We All Fall Down – Mending Fences
by Lieutenant Commander Steve Wyman & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
ON:
"Another bloodwine, please. Same vintage if possible." Drant was oddly polite. In fact, most who knew him would never have guessed that politeness existed in his brain. He usually had a regal air about him that positively dripped of aristocratic privilege.
But here he sat in a bar on the most backwater starbase the Federation possessed, drinking simply because he had nothing better to do with his time. Until something better sauntered in.
"Mister Wyman! Have a seat! And may I say - congratulations on the promotion." The Zarnac sounded positively magnanimous. Which meant either he had miraculously changed his ways since Steve had been gone, or he was up to something.
Based on prior experience, Wyman was inclined to suspect the latter. But for the moment he had no proof to go on, so he sat down. "I didn't think you'd still be here. I figured you'd get back to Earth as soon as the getting was good."
Just then the waitress returned with a mug of bloodwine. "Thank you." Drant said plainly, surreptitiously palming her a slip of latinum. "Would you care for anything, Commander? The Klingons are barbaric savages who smell like a petting zoo - but they DO know how to craft a fine libation."
Yep; that was the old Drant slipping through the cracks. "Just a coffee - dark with one sugar."
"Coming right up." The waitress turned on her high heels with grace, showing off her long legs and short skirt in the process. She didn't look back.
"Well hello, Commander." Yolanthe appeared at their table, Skin and hair in shades of electric blue. "Its been a long time since I caught you in here. Is Vedra taking care of you?"
Indeed - Steve didn't frequent the bars on the station very often, preferring quiet dinners with his family (as quiet as they got with a six year old around, anyway). "I'm sure she's doing a fine job, Yolanthe. I just stopped in for a quick coffee before starting my third shift of the day and the Major asked me to join him." At that he turned his attention to the lizard seated across from him. "Major, have you met Miss Ibalin yet? She's the owner of this establishment."
Bowing his head slightly in the direction of the Bokkai woman, Drant's forked tongue flicked slightly. "The pleasure is mine, madame." he spoke smoothly, false bravado dripping from his words.
She raised an eyebrow at the old Earth phrase, but she was turning darker blue. "Likewise, I'm sure." She looked from Drant to Steve and back to Drant. "I hope you two are having a good time? You look a bit tense. If the music is to much, I can have your drinks brought up to the holospa and you can imbibe in private?"
"No... no, no, no. Completely unnecessary. I won't be here long." Steve answered quickly, shaking off the very thought of being alone with Drant without a quick escape route. Frankly he had been hoping that Drant would be long gone by the time he returned from Andor. Wait a minute...
Narrowing his eyes at the Zarnac, Wyman leveled an accusing finger at him. "Major, what are you still doing here? You should have finished that analysis and been back to Earth a long time ago."
Stopping short of taking a chug of his drink, Drant looked dumbstruck. "Commander, while you were off crying yourself to sleep on the shoulder of your miscreant friend, I was aiding in recovery efforts. It did not leave much in the way of time to perform the tasks Starfleet sent me here to complete."
To say Steve didn't buy it was an understatement. "I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest something a little different - emergency recovery efforts finished weeks ago. You could have done your job, submitted your findings, and gone home. I think you're dragging your heels because you don't WANT to go back to Earth. You want to stay out here where you're not being watched constantly; where you're not a virtual prisoner."
"Close, but not entirely accurate." the Zarnac muttered, resuming his imbibing.
"Boys!" Yolanthe had a disappointed tone in her voice, and her violet skin took on a grey tinge. "Be nice to each other. I want my bar to be a happy place. This is a place for friends." Because enemies meant bar fights, and she'd had a good long streak without incident. She didn't want it to end.
Setting down his mug with a clink, Drant lowered his head deferentially. "I meant no offense, madame. However, Mr. Wyman is indeed on the correct track." Turning back to the Human engineer, he let out a sigh seemingly full of insignificance. "You are correct, in that I could have completed my work and returned to Earth. But here, I am a free male again. I have a purpose. I am... useful. When the station was attacked, I was no longer a traitor hiding among his enemies. I was... a soldier again. For a little while, I felt like my honor had been restored; at least for a time."
His head hanging in revulsion, Steve found himself feeling conflicted. "Damn it, Drant. You go out of your way to shut everyone out; to make everyone despise you. And now - you're actually making me feel sorry for you."
"Neither of those was my intent, I assure you. But after all of these years, I simply tire of being confined to one planet and relegated to busy work." With that, Drant downed the last of the blood wine. Coughing slightly at the strength of it, he set the mug back down. "My compliments, Miss Ibalin. You keep an excellent stock."
"Yes I do." Yolanthe wasn't going to be shy about it. She ruffled Steve's hair, then stroked Drant's head gently. "And if you two boys keep playing nicely, you can have more of it. Are you going to play nicely?"
With near perfect synchronicity, the Marine and the engineer stared at each other in bewilderment, looked at Yolanthe, and turned back to each other.
"What just happened?"
"I do no know, Mister Wyman. Frankly I am utterly confused and have long since given up on understanding humanoids." Drant had kept one eye fixed on the barkeep during his entire statement. "Madame... there is no need to speak to me as if I were a hatchling. However, feel free to continue to address Commander Wyman in that manner."
Breaking eye contact, Steve thumped his head on the table. "So close to a breakthrough..."
"Sweetheart, you're all hatchings." Yolanthe picked up the empties. "I think I need to get you two some more. Nothing makes the wheels of friendship turn like 100 proof lubrication. Same again?"
Lifting his head from the table, Steve leaned back to get a better view of the bar. "I never did get my coffee..." he mused. "I probably need to get moving; computer - time?"
+"The time is now 2023 hours."+
"Yeah, I need to get back on duty. And Drant, if you REALLY want to feel useful, have a word with Colonel Darson about how he turned the primary computer core inside out." the engineer stated as he got to his feet.
Drant chuckled at the very thought of him having such a conversation with the mountainous colonel. "I do not foresee such an event coming to pass; the Marine detachment here has less use for me than Starfleet. Miss Ibalin would most likely have more luck dealing with the Colonel."
Yolanthe laughed. "Oh, he's a hatchling too, sweetie. Try him. You may be surprised." She turned to Steve. "Sure I can't give you one for the road?"
"No, I'm good. I'll just grab something from the replicator on my way to the next crisis. And I'll have to talk to you later about reserving one of those holospas for Welshy; she could use a break from Gwen and I every now and then." Steve replied with a smirk, already on his way out to the promenade.
Drant watched his adversary go, realizing that Wyman was probably the closest thing he had to a friend. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. "I think I will take you up on that offer, Madame." he mused, looking down into his empty mug.
"Coming right up."
::OFF::
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner, Box of Delights
Lt. Cmdr. Steve Wyman
Chief Engineering Officer
Maj. Drant, Eldest Son of the Twenty-forth House
The half forgotten Borg expert
by Lieutenant Commander Steve Wyman & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | Mending Fences | |
| Mission | We All Fall Down | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant Commander Steve Wyman & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Thu Sep 18, 2014 @ 9:45am | |
| Location | A Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | MD01 2015 |
"Another bloodwine, please. Same vintage if possible." Drant was oddly polite. In fact, most who knew him would never have guessed that politeness existed in his brain. He usually had a regal air about him that positively dripped of aristocratic privilege.
But here he sat in a bar on the most backwater starbase the Federation possessed, drinking simply because he had nothing better to do with his time. Until something better sauntered in.
"Mister Wyman! Have a seat! And may I say - congratulations on the promotion." The Zarnac sounded positively magnanimous. Which meant either he had miraculously changed his ways since Steve had been gone, or he was up to something.
Based on prior experience, Wyman was inclined to suspect the latter. But for the moment he had no proof to go on, so he sat down. "I didn't think you'd still be here. I figured you'd get back to Earth as soon as the getting was good."
Just then the waitress returned with a mug of bloodwine. "Thank you." Drant said plainly, surreptitiously palming her a slip of latinum. "Would you care for anything, Commander? The Klingons are barbaric savages who smell like a petting zoo - but they DO know how to craft a fine libation."
Yep; that was the old Drant slipping through the cracks. "Just a coffee - dark with one sugar."
"Coming right up." The waitress turned on her high heels with grace, showing off her long legs and short skirt in the process. She didn't look back.
"Well hello, Commander." Yolanthe appeared at their table, Skin and hair in shades of electric blue. "Its been a long time since I caught you in here. Is Vedra taking care of you?"
Indeed - Steve didn't frequent the bars on the station very often, preferring quiet dinners with his family (as quiet as they got with a six year old around, anyway). "I'm sure she's doing a fine job, Yolanthe. I just stopped in for a quick coffee before starting my third shift of the day and the Major asked me to join him." At that he turned his attention to the lizard seated across from him. "Major, have you met Miss Ibalin yet? She's the owner of this establishment."
Bowing his head slightly in the direction of the Bokkai woman, Drant's forked tongue flicked slightly. "The pleasure is mine, madame." he spoke smoothly, false bravado dripping from his words.
She raised an eyebrow at the old Earth phrase, but she was turning darker blue. "Likewise, I'm sure." She looked from Drant to Steve and back to Drant. "I hope you two are having a good time? You look a bit tense. If the music is to much, I can have your drinks brought up to the holospa and you can imbibe in private?"
"No... no, no, no. Completely unnecessary. I won't be here long." Steve answered quickly, shaking off the very thought of being alone with Drant without a quick escape route. Frankly he had been hoping that Drant would be long gone by the time he returned from Andor. Wait a minute...
Narrowing his eyes at the Zarnac, Wyman leveled an accusing finger at him. "Major, what are you still doing here? You should have finished that analysis and been back to Earth a long time ago."
Stopping short of taking a chug of his drink, Drant looked dumbstruck. "Commander, while you were off crying yourself to sleep on the shoulder of your miscreant friend, I was aiding in recovery efforts. It did not leave much in the way of time to perform the tasks Starfleet sent me here to complete."
To say Steve didn't buy it was an understatement. "I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest something a little different - emergency recovery efforts finished weeks ago. You could have done your job, submitted your findings, and gone home. I think you're dragging your heels because you don't WANT to go back to Earth. You want to stay out here where you're not being watched constantly; where you're not a virtual prisoner."
"Close, but not entirely accurate." the Zarnac muttered, resuming his imbibing.
"Boys!" Yolanthe had a disappointed tone in her voice, and her violet skin took on a grey tinge. "Be nice to each other. I want my bar to be a happy place. This is a place for friends." Because enemies meant bar fights, and she'd had a good long streak without incident. She didn't want it to end.
Setting down his mug with a clink, Drant lowered his head deferentially. "I meant no offense, madame. However, Mr. Wyman is indeed on the correct track." Turning back to the Human engineer, he let out a sigh seemingly full of insignificance. "You are correct, in that I could have completed my work and returned to Earth. But here, I am a free male again. I have a purpose. I am... useful. When the station was attacked, I was no longer a traitor hiding among his enemies. I was... a soldier again. For a little while, I felt like my honor had been restored; at least for a time."
His head hanging in revulsion, Steve found himself feeling conflicted. "Damn it, Drant. You go out of your way to shut everyone out; to make everyone despise you. And now - you're actually making me feel sorry for you."
"Neither of those was my intent, I assure you. But after all of these years, I simply tire of being confined to one planet and relegated to busy work." With that, Drant downed the last of the blood wine. Coughing slightly at the strength of it, he set the mug back down. "My compliments, Miss Ibalin. You keep an excellent stock."
"Yes I do." Yolanthe wasn't going to be shy about it. She ruffled Steve's hair, then stroked Drant's head gently. "And if you two boys keep playing nicely, you can have more of it. Are you going to play nicely?"
With near perfect synchronicity, the Marine and the engineer stared at each other in bewilderment, looked at Yolanthe, and turned back to each other.
"What just happened?"
"I do no know, Mister Wyman. Frankly I am utterly confused and have long since given up on understanding humanoids." Drant had kept one eye fixed on the barkeep during his entire statement. "Madame... there is no need to speak to me as if I were a hatchling. However, feel free to continue to address Commander Wyman in that manner."
Breaking eye contact, Steve thumped his head on the table. "So close to a breakthrough..."
"Sweetheart, you're all hatchings." Yolanthe picked up the empties. "I think I need to get you two some more. Nothing makes the wheels of friendship turn like 100 proof lubrication. Same again?"
Lifting his head from the table, Steve leaned back to get a better view of the bar. "I never did get my coffee..." he mused. "I probably need to get moving; computer - time?"
+"The time is now 2023 hours."+
"Yeah, I need to get back on duty. And Drant, if you REALLY want to feel useful, have a word with Colonel Darson about how he turned the primary computer core inside out." the engineer stated as he got to his feet.
Drant chuckled at the very thought of him having such a conversation with the mountainous colonel. "I do not foresee such an event coming to pass; the Marine detachment here has less use for me than Starfleet. Miss Ibalin would most likely have more luck dealing with the Colonel."
Yolanthe laughed. "Oh, he's a hatchling too, sweetie. Try him. You may be surprised." She turned to Steve. "Sure I can't give you one for the road?"
"No, I'm good. I'll just grab something from the replicator on my way to the next crisis. And I'll have to talk to you later about reserving one of those holospas for Welshy; she could use a break from Gwen and I every now and then." Steve replied with a smirk, already on his way out to the promenade.
Drant watched his adversary go, realizing that Wyman was probably the closest thing he had to a friend. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. "I think I will take you up on that offer, Madame." he mused, looking down into his empty mug.
"Coming right up."
::OFF::
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner, Box of Delights
Lt. Cmdr. Steve Wyman
Chief Engineering Officer
Maj. Drant, Eldest Son of the Twenty-forth House
The half forgotten Borg expert