Interlude – So here we are
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
It was enough of an ordeal to get through the queues from the docking bay where the civilian transport had dropped her, but when Phil first breathed the air on the promenade she actually gagged. The first thing she did was run for the public restrooms and leave the remains of her last in-flight meal in the bowl.
She smelled a mix of flesh and disruptor fire, and needed to get it out of her nostrils.
She came up spitting and then left the stall and doused her head with water, short brown hair that would dry quickly and deep brown eyes that would never fully forget.
Phil needed a drink.
“Hello?” Phil said as she slipped onto a vacant stool and leaned her elbows on the bar, hesitating midway as she saw the Red Lizard.
Pip sat back – ten men, five women, two of them pregnant had died in one night and twenty adolescents had met the same fate. Phil, or Pip was the only one who was alive when Starfleet arrived a day too late. Phil knew now that they had killed the colony’s livestock, razed the fields and killed them when they had found them …but they were not after the land, they wanted the people off it for their own expansion. The search team had almost given up when they had heard Pip’s cry from beneath the body of her own mother, the Colony’s Mayor.
“Irish Whiskey,” she said, “and make it the good stuff.”
Yolanthe recognised the signs, the red eyes, the green tinge, and yes, the slight but unmistakeable whiff of acid breath. People being sick was an occupational hazard in any bar with real drink. The statuesque woman poured a mint cordial, and put it down in front of Pip. "You might want this first. And blended, single malt, single grain or pure pot? I have a good one of all four."
"Malt," Pip said, she had lived off the medicinal flask her mother had in her skirt, she couldn't pull herself out, and she did not dare cry ... like her memory of the day it had not left her system, but what had shoved it in front of her eyes like that?
The bokkai found the bottle of 18 year old whiskey and poured until the customer said stop. "You know, I'm used to people puking after they drink, not before. So I'm guessing you've had a rough trip in?"
"I don't like space travel much," Phil said, "Always leaves me with a bad taste or a bad stomach and this time ... both!" she exclaimed with a laugh.
Yolanthe nodded and smiled. "At least its over. Are you going to get a chance to recover or is this just an over night stop?"
"A day or so," Phil shrugged, "there's not much call for a sous chef on a liner who can't keep her knife straight when the ship hits a plasma storm, the waves are quite immense" Phil said. "Something will turn up, or it won't."
"I worked a liner once. Its no place for anyone who gets space-sickness. Plasma Storms are not even the worst of it." Yolanthe thought for a moment. "There's more than a few restaurants here if you need work. Proper food, not just programming replicators."
"My dream!" Phil exclaimed, "But after seven days of travel I want to clean up an' clean out a bit first. God you don't do food as a rule do you, because if you do I've ruined my first chance," Pip sighed as much as she needed to. She was not drunk, just recovering from a flashback brought on by that smell.
Stilll, Pip kept her smile and continued to talk with no hesitation. "I'm all natural ingredients me, and the preperation of. If grow them, I sell them and every now and then I'm lucky enough to cook them for others."
"The only thing we replicate in here is the glassware." The bokkai thought about that. "And occasionally the furniture," She allowed. After a riot, a stampede, and a bar fight, they'd had to replace more than the odd chair. "I do some food, but its small stuff, bar snacks, small plates. I leave proper catering to other places. Don't want to step on too many toes."
Pip raised her glass, "You're not wrong in that," she said as she drained it. "Glad to know I'll be here a night or three 'cause that lot must've taken a year or two to brew," she said. "And forgive me, it's been a rough journey and not one i want to repeat in a hurry so after tonight I'll calm it down."
"18 years," Yolanthe showed the woman the bottle so she could see for herself. "And as long as your credit's good and you can hold it, drink as much as you like."
"My credits are solid," Pip said, "but not enough that I don't need to wait and dash to take what's left after the last transport arrives in an hour or so." She raised a hand, "Joking. I'm paying as I go though. Don't want to get a bad name for myself." Pip's nose wrinkled as she breathed, "No offence but there's a funny smell on this station, like somethin' got burned up. That sort of thing sticks around." Pip didn't know about the vole infestation a few days earlier, or how it had been dealt with.
"Some joker let a bunch of Cardassian Voles loose a few days ago. And then some gung-ho cardassians decided to go after them. Between shooting them with disrupters, and electrifying the infrastructure to fry the rest, I think we're going to smell of barbecued rodent for a while." Yolanthe put the whiskey bottle back on the shelf. "I've had the filters changed twice in here, but its just not doing the job."
"Is there another type?" Pip said. "That explains why I can't stop retchin' burnt meat and me don't get along ... its enough to make me want to turn vegetarian. I got to say I'll probably not eat for a week after that." Pip folded her arms on the bar. "You been in this game long?" she asked, just making conversation, "Seems like a nice place, apart from the voles I guess."
"Thank you.. I've been bar tending about two years. And this place? Let's just say I've had the opening month from Hell." A waiter brought over a crate of clean glasses and she started to put them away. "What about you. Been chef-ing long?"
"A few years," Pip replied trying not to be too specific. She wasn't really old enough to be in here, but she'd been in so many bars now that Pip looked comfortable, and once they heard her cynical outlook most people just assumed she was just lucky enough to have a young face, "I needed something to do when I left home, found somewhere that needed pots washing and I went from there. I've not really enough experience yet to break out on my own, but maybe one day."
The bokkai nodded, "I confess that didn't stop me. But its what you feel comfortable with. Though were I you, if I couldn't tolerate the smell of burnt meat, I wouldn't want to cook. Sound like a hard thing to avoid in your business."
Pip laughed, "If you're any good at it, you don't burn it," she said finishing the glass, "cremated remains is a sure sign of an amateur," she said. "I think I've got room in me for another," she added after a moment's thought.
The bartender duly obliged. "So, where're you from?" Just because she was human did make fer from Earth.
"Grew up on Earth, wasn't born there, but that's where I ended up, then Luna, then back to earth, I don't think I've managed to stay with a family more than three or four years at a trot before I start thinking something dreadful is goin' to happen," Pip said her palm resting over the rim of her glass. "One day its fine, then the next I'm a wreck and they pack me off to another crock of counselors and 'forget' to take me back. Eventually I just said, sod this, and went my own way. Now I've only got me to please, and as I'm not stuck in one place, nothin' bad can catch up with me, right?"
Words like 'wreck', 'counselors', ran up flags in Yolanthe's brain. The girl in front of her must have seen some rough times. "Something bad chasing you?"
Pip shrugged. "Memories, and that's not really somethin' you can get away from. They don't bother me most of the time ... just every few years. I'll go bonkers if I ever hear another counselor tell me I'm traumatised, I mean, no shit, I know that and I don't need a ponce with a degree to tell me so, all they want to do is get me to talk, and I don't feel like talking anymore, it didn't do any good then and it won't do any good now. They've never given any answers, just more words and words aren't going to put it right," Pip grasped her glass and emptied it, the liquid within it was older than she was but oh, she needed it.
Yolanthe topped her up. "On the House." She tightened the cap on the bottle. "Look. If you can't find anything better, come back here later. I can always use another pair of hands somewhere." It wasn't exactly true, but for a few days it wouldn't hurt to be a good Samaritan, and she might have to drop everything at any moment, as soon as Schrödinger was allowed visitors
"You don't have to give me charity, but thanks," Pip said watching the amber liquid in the glass as it settled. She knew what she needed to do to make it right, and at worst she'd get arrested for it, at best she'd end up dead. "You're a kind person," she said looking again at the bartender, "and there's not a whole lot of kindness out there. If I can't find anything, I'll see how I can help you out. Clear tables, whatever. I'm not fussy, I do what's needed," she said.
"Its nothing. I once ended up in a similar situation. On my own, didn't know anyone, no cash. Someone helped me out. I'm just paying the universe back. It'll hardly be stimulating, but you might at least get to cook."
"Well, you found your feet, maybe I will too." Pip didn't really like lieing to her, she'd been nice, but if she found he wasn't on this station Pip'd be moving on to the next place. And if he was here, she wouldn't be sticking around long either.
A waiter came up with an order. Yolanthe glanced at it, "I'm going have to mix this at table," she apologised, as she started assembling what she needed. "The special effects are too quick. I'm going to have to leave you to your whiskey. I hope I'll see you again, whatever the job situation turns into?"
"No worries, and thanks again," Pip said holding the glass between her palms. Pretty soon she was going to have to find a place to crash for the night, it would be easy enough to find a spot in one of the cargo bays, when the night quietened down a little. Until then Pip could make this one last.
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, the Box of Delights
Pip Sullivan (NPC)
Working out some issues
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | So here we are | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Thu Sep 02, 2010 @ 5:21pm | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD 32 |
She smelled a mix of flesh and disruptor fire, and needed to get it out of her nostrils.
She came up spitting and then left the stall and doused her head with water, short brown hair that would dry quickly and deep brown eyes that would never fully forget.
Phil needed a drink.
“Hello?” Phil said as she slipped onto a vacant stool and leaned her elbows on the bar, hesitating midway as she saw the Red Lizard.
Pip sat back – ten men, five women, two of them pregnant had died in one night and twenty adolescents had met the same fate. Phil, or Pip was the only one who was alive when Starfleet arrived a day too late. Phil knew now that they had killed the colony’s livestock, razed the fields and killed them when they had found them …but they were not after the land, they wanted the people off it for their own expansion. The search team had almost given up when they had heard Pip’s cry from beneath the body of her own mother, the Colony’s Mayor.
“Irish Whiskey,” she said, “and make it the good stuff.”
Yolanthe recognised the signs, the red eyes, the green tinge, and yes, the slight but unmistakeable whiff of acid breath. People being sick was an occupational hazard in any bar with real drink. The statuesque woman poured a mint cordial, and put it down in front of Pip. "You might want this first. And blended, single malt, single grain or pure pot? I have a good one of all four."
"Malt," Pip said, she had lived off the medicinal flask her mother had in her skirt, she couldn't pull herself out, and she did not dare cry ... like her memory of the day it had not left her system, but what had shoved it in front of her eyes like that?
The bokkai found the bottle of 18 year old whiskey and poured until the customer said stop. "You know, I'm used to people puking after they drink, not before. So I'm guessing you've had a rough trip in?"
"I don't like space travel much," Phil said, "Always leaves me with a bad taste or a bad stomach and this time ... both!" she exclaimed with a laugh.
Yolanthe nodded and smiled. "At least its over. Are you going to get a chance to recover or is this just an over night stop?"
"A day or so," Phil shrugged, "there's not much call for a sous chef on a liner who can't keep her knife straight when the ship hits a plasma storm, the waves are quite immense" Phil said. "Something will turn up, or it won't."
"I worked a liner once. Its no place for anyone who gets space-sickness. Plasma Storms are not even the worst of it." Yolanthe thought for a moment. "There's more than a few restaurants here if you need work. Proper food, not just programming replicators."
"My dream!" Phil exclaimed, "But after seven days of travel I want to clean up an' clean out a bit first. God you don't do food as a rule do you, because if you do I've ruined my first chance," Pip sighed as much as she needed to. She was not drunk, just recovering from a flashback brought on by that smell.
Stilll, Pip kept her smile and continued to talk with no hesitation. "I'm all natural ingredients me, and the preperation of. If grow them, I sell them and every now and then I'm lucky enough to cook them for others."
"The only thing we replicate in here is the glassware." The bokkai thought about that. "And occasionally the furniture," She allowed. After a riot, a stampede, and a bar fight, they'd had to replace more than the odd chair. "I do some food, but its small stuff, bar snacks, small plates. I leave proper catering to other places. Don't want to step on too many toes."
Pip raised her glass, "You're not wrong in that," she said as she drained it. "Glad to know I'll be here a night or three 'cause that lot must've taken a year or two to brew," she said. "And forgive me, it's been a rough journey and not one i want to repeat in a hurry so after tonight I'll calm it down."
"18 years," Yolanthe showed the woman the bottle so she could see for herself. "And as long as your credit's good and you can hold it, drink as much as you like."
"My credits are solid," Pip said, "but not enough that I don't need to wait and dash to take what's left after the last transport arrives in an hour or so." She raised a hand, "Joking. I'm paying as I go though. Don't want to get a bad name for myself." Pip's nose wrinkled as she breathed, "No offence but there's a funny smell on this station, like somethin' got burned up. That sort of thing sticks around." Pip didn't know about the vole infestation a few days earlier, or how it had been dealt with.
"Some joker let a bunch of Cardassian Voles loose a few days ago. And then some gung-ho cardassians decided to go after them. Between shooting them with disrupters, and electrifying the infrastructure to fry the rest, I think we're going to smell of barbecued rodent for a while." Yolanthe put the whiskey bottle back on the shelf. "I've had the filters changed twice in here, but its just not doing the job."
"Is there another type?" Pip said. "That explains why I can't stop retchin' burnt meat and me don't get along ... its enough to make me want to turn vegetarian. I got to say I'll probably not eat for a week after that." Pip folded her arms on the bar. "You been in this game long?" she asked, just making conversation, "Seems like a nice place, apart from the voles I guess."
"Thank you.. I've been bar tending about two years. And this place? Let's just say I've had the opening month from Hell." A waiter brought over a crate of clean glasses and she started to put them away. "What about you. Been chef-ing long?"
"A few years," Pip replied trying not to be too specific. She wasn't really old enough to be in here, but she'd been in so many bars now that Pip looked comfortable, and once they heard her cynical outlook most people just assumed she was just lucky enough to have a young face, "I needed something to do when I left home, found somewhere that needed pots washing and I went from there. I've not really enough experience yet to break out on my own, but maybe one day."
The bokkai nodded, "I confess that didn't stop me. But its what you feel comfortable with. Though were I you, if I couldn't tolerate the smell of burnt meat, I wouldn't want to cook. Sound like a hard thing to avoid in your business."
Pip laughed, "If you're any good at it, you don't burn it," she said finishing the glass, "cremated remains is a sure sign of an amateur," she said. "I think I've got room in me for another," she added after a moment's thought.
The bartender duly obliged. "So, where're you from?" Just because she was human did make fer from Earth.
"Grew up on Earth, wasn't born there, but that's where I ended up, then Luna, then back to earth, I don't think I've managed to stay with a family more than three or four years at a trot before I start thinking something dreadful is goin' to happen," Pip said her palm resting over the rim of her glass. "One day its fine, then the next I'm a wreck and they pack me off to another crock of counselors and 'forget' to take me back. Eventually I just said, sod this, and went my own way. Now I've only got me to please, and as I'm not stuck in one place, nothin' bad can catch up with me, right?"
Words like 'wreck', 'counselors', ran up flags in Yolanthe's brain. The girl in front of her must have seen some rough times. "Something bad chasing you?"
Pip shrugged. "Memories, and that's not really somethin' you can get away from. They don't bother me most of the time ... just every few years. I'll go bonkers if I ever hear another counselor tell me I'm traumatised, I mean, no shit, I know that and I don't need a ponce with a degree to tell me so, all they want to do is get me to talk, and I don't feel like talking anymore, it didn't do any good then and it won't do any good now. They've never given any answers, just more words and words aren't going to put it right," Pip grasped her glass and emptied it, the liquid within it was older than she was but oh, she needed it.
Yolanthe topped her up. "On the House." She tightened the cap on the bottle. "Look. If you can't find anything better, come back here later. I can always use another pair of hands somewhere." It wasn't exactly true, but for a few days it wouldn't hurt to be a good Samaritan, and she might have to drop everything at any moment, as soon as Schrödinger was allowed visitors
"You don't have to give me charity, but thanks," Pip said watching the amber liquid in the glass as it settled. She knew what she needed to do to make it right, and at worst she'd get arrested for it, at best she'd end up dead. "You're a kind person," she said looking again at the bartender, "and there's not a whole lot of kindness out there. If I can't find anything, I'll see how I can help you out. Clear tables, whatever. I'm not fussy, I do what's needed," she said.
"Its nothing. I once ended up in a similar situation. On my own, didn't know anyone, no cash. Someone helped me out. I'm just paying the universe back. It'll hardly be stimulating, but you might at least get to cook."
"Well, you found your feet, maybe I will too." Pip didn't really like lieing to her, she'd been nice, but if she found he wasn't on this station Pip'd be moving on to the next place. And if he was here, she wouldn't be sticking around long either.
A waiter came up with an order. Yolanthe glanced at it, "I'm going have to mix this at table," she apologised, as she started assembling what she needed. "The special effects are too quick. I'm going to have to leave you to your whiskey. I hope I'll see you again, whatever the job situation turns into?"
"No worries, and thanks again," Pip said holding the glass between her palms. Pretty soon she was going to have to find a place to crash for the night, it would be easy enough to find a spot in one of the cargo bays, when the night quietened down a little. Until then Pip could make this one last.
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, the Box of Delights
Pip Sullivan (NPC)
Working out some issues