Backpost: Turbolift Trip

Posted on Sat Jul 18th, 2026 @ 2:37pm by Captain Samuel Woolheater & Lieutenant Damien Blackford

Mission: Interlude
Location: Turbolift System
Timeline: Earlier
1467 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON:]

(( Turbolift – USS Elysium ))

The turbolift doors slid open halfway down the ship before Samuel Woolheater had reached his destination. A young Security officer stepped inside just as the lift gave a soft hum and resumed motion toward Deck 18.

Sam glanced up briefly from the coffee cup in his hand. Loose play clothes. Old boots. Faded black T-shirt. Off duty. And enjoying it.

"Huh." he said as he looked over at the officer.

A beat.

"You’re Blackford, ain’tcha?"

The Georgia drawl came easy and unforced. Sam shifted slightly against the rear rail of the lift, one tattooed forearm resting casually beside the control panel while he sized the younger man up in the easy, instinctive way Marines and Security officers often did with each other. Not aggressive. Just a bit of professional habit.

"I'm Woolheater." Sam offered his free hand in a handshake.

Damien stood waiting for the turbolift, scratching his chin idly, examining the PaDD in his hand. Having just finished his shift, he was debating what his plans for the evening might actually entail. Most likely another night spent in his quarters, reading. When the lift arrived, he stepped in without looking up from his PaDD, so it wasn't until Woolheater spoke that he realised the other man was there. Looking up, slightly startled, he quickly recomposed himself before taking the outstretched hand. "Damien." He said, offering him a small smile.

Another sip of coffee. "Pretty sure we’ve been on the same ship for how long now without actually havin’ a proper conversation?"

Looking over the man, dropping his hand back to his side, he took a few seconds to think before nodding. He'd seen the man around, but had never actually said more than a cursory greeting when passing each other in the hall. "I don't think we have, no." He said. "Well, it's a pretty big ship. Easy to miss people, I suppose." He said, chuckling softly.

Sam snorted softly into his coffee. “Yeah, well. Half the time we’re all moving between crises like ships passing in the night.”

The turbolift hummed gently beneath their boots as he glanced back toward Damien.

“You finally off shift el tee?” Sam asked casually.

Damien nodded, stowing the PaDD away, and glancing back towards Sam. "Yeah." He said, smiling, running a hand through his hair. "Feels nice to have a relaxed shift. Like you said, a lot of the time it feels like we're just moving from crisis to crisis. Feels good to have some down time." His eyes glanced across the other man's attire, as he said, "Is it safe to assume that you're also off shift now?"

Sam glanced down at himself like he had to double-check the answer. “Shockingly, yes.” He lifted the coffee cup slightly. “No rifle. No armor. Nobody actively shooting at me for at least…” He checked his wrist chonometer. “Couple hours now. Ship record, I think.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward again as the turbolift continued its steady climb. “I’m trying this new revolutionary concept called ‘relaxing.’ So far I’m cautiously optimistic.”

He took another sip of coffee before nodding toward Damien.

“What about you? You strike me as either the type that disappears into a quiet corner with a book…” his eyes drifted briefly over Damien’s posture and calm demeanor, “…or somebody secretly one bad day away from buyin’ a repulsorlift motorbike and making increasingly questionable life decisions.” A beat.

“Could go either way.” The Marine grinned back as the turbolift slowed and stopped and then the doors opened. "This is my stop."

Damien let out a chuckle and shook his head. "If I ever bought a motorbike, repulsorlift or otherwise, I think my mother would have a heart attack. And then, when she was finished, would promptly skin me alive." He chuckled again before asking. "And what about you, sir? What are you planning to do, to try out this revolutionary new concept of 'relaxing'." When the turbolift doors opened, he glanced at the deck number before speaking again. "Would you like some company on your walk to... wherever you might be going?"

Sam nodded, "Sure, I'd like that. I'm heading to the Greek place. For a gyro. Got a hankering for it and some hummus. Join me if you like for a bit?

Damien thought about it for a few seconds, before shrugging and stepping out of the turbolift, following Sam down the hall, stowing the PaDD into his pocket. He'd heard good things about the Greek restuarant, and had been meaning to check it out for some time. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

The Marine took another sip of coffee as they started down the passageway. "Fair warning, though. I got opinions about food." A beat.

"Serious. Strong opinions. Nkay? We'll get to those." He glanced sideways at Damien.

Sam was teasing the Security Officer and he kept a straight, poker face. Just to see what Damien would do. "You ever meet somebody who takes barbecue personally? That's me." A beat. "Its not just a word. BBQ...is a verb too." A beat again. "I'm a tell you what. I think this crew needs a big ass, old timey BBQ."

Sam glanced back over and tried to keep that poker face but his mouth started to curl into a grin.

As they walked, Damien glanced over the Marine, raising an eyebrow slightly as he tried to determine whether or not the man was being serious or just pulling his leg. He'd honestly never met someone who claimed to have 'strong opinions' on BBQ food. Although he had to agree, a good old-fashioned BBQ might be just what the crew needed.

Spotting the grin that had started to form on Sam's face, Damien's own lips curled into a smile, and he let out a quiet chuckle. "I can honestly say, sir, I've never met anyone who had very strong opinions about any kind of food. Unless you count my father's opinion that a steak should always be cooked medium rare."

Sam gave an approving nod. "Well...hell son..." Another sip of coffee. "Yo daddy's right about that."

He glanced down the corridor toward the Greek restaurant and they kept walking towards it. "My old man taught me a lot of things. One of 'em was that if somebody spends good money raisin' a steer, the least you can do is not cremate it." His mouth curled into that familiar crooked grin. "I'll eat just about anything once. Greek. Klingon. Vulcan. Cajun."

A beat.

"But barbecue...". He stopped and lifted a finger for drammatic effect. As if he was about to announce some great revelation. He held a finger up as though delivering an important briefing. "...barbecue ain't just food. You know? Nuh-uh. It's family. Birthdays. Promotions. Coming home. Somebody dragging a smoker into the yard at six in the morning because supper starts twelve hours later."

He looked over at Damien. "Now, I just figure that every crew oughta have one once in a while." Another few steps down the corridor. "No uniforms. No ranks. Just good food and people 'membering they're people." Sam shrugged one broad shoulder. "Seems to me it'd do us all some good."

They walked into the Greek restaurant.

Damien grinned, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I'm sure he would be very thankful to hear you say that."

As they continued down the corridor, he glanced over at Sam. "Klingon food? A very brave man. I tried it whilst I was in the Academy. Safe to say, it was very much a 'one and done' kinda situation." He chuckled again, raising an eyebrow as Sam raised a finger, the gesture calling to mind the image of an old Pastor, about to impart some age-old sermon.

As they walked into the restaurant, Damien nodded his agreement. "A good old-fashioned get together." He said with a smile. "A way to break down the ranks a little. Remind everyone that behind the pips and department colours, we're all just trying to do the same thing."

Sam spied a table and indicated to it that they could sit there. They sat down, the restaurant was busy nut not crowded. Sam picked up a menu but barely looked at it.

"So..." He glanced over at Damien. "How'd a Security officer wind up on a starship anyway?" A crooked grin. "Everybody's got a story."

For the next hour, Sam listened to and got to know better Lieutenant Blackford. It was the start of a good working friendship with a Security Officer Sam respected and admired.

[OFF:]

A Joint Post by:

Lieutenant Damien Blackford

&

Captain Samuel Woolheater


OOC Thomas: Thank you Damien! Let's do more of these OK? This was a lot of fun.