Not That Impressive
Posted on May 26th, 2021 by Scott Ammora

Materializing on the transporter pad, back on familiar ground, Scott unlocked his EV suit’s helmet. The rush of fresh air as opposed to the air from his compressor was refreshing. He cradled the dome on his right hip and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead as he stepped down onto the floor. It was good to be home. He had enjoyed being in a different environment – one that he had never been in before – and was thankful for the new experience.

As he moved clear of the area he heard the familiar hiss of another impending arrival. Turning, he watched Damien Hill appear and do the exact same thing. “Welcome back,” Scott said, gazing up at him.

There was a nod, a tapping of his arm display, and the man before him clamored down and past Scott into the corridor. Scott was a meter behind, “That was pretty cool, huh?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever been in that kind of low gravity before? I mean, outside training exercises?”

Damien did a passive aggressive shift in his glance before rolling his eyes, “Yes.”

“I guess you’re a little more well-traveled…”

Damien stepped into the turbolift, Scott close on his heels, “I am. Deck Seven.”

The ride was a short one, and a silent one, and an awkward one, and Scott knew that his previous encounter with Damien Hill had set the tone for their working relationship. He was hoping to remedy that. He was trying… good God was he trying. “That jump over you was something, right? Has to be some kind of record, I think. Floating that long…”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Oh. Still… it was pretty fun.”

“That’s why we’re here, right? Fun?”

Nice, a backhanded and uncalled-for statement, Scott thought, this is going well. The turbolift doors opened and Damien led the way down the corridor. His gait was faster than anticipated. He was walking with intention. Scott could only guess that it was escape philosophy. Maybe Damien was tired? Maybe he just wanted to get out of the suit. Scott kept up the best he could, his gait hindered by the equipment and his short stature.

They parted the entrance to the armory and started removing their EV suits, stashing them back into the proper area for decontamination and service. Scott took his moment to steal a glance at Damien’s physique; he liked being a marine for that ability. Not solely for that reason, but it was a perk to the job. And, like most marines, Damien’s body didn’t disappoint.

“So, celebratory drink for a job well done?”

“You’re a fuckin’ piece of work, you know that?” Damien said with a smile. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was an exasperated smile, a begrudging smile, and a borderline-clench-a-fist smile. “What the hell are you doing? Do you think I’m your friend, that I want to be your friend? Do you think by any stretch of the imagination that I’m interested in a camaraderie other than the fact that I will occasionally be assigned to work with you? That’s a mental leap that trounces the ‘record-setting’ jump you did earlier. Which, by the way, wasn’t that impressive.”

Scott blinked. He blinked again. Searched for the words to respond, but found nothing in his brain to combat the assault. Assault? No, that was a well-placed and well-worded rebuttal to Scott’s intentions. Their first dialogue together hadn’t gone well, but Scott was doing his best. Mending fences, building bridges, righting wrongs, and all that. Apparently, there were just some chasms too far apart to cross. “No, I was just thinking…”

Damien pulled on his undershirt, “You thought wrong, man. Trying to be my friend isn’t worth your time. Okay? I don’t want to be your friend. And do you want to know why?”

The EV suit was hot, and Scott wanted to take it off, but he was plunging down the rabbit hole with this guy. Emotions were flaring and Scott couldn’t settle on an answer. He wanted to say yes, but the guy was also a complete dick and he wanted to just put the kibosh on this whole interaction, but his tongue remained tied.

By the time Scott’s internal monologue about what to do had reached a pinnacle of uncertainty coupled with silence, Damien was pulling on his boots. “I don’t get you, Ammora.”

Cue the flashback to Rodney’s words on the holographic bridge.

“You’re brash, but complacent. You may be smart, but you’re arrogant. You’re by-the-book, but push the line. You’re a walking contradiction of Starfleet principles and what everyone expects us to be; and that’s dangerous.” Damien stood and threw on his uniform top, “And it’s not the good type of dangerous. It’s not the thrill-seeking-join-you-in-battle sort of dangerous. It’s the type of dangerous that gets people killed, good people.”

Scott smirked slightly, “I think you…”

“I think you need to shut the hell up.” Damien got uncomfortably close to Scott, pressing him back against the row of lockers where his personal belongings were waiting. “Don’t try to make nice with me, okay? It isn’t worth your time or trouble.”

Another flashback to Scott’s conversation with Rodney.

“I. Do. Not. Like. You.” Damien continued. “Get that through your head. Right now.”

As Damien moved away, Scott’s blood began to boil. There was a heat rising through him that he saw coming from light-years away. He bounded over the bench separating them and spun Damien around, slamming him back-first into the other row of lockers. “I’m trying to be nice.”

A mischievous grin spread across Damien’s face. “I was being honest.”

“I was trying to apologize.”

Damien slapped Scott’s hands away from around his collar, “No, you weren’t. You were trying to brush things under the rug for the sake of trying to appear sorry. You want to be chums. You want to ‘grab a drink’. You want this to be all sunshine and rainbows. But you’re just… fucking… terrible… And you touch me like that again, I will put you through those lockers.”

Scott stepped back, his face matching Damien’s grin. “Sure thing. Maybe we settle this on the holodeck?”

It was as if a firework had gone off. Damien laughed out loud, shaking his head. “Macho man, huh? I’m not fighting you. Are you baiting me, or trying to make up for being a complete asshole? Either way, I don’t care to engage in any more of this talk. Coworkers and nothing more, got it? There’s nothing to settle. Have a good night.”

“Are you scared?”

“Go to hell, man. You have some shit to figure out on what life out here means and how we treat those we’re stuck with during long missions. Right now… this…” Damien waved his hand in a circle, indicating Scott, “… this… is screwed up.”

Through gritted teeth, Scott maintained his composure as his rival exited. There was a moment where nothing happened other than the emptiness of activity in the armory. The stillness was deafening. Then he heard something from the third row of lockers, the row that hadn’t been involved in the skirmish, and Scott dropped his head as he saw Rodney appear. “Of course.”

“An offer to get a drink with someone who hates you, but you can’t show up for a dinner with someone who might like you? He looked upset, or angry, or a combination of both. Rodney slung his bag over his shoulder and bee-lined for the door.

Scott didn’t even try to stop him physically, and said half-heartedly, “I’m free for a drink now.”

Rodney didn’t look back as he left, “I’m not.”