"Think you can hold another one?"
"Nah, Chuut, three's my limit. Besides, it wouldn’t do fer a Starfleet captain to be seen inebriated in uniform; ya know what I mean? Heh."
Chuut returned to polishing his drink glasses behind the bar while LeRoy finished downing the concoction in his glass as he observed the unusually quiet atmosphere of the Star's End.
"Is it just me or is business been kinda slow 'round here lately? I still remember how this place was hoppin’ when I snuck in here to check out that Guardian time machine of yers a few months back. Now this joint is all but a ghost town."
“Well, ya know how wars are.” Began Chuut. “They’re not exactly conducive to bar hopping. And what with a heavily armed Klingon taskforce patrolling the outskirts of the nebula and all…”
LeRoy couldn’t help but rub is forehead at the mere thought of the thrashing that the Foxtrot sustained from elements of that same taskforce.
“I can’t thank ya enough fer lettin’ us use yer stardock facilities. Now how much do I gotta pay ya?”
“Ah, don’t worry about it! Just for you, my friend, all of our stardock services are without charge. However… don’t be surprised if I ever come to you for a little ‘favor’ in the future.” Answered Chuut with a chuckle and knowing wink.
Just then an anonymous Gorn abruptly plodded up to the bar with a PADD in hand. The Gorn advanced the arm clutching the PADD towards LeRoy and hissed a deep-throated “HERE.”
After LeRoy accepted the PADD, the Gorn made an about-face and lumbered off to whence he came without another word.
Chuut exclaimed, “What was that all about?”
LeRoy scrolled through the contents of the PADD.
“It’s from Supreme Allied Command. Apparently I’ve been assigned -conscripted is more like it- into an officer transfer program with the Gorn Confederate Navy. Accordin' to this here, they’ve been kinda low on commissioned officers lately and have had to resort to importin’ outside help.”
“Well, in that case, hope you’re good with plasma, buddy.”
“It’s not the weaponry that I’m worried about. It’s the Gorn hierarchy that bugs the crap outta me.”
“C’mon, you’re just bein’ paranoid! So Matriarch Kroma takes an interest in her troops. What’s the big deal with that?”
LeRoy motioned toward the now abandoned establishment known as “Kroma’s” which sat just off of the promenade.
“The last time I had a run in with Kroma I barely come out of it alive with my propriety intact!”
Chuut convulsed with hearty laughter.
“Yeah, I remember Soreyes tellin’ me about that. He tells me there was quite a raucous in that room after he shoved ya through the door.”
“And all that trouble just fer a disk that turned out to be an episode o’ Howdy Doody.” Sneered LeRoy.
“Huh?”
LeRoy waved his hand in front of himself and shook his head.
“Never mind.”
Soon afterwards the relative lull of the bar was shattered once again, this time by a horse shout emanating from the periphery of the promenade level.
“ROY BOY!”
“Oh, egad.” Sputtered LeRoy.
One of Chuut's more devoted and frequent patrons known thereabouts as “Likkerpig” plopped down unceremoniously onto a barstool next to LeRoy.
“I couldn’t help but overhear ur convo with the Chuutster here. So am I to understand that you’ve been drafted into the good queen’s navy, eh? Hehehehehe…” crackled Likkerpig as he nudged LeRoy with his elbow.
LeRoy held up his glass.
“Chuut, I’ll have another one o’ these.”
“But you just said…”
“Never mind what I just said! FILL ‘ER UP!!!”
Chuut-Ritt complied by refilling the glass, which LeRoy promptly turned up and quaffed in one loud gulp.
Likkerpig broke in once again, “Ya know, Roy my boy, I happen to enjoy the distinction of knowin’ ole’ queen Kroma very, very well if’n ya catch my drift, hehe. I’d be more than happy to consult you on how to put urself in her ‘good graces’, savvy? Ya know, ‘wink, wink; nudge, nudge; say no more’, eh? Hehehe…”
“Chuut, hand me that bottle.” Requested LeRoy indicating the brew that he was drinking earlier.
Once LeRoy had aquired the bottle from Chuut, he perfunctorily pressed it into Likkerpig’s hand and grunted, “Here, have a tall one on me.”
“Gee, thanks!” blurted Likkerpig as he greedily clutched for the flask.
LeRoy leaned to Chuut and muttered, “Anythin’ just to make ‘im shaddup!”
Taking this as his opportunity to make his exit now that Likkerpig was occupied, LeRoy dropped a small heap of latinum coins on the bar top in payment for the bottle of stout and got up to leave.
“HEY! What about those pointers I was gonna give ya?! *HIC!*” Gurgled Likkerpig between swigs.
As LeRoy was exiting the promenade he quipped, “I’ll just have to muddle my way through.”
Likkerpig shrugged and returned to his drink, but then paused.
“Hey, Chuut *HIC!* What’s this stuff anyways?” Queried Likkerpig referring to the contents of the jug.
Chuut took the unlabeled bottle and examined intently.
“Well, it’s, uh… it’s… it’s... it’s green.”
Likkerpig shrugged once again, took back the flagon, and continued nursing upon it amidst hiccups.
In the meantime Captain LeRoy was beamed aboard the Foxtrot and had assumed his post on the bridge.
“Number One, are we ready to shove off yet?” Urged LeRoy.
“Aye, Sir.” Replied the XO. “All repairs have been completed and we’re ready to disembark to the Fed/Romulan front.”
“Belay that, Number One. Plot a course to G’Dar and engage at maximum warp when we’re clear of the nebula.”
“G’Dar, Sir?” probed the quizzical exec.
“You heard me, Number One." Barked LeRoy. "Make it so!”
Topic: The Good Queen's Navy (Read 936 times)