Star Trek: Apollo


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Post 21 - The New Arrivals Pt. 2

Posted on Sun Dec 22nd, 2019 @ 8:47pm by Captain Sean Gaudain & Ensign Kieran Quinn & Ensign Epkereamaka Keval & Ensign Tristan Murphy & Ensign Mathias Darnell
Edited on on Sun Dec 22nd, 2019 @ 8:47pm

Mission: Episode 0 - War Games
Location: Starbase 38 - Promenade
Timeline: Mission Day 02 - 2100 Hours

[Starbase 38 - Promenade]
[Mission Day 02 - 1900 Hours]

The quartet of junior officers used the LCARS system to find the new bar. It was as Mathias had pointed out on the bottom floor of the promenade. Even though Mathias wasn't a security officer and they were safe on a Starfleet space station, old habits die hard and he kept his head on a swivel and his eyes would look for elements of danger as they made their way to the entrance. Mathias held the door for everyone as music with a distinctive twang carried out into the bottom floor.

Quinn grabbed Murphy by the hand and spun the shorter man across the dance floor, dancing his way over to the bar with him and leaving the other two to follow him. Murphy laughed, but then pushed him away, gently, before getting a round of synthales.

"I can't believe Starfleet would build something like this," Keval noted, as she took a drink.

"Well, it's not like you can beam down to the surface and take a stroll there. They need variety for the crew, here," Quinn noted; the atmosphere of Barzan II was toxic to everyone but the native species.

Mathias took a sip of his drink, wishing it was the real thing. "I'd heard something about that," he said, "but didn't quite have all the details. Since you seem to know so much about things Kieran, what can you tell us about our new ship? Our first ship?"

"Fine. The Apollo is a Rhode Island-class frigate. Eight decks. Crew of 95. Top speed Warp 9.975. Bioneural circuitry. The sportier younger sister of the Nova-class science ship," Quinn replied, casually. "And Barzan II is toxic. I've just done my homework," he emphasized.

Mathias had known that much; he'd been expecting something more detailed, but he didn't feel like asking at that moment.

"I noticed," he said turning to the nurse and jerking his thumb in Kieran's direction, that Quinn here, didn't ask you to dance. He just assumed. So, I'm asking. Would you like to dance? I think they're getting ready to play a slow song."

Murphy laughed. "That's sweet--he did kind of press-gang me--but I'd rather just observe for the moment," he demurred, though he made eye contact with Mathias for a moment. "I'm still trying to decide if country-western belongs in the history books."

The Mari sat down across from the nurse. He kept on his side of the table, even kept his hands folded in his lap except when he took a sip of his drink, "Well if you're asking me, I'd say it has to. You may not like it, not sure if I do, but wasn't it around on your planet for a lot of years?"

"I meant more whether it should stay in the history books, rather than being reenacted for us like this," Murphy replied, laughing again. "Sorry, that's an idiom. I grew up in the city, so these lyrics aren't really doing it for me, is what I meant."

"If half of the cultural and artistic movements currently in circulation entered into the permanent history of the Federation, I think that would be a disservice," Keval noted, before taking a drink. "I don't mind this music, though."

Mathias smiled at Keval, took a sip of his own drink and replied, "It's really not bad is it?"

"Not bad, no."

Then he turned back to Murphy, "So what kind of music does do it for you? What's your favorite type?"

"It's hard to beat Kasseelian opera," Murphy noted. "I mean, not great to dance to, but the performance value is just unreal."

"Shame about the suicide, though," Quinn noted.

"Kieran! You know something about music?! I'm simply shocked," Murphy said, grinning as he took another drink. "What are you into? Super bass-heavy trance music?"

Quinn shook his head. "I happen to like opera, too. For dancing, there's nothing like a waltz, though," he said, laughing. He looked at Mathias. "What about you? What's music like on your planet?"

"It's similar to Terran classical music. Melodic, definitely without syncopation My world, for lack of a better term is very tranquil. Violent thought or anything associated with it is forbidden. Frankly, I don't have much use for the music, or much else from that place."

"How can a thought be forbidden?" Quinn asked.

"If you're a telepathic society, isn't a thought as good as speech? You can't yell 'fire' in a crowded theater in the Federation, either," Murphy surmised. "Unless I'm getting that wrong?"

Mathias shook his head minutely to both comments. "Thoughts shouldn't be controlled or forbidden, but on my world, if you don't conform they, reprogram you."

Then turning Murphy's direction. "There is a certain degree of truth in what you say, which is why I think the laws were originally passed. Our society, my world, was as violent as your own. Wars, murders, muggings, rape, and other such crimes were rampant. There are rumors, I'm not sure that I believe them, that some of my ancestors could kill with their minds."

"But over the years things changed and what started out good, turned into something quite different. It affected, or maybe a better word would be infected, every aspect of our lives; music, art, literature."

"It was no longer yelling fire in a crowded theater, it became even depicting a violent act. As in most things, I think the ancient Terran prohibition, comes to mind, whenever something is forbidden, it makes it that much more alluring. There was a thriving black market for such things."

"In trying to shut those things, for that matter even thinking about thinking of violence the government became quite repressive."

"Wow. I could see why you left to come here, then," Quinn noted, before taking a drink.

"Yeah, I think the government reprograming you for your thoughts is definitely a marker of a dystopia," Murphy said, quietly. "Growing up in the Federation, you don't think about those kinds of things, so it's good to have people with other experiences in Starfleet," he said, with a smile.

"Yes," Keval agreed, simply.

As the four of them were discussing Mari culture, another being entered the bar. About Quinn's height and build, though, with darker hair, the man was clearly older than they were and was dressed in a black leather bomber jacket with the collar turned up. There was no visible insignia. Quinn and Murphy's eyes followed him as he entered and took a seat at the bar, before turning back to Mathias.

"You must get tired of having to tell that story to people," Murphy said, smiling again.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "Let's do a shot to lighten the mood a little," he suggested, with agrin.

Like his two male companions, Mathias noticed the man as well, but after he sat down didn't think too much more about him.

"Yeah," he said, "sorry to get maudlin, there are some things I miss there, but you're both right I do get rather tired of telling the story and we should lighten the load. I'll go up to the bar and get the shots. Anyone have a preference. You know other than the real stuff?"

"Let's all go up," Murphy said, prompting the rest of them to stand up with him.

"Bourbon would be traditional somewhere like this," Quinn suggested.

"I'm more of a rum guy," Mathias volunteered as the group moved towards the bar, "but you're right. For shots, bourbon is the right choice. Good thing none of us has to be up early in the morning."

"My dad is from Hispaniola. I love rum," Murphy replied, before looking over at Quinn who was pouting a little. "But Bourbon is fine," he conceded.

"The distinction in taste between various high-proof alcohols is merely because of the impurities they contain," Keval noted, as the four of them walked up to the bar, standing next to the man who had entered earlier. He was drinking dark liquor on the rocks, likely whiskey. He inclined his head in acknowledgment to the four ensigns but otherwise focused on his beverage.

The quartet of newly commissioned officers drank not one but three sets of shots. For Mathias, who was somewhat of a novice when it came to booze, the sudden consumption of real alcohol lowered both his inhibitions and the shielding he'd carefully constructed around his brain. He was far from drunk but the lowering of both components was very real, and he was opened up to the emotions and at least the very surface thoughts of those around him. They were generalized, rather than focused on individuals, but he could get the general feel of those around him.

He turned to the man beside him, who he now thought of as good looking, though he was not nearly buzzed enough to say so, and asked, "Would you like to join us?"

The man smirked, and then took a drink of his whiskey. "I'm good, kid. Chasing bourbon with bourbon wouldn't be a good look," he noted, setting the glass back on the bar. "What are the four of you celebrating?" he asked, looking at the four junior officers.

Mathias's eyes cut between his three companions and the new arrival. "Our new commissions and our new postings. We're all on the same ship together."

"I should have guessed. Well, I hope you don't have to report in early," the stranger replied, nodding to the three shot glasses in front of each of them. His jacket had a Starfleet delta stitched in on the chest and he was wearing a red shirt beneath it in a style similar to the uniform turtlenecks of the old 2370s uniform. "Blacking out the night before boarding your first ship is still the goal, eh?" he asked.

Quinn grinned. "We can handle our liquor. Well, she and I can. I don't know about these two," the blond said, nodding to Murphy and Mathias.

Murphy, who was standing between Quinn and Mathias, nudged him in protest. "I may not be some cocky pilot, but that doesn't mean I can't drink," he said, with a laugh.

"What's wrong with cocky pilots?" the stranger asked, grinning as he took another drink.

Mathias rolled his eyes, "You know Keval and I can carry on here if the two of you want to get a room."

"He wishes," Quinn replied, sizing up Mathias.

"That is what's wrong with cocky pilots," Murphy replied, looking at the stranger. "Can't say I'm a fan of jealous scientists either right now, though," he added, casting a glance at Mathias for a moment. "I'll see you on the ship. Try not to get too crazy, tonight." With that, the young nurse turned on his heel and left the bar.

"I am going to make sure he's OK," Keval said, also turning to leave. She paused and turned to the stranger, nodding briefly. "Good evening, Captain Gaudain," she said.

"'Evening, Ensign Keval. I was wondering when one of you would connect the dots," Gaudain replied, seeming entirely amused by what he was watching. When he turned to look at her, his jacket fell open enough to reveal a commbadge on his chest and four gold pips on his collar which had been covered.

"A good security officer should be familiar with all key command personnel, sir," she replied, nodding again, and then dashing after Murphy.

Quinn stood up straighter, blushing deeply.

"I can tell we're all one big happy family already," Gaudain said, knocking back the rest of his drink. He stood up from his stool and clapped both of the remaining ensigns on the shoulder. "Try not to kill each other, boys. I don't have the time for the fucking paperwork," he said with a wink before leaving the bar.

"Fuck," Quinn said, simply.

"Yeah, that's about the size of it,'" Mathias, "spat out, "we both fucked up. I shouldn't have joked around like that, I was just trying to be funny. And you, you've been pushing the controls on his console all night long. I don't know which one of us is the biggest ass. I'm kinda thinking it's you, but I'm not far behind."

"You're a tad bit cuter than he is, but he's a hell of a lot nicer."

Quinn chuckled. "Usually people like it when I push their buttons. I didn't really know either of them, which is why I persuaded them to come out with me. I thought it would be a good way to get to know people before we left port," he noted. "Tristan is cute, but I wasn't trying to go anywhere with that... I guess I have a competitive streak, though," he added.

"Sometimes people just go too far. I think we both owe him an apology. But I'm not sure now is the right time. Should we call it a night, or do you want to hit another place?"

"Yeah an apology to him and some major sucking up to the captain...," Quinn agreed. "Probably best not to tempt fate. Can't say it wasn't memorable, though," he added, with a grin.

Mathias' left brow rose in almost Vulcan fashion. "Fascinating one might say."

A mission post by

Ensign Mathias Darnell
Cultural Specialist
USS Apollo

Ensign Kieran Quinn
Relief Flight Control Officer
USS Apollo
NPC - David

Ensign Tristan Murphy, R.N.
USS Apollo
NPC - David

Ensign Epkereamaka Keval
Security Officer
USS Apollo
NPC - David


Captain Sean Gaudain
Commanding Officer
USS Apollo


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