Judgement – Setting The Record Straight
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson
Post Details
::ON::
Yolanthe rubbed the crick in her neck as she waited for the turbolift doors to open. Coming here was probably a really stupid idea, if the federations military was as touchy about civilians wondering around as the soldiers of her own world. But she was curious about how these fighting men lived, and she had time to spare. Technically, coming here was busy work, something to fill her time so she wasn't stuck in the Box and brooding on Klia's fate. But curiosity was a good excuse. Unless it got her injured or killed. Hmmm. She reached for the controls. She should go.
Too late. The doors opened. Ah well. She squared her shoulders and went forward to the small reception table where a young man - wheat beer, whisky sour chaser, she recalled the drink but not the name - was getting to his feet.
"Good Morning ma'am, I-" he began, just a hint of reproach and apology in his tone
She cut him off. "I won't stay," she assured him, "Could you give this to the Colonel," She put the bottle of 35 year old single malt on the desk, "and ask him to call me. I only need five minutes of his time."
The Warrant Officer inside the checkpoint booth was busy with paperwork when the young Corporal knocked on the hatch frame and presented the drink along with the message. He frowned and looked out through the plexiglass to the departing guest. One glance at the darkened and shifting skin tone was enough to clue him in, "Was that...?" he murmured to the junior Marine with a questioning glance
"The barkeeper, sir. She wanted to speak to the Colonel." He held up the bottle. "She left this for him."
"I thought so," The Warrant Officer replied with a sigh. Not many people came to the Civilian Liaison area of the Marine Complex, most went through other entrances. But to have a civilian come by of this note, that was something even rarer. He lifted his impressive bulk from the seat and gave a tired sigh as he pulled on his cover, "Mind the fort. I'll run it down and be back," He gingerly picked up the very, very expensive bottle of alcohol and set off with purpose to find the lord of the manor.
--
"Colonel!" The Warrant Officer called out, finding the cloaked Marine at the hub of activity for daily rituals, the Command and Control Center. Just as well, as he didn't want to Call him out of a secure zone if he could help it.
Darson turned around at the calling of his rank. It was gearing up to be a long day with the trail starting and all the other mischief he had to wreak, so he was trying to get all of his administrative tasks out of the way as soon as possible. He waved the Warrant Officer over, "Alright then. What kind of requisition do you need signed?"
"Not a requisition sir. Just delivering a message. This came in four minutes ago at the Civilian entrance to the base," he handed over the delicate bottle of amber liquid to Darson, who proceeded to quickly inspect it.
"It came from a woman named-"
"I know who it came from," Darson interrupted calmly as he weighed the bottle in his hand. It had the heft of real alcohol...no explosives either, "What did she want?"
"Five minutes of your time sir. She said to call, but she didn't leave a number."
Darson nodded silently as he regarded the bottle. Curious. He waved a hand, "Warrant Officer, you're dismissed. Return to your post."
The Marine nodded and double timed it out of there. Darson called out to Captain Flynn that he would be a minute, then stepped out into the large plaza in the center of the base to make the call.
--
Yolanthe's communications device began to buzz with notifications about an incoming connection. On the ID display it showed only "BLOCKED ID".
She looked at the tiny display buzzing in her palm with suspicion for a moment, before poking it and completing the connection. "hello?"
"Ms. Ibalin," Darson growled in a respectful tone, "A good day to you. I received your message and your very decadent gift. But know that you do not have to ply me with expensive libations to get my attention and my time. I thought we were past this."
"Its not so much a gift, as a preventative. I've got your first bar bill, and I considered it wise. You would be less inclined to a heart attack if there was a bottle of scotch older than I am waiting for you."
“Can’t have a heart attack if you don’t have a heart,” Darson quipped in a voice that wasn’t entirely joking, “I knew what I was getting myself into when I entered into our business arrangement. Though I thought you would want to talk about it in person…is it really that bad?
"I assumed you were a busy man. I didn't want to impose. I can come back." She turned back towards the turbolift. "And the bill is quite impressive, especially with some of the special orders."
“Special?” Darson said in a slightly suspicious tone, “Special how?”
Yolanthe consulted her padd as she stepped inside the lift and sent it back to the marine facility, "Such as the four chocolate fountains and the two pounds of wasabi paste."
There was a pause on the line.
“Perhaps it would be better if you could come back, this does indeed seem like something that must be discussed in person. I’ll make sure you’re given a warm reception my dear.”
"Already on my way."
“They I will see you soon. Darson out.”
--
A few minutes later, Darson stood outside the officer’s mess and opened his arms to welcome the color-shifting woman who was being gently escorted through the facility, “Ms. Ibalin my dear, so glad you could make it. Welcome to my home away from home…I hope my men have treated you well?”
"Always," she smiled, "they know who pours the beer." She nodded thanks to her escort. "But seriously, they're absolute sweeties."
Well then, please step into my mess hall my dear…I’m afraid my office is…a little out of sorts. Climate control and all that. Very uncomfortable for most, but never fear for I have made very comfortable accommodations for us to talk business.”
He tapped the hatch and gestured for her to enter with a slight bow and wave. As she passed through, he followed, the hatch hissing shut behind him. The officer’s mess was unlike that of a normal mess hall, that is to say, not as institutional. It did share many of the same characteristics of the normal mess, such as the cooking area and the dining area, but the dining area was much more refined.
Individual tables instead of rows, more comfortable chairs, more subdued lighting. It was by no means extravagant, but it certainly was better then what the enlisted men had to deal with. Rank did have its privileges after all.
The mess was sparsely occupied, the shift was already underway and people were either sleeping in from the graveyard shift or on duty. Some were enjoying a late breakfast, and others were just popping in for a quick snack before going off to where ever they had to be. Darson led Yolanthe over to the far wall, a small table far away for the others that was far posher then the norm.
Darson pulled out Yolanthe’s chair for her and held it while she sat. He then moved over to the other side and sat across from her, “To business then my dear, while we wait for the steward. What is the nature of these ‘special’ charges that you told me about on our communication?”
"So, to business. Have you heard of a game called Risian Roulette?"
Darson frowned, “Hmm…I think of myself as a knowledgeable man when it comes to bar games, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that particular one before.”
"Well, it started out with then dipping icoberry sized pieces of wasabi in the fountain, and then mixing them with other chocolate covered berries and they take turns to eat a covered berry. Then the pieces got bigger; grapes, strawberries, and so on. The last time I watched, they were imitating the brownie squares, and they are about 3 cm cubed."
Darson was silent for a moment and sat there for a moment as he thought about the situation and then gave a small chuckle, “Well, that is pretty extravagant, isn’t it? Was it for a special occasion?”
"One stag do, two birthdays, and a bet." She replied.
Darson gave an unconcerned shrug, “Well, in that case its fine…although that doesn’t sound like something they should be doing every night. I did tell you that there were special cases, so its my fault. But now I have to ask…how much is this time period going to run me?”
She handed over the pad. Her hand was an indistinguishable grey from the tablet. "I know you have a pretty strong consitution, so I'm not expecting you to feint. But just in case, remember the scotch..." Highlighted in blue, the final total to pay read: 1 Brick, 3 Bars, 17 Strips.
Unexpectedly, Darson actually chuckled, “Well, I suppose I should count myself lucky that it isn’t more. But, no matter. I am happy with the arrangement that we’ve had so far and it’s only fair that I hold up my side,” he snapped his fingers and an impeccably dressed Marine steward approached with an obedient look on his face. At Darson instruction he leaned over and listened as Darson whispered quietly into his ear. After a moment he nodded, stood back up and departed the room at a fast, but measured pace.
“I assume that you wouldn’t accept payment in the form of Federation credits,” Darson said in a joking manner, “No no…you’re the type of woman who prefers something more…real. Aren’t you? And I believe I promised to pay in a different form.”
She inclined her head, "The friendship of a marine is not detrimental, but latinum is a girl's best friend."
“Of course my dear,” Darson said airily, “I would never think of reneging on a bargain once struck. No matter what it is and with whom it is struck. And especially someone as beautiful as you.”
The deep charcoal of her body was relieved for a moment by a shift to an almost bright blue. "And flattery gets you almost everywhere."
They were interrupted by the return of the steward, who was preforming an impeccable balancing act of holding a tray with a serving of eggs and bacon as well as two cups of coffee in one hand, and a large case in the other. He held out the case to the Colonel, who took it gratefully, “Thank you Jeeves,” As the server busied himself with the perishables, Darson opened the case and spun it around, revealing it to be full of Gold-Pressed Latinum, in the form of two large shiny bricks that were nestled comfortably in the case.
“Your payment my dear,” Darson said pleasantly as he pushed the case towards her, “Two bricks worth. I decided to round up…considering that we’re such good business partners ” He ended in an odd tone.
The tall alien gave a laugh. "I'd need a lot more money than this for you to be a partner." She sighed, thinking of Klia and her skin returned to its dull matt black. "Even now," she added to herself in a whisper. She opened the case to inspect the contents. Sure enough two bricks of latinum sat nestled in a foam surround. She took one out to test the heft. Reassuringly weighty. "But you and will always be, a very special customer." She looked him in the eye, or where she thought his eye would be under the armour. "I'll put it on your account. Against the next roulette game when i have to beam one of your people to sick bay for wasabi poisoning."
Darson simply leaned back and spread his arms out to indicate his acquiescence.
She closed the case with a snap, and stood. "Please don't be a stranger to my bar." She held out a hand. "I'd hate it if the only time I saw you was to purely to get my money."
Darson rocked back forward on the chair and stood up, reaching out with his armored hand. The large black gauntlet dwarfed Yolanthe’s dainty hand. And the grip, while exceedingly firm (though not painful) was accompanied by an icy feel, “Of course my dear…I’ll make a point of stopping by. But before you go…I must pass along my condolences on the death of your other…partner. Truly a shame.”
"Enjoy the whiskey." She said.
Darson slowly released his hand and watched as she walked towards the door case in hand, where a Marine was dutifully waiting to escort her out. He called out to her retreating back, “One more thing my dear…if you ever need anything, anything at all…remember that my door is always open, and that you should not hesitate to ask.”
As she disappeared through the mess door, Darson sat again and toyed with his cup of coffee. The steward wandered over in the manner that only a steward could wander and waited at his shoulder as Darson stared at the door after Yolanthe.
“What did you think of her?” Darson asked quietly as he mysteriously took a sip from the piping hot cup.
‘Jeeves’ gave an arrogant sniff, “She was easier to read then most, if I do say so myself. Distrought to be sure. But that wasn’t the only thing. Worry at the beginning, disapated later on. What else do you want to know?”
“Is she dangerous?” Darson asked thoughtfully.
“Hmph. Aren’t all women sir?”
Darson chuckled quietly in spite of himself, “Quite right Jeeves. Quite right. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir, again I must mention that my name is not ‘Jeeves’, it is- “
“Dismissed!”
With the long suffering sigh that many under Darson’s command had acquired, the immaculate steward bussed the tray and headed to the galley, muttering obscenities under his breath.
OFF:
Colonel James Darson
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, the Box Of Delights
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson
Post Details
| Title | Setting The Record Straight | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Colonel James Darson | |
| Posted | Wed Apr 06, 2011 @ 8:39am | |
| Location | Marine Facility | |
| Timeline | SD 36 1000 BACK POST |
Yolanthe rubbed the crick in her neck as she waited for the turbolift doors to open. Coming here was probably a really stupid idea, if the federations military was as touchy about civilians wondering around as the soldiers of her own world. But she was curious about how these fighting men lived, and she had time to spare. Technically, coming here was busy work, something to fill her time so she wasn't stuck in the Box and brooding on Klia's fate. But curiosity was a good excuse. Unless it got her injured or killed. Hmmm. She reached for the controls. She should go.
Too late. The doors opened. Ah well. She squared her shoulders and went forward to the small reception table where a young man - wheat beer, whisky sour chaser, she recalled the drink but not the name - was getting to his feet.
"Good Morning ma'am, I-" he began, just a hint of reproach and apology in his tone
She cut him off. "I won't stay," she assured him, "Could you give this to the Colonel," She put the bottle of 35 year old single malt on the desk, "and ask him to call me. I only need five minutes of his time."
The Warrant Officer inside the checkpoint booth was busy with paperwork when the young Corporal knocked on the hatch frame and presented the drink along with the message. He frowned and looked out through the plexiglass to the departing guest. One glance at the darkened and shifting skin tone was enough to clue him in, "Was that...?" he murmured to the junior Marine with a questioning glance
"The barkeeper, sir. She wanted to speak to the Colonel." He held up the bottle. "She left this for him."
"I thought so," The Warrant Officer replied with a sigh. Not many people came to the Civilian Liaison area of the Marine Complex, most went through other entrances. But to have a civilian come by of this note, that was something even rarer. He lifted his impressive bulk from the seat and gave a tired sigh as he pulled on his cover, "Mind the fort. I'll run it down and be back," He gingerly picked up the very, very expensive bottle of alcohol and set off with purpose to find the lord of the manor.
--
"Colonel!" The Warrant Officer called out, finding the cloaked Marine at the hub of activity for daily rituals, the Command and Control Center. Just as well, as he didn't want to Call him out of a secure zone if he could help it.
Darson turned around at the calling of his rank. It was gearing up to be a long day with the trail starting and all the other mischief he had to wreak, so he was trying to get all of his administrative tasks out of the way as soon as possible. He waved the Warrant Officer over, "Alright then. What kind of requisition do you need signed?"
"Not a requisition sir. Just delivering a message. This came in four minutes ago at the Civilian entrance to the base," he handed over the delicate bottle of amber liquid to Darson, who proceeded to quickly inspect it.
"It came from a woman named-"
"I know who it came from," Darson interrupted calmly as he weighed the bottle in his hand. It had the heft of real alcohol...no explosives either, "What did she want?"
"Five minutes of your time sir. She said to call, but she didn't leave a number."
Darson nodded silently as he regarded the bottle. Curious. He waved a hand, "Warrant Officer, you're dismissed. Return to your post."
The Marine nodded and double timed it out of there. Darson called out to Captain Flynn that he would be a minute, then stepped out into the large plaza in the center of the base to make the call.
--
Yolanthe's communications device began to buzz with notifications about an incoming connection. On the ID display it showed only "BLOCKED ID".
She looked at the tiny display buzzing in her palm with suspicion for a moment, before poking it and completing the connection. "hello?"
"Ms. Ibalin," Darson growled in a respectful tone, "A good day to you. I received your message and your very decadent gift. But know that you do not have to ply me with expensive libations to get my attention and my time. I thought we were past this."
"Its not so much a gift, as a preventative. I've got your first bar bill, and I considered it wise. You would be less inclined to a heart attack if there was a bottle of scotch older than I am waiting for you."
“Can’t have a heart attack if you don’t have a heart,” Darson quipped in a voice that wasn’t entirely joking, “I knew what I was getting myself into when I entered into our business arrangement. Though I thought you would want to talk about it in person…is it really that bad?
"I assumed you were a busy man. I didn't want to impose. I can come back." She turned back towards the turbolift. "And the bill is quite impressive, especially with some of the special orders."
“Special?” Darson said in a slightly suspicious tone, “Special how?”
Yolanthe consulted her padd as she stepped inside the lift and sent it back to the marine facility, "Such as the four chocolate fountains and the two pounds of wasabi paste."
There was a pause on the line.
“Perhaps it would be better if you could come back, this does indeed seem like something that must be discussed in person. I’ll make sure you’re given a warm reception my dear.”
"Already on my way."
“They I will see you soon. Darson out.”
--
A few minutes later, Darson stood outside the officer’s mess and opened his arms to welcome the color-shifting woman who was being gently escorted through the facility, “Ms. Ibalin my dear, so glad you could make it. Welcome to my home away from home…I hope my men have treated you well?”
"Always," she smiled, "they know who pours the beer." She nodded thanks to her escort. "But seriously, they're absolute sweeties."
Well then, please step into my mess hall my dear…I’m afraid my office is…a little out of sorts. Climate control and all that. Very uncomfortable for most, but never fear for I have made very comfortable accommodations for us to talk business.”
He tapped the hatch and gestured for her to enter with a slight bow and wave. As she passed through, he followed, the hatch hissing shut behind him. The officer’s mess was unlike that of a normal mess hall, that is to say, not as institutional. It did share many of the same characteristics of the normal mess, such as the cooking area and the dining area, but the dining area was much more refined.
Individual tables instead of rows, more comfortable chairs, more subdued lighting. It was by no means extravagant, but it certainly was better then what the enlisted men had to deal with. Rank did have its privileges after all.
The mess was sparsely occupied, the shift was already underway and people were either sleeping in from the graveyard shift or on duty. Some were enjoying a late breakfast, and others were just popping in for a quick snack before going off to where ever they had to be. Darson led Yolanthe over to the far wall, a small table far away for the others that was far posher then the norm.
Darson pulled out Yolanthe’s chair for her and held it while she sat. He then moved over to the other side and sat across from her, “To business then my dear, while we wait for the steward. What is the nature of these ‘special’ charges that you told me about on our communication?”
"So, to business. Have you heard of a game called Risian Roulette?"
Darson frowned, “Hmm…I think of myself as a knowledgeable man when it comes to bar games, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that particular one before.”
"Well, it started out with then dipping icoberry sized pieces of wasabi in the fountain, and then mixing them with other chocolate covered berries and they take turns to eat a covered berry. Then the pieces got bigger; grapes, strawberries, and so on. The last time I watched, they were imitating the brownie squares, and they are about 3 cm cubed."
Darson was silent for a moment and sat there for a moment as he thought about the situation and then gave a small chuckle, “Well, that is pretty extravagant, isn’t it? Was it for a special occasion?”
"One stag do, two birthdays, and a bet." She replied.
Darson gave an unconcerned shrug, “Well, in that case its fine…although that doesn’t sound like something they should be doing every night. I did tell you that there were special cases, so its my fault. But now I have to ask…how much is this time period going to run me?”
She handed over the pad. Her hand was an indistinguishable grey from the tablet. "I know you have a pretty strong consitution, so I'm not expecting you to feint. But just in case, remember the scotch..." Highlighted in blue, the final total to pay read: 1 Brick, 3 Bars, 17 Strips.
Unexpectedly, Darson actually chuckled, “Well, I suppose I should count myself lucky that it isn’t more. But, no matter. I am happy with the arrangement that we’ve had so far and it’s only fair that I hold up my side,” he snapped his fingers and an impeccably dressed Marine steward approached with an obedient look on his face. At Darson instruction he leaned over and listened as Darson whispered quietly into his ear. After a moment he nodded, stood back up and departed the room at a fast, but measured pace.
“I assume that you wouldn’t accept payment in the form of Federation credits,” Darson said in a joking manner, “No no…you’re the type of woman who prefers something more…real. Aren’t you? And I believe I promised to pay in a different form.”
She inclined her head, "The friendship of a marine is not detrimental, but latinum is a girl's best friend."
“Of course my dear,” Darson said airily, “I would never think of reneging on a bargain once struck. No matter what it is and with whom it is struck. And especially someone as beautiful as you.”
The deep charcoal of her body was relieved for a moment by a shift to an almost bright blue. "And flattery gets you almost everywhere."
They were interrupted by the return of the steward, who was preforming an impeccable balancing act of holding a tray with a serving of eggs and bacon as well as two cups of coffee in one hand, and a large case in the other. He held out the case to the Colonel, who took it gratefully, “Thank you Jeeves,” As the server busied himself with the perishables, Darson opened the case and spun it around, revealing it to be full of Gold-Pressed Latinum, in the form of two large shiny bricks that were nestled comfortably in the case.
“Your payment my dear,” Darson said pleasantly as he pushed the case towards her, “Two bricks worth. I decided to round up…considering that we’re such good business partners ” He ended in an odd tone.
The tall alien gave a laugh. "I'd need a lot more money than this for you to be a partner." She sighed, thinking of Klia and her skin returned to its dull matt black. "Even now," she added to herself in a whisper. She opened the case to inspect the contents. Sure enough two bricks of latinum sat nestled in a foam surround. She took one out to test the heft. Reassuringly weighty. "But you and will always be, a very special customer." She looked him in the eye, or where she thought his eye would be under the armour. "I'll put it on your account. Against the next roulette game when i have to beam one of your people to sick bay for wasabi poisoning."
Darson simply leaned back and spread his arms out to indicate his acquiescence.
She closed the case with a snap, and stood. "Please don't be a stranger to my bar." She held out a hand. "I'd hate it if the only time I saw you was to purely to get my money."
Darson rocked back forward on the chair and stood up, reaching out with his armored hand. The large black gauntlet dwarfed Yolanthe’s dainty hand. And the grip, while exceedingly firm (though not painful) was accompanied by an icy feel, “Of course my dear…I’ll make a point of stopping by. But before you go…I must pass along my condolences on the death of your other…partner. Truly a shame.”
"Enjoy the whiskey." She said.
Darson slowly released his hand and watched as she walked towards the door case in hand, where a Marine was dutifully waiting to escort her out. He called out to her retreating back, “One more thing my dear…if you ever need anything, anything at all…remember that my door is always open, and that you should not hesitate to ask.”
As she disappeared through the mess door, Darson sat again and toyed with his cup of coffee. The steward wandered over in the manner that only a steward could wander and waited at his shoulder as Darson stared at the door after Yolanthe.
“What did you think of her?” Darson asked quietly as he mysteriously took a sip from the piping hot cup.
‘Jeeves’ gave an arrogant sniff, “She was easier to read then most, if I do say so myself. Distrought to be sure. But that wasn’t the only thing. Worry at the beginning, disapated later on. What else do you want to know?”
“Is she dangerous?” Darson asked thoughtfully.
“Hmph. Aren’t all women sir?”
Darson chuckled quietly in spite of himself, “Quite right Jeeves. Quite right. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir, again I must mention that my name is not ‘Jeeves’, it is- “
“Dismissed!”
With the long suffering sigh that many under Darson’s command had acquired, the immaculate steward bussed the tray and headed to the galley, muttering obscenities under his breath.
OFF:
Colonel James Darson
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, the Box Of Delights