so close, but still impressively nearby to Velt's ball. She was wearing something straight out of Earth's 1950's, a dark green embroidered sundress, big white round sunglasses and a transparent green visor. "One must then club the mollusk to a distance, or else they fill with a pressurised acid and explode.

"I hear your father played. Golf, that is. Quite the handicap." Velt said as he climbed back into the hovering cart, piloted by the flabby but well-groomed Tellarite Warrant Officer Floth. He looked too hot in his full purple uniform and was visibly sweaty.

"I appreciate that we have not known each other long enough for you to know this, but I find the invocation of my father in any circumstance to be extremely distasteful. The man was a scourge on our galaxy. If not for the treachery of General Nedar, who you knew as Commodore Oh, I would not be able to think of a Romulan who caused greater harm to our people in the interests of their own agenda." Creon explained as she climbed back into her own cart, operated by Centurion Mirok.

"Oh. Well then. Good that he's dead." Velt said honestly. He'd lost people under his command to her father's operatives, though he'd never mention it. It seemed like questionable conversation for this beautiful place.

"Indeed it is." Creon responded, taking a sip of the highball she kept in the cart.

They reached the green and Velt attempted the putt. To his horror, the ball perched on the edge of the hole in a way that he would swear defied physics. A birdie on what should have been par. "Damn it all." He muttered under his breath.

Drusilla chipped her ball in easily. "Mark it par." When they were on the way to the next hole, Drusilla spoke loud enough to be heard over the low mechanical din of the cart. "Have you and the Commander had a chance to review my proposals for the educational facility?"

"I have reviewed it. I'm sorry, but I can't present it to the Commander in its current form. A Federation station with a majority Romulan population can't have a dedicated Romulan school as its primary educational resource." Velt said as they stepped out into the teebox of the next hole. It was a long teardrop shaped area with idyllic Risan pine woods all around, a water hazard about halfway down on the left hand side, and a sand trap near the green.

"My people's children are not to be taught their culture in their language?" Creon asked as she watched Velt set up for his swing.

"Romulan history is a significant part of the curriculum. As is Vulcan history. Also your people's culture. Do you teach that in conventional Romulan schools?" Velt asked with cheeky purpose as he took his swing.

"Romulan history begins with the schism, Ambassador. The rest is not our culture." Creon responded lightly, watching Mirok set up her next swing. "This is not in keeping with D'Tan's vision for the integration of the free state, Ambassador. He will be disappointed to hear it." She took her swing, landing near the sand trap.

"I don't mean to contradict you on matters of your own state, Ambassador, but I know D'Tan well enough to know that he couldn't give a sun-dried fig about Federation starbases choosing to run Federation schools. I'm sure we could speak to him together to sort things out if you're concerned." Velt suggested as he climbed back into his cart.

Drusilla bristled internally but maintained her calm and relaxed demeanour as they continued down the slope of the course. She finished off her drink faster than was necessarily polite, and threw it out the back of the cart.

"What we can do for you and the Free state, is to offer a smaller facility for an out-of-hours Romulan education. Weekends, hours outside the conventional school day, all in the Praetor's Rhiannsu." Velt said as he got ready for his next swing.

"That is not what had hoped for, but it should go some of the way towards demonstrating the Federation's supposed goodwill." Drusilla said, watching his drive.

"Goodwill is in no short supply, Llaudh Creon. Let's not mince words, we know that the Free State needs us dramatically more than we need them. There's an old saying on Earth; 'Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country'." Velt told his Romulan counterpart as he watched her swing.

"The Federation has not been my country for some time now." Creon said with a cold lack of affect.

"You are a Federation Citizen, despite all the unpleasantness. Your actions are not considered crimes by our government, despite the efforts of small but vocal parties. You live in Federation space. It is possible to accept these facts and continue to serve the Free State with all your effort. You are always welcome here." Velt told her.

"Is this to be a counseling session or a round of golf, Ambassador?" Creon asked with good humour, finally moving to her cart.

"This is the holodeck my dear Llaudh Creon. It can be anything you want." Velt said with a laugh. His combadge began to beep before he could sit himself down. He fished it out of his pocket and stuck it to his chest. He tapped it. "Yes?" He asked.

"Ambassador, a Vulcan delegation has arrived. The Commander is meeting them at alpha dock in five minutes." Came the voice of Lieutenant Onda Duros.

"Vulcans? Where in the hell of salted wounds did they come from?" Velt asked with sudden uproar.

"Not quite sure, sir. CIC has cleared them but their ship's registries are so new that they're more recent than our last database update. Looks like some kinda slipstream ship, if I had to guess." Duros explained.

"Ambassador, do you feel like meeting some Vulcans?" Velt asked Creon.

"The Vulcans know where our embassy is if they wish to commence formal relations between our governments, beyond that which we share with the wider federation." Creon said.

"Well then. I hate to leave you high and dry out here on such a lovely day." Velt said, looking around to take in one more breath of the warm, summery simulated Risan air. "Duros, I need you to entertain Ambassador Creon for the rest of the afternoon. Beam into the holodeck on my authority." Velt told the Lieutenant, who affirmed the order.

"My apologies, Ambassador, but duty calls, no rest for the wicked, etc." Velt said as Duros arrived.

"Mr Duros here is under my order to take you anywhere and do anything you want for the rest of the time we had scheduled together.

Creon took a moment to size up the Bajorn. "He'll do." She said simply. "Do try not to overexcite yourself."

Velt smiled the smile of a man who knew he wasn't supposed to laugh out loud. "Until next time." Velt said, and tapped his combdge. "Velt to Ops. Beam me to Alpha Dock in a fresh uniform." The transporter beam consumed him.

Creon looked at Duros once more, then back to the two caddies. "Leave us." She told them, and they quickly generated an arch and left. "Do you know how to play golf, Lieutenant Onda Duros?" She asked the Bajoran.

"No ma'am." He responded honestly.

"Excellent." She said with a wide grin.

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