Celebration

Posted on Sat Aug 15th, 2020 @ 7:29pm by Colonel Sehan t'Varis & Major Ashley Rogers & Lieutenant Hatham tr'Krotash

3,156 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Shore Leave: Welcome to Drozana
Location: Drozana Station - Bar
Timeline: 238612.25

Ash leaned back against her chair, thoroughly amused that fate had somehow led her holding an unofficial Romulan rank of Centurion, in the Romulan Marines. How the hell does that happen? Disgraced Starfleet officer, former Prisoner of War, former incarcerated disgraced Starfleet officer, Section 31 pariah, almost on the cusp of redeemed Starfleet officer... now mercenary Romulan Centurion. She sipped her drink and started to wallow in nostalgia.

She remembered how proud her parents were when she commissioned from the Academy, her sister, her now-dead best friend. She remembered the look of shocked hurt from him when she betrayed him and her crew under Section 31 orders... the last time she ever saw him alive. She remembered the years as a POW when the Section left her to rot and her subsequent court martial when Starfleet rescued her. She can never forget the look of disappointment from her family as she was hauled off onto a prison transport. And of course the turbulent failed redemption that followed in the years afterwards that ended when she turned her back on Starfleet and walked out on Renee... which led her to being here: on Drozana Station, celebrating a "promotion" alone at a bar. She downed the rest of her drink and wondered about those she left behind. How was Renee doing... her parents... her sister... Did they wonder where she was? Or have they just given up on her? It's not that big of a galaxy... would it be too much or too little to send them a Christmas card? What would that say exactly? "Sorry I disappeared! Happy Holidays, Ash." Maybe the drinks were getting to her, as Ash started to chuckle at her own thoughts... until she remembered that it was Christmas. Her mood soured again.

She put her glass down and took in her surroundings. No one was celebrating an archaic Earth holiday. She was the only full-blooded human on a ship full of Romulans... a thought that made Ash feel even more alone. But it was a fate she chose for herself. She could always go back home... see what relationships she could salvage... She shook her head of the thoughts. There was nothing for her back there. Nothing but causing pain for those she loved or pain for herself as she struggled to balance who she was and who she was expected to be. Centurion Ashley Rogers is in a much better place than Lieutenant Commander Ashley Rogers ever was.

Ash then made eye contact with Hatham who was also sitting alone. She kicked the chair next to her out and nodded towards it. Maybe she didn't have to spend her Christmas promotion alone after all.

When they'd docked, Hatham had decided to do a little walk around of the station. He knew it by reputation, but it wasn't a stop he'd made before, and a bit of recon seemed in order.
Now, he was frankly unimpressed. Not exactly a real hive of scum and villainy, at least not compared to some places he'd seen - still, for their purposes that was probably as well still they still had no new core and would be getting a load of flotilla survivors to pick up.

With nothing else to do, he'd had gravitated to the bar, nursing a tall glass of ale as he contemplated their bad luck. It seemed he, and his whole species in fact, had no luck but bad lately. If the D'era he'd been raised to believe in was anything but a lousy myth it was taking them along a damned strange winding path to the promised glorious destiny. The gloomy thought was interrupted by awareness of someone taking a seat just down the bar - Rogers. Huh. She didn't look any happier than he felt. Maybe worse, which was surprising given that he saw that she now bore Centurian rank.

So when she kicked out the chair, he went over and took it. Not sure what else to say, he nodded at her rank insignia. "Promotion?"

"You noticed?" Ash sighed. "Just happened. You look like I feel. I would ask if you want to talk about it, but I know Romulans aren't exactly the conversational types. So... how many did you end up getting on that freighter?," Ask smirked.

A human who understood that personal questions weren't welcome - this Rogers was quite a novelty, but one he might come to like. "19," Hatham stated with a smile. "And you?"

Ash laughed, "Got 19 too. Would've gotten more if Raven didn't want in on a piece of the action." She waves a server over and buys another drink for Hatham. If she was going to be in charge of security, she might as well get to know her people. "Guess we'll continue the count next time," she tips her glass at the big Romulan before taking a drink. "That was an interesting mission though... getting screwed is one thing, but those pods.... and whoever and whatever Vulture is. What's your take on all of it?"

"Yeah, I could have had a few more if the Ferengi hadn't wanted to use his little pistol. Hann'yyo," Hatham replied in thanks, tipping his drink toward her in turn before taking a shot. He let it burn a moment before replying to the rest. "Interesting is one word for it... not getting a core is one thing, but every time I think of those pods..." his hand tightened on the glass, the scree of strained material stopping him a moment before he squeezed too hard and lost good liquor. "Whoever this Vulture is, my take on it is that they can't possibly die as painfully as they deserve."

Ash noticed him nearly breaking his shot glass... Romulans are definitely passionate people, especially when it comes to protecting their own. "You and me both. So... if we do get to Vulture. How do want it to go down? Quick and as painfully as they deserve or slowly and as painfully as they deserve?" she asked him with a slight smile. Ash would never have been able to have a conversation like this when she wore a Starfleet uniform, now she's testing the waters with Hatham.

Taking his hand off the glass, Hatham considered the question and the questioner. Rogers was refreshingly different from most humans he'd encountered, but anyone could guess his mood and decide to go along with it while it was just talk; the real test would come when they actually found Vulture. Still, it was a good question. "Depends on the situation, I think. First priority is to get those people back, preferably alive. If that means Vulture's agony is short..." he cracked his neck sideways and squared his shoulders a little, resolved to that possible necessity, "then that's how it has to be. But I expect most have been sold to slavers, and that means getting what we need to find and free them. I expect that may take considerable very painful persuasion." His lips turned in a smile, but not at all a nice one. "In fact, we might have to keep Vulture wishing for death until we're sure the information pans out."

Ash took a drink from her glass, "Sadly, I agree with you that I doubt they're all happily vacationing on Risa." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "It'd be better off if they were all dead though. Selling people to slavers is lower than low. To think that so many are currently imprisoned against their will by this asshole doesn't sit right with me. And how the hell does someone have an operation of that scale and leave no trace? Someone has to be backing Vulture," she downed the rest of her glass and poured herself another one. "I think you and I will get along, Hatham. Raven... Raven's quick... to the point. While there's a time and place for efficiency, there's a time and place for karmatic justice..."

Ash pulled out the knife in her boot, "You see this blade, Hatham? This is a replica, the original is in my quarters... but I got this off an asshole Sindareen that tried to kill me with it. He went after my sister and then tried to hunt me like prey. Obviously he failed, but he lives only because Starfleet came to his rescue before I could finish him. Vulture will no get such mercy. I only that hope we get there first..." She slid the knife back in its sheath. "Have you heard anything about Vulture before? There's nothing in the Tal Shiar files and none of my contacts know anything."

He gave an appreciative nod toward the knife - it was good to have mementos, and smart to only carry copies. "I do as well," Hatham replied sincerely. "Unfortunately, I know as little as you do and I have learned nothing from my contacts though there are two that have not responded yet." He frowned at his empty glass. This was a depressing conversation. "So, until we have something to act on, let's focus on the cause we have to celebrate: you promotion. Bartender!" he yelled toward the man, making him jump slightly. "Three shots of ale for my comrade, and three glasses for me."

Ash smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a while. While she may not miss being in Starfleet, the sense of camaraderie was something that was always welcome. If she closed her eyes and pretended, she could almost imagine her old friend T'Ango across from her. While Hatham and T'Ango was as different as could be, they were among the few that didn't actively try to avoid her. "This, I can appreciate...." she said as the shots arrived, she raised her glass to the Romulan. "I'm glad Romulans celebrate promotions right! Cheers!"

"I might not be in the Galae anymore, but tradition is Tradition," Hatham said firmly, and grinned, lifting his glass. "Ei e'hraaintuh na'hwiufvteh, emeihet'!"

"I have no idea what you just said to me... but I'm going to assume it's good," Ash said as she downed her shot. This will be interesting, she started drinking before Hatham got here and he's a much larger individual than she is... This can't possibly end well. But it's not every day that one gets promoted on Christmas... alone on a sketchy space station surrounded by Romulans. "If you intend to drink me under the table... I intend to make you pay as much as I possibly can.

Hatham chugged his glass and boomed a laugh. "If you're still standing after shooting the traditional three in row. I'll buy another round."

Ash was definitely starting to feel the effects... she hasn't done something like this since the Academy days... now that was a wave of nostalgia that she wasn't ready to face. She downs another shot, "Challenge accepted! Prepare to spend some of that hard earned latinum, Hatham!" She chuckled. That rhymed. Oh dear. She then downs the third and stares Hatham in the eyes. "Let's go, Sublieutenant."

"You got it, Centurian," Hatham replied with a grin, signaling for another round. "But I can't let you get too far ahead. Mhiohs!" He tipped one of his two remaining glasses to her and then chugged them both down in succession, slamming the last empty down with a satisfied smile. "I figure if we're going to keep drinking, I should stick to shorter toasts," he laughed.

"One day, if I am going to keep working with you all... I should really learn Romulan...." Ash was struggling with her words a bit. She will regret every moment of this tomorrow. But that is for Future Ash to worry about. "What's the most you've seen a human drink, Hatham?"

The big Romulan looked up and to the side, thinking back. "Well, there was this Marine I met back during the Dominion War - big guy, almost my size - that was pretty impressive for a human." He smirked. "He could drink almost as much as my little sister."

Ash laughed, probably a little too much and a little too loudly. "What do you think I could do?"

Hatham laughed and made a show of looking her up and down, appraising. "Actually, you might be able to drink as much as my little sister..." he grinned, "...when she was 12."

A scoff escapes Ash as she is about to do something incredibly foolish. She pulls the knife out of her boot again and shoves Hatham aside. Quite a feat to move the large security officer, but that's soreness that future Ash will deal with. She throws the weapon, which skimmed across a diner's plate, leaving a piece of meat skewered and pinned to the wall across the bar. "Can your 12 year old sister do that?"

"Dad would yelled at her for wasting meat, but she could do something like this -" In a smooth moment he draw knife from his sleeve and threw it.

A little distance away, a diner frozen in shock at the speared meat that flown over his table, suddenly shrieked and fell backward in his chair and the piece of bread halfway to his lips was torn away by Hatham's knife and the then pinned to meat still dangling from Ash's.

"Ha!" Hatham slapped the bar, a bit more amused than he otherwise might be, and yelled at the man. "What's wrong? - we made you a open knife sandwich!"

Ash nodded at Hatham's skill, "Well done!" She walked over to the knives and pulled the bread and meat off the wall. "The food isn't half bad here..." she said as stuffed the food in her mouth. Maybe having some sustenance in her stomach will help the wave of intoxication coming over her. She pulled the two knives from the wall and took aim with both before letting them loose. The blades spun in the air, impacting what looked to be some form of cooked bird off a platter one of the servers was carrying near Hatham. Airborne for likely the last time, the piece of poultry skidded to a greasy stop across the table and into Hatham's lap. "Dinner is served," she announced.

"Roast hlai'hwy!" Hatham ripped a drumstick off and took a bite, saying around the mouthful, "Hann'yyo."

The Ferengi at the bar was certainly not impressed. "Hey, you two, with your knifes! Stop it at once or I will have you removed from the premises!"

Before he could say any more, he was interrupted by a voice that Ash and Hatham would be most familiar with. "Or maybe you take this latinum and shut up. Before they aim at your lobes next." Raven slapped a few slips of latinum onto the bar counter, a mischievous glint in her amber eyes. "And how about a round on the house, barkeep? Did you not know that today was one of the most important festivals on Earth? I say we should mark the occasion, don't you agree?"

The Ferengi's eyes raced between the latinum, the big dagger on Raven's belt, and the two evidently drunk blade artists. "Fine. Happy Kinkmate or whatever it's called. One on the house it is." He walked away grumbling curses. "It's Christmas, you loaf-brained nincompoop!"

Laughing, she made her way over to Ash and Hatham. "Nice knife handling there, folks. But next time, try not to piss off the barkeep, okay?"

Ash walked over to Raven and put an arm around her boss, maybe out of being celebratory... maybe for balance... "You're back! Merry Christmas to you!" She walked over to Hatham and picks off a piece of the bird, "Merry Christmas to you too, ya filthy animal!" Was she talking to Hatham? Or the bird? Did it matter anymore?

"And to you," Hatham replied, saluting with the half-eaten drumstick, and laughing. "Whatever Christmas is."

Raven chuckled as the Ferengi finally brought the free round - more Romulan Ale. "Used to be a religious festival on Earth, one of the holiest days for one of the major religion. Nowadays it's more of a family thing. Gifts, food, drink. That kind of thing."

She necked the glass of Ale in one go, and waved the barkeeper back over. "Whatever this piss is supposed to be, it certainly ain't no high quality Ale. Get us the largest bottle of the best stuff you have."

The Ferengi grumbled some more, but returned with a big bottle of a faintly blue liquid. "Praetor's Reserve?" Raven nodded. "That is more like it." She poured some for her companions. "If that Barkeep wasn't such a sour git, I might almost like him," she joked, raising her glass. "I believe they used to sing, 'tis the season to be jolly. So, let's get drunk."

Get drunk? Uh oh. "Tis the season!" Ash clinked her glass with Raven and Hatham's as she also waved a drumstick around. "I'm glad I'm celebrating with you two. You are worthy comrades in battle and..." she drank more of the blue liquid, "You have excellent taste in beverages!" Actually, she has no idea what she's drinking anymore... "Hatham here, says his 12 year old sister could outdrink me. I'm intent to prove him wrong." Why? Who the hell knows? Tis the season... right?

"When she was 12. She's 37 now," Hatham corrected with a chuckle. "And she could definitely out drink you." He took a long pull from his glass, savoring the better ale rather than chugging it. "But as long as it keeps this ale coming, by all means try."

Ash was glad to see Hatham slowly drink. Maybe with some more food and slowing down herself can keep this night from degenerating too far. She took a steadying breath and also took a long drink from her glass, actually tasting the ale and appreciating its quality over the crap they had been drinking before. Raven has good taste. "You would think by now you'd learn not to underestimate me, Hatham. I'm still standing!" For how much longer? Who knows. But Ash is taking this as a win for now.

Raven chuckled to herself. Thanks to her colourful genetics, she could probably even outdrink Hatham - and, as all Orions, she was entirely immune to hangovers. However, she decided to keep that information to herself, as she watched Ash getting more and more intoxicated. "Big words, Rogers. Big words." With a big grin, the mercenary downed another glass of Ale. This certainly was good stuff, and almost worth the extortionate price the Ferengi would most certainly be charging them.

She reached for the bottle to refill her glass, and could not help but shake her head. "Well look at this, seems we are quite thirsty tonight. Ey, loafbrain, keep 'em coming!"

The Ferengi instantly put another bottle out. "You keep the latinum flowing, I keep the ale flowing. Simple."

The mercenary sighed. "Put it on a tab."

RSS Feed