Piratical rabbit hole

Posted on Fri Nov 8th, 2024 @ 5:38pm by Lieutenant Commander Daniel Masters & Lieutenant August Hobbes

1,472 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: To Boldly Go
Location: Deck 6 Vahalla
Timeline: Md04

After exploring the ship from top to bottom and front to back Daniel decided a drink was in order and returned to Deck 6 where the lounge appropriately called Valhalla was located, he'd poked his head into the room but not much else, now it was time for a much more thorough inspection.

The room was quite large, he figured it could probably hold the whole crew quite easily, a large window showed off the vast expanse of space and a large amount of the tables sat in the foreground of that view. Round stools almost encircled the large bar whose stash of bottles and glasses glittered in the light.

Daniel took a lap of the room checking out the sights and sight lines, where people could enter and exit from and a dozen other things that only the trained eyes of a security officer would look for before finally settling down on a stool at the bar.

"Good evening Commander." A non uniformed man behind the counter greeted him. "What can I get for you?"

"hhhmmm." Daniel looked at the collection of bottles behind the man, some looked like real alcohol and quite decent. "Whiskey, something old and smooth, real if you've got it." He was surprised there was someone manning the bar already when most of the crew hadn't arrived yet.

"Coming up Sir." The man turned and began to prepare his drink.

Bars were not Hobbes favorite place but he had promised his last team that he would do this. First day on board. Time didn't matter, he just needed to go there and have one drink. In all probability, one of the only ones he'd have on board unless things changed radically. Still, he thought the chemical formulation that was synthehol was a good compromise. Taste balanced with the ability to shrug things off once he left. So, he entered 'Valhalla', took a minute to take in the room, and then headed over to the bar which was, from his limited experience, the best place to get a drink.

Side on to the main entrance of Valhalla Daniel looked up as the door opened and a younger brown haired human walked in, the flash of blue at the collar of his uniform marked him out as a science officer. As the man came closer he raised his glass slightly. "Lieutenant."

"Commander," Hobbes said as he approached the bar and found himself a seat within speaking range of the commander but not next to him in the event that the greeting was not intended as an invitation. He'd made those sorts of mistakes before. Small talk had never been his best subject but he tried. "First day on board. Made a promise that I would have a drink at the end of the day."

"A promise to old friends long gone?" Daniel inquired. He'd made many a similar promise to friends over the years.

Hobbes smiled, shaking his head in fond remembrance, "more like a promise to my last department. They made me swear I'd do something fun on my first day aboard. Course, their idea of fun and mine are very different."

"Alcohol can be fun but can also be the bane of one's existence, unless you drink synthahol, then it's just....nothing." Daniel knocked back the remainder of his glass and placed it back on the table. "Keep it coming." He told the barman.

"Not a particular fan," Hobbes said, "other than one drink on a special occasion." He waved his hands slightly in the air as though the words would somehow come faster that way. "I prefer being clear-headed but that's probably just my reaction to it."

"Ah a lightweight are we?" Daniel chuckled innocently. "Best stick to synthahol lieutenant."

"Lightweight." Hobbes expression glazed over for the barest of seconds. "Derogatory term indicating a low tolerance for alcohol and the effects of intoxication." His expression cleared and he nodded, smiling slightly. "That's true then. I am indeed a lightweight. And you? Is it fair to assume that you are not a ... lightweight?"

Daniel rolled his eyes slightly at the man's dictionary like explanation of the term lightweight 'Definitely a science officer' he thought. "I've had my fair share of alcohol over the years, and made a lot of drink based promises to a lot of friends."

"Macallan single malt," Hobbes said when the bartender passed their way and subsided into silence while he waited. When the drink arrived, he stared into its depths for a moment, making a silent toast, and then took an appreciative sip. Lightweight or not, he had an appreciation for the Macallan.

"Good choice." Daniel raised his newly refilled glass again. "Daniel Masters, chief of security."

"August Hobbes, Chief Science Officer," Hobbes answered. "Here in Starfleet, everyone just calls me Hobbes."

"Chief science officer. Looking forward to whatever mysteries we might find out in the wilds?" Daniel chuckled slightly. "Whenever we find out where we're operating anyway."

"Haven't but yes," Hobbes said as he took a sip of the Macallan. "I'm a mathematician as well as a scientist so I've always got a project or ten that I'm working on. How about you? Are you interested in the exploration side of things?"

"Oh yeah, I want to see exotic lands full of exotic people... and kill them." Daniel said then let out another chuckle though there was a definite hint of seriousness in his tone. "If the need arises."

"I see," Hobbes said and then paused, his gaze slanting to the side for a moment, "or maybe I don't. I suspect you mean it as a joke but there's an undertone there as well. I get that security views protection against threats as their primary objective but still, not everything that's hostile is actually a threat. Sometimes what's required is diplomacy and perhaps a bit of understanding. What am I saying? Of course you understand that. They wouldn't let you near a weapon if you didn't."

"You're right of course but diplomacy has its limits, and some groups shoot first then try diplomacy and understanding. Like the pirates and smugglers theBroadsword and me have been tackling for the last 3 years." Daniel sipped his drink. "So I may be a little biased."

"There will always be outliers," Hobbes said. "The ones that prefer ... mayhem? If one has grown up believing that the rules of civilization, on whatever world, don't apply to them, if they've no interest in following those rules, then you'd have a hard time with diplomacy as a first option. They're not wired to listen, are they?"

"Nope and that's where we come in, when people need a little bit of persuasion to talk like decent honest people." Daniel knocked back the rest of his second drink. "Some need a lot more than others."

"And, perhaps, education," Hobbes said. "Time to grow, discover that there are other ways to handle things then violence."

"If they live long enough to grow, the life of a pirate or a smuggler can be very short, unless they're really good at their job. You don't hear many tales of pirates who have reformed and completely left the life behind, unless its about the life catching back up with them again very shortly afterwards, often in a bloody end," Daniel said as if retelling the plot of one of several crime novels he kept in his quarters.

"Education takes time," Hobbes said. "Maybe a generation or two to really take hold but its never wasted. I suspect that even pirates want better for their children than a short life and a bad end."

"You'd be surprised, took down several pirate families over the years and the youngest were sometimes worse than the oldest." Daniel sighed slightly and slipped out of his seat. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other over our time together but for now I'll say goodnight August."

"Good night, Commander," Hobbes said. He returned to his drink, resolving to do some research on criminal psychology and how it differed between races. Culture would, he thought, have some sort of effect but probably also the psychological makeup of the parents. Could a relatively 'normal' person, one that was able to live within Federation definitions of good and bad, grow up within a culture that accepted criminal behavior as normal. Could they if one or both of the parents were sociopaths for example. And if they did, would they be outliers themselves? Given the difference in cultural standards, it seemed less likely but surely, there were studies that had been done on this. He finished his drink and headed back toward his quarters to pull some material.

A Post By:

Lieutenant Commander Daniel Masters
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Fenrir

and

Lieutenant August Hobbes
Chief Science Officer
USS Fenrir

 

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