Guardian Station

Barzan Sector

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Post 65 -- On the Tab

Posted on Mon Nov 9th, 2020 @ 8:42am by Lieutenant Commander Brendan D'Agostini & Lieutenant James Roderick

Mission: Episode 3: Aftermath
Location: Sector India-Navy | Last Chance Saloon
Timeline: Mission Day 4 | 1727 Hours


[Guardian Station]
[Sector India-Navy | Last Chance Saloon]
[Mission Day 4 | 1700 Hours]

The Last Chance Saloon was a welcoming distraction to the usual bureaucracy that Roderick had been working. James hadn’t even had a shore-leave or any break since he last served back on the USS Barington in 2397. He took a pause, relaxing back into the seat at one of the tables.

“Brendan.” James sat down at the table. “Can I call you Brendan?” Roderick was distracted for a moment by the local watering hole on the station.

“We’re off duty,” said D’Agostini with a smile. “What are you drinking? I’m still getting used to the station myself but they serve a pretty good ale here. I think it comes from the Barzan Sector, so it’s local, I guess.”

​​​​​​“It is good to support local.” Roderick held the ale in his stout glass. The froth at the top, and the golden goodness ready for a tasting. Holding it up for a cheer to Brendan, James thought for a moment of something good to say, his first drink at the Station.

“To new Adventures. May Guardian be at the center of them all.” He grunted with a sly grin.

”Cheers,” said D’Agostini raising his glass and saluting the new Chief of Operations before taking a long swig from it. “So how are you settling into the station?Are your quarters set up or filled with unpacked luggage?”

James shook his head after taking a drink from the glass. The drink was surprisingly authentic. He enjoyed it. Setting it down. “No. I have not. It’s been a whirlwind ever since getting off that transport from Earth.”

“If I can ask. What led you to Guardian Brendan?” He was interested in everyone’s background, everyone's story.

"How long do you have?" Asked the engineer in a lighthearted but truthful manner. His career in Starfleet hadn't always been like an arrow's flight, but more like a meandering river. "Before this I was the head engineer aboard a small science outpost. It was out of the way, but the sector was known for having a lot of planetoids with interesting geological formations, at least if that's your field, I guess - anyway, I was there for quite a few years, then got a surprise transfer to here; my old chief from the Bismarck pulled me in out of the blue. Not that I'm complaining, cobwebs were starting to grow in my brain from so many years on the Dyson Observatory."

Roderick laughed a bit. "I understand completely. I was held up on an observatory in Betazed space back on the USS Harbinger. Try being completely depressed for two weeks. Overseeing operations transfer, full of betazoids sensing your anguish. It was a literal tin can, the station." He took a drink.

Brendan smiled and waved for another drink. A few weeks would've been a blessing in comparison to years stuck where he was, but he began to reconsider when he thought of everyone being telepaths aboard. "I suppose so, but I guess that wasn't your most recent stop on the way to Guardian Station. What brought you to the Barzan Sector?"

He thought the question through. “Good question.” Roderick shrugged, relaxing. He raised his hand and held his empty glass, wording his mouth ‘another please.’ He didn’t want more than a second drink, himself.

“Well. Things led me here.” James thought of Cass, her death on the Trenton they had both served. It was a nightmare he still couldn’t get over, yet get away from. “I guess I am…” He shook his head and laughed. “Running from painful memories. My wife, Cass. She was 27 when she was killed in a faulty lifeboat rescue.” James then is seen as they had both received their drinks. Changing his attention to the drink, he took the glass, swished it around with the rocks in the tumbler, and then tipped it for a small sip.

“Things seem less painful when you are isolated as far as I can get from the Sol. System.” James gave a frank assessment. “Sorry. Don’t mean to bring things down, Brendan.” Roderick shook his head.

Brendan didn't know how to respond, he sympathized with the man's loss, and as much as he'd sometimes wished his ex-wife dead in the heat of the moment the sadness he witnessed in a widow's eyes gave him pause. His marital problems suddenly appeared to pale in comparison.

"No, I'm sorry for your loss." He finally managed to admit somberly. Then with as much enthusiasm as the engineer could muster, he raised his glass. "To fresh starts."

"Of course!" He smiled sincerely and cheered D'Agostini. James had perked up. He decided to change the topic, not wanting to reek of depression or sadness, because he really didn't feel that way, at least lately.

"So, what does one do on such a large station for fun?" He knew of the holodecks.

"Funny you should ask," said Brendan. "I haven't had a chance to do anything aboard except work and catch up with some old shipmates. It's a massive station though, and the arboretum is really something to look at. What are you interested in?"

He shrugged. As the tender came around again. This time, Damien letting his glass stay empty. He relaxed. "Honest. Like you I suspect, Sir. My job is my interest." He laughed. "Sorry to say it." He wondered. "I'd like to at least get out and view the sector somewhat, wherever available. Any civilian charters? Maybe for a few days get to see some of the local planetoids." He replied.

"Like hobbies you mean?" He asked. 

"Yeah, outside of work. Station operations may keep you up at night, but I've got to imagine that there are other things that keep you going," said D'Agostini with a grin. "I'm one for sports, personally. At least I pretend to be. It was pretty rough there for a while back on the Dyson Observatory, would you believe the most amount of holodeck time I could get in a year was twenty hours."

"Love sports. Hockey is my game... So is a bit of mountain biking." He smiled. "Whats yours Brendan?" James asked.

"I play, or at least I used to play hockey as well. It's been a little while since I've laced up," Brendan said longingly. He'd let a lot of things go when he went to the observatory. "But, you don't find as many people willing to do it, and I get tired of playing up against holograms. You can't go out for a beer with them after the game."

James gestured holding outward his two hands, and pointing back at his self. "I've never met another Starfleet Officer who was well into hockey. This is fantastic!" He genuinely was excited. "We should do a few skirmishes. You know, it's just fun to hang out play and have a few beers after." He offered. 

“That sounds like a plan,” said D’Agostini with more optimism than he’d felt in some time. He drained his glass and grinned. “But it’ll be the loser who has to get the first round so I hope your shot is good enough to beat the holographic goalies at the elite level.”

James grinned. "We'll we can be both on the same team, how about that?" He nodded. "That way, nobody will be winner or looser. I doubt I'd be besting the usual algorithm responsiveness." With that, he had looked at his watch. "I'd best be checking in with the duty officer, before I call it a night." He looked at Brendan. "Thank you. I really needed someone to talk to, other than on duty." 

“You and I both.” D’Agostini grinned.

 

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