TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Forum for the U.S.S. Bremen, running every Thursday at 1900 UTC. Talk about your missions and your crewmates here, or feel free to post your logs for everyone to read.
Site Admin
User avatar
That would be unwise

Posts: 974
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am
Location: Vancouver, BC
Character Name: Rhodri "Griff" Griffiths

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby James Greenman » Mon Jan 12, 2015 11:38 pm

Fantastic log, Gunther!

I always wondered what went through other people's minds as they transport. :science:
Star Trek: Engage Game Manager

Game Director -Sigma Rho Station & U.S.S. Sentinel

Commander

Posts: 958
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Tue Jan 13, 2015 1:10 am

:golf:

Commander
User avatar

Posts: 953
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby Einar S » Tue Jan 13, 2015 11:52 am

amazeballs
Captain Jonathan Rome
Commanding Officer
USS Hyperion

Lieutenant JG
User avatar

Posts: 87
Joined: Thu Nov 13, 2014 10:11 pm
Location: Schelle, Belgium
Character Name: Marcus "Racer" Trevanion

TAC CW3 Andrew Harlan 11505.28

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Wed Jun 03, 2015 11:49 pm

(Co-starring Aoibhe as "The lady")

Harlan and the lady
part 1

---

Chief Harlan closed his hand tightly around the gem, preventing this uncannily swift moving dame's reacting arm and fingers to reach it, only to tear her dress a little further.
He felt the Korund in his fist to be real and natural, the second hardest known mineral on earth, and knew it to be far, far out of place here.

"Try again, so called 'lady of the night'..."

She glared at him, her deeply brown irises and dark kohl lining accentuating the whites of her smoky eyes. "That, is not yours," she protested, grabbing at his wrist.

Andrew smiled slightly, then sighed and shook his head a little, watching this fair figure focus so hard on an object so rare these days, she shouldn't even know about it.
"It is now." Liberating the pouch with his other hand, again tearing another centimeter of her dress in the process. "You know the questions, start talking..."

"I'm tired of all this talk...", she sighed impatiently. She took a step forward. The fabric of her dress ripped loudly.

Still not looking away from her eyes, the Chief felt the warmth of her bare skin, only millimeters away from his.
His left hand pulled the combat knife out of the wooden door frame, liberating the fine but very much useless dress, to fall away in an unceremonial heap on the dark grey carpeted floor.
Her discarded dress, now pooled uselessly at her feet, had revealed under garments that were clearly designed to titillate.

He ran the tip of the blade sideways along her silhouette, very lightly scraping it's way up, along her neck, to her cheekbone, coming away there and pointing to his closed right hand.
"The gem. Theft, or payment...?"

"A gift," she replied, her thick accent over-pronouncing each syllable as the fingers of her left hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. He could sense her desperation in her finger tips. "Give to back..." she purred, "and maybe we can work out a deal?"

"Maybe..."

Stepping backwards in fluid motion, Harlan led the scantly clad woman towards the pool table, where he spun around and seated her on the red baize, while twisting his arm free from her grip.
Picking up a bar stool, Andrew sat himself down about a meter away and took a moment to… inspect... her curves, hair and expression. After a slow breath with closed eyes, he looked at her face and spoke calmly.

"A pro, but not in what you appear or claim." He watched her get comfortable in her perch, crossing her legs elegantly. "Too well dressed for the night, too obvious a thief and far too stupid in your choice of victim." Sighing... "Your flesh does not interest me today..."

The sixty-five year old man stood up and walked towards the holodeck's one exit, where he locked it underneath a six digit code, before coming back to the table where he kick-slid the stool half a meter closer to it's edge and sat down again.

"Third and final try. Talk..."

She turned a little on the table.

"I don't have time for this," she huffed with Iberian impatience before swinging her crossed leg upwards and outwards, aiming her boot for his head.

He was quick to pull away and avoid the well executed knock-out kick, but not quick enough to prevent a glancing strike to his left hand side cheek, causing the Chief to rush into adrenaline mode. While at it's highest point, Harlan firmly grabbed the lady's booted ankle, veered up from his bar stool and twisted her leg around, causing her gracious body lines to follow suit. She found herself face down on the pool table, his leg solidly across her thighs blocking her struggling kicks, arm twisted up behind her back and a sharp, hard metal knife tip resting on her jugular vein. Andrew leaned in closer and whispered in her ear.

"Much better, toots..."

The blue crystal rolled to a stop in front of their faces, a drop of dark red blood fell from his scathed cheek bone onto her pulsating neck.

"This kind of freaky shit costs more!"

She remained still, her attention split between the crystal and the knife. She licked her ruby lips, made a decision and relaxed her body.

"You haven't lost your edge, sir," she whispered softly and craned her neck against the knife point to look back at him. "So... am I to assume you're not here to intercept the package? When I saw you there, I assumed there had been a change of plan. "

A little startled in his mind, Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan let the moment hang still in the air. Some seconds later he took a deep and calming breath and withdrew his knife from her perfectly curved neck, and whispered back.

"Sharper than the blade, you know how the saying goes... agent. Another one I remember: Assuming is bad..." A brief glance into the holographic room. "No more talk in here, this thing could be bugged. You should have a safehouse on the station, lead me there..."

Releasing his grip and sliding his body off of hers and off the table, Andrew's left hand brushed her lower back, and he couldn't help but notice the delicate softness of her darker tanned skin. With his adrenaline somewhat down again, he found her rather exquisite and expensive perfume had rubbed off on his slightly sweaty shirt, too. He stood up straight and spoke louder, keeping the act up.

"Alright missy, one whole night... for the contents of my purse, and you get to keep your pet rock." Harlan made a wide and gentle arm gesture towards the door "After you, milady..."

She straightened, wiped his blood off her neck while glaring at him steadily, stepped across the room and grabbed her ruined dress. She held it up to his face and dabbed at his head wound. "You owe me for this, too," she said, haughtily, tossing the rag at him and turning to unlock the door.

It took her twenty two seconds to bypass Andrew's six digit code. Impressive.

---
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
Tactical Officer
USS Bremen
-
CW3 Andrew Harlan / SFI & Section 31 Admiral Cix Jordaïn, AWOL

Lieutenant JG
User avatar

Posts: 87
Joined: Thu Nov 13, 2014 10:11 pm
Location: Schelle, Belgium
Character Name: Marcus "Racer" Trevanion

TAC CW3 Andrew Harlan 11505.28/2

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Wed Jun 03, 2015 11:50 pm

---

As they exited the holodeck, she picked a scarf off one of the trader's tables and swung it around her body. "I'll take the cost of this out of your tab," she purred to the protesting Ferengi merchant.

"This way..." She beckoned Harlan, leading him past The Breen's Head, past his crewmates drinking, and into a turbolift. He briefly wondered if the others had noticed. Before the doors had even begun to close, she was in control once more, planting a confident hand on his broad chest, her lips on his, and pushing him back against the wall.

As the cloth around her curved silhouette dropped away, Andrew's broad hands wrapped themselves tightly around her hips, registering the gemstone tucked inbetween fabric and skin. Somewhat to his own surprise, he let go of any former rank or decency-caused inhibitions and allowed himself to ride on the tension of this moment. He slid a hand up to her neck and returned the kiss with due conviction.
Usually, he tended to block off such sensations, numbed by lengthy wars, hard forced decisions and the sheer passage of time itself. Any regular courtesan would have gotten no more than a blank leave-me-alone stare, in any circumstance. But here, now, on the edge between hot comfort and frozen fear, this man's blood hastened through his veins.

"Please state your destination", the lift's automated voice repeated, several times over.
She sighed against his mouth completely caught up in a swirling maelstrom of excitement, raw pleasure and the knowledge that for once, on duty, she was completely safe in the strong arms of a worthy man.
"Please state your destination..." Their lips parted, both breathing deeply.
She looked at him with unfocussed eyes, confused for a second before a deep, sultry chuckle escaped her flushed throat. "Level 5, section 34E..." she ordered the 'lift before smiling at him. Her slender arms remained wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her red lips millimetres from his as the turbolift finally began its journey.

Minutes later, the next passenger picked up the discarded red and gold scarf left on the floor, wondering what it would likely fetch in auction near the right house on Q'onos, then tucked it away in his satchel.

---

Using the station's corridor walls for guidance and support, Harlan and the Lady arrived at and leaned hard against the door to her quarters, his hand feeling the hard metal surface next to her reddened right cheek.

While rounding a corner and necessarily having to open an eye, the Chief had instinctively registered one of the corridor's spying comeyes, knowing that any watchers (some of whom were quite probably in her portfolio) would suspect nothing else than this skilled Hispanic princess to be rewarding yet another weary traveller for a rather large bite out of their purse. Acting was redundant now. Use of that skill would have to wait until later, when talk would again become very much needed. For now, Harlan was committed and would not fold. Not before, or even after the River was laid out on the playing table.

She bit his lip, and tugged impatiently at his tunic, the fabric bunching in her fist. Guiding him in an awkward half turn, she thumped her free hand at the door control. She growled, tried again and half fell through the suddenly open door,pulling him with her.
The doors whispered closed, the room went dark. They were finally alone. She let her grip on his uniform loosen but she was reluctant to let go.
"I'll get, eh... something for your headwound," she said quietly. She opened her fist and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of him, deeply lost in an instant as she entertained the notion of carrying on, before finally coming to her senses and breaking contact. "Lights, fifty percent illumination, " her voice purred.
Her quarters were lavishly draped in expensive material, soft furnishings and patterned rugs covered the Starfleet - grey floors. The lady stepped towards a small console and tapped it several times.

"it's safe now, sir..."

---
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
Tactical Officer
USS Bremen
-
CW3 Andrew Harlan / SFI & Section 31 Admiral Cix Jordaïn, AWOL

Lieutenant JG
User avatar

Posts: 87
Joined: Thu Nov 13, 2014 10:11 pm
Location: Schelle, Belgium
Character Name: Marcus "Racer" Trevanion

TAC CW3 Andrew Harlan 11505.28/3

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Wed Jun 03, 2015 11:51 pm

---

Andrew kept his eyes shut for a few more seconds and took a few slow breaths to regain his focus. He wondered who this dame thought she had recognized in him, and how much risk was involved in finding out. His eyelids retreated swiftly, retinas imaging the gentle lines on her back and the few strips of dark grey lace she wore. He blinked once and then scanned the room, quickly registering acoustic and thermal insulation, signal jammers, the usual hidden arms locker and possibe escape route. He momenytarily touched the sharply stinging scratch on his face, looked at the drops of blood and leaned his body backwards against the full marble kitchen/bar counter. He spoke calmly but with a business-like overtone, not looking up as he wiped his finger on his quite damp shirt.

"How long have you been under, agent?"

She bobbed her head as she rooted around in a recess, her bare back to Harlan. "I say 'too long', they say 'a little longer'... It's always the same." She turned gracefully and stepped back over to him, a small dermal regenerator in her hand. She tinkered with it, adjusting the settings. "If you're not here for me..." she continued to speak, her rolling, hypnotic accent softer now, "why are you on my station?" She moved closer, held up the devise, leaned against him and began to repair the damage she'd inflicted earlier.

"Who says I'm not...?", he told her with a soft smirk.
He held his face still and let her continue. Studying her face, hair and eyes, Chief Andrew Harlan decided to play out this charade and continued matter-of-factly.
"Station logs will tell you my cover is as ordinance specialist on the Bremen. I imagine you checked that before... investigating. Yes, it's deep. Yes, it involves packages, everything does. Why not put a regular agent on it? It involves...", making quotation marks with the fingers of both hands "...diplomacy."
Andrew leaned in a little closer to her ear and whispered. "If I told you anything more, I'd have to shoot you." Leaning back, he gave her a wink and a little smile. "Anything to do with me is considered level red anyways, so I will require you to get... creative, in your day reports to fill in any instances of time we spend in close proximity, current or future..."

"Future?" the lady laughed softly. "You have interrupted a hand over, taken me out of the field for the entire night, you've ruined my favourite dress..." her dark eyes bored into his in the gloom. "If I ever see you again, I'm turning and walking the opposite direction." She held his gaze, making her point clear. His smile didn't fade, though. The regenerator beeped disprovingly. She glanced at it and frowned.
"Piece of shit," she grumbled, checking her settings. "it's not working..."
Harlan took hold of the unit and scrolled through the parameters she had set. He changed one. "Try now."
She read the small screen, raised a surprised eyebrow and looked at him. "Human?"
He said nothing.
She shrugged her shoulders and mended the small cut, her fingers trailing gently over the newly formed skin once she'd finished.
"Have you any other surprises for me, then, Admira..."

She found his index finger on her lips, trapping any remaining words inside. He stared at her for a good few seconds, as if trying to probe the thoughts behind her eyes, and then slid the finger sideways slowly over the soft skin of her cheek, coming to rest just under her ear.

"No," he spoke quietly and then leaned in to give her a gentle, lengthy kiss.

Behind his closed eyes, that rank seemed to echo in his head. Harlan knew he would be in deep, deep trouble if he were to fall through now. On this station, with regular visits in the foreseeable future, avoiding her permanently was unlikely. Transfer his ass off the Bremen? No, would immediately arouse suspicion. Neutralising her didn't really get a foothold in his thought process, he felt himself to a better man than that these days. If she really was this deep under, and had been for years, she was either a dead loyal asset to the force, blindly taking orders, or too loose a lead to have roaming free on short term assignments. Either way, her reporting any of this was highly unlikely, so the Chief decided to keep playing, for now.

Harlan let their lips part ever so gently and kept his eyes shut.

"...at least not today, agent. Have you?"

"Hmm..., " she sighed automatically, lost once more in the prospect of a night of actual passion, a night where she didn't have to entertain some foul Ferengi with a lobe obsession, or to suffer through all the buildup and excitement of a promising liason only for it to turn completely platonic as soon as the door to her suite swished closed. She watched his lips, admired his smile, and decided allow herself tonight without restraint.

She'd been fatigued for too long, she kept requesting extraction and kept being refused. She needed a holiday, she needed to breathe, and this man... this exquisite specimen had appeared at just the right moment. It felt like her luck was turning.
She slid her hands up his arms, across his chest and halted with her fingers on the fastener of his tunic.

"We have all night... ", she purred, a wicked smile flashing across her features. She unclasped his jacket and took her time sliding it off his shoulders."... I'm sure I'll think of something..."

---
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
Tactical Officer
USS Bremen
-
CW3 Andrew Harlan / SFI & Section 31 Admiral Cix Jordaïn, AWOL

Commander
User avatar

Posts: 953
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby Einar S » Thu Jun 04, 2015 11:04 am

Three logs in one day! You spoil us Gunther :) great story and I am very intrigued now
Captain Jonathan Rome
Commanding Officer
USS Hyperion

Lieutenant JG
User avatar

Posts: 87
Joined: Thu Nov 13, 2014 10:11 pm
Location: Schelle, Belgium
Character Name: Marcus "Racer" Trevanion

TAC CWO-3 Andrew Harlan & aCTO LtCmrd Anya Jameson

Postby Gunther Vermeulen » Thu Jul 09, 2015 9:49 am

-

In the dim recovery room adjacent to the main sickbay floor, Chief Andrew Harlan lay asleep on the biobed. Although his wounds were expertly fixed by the good doctor, Ren had insisted on keeping him in this semi-sedated state until he would be strong enough to stand on his own again. The concussive force of his console's disintegration had been powerful enough to send him flying, breaking his hip against the back panelling. Even after regenerative surgery, the subsequent fall had been hard enough to render him unable to stay in bright lights for more than a few minutes at a time.
Only vaguely aware of what had happened, Andrew spent those few waking moments wondering how he had gotten here. Age and war experience had learned him that, when a medic told you to stay put, you had better listen. So that's what he did, for now.

Anya walked purposefully round the corner, heading towards Sickbay. She had so many previous experiences there, she knew what to expect. Especially if her contraband got discovered. There had been so many deaths. So much pain being felt during the last few hours, so many people’s last few hours, that Harlan’s agony so close to her on the bridge had finally made a little dent in her mental armour. And that’s why she was there. With the bottle pressed against her body, her arm doing a poor attempt at covering it.

Jameson strolled into recovery room, stopping a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmed lighting. Looking around, she smiled at the medic who was monitoring a patient in a corner, before spotting him. Quietly Anya took the visitor seat near his and waited for him to acknowledge her, with her still pressing the hard glass against her torso in an effort to protect it.


A good few minutes later, Harlan awoke to a faint feeling of not being alone here. Unsure about it being his overly thorough training at HQ or just his aching head playing tricks, Andrew gently rolled over to his left, eyelids still shut, and took a deeper breath. "Roses? here?" he tought, and opened a puzzled eye.

It took a few blinks and some seconds for him to get the blurry shape in focus and recognise Anya's brown hair and familiar shape.

"Oh, hi. Nice perfume you're wearing..."

Leaning forward in her chair, a small smile playing around her lips, she replied. “Nice wounds you’re wearing”.

Carefully she placed to bottle on the floor, near the unit that contained Harlan’s personal items. “That’s for you, when you feel up to partaking. I’m not quite sure what it is, it’s unlabelled. But it came from Keshir Suder’s private stock after she…well, it was hers, which means it must be good.”

Anya stopped a moment, tilting her head for a moment. “Actually, it means it’s either good, or very strong” She gave him a full genuine smile.

He smiled back. "Must be. She was both, herself... folks keep telling me".

”How are you holding up? Missing the bridge yet? I only have a little while before I have to go back. Calm before the storm, and all that.”


The Chief shrugged, dearly wanting to be where his hands were needed most, yet knowing he'd pass out after a few bright flashes and become a burden in mid-action, again.

"I'll be alright, just not soon enough. Nurse gave me a quick briefing: fell back, repair, regroup and such..."
Harlan sighed and continued.
"I want to be on those triggers, Anya. Can't stand doing jack shit down here. I want to be up there, get stuff done efficiently, have this damn useless conflict out of the way, fast, and... have your back, too".

Anya met his eyes for a moment before making a big performance in looking over her own shoulder. “My back, huh? I didn’t realise it needed protecting! Has someone been attaching signs to me again?” She gave him a playful smile. “If you want, I can set up a console down here so you can get real live feedback on what’s going on up there” She nodded her head to the bridge.” But I’m not sure if that’ll make you feel better or worse about the situation.”

Anya wished she could get a better read of her colleague. Barring the few moments earlier on the bridge, when she could feel his pain so intensely, she tried to avoid any intimacy with the crew on that level. It caused…complications. Knowledge that should have otherwise been kept private. She smiled again at Harlan, awaiting his reply.


He smiled back and laughed a little, which felt a bit out of place now. Yet, Andrew felt more comforted than he should be, given the ongoing conflict outside and despite his usual business-like demeanor.
"Once an LO, always an LO, eh..."
Chuckling caused a painful jolt to the hip, so he grimaced and rolled to lay on his back again.
"Thanks, but no. It would only push me into sneaking my way out of here..."

Harlan glanced at Anya's hands, then at the bottle they had held, and back up to meet her gaze.

"You know, that bottle belonged to someone special. It should only be opened when accompanied by a story or two..." Tilting his head just a little "When we're out of this mess, ofcourse".

She tilted her head a little toward him. "You're assuming we'll be coming out of this mess? My experience is that violence begets violence. I doubt this will be the end of it, or that after the last phaser has been fired here, and the metaphorical dust has settled, that no more life will be lost because of it."
Shaking her head for what felt like the fiftieth time that shift, she realised she'd been letting the melancholy of others in and had allowed it to reflect in her words. She changed the tone of her voice, attempting to sound lighter.
"But you're right, we should have a drink, toast those who left us behind here. Hope that it'll be a long time until we join them. Enjoy being alive. That sort of thing."
She makes a movement, looking to stand and leave Andrew's side. "And if you do try and sneak out of here, you'd at least better get to the turbolift before you get caught."

Chief Harlan's thoughts drifted to the numerous bouts of violence he'd seen, felt and unwillingly participated in. Wether it was a Klingon border issue, a marauder attack on a trade convoy, an all out war - legit or clandestine, or just a fist fight in some dark bar... none of it made any sense, but they had been part of his job.
War leaves scars - more mental than corporeal - on all participating sides and even on some who really aren't. In the end, for any purpose, Andrew thought himself way beyond all that. You fight the fight, win if you can, survive if you must, go home for a week or so, then forget the reasons and go find a new one. It wasn't his place to argue, let alone judge the necessity of those conflicts, or at least it shouldn't have been...

He took a deep breath and sighed to Jameson as she slowly rose to stand, knowing she was needed upstairs.

"Yeah, I'd better stay put for now. I've seen the doc handle Tony when he refused to lie down. That guy carries horse tranquillizers on him all the time..."
Pausing for a moment, then softer:
"Thank you, for stealing a moment to come here".

-

Some time later - minutes, hours... Harlan couldn't really tell - he woke up as the Bremen shuddered and shook.
The dreams he had had were most peculiar. First, a bullet being fired from a handgun. Then, a red carpeted hotel room, followed bij a suitless space flight, strangling someone, trees crumbling like buidings, falling, and a visitor with a smile.

Slightly confused - because of the improvaline, he deducted - Andrew took a long look around the room, scanning the walls and furniture for irregularities, instinctively. When his gaze finally rested on the sight of a fine looking bottle to his side, he knew that one of those dreams had been real.

One, at least...
Lieutenant, Junior Grade Marcus "Racer" Trevanion
Tactical Officer
USS Bremen
-
CW3 Andrew Harlan / SFI & Section 31 Admiral Cix Jordaïn, AWOL

Commander

Posts: 958
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Thu Jul 09, 2015 10:36 am

Fantastic stuff, you two. Well done.
Loved every line. Especially the last one.

Very slick way of complimenting Suder, too, by the way. Moments like that make it feel like she's not really dead.

Commander
User avatar

Posts: 953
Joined: Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:47 am

Re: TAC Chief Warrant Officer Andrew Harlan

Postby Einar S » Thu Jul 09, 2015 1:44 pm

great log guys :) love those two old wardogs
Captain Jonathan Rome
Commanding Officer
USS Hyperion

PreviousNext

Return to U.S.S. Bremen

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest