Third Annual BF betleH Tournament

Third Annual BF betleH Tournament (http://www.betleh.com/cgi-bin/b3/YaBB.pl)

Day 2 - Semi-Finals >> After morning rounds >> Face to Face
(Message started by: Falco_Tauvits on Feb 20^th, 2005, 7:15pm)

Title: Face to Face
Post by Falco_Tauvits on Feb 20^th, 2005, 7:15pm

Tauvits held the cup of coffee he had picked up from one of the rather nice, civilized little cafés on board in a death-grip as he wound his way through the crowd into the main arena. He'd woken up way too early that morning, tanked up on bloodwine and yet unable to sleep any more, emerging out into the realms of Xavier at the same time as the keen trainers. Unfortunately, he'd still been a little drunk, even after sleep, and had recognised this fact enough to get himself down to one of the nicer establishments on Xavier and grab a large breakfast, tempered with copious amounts of coffee.

He'd spent six months on Earth drinking himself into a stupor almost every night. He knew how to deal with the effects of the morning after.

He also knew that party time was over. He had a job to do here, and he had allowed himself a little amusement to recover from the surprise and faint embarrassment of losing in the second round. He had to deal with Forrest, and then get out of here.

The tournament, thus far, had only showed him one thing - how much, at heart, he truly loved the fleet. He loved the life of a Starfleet officer, he loved the camaraderie between a crew, he loved the feeling of pride he felt at donning a uniform. And now it was gone to him; not irretrievably so, if he truly, truly wished to he could go talk to Sanders and say he wanted out of the Theseus project, say he wanted to return to a normal starship command. It could be done. But at the cost of his self-respect, and at the cost of a project which could save more lives than he might from sitting on the bridge of a normal starship.

He wasn't like these people any more. He had more burdens on his shoulders. He had more to do. He couldn't mess around in the evenings drinking with fellow officers until he couldn't see any more, however fun it was. It wasted time... and it reminded him too much of what he missed.

Then again, the conversation with Ta'pez hadn't been a waste. He'd really need to talk to K'Hare to resolve matters, but he had a vague idea of how he'd solve one of the problems at hand. Once that was truly dealt with, he'd be able to breathe more easily.

Right now, he wanted to watch a few matches, gather a plan of action, and stop his temples from throbbing. The hangover was almost gone, but he was staggering into the arena unshaven, a little dishevelled, looking like death fuelled solely by coffee. To be fair, that was pretty much the truth of the matter. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn last night, though the presence of his usual beaten, worn brown flight jacket made that less noticeable than it might have been, and he kept his posture small and easily overlooked. It was a skill he'd picked up over the years, and was easier in crowds of Klingons.

He wasn't entirely looking where he was going, though, alternating between watching the arena and sipping his coffee, and so it came as something of a surprise when he knocked into somebody walking in the opposite direction. Coffee was not pleased with the interruption, and decided to spread itself liberally across the other person, miraculously missing Tauvits himself.

"Ah! Darn it, watch where you're going, son!" the other man, a distinguished-looking officer in a gold uniform cursed, reeling back from the coffee now across the front of his once-neat uniform.

Tauvits grimaced. "I'm sorry, mate... guess neither of us were looking where we were going..." He stepped away, quite sincere, and keeping the coffee away from the man.

But then, finally, he stopped looking at the coffee stain and glanced up at the man he was facing.

Fate was cruel, and had a wicked sense of humour to boot.

"My, my. Falco Tauvits." Adrian Forrest looked dimly amused at this development. "A surprise indeed to see you here, though I did catch your match yesterday. My condolences on your loss. After such giddy heights achieved last year, too. Quite a shame."

"I'll live." Tauvits smiled thinly, his eyes narrowing at the other man. "Seems my reputation has preceeded me, Commander, if I'm already noticeable by one such as you in Starfleet Security."

"Oh, the Theseus is watched closely, have no fear." Forrest matched the thin smile. "You thought Command wouldn't be worried about a man like you running around in dangerous places with his own ship? Just what is it you're doing these days."

Tauvits gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oh, you know. This and that. Bits and bobs. Doing jobs when they're needed. The usual." He kept his answer as vague and infuriating as possible, his gaze fixed on Forrest's eyes. Tauvits had always been a great believer in reading a man by their eyes, and the vibe he was getting from Forrest was not one he trusted.

Not that it could have anything to do with any preset beliefs, at all.

"The usual. Of course." Forrest's thin smile twitched. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you at last, Admiral... though it's not Admiral any more, is it."

"Indeed it's not, Commander. Just Mister Tauvits, these days. Or Captain, if you feel like observing old traditions." Tauvits gave a short bob of his head.

"Well, then, Mister Tauvits..." Forrest glanced about, then down at his uniform. "A pleasure to speak to you, I'm sure. But I really must go and deal with this coffee stain. Good bye."

Tauvits watched him go, the churning in his stomach no longer from alcohol, the remnants of his coffee forgotten even as he still held the paper mug in his hand loosely.

At certain times in his life, he had suffered from moments of complete clarity, laying out his purpose or a plan before him perfectly, letting him know where to go when he seemed to be lost. He'd just had one of those moments, acute and threatening and too right to be truly ignored.

He was going to have to kill Commander Adrian Forrest.