The Project

Posted on Tue Dec 3rd, 2013 @ 8:16am by Commander Jordan Gunning & Lieutenant Augustus Deakin

Mission: Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Deck 600

[ON]

The lawyer studied Jordan's face as his eyes fluttered over the PADD. He noted that his 11 o'clock seemed to be experiencing the full range of emotions as he studied the information.

"Are you sure that I'm the sole benefactor to this?" He asked eventually, looking up with bleary eyes.

The lawyer offered a kindly smile, the kind he rarely got to use. "Both of your parents have agreed that the law sees you act as the sole executor and benefactor of the Will."

Jordan felt the need to elongate a syllable. "Riiiight." He muttered, barely understanding the words coming out of the lawyer's mouth, let alone the words on the page. He immediately thought back to the crates from his brother's office which Captain Von had placed into storage. He sighed and started considering storage space. Lieutenant Le was already complaining about a lack of cargo space.

"As you can see, your brother didn't have much in the way of assets," the lawyer seemed irritated that his percentage would be smaller, "but he does leave behind one piece of property."

"Property?" Jordan seemed perplexed by the very notion. Alexander had never shown any interest in property and it seemed unusual for a Starfleet Captain to own any property. He immediately started to think of places Alex could have bought a property. Nothing came to mind but Jordan was struck by the image of a decrepit, haunted mansion.

"Unit M-P-One-Forty-One. Deck six hundred, Starbase Three-Three-Two." The lawyer stated matter-of-factly. "That's on this station. It appears that you own a piece of the station, Mister Gunning."

[45 Minutes Later, Deck 600, Starbase 332]

Deck 600 looked like no-one had been there in years. A thick layer of grime covered the floor and footprints lingered in it. Two sets led up to and away from a dingy unit and seemed to be the right place. Jordan stopped in his tracks as the realisation that one of the sets of footprints must have been Alex's.

"What the hell did you buy, Alexander?" Jordan said aloud as he approached the sealed door. He checked his PADD and inputted the security code into the door panel.

The doors slid apart as the interior lights came on. They revealed a small, old-fashioned room with sheets covering the furniture. Eventually the light reached the centre of the room and the purpose of it immediately became apparent. "You crafty bastard."

It was a pub, a pub not unlike the one they had drank in as young men in San Francisco. In fact, as Jordan realised as he walked around the room, this was an almost exact replica of Lobrau's.

Jordan found himself tapping his comm badge, and found himself saying the words, "Lieutenant Deakin please report to Deck Six Hundred."

Gus was in his quarters, pouring over about a dozen PADDs spread out over the floor trying to sort out the shambled mess that was the Operations Department. He had inherited a department severely lacking in personnel, resources and, perhaps worst of all, organisation. The jay-gee they had warming the chair since the attack was a fine operations officer, but his organisational skills were lacking. Maybe it was due to the stresses of the Starbase's recent history, so Gus was willing to cut the poor fellow some slack.

He was elbow deep in sorting out the mess when Gunning's call came in. For a moment, he forgot himself and all military protocol. "What for?" he replied absently as he found the watch roster he was looking for.

"I'm not sure I could adequately describe it in words, Lieutenant." Gunning replied. "Just hurry up."

Gus silently cursed himself for his lapse; he should never have allowed that. "I'm on my way, Commander," he said then lifted himself up off the deck and left the mess for later.

[10 Minutes Later, Deck 600, Starbase 332]

The turbolift door slid open and Gus suddenly wondered if he was even still on the starbase. The state of the corridor in front of him was not caused by the attack, either; this section had clearly been neglected for some time before the Sojourners. It looked like a tomb, or one of the abandoned warehouses near his former home on Hesperia.

He ventured forward, peering through the gloom for any sign of Gunning. Some innate caution stopped him from just calling out to him, so he pushed on ready for anything. Finally, he came across an open doorway with light streaming out into the corridor. There, he thought.

He ducked through the doorway – an old habit – and stopped in his tracks, a look of pleasant surprise splashing across his face.

Jordan's voice seemed to come from nowhere. "What do you make of this?"

The big lieutenant chuckled at the question as he walked over to pull a sheet off a nearby table. “I reckon Lieutenant Le would love the space for storage,” he said as his eye was drawn to a nearby dart board. “What is this place?”

"My dear departed brother bought it." Gunning appeared from behind the bar where he had found that pretty much all of the plumbing and internal wiring to the taps was intact. "I can't work out whether it's always been like this or whether he fitted it out this way."

Gus walked up to the bar and placed his hands down on it, feeling the heavy wooden sturdiness of it as he leaned forward against it. He looked up and down the bar and nodded approvingly; it was much nicer than the cold, metal one Kipper had. "I suppose the more imminent question is," he paused, looking Gunning with a slightly amused expression, "what are you going to do with it?"

Jordan hesitated at the question and ran his hand across the top of the bar. "That's the question. It's mine, I suppose. What the hell do you do when you suddenly own a bar, drink it dry?"

Gus shrugged and cocked his head to the side. In a previous life - the one that ended only a couple of weeks ago - he would have said yes. What he wouldn't give to get behind Kipper's bar back on Hesperia some days. But, he was back in the service now and embarking on a bender on the second day of his deployment was probably not a good idea.

"You could open it up," he suggested. "If you've ever wanted to run a pub, now's your chance. Or you could keep it for a select few individuals. Make it a kind of sanctuary for the staff to have some fun together."

"I'm not sure I'd have time to run it but I suppose you're right. This could really give people on this station somewhere to go; a home away from home." Gunning passed a glass of beer across the bar and hoped that the Lieutenant wouldn't mention his poor pouring technique. "I'll need to find a bar manager."

The lieutenant noticed the pouring technique, but decided against mentioning it; he had only just met Gunning and though he seemed like a top bloke, he wasn't convinced that kind of light-hearted teasing would go down well. Like so many times in his life, Gus decided this was a time to just ignore it and drink the beer. He sipped and immediately recognised it as a Phobos Draught, brewed on the Martian moon Phobos in minimum gravity for a light, rich flavour.

"Ahh, this is one of my favourites," he said, peering into the amber liquid. He placed it down on the bar and leaned forward, "You know, an old friend of mine once told me about the old Earth wet navy tradition of the wardroom. It wasn't quite the way we know it and, to be honest, my mate may have been lying through his broken teeth. But, he reckoned that all the officers in a ship would have to pay into the wardroom fund and would reap the benefits of a nice place to relax when they're not on duty. They would be responsible for maintaining the wardroom and, I guess, would either pull their own beers or officers would take turns at the bar."

Gus shrugged, leaving the idea to float there above the bar as he scooped up his glass again. "Maybe something like that may work?" He took another sip. "Or, I'm sure you can find some Ferengi lurking around a corridor near here. Hell, half a dozen of them probably just heard you say 'need to find a manager' and are zeroing in on your location as we speak."

"With the number of ranked officers on the station, I don't think we'd be able to fit them all in here." Gunning replied, stepping out from behind the bar with a sullen look on his face. This was clearly his brother's labour of love and the idea of turning over it to profit-hungry Ferengi made his stomach turn. "It doesn't look like I have much in the way of choice, I'll have to get a phaser and wade into the sea of Ferengi."

"They can be vicious little bastards," Gus said, finishing off his beer. "Word of advice? Don't employ a Ferengi unless you've got some leverage over them. Trust me, that's a lesson you don't want to learn the hard way."

Jordan mulled over the advice for a moment and thought better than to ask many questions. "I'll take your word for it."

[OFF]

Commander Jordan Gunning
Chief Strategic Operations Officer

Lieutenant Augustus Deakin
Chief Operations Officer
Starbase 332