Needing a Pint of Sympathy
Posted on Sun Jun 30th, 2019 @ 4:57pm by Michael Taggart
Edited on on Sun Jun 30th, 2019 @ 5:03pm
1,027 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Episode 7 - Home Again
Location: White Stag Pub, Empok Nor
Timeline: MD005 2000 hrs
Sylvian walked into the first bar that caught his interest. Bars, pubs, watering holes, were not places he spent a great deal of time at though right now he could use some company from someone other than the crew.
He drew in a breath and glanced around the pub then walked up to the bar and took a seat on an empty stool. Fairburn was out of uniform and into something far more comfortable for him. The long sleeved button up shirt had the sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows and his hair was just a little more out of place than it usually was. His dark tan cargo pants seemed more at home on some safari than on a space station but at least he was comfortable."
Taggart saw him walk in an knew who he was right away. He wondered when the Pioneer's junior officers would start turning up. "Oy lad! Come have a seat tell us what's what." Mickey shouted from the behind the bar. He liked to welcome all the newcomers.
The Operations officer smiled at the propper Scotsman and chuckled, "what's what right now is a tall pint of Innis And Gunn, preferably the Oak Aged variety." He drew on a deep breath and rested both hands on the bar for a moment, "good to be on a starbase for a while."
Mickey smiled and drew the pint from the tap. "Ye know ye Scottish beer. Well played laddie, well played indeed. So welcome to the White Stag. Me name is Michael Taggart and this be me place. Me friends call me Mickey, and call this place home."
Sylvian smiled and relaxed a little as he listened to the Scotsman. His smile broadened as he watched the amber liquid being decanted, "it was the first drink I ever had Mickey and I still like it." "My name is Sylvian Fariburn," he chuckled, "guess I don't have a nickname."
"Oh I know who ye are. I was wonderin when the junior officers would git around ta comin in. Yer Captain been keepin my place a secret and all ta himself I'll wager. So tell me what life is like below decks. I have chatted with all of the Pioneer's senior crew. But I know the real dirt is with junior officers." Mickey said with a broad smile.
"Most of the time it's the best ship I've ever worked on," Sylvian admitted after taking a dreg of his drink, "but lately something's happening to our Ops Chief and I'm not exactly sure what."
Gossip on ole Wakefield, now this should be interesting. Mickey cleaned a glass and then poured himself another drink. "Really... Is this one o does officer possessed by strange alien stories that go around the fleet?"
"I don't know," Sylvian said shaking his head. He tipped the beer back and drank deeply of it then added, "but she really let our department have it with both barrels."
"Why don you tell ole Mickey what she said or did. Ya know I have a unique way of telling people where they are coming from. So perhaps I can tell you what was on her mind when she let ya have it. I also think that a spot of food will do ya good." He leaned on the bar as he shifted his weight.
The Operations officer took in a deep breath, "so she calls a meeting and I show up on time after working extra hours to repair the ship." He pursed his lips for a moment then continued, "but that wasn't good enough. Seems we are supposed to be there before she gets there and who knows how long that was." Then she goes off on me for working too many hours to repair the ship, that I should not work more than my shift basically and others should do that work." He chuckled and shook his head, "I Don't think I've ever been yelled at for so long because I did my job."
Sylvian nodded, "what do you have?" "any smoked salmon?"
"Alas, no salmon as of now. However, I do have some wonderful scotch eggs if ye wish. As to yer problem sounds to me like she has some standards issues. Standards have been raised high for her probably her entire life. So she expects everyone to function at those high standards. Well deres dat an the fact that she just has a stick up her butt. Which will go away in due time. I would not sweat it, now if Malbrooke yells at ye den you got some trouble." Mickey said with a smile.
"That's for sure," the bearded man chuckled finishing up his glass. Sylvian pushed the glass back for a refill and tilted his head, "I'll take the eggs, been a while since I've had something that wasn't replicated."
"Right..." Mickey said as he poured another drink. Within moments he came back from the kitchen with a pewter plate, and upon it were two eggs. These eggs were hard boiled, wrapped in sausage, breaded, and fried. Such was the way of things for Scotch eggs. "Here ya go. Should cheer ya right up."
Sylvian smiled broadly as he saw the unique traditional dish, "it sure will." he grabbed his fork and knife and looked up at the man, "thank you Michey."
He looked at the browned ovals and chuckled, "when I was young, these were one of the replicator programs I was able to get working."
"Ach, that replicated stuff. Not ere, those are made fresh and to order. Enjoy." Mickey replied with a grin. He was excruciatingly proud of his pub and lack of replicators. Castus and Zulg did not know what hit them when Mickey came to the station. "I will tell you what, sit enjoy and in no time this place will cheer you right up."
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Junior Grade Sylvian Fairburn
Operations Officer, USS Pioneer
Michael Taggart
Owner/Bartender "White Stag Pub", Empok Nor
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