The Fates of Angels

Posted on Mon Sep 1st, 2014 @ 6:18am by Commander Jordan Gunning & Lieutenant Augustus Deakin & Captain Vahn Drayel & Lieutenant JG Allison Price

Mission: Vagrants, Vagabonds, and Thieves
Location: Alexander's [Deck 600, Starbase 332]
Timeline: MD10: 2300hrs - 8 hours after arrival of USS Montreal

Gunning dragged his hand across his face as the turbolift ground to a shuddering halt. He remembered that his brother had complained about the brakes on the lifts when he had first been assigned to the station and had suggested that it would be the first thing on his list to have fixed. Typically for border stations like this, the problem remained.

Jordan stomped down the corridor, which was more brightly lit than when he'd last been down there and crossed into the vibrant hubbub of Alexander's, the bar which his deceased brother and former CO of Starbase 332 had bequeathed to him. He had chosen to name it after him but the name would have little to no significance to many of the evening patrons who were busy enjoying the atmosphere. That didn't bother him. When he'd first named it, he had been worried that he'd never be able to go in without receiving pitying looks from the staff and customers, their ignorance granted him anonymity.

The two Ferengi that Deakin had engaged on his behalf didn't seem to be around. It was most unusual to find a Ferengi delegating but it did mean that he didn't have to keep half an eye on them. He reached the bar after a minute or so of waiting and ordered an espresso.

He gazed enviously at the array of brightly coloured bottles on the rack above the rear counter. He would have loved to start at one end and sample every bottle but there was no guarantee that he was actually off duty. In fact- he checked the clock which hung above a dart board- it had been fifty six hours since he had stepped off the shuttle and he had been constantly called back to deal with something every time he had tried to get some sleep.

By coming to Alexander's, he was admitting defeat.

Through the throng of clientele, he noticed an equally weary looking Lieutenant Augustus Deakin sitting at a small table under a massive mirror which he recognised from Alexander Gunning's apartment on Earth. He pushed through the crowd, wishing that he had ordered a larger coffee. "Mind if I join you?"

Gus had been staring at a PADD in his left hand while his right clenched a pint that had gone largely unconsumed. He had read the same line about three times now, but knew it was important. Wasn't it? Something about radiation bio-hazards ... or was it bio-radiation hazards? Either way, he was pleased when Gunning interrupted his reverie.

He shook his head to clear some errant cobwebs and gestured to an empty seat with the hand that still held the PADD. "By all means." He watched Gunning sit and chuckled. "Damn, mate, you look as bad as I feel."

Jordan grunted something by way of agreement and took a sip of the coffee. Its bitter aftertaste did little to encourage him to speak further. "I've not really slept."

"Pretty sure I'm on my way to bed now," Gus replied with a sympathetic nod. "At least that's what I've been telling myself for the last few hours. It's like this place fell to pieces while we were gone; So much to catch up on."

"And no time to process the last mission." Gunning agreed as he stared blankly up at the mirror.

Deakin nodded and finally gave up on the PADD, tossing it onto the table and bringing the drink up to his lips. "That really was a hell of a thing."

"Understatement of the century." Gunning added with a wry grin.

Eventually a young red headed ensign made her way through the crowd. A perk of not being a senior officer on the station, Allison Price was in a pretty good mood. She was fairly well rested, had no major emergencies on the Jackal, and had just found out that she was getting a new intern. All in all, it had been a good day. She was ready to celebrate. Smiling to the bartender, she ordered raspberry daiquiri and took a look around the room. Most of the other patrons were decent spirits, though some seemed to be drowning their sorrows. It was the sight of Gunning and Deakin, her partners on the crazy adventure to the 23rd Century, that really caught her eye. She thanked the bartender for the drink, added the bill and the tip to her tab, and strolled off to their table.

"Good evening, sirs. Do you mind if I join you?" Allie asked, her grin not at all matching their expressions. She gestured with her free hand towards one of the empty chairs.

Gunning waved a hand at the chair nearest the Ensign. "How are you, Allison?"

Price took a seat and a sip of her drink. It was a deep maroon color. "I'm pretty good. The Jackal was still all in one piece when I got back to her. And I'm getting an intern, so that should be fun." It finally occurred to her that the other two didn't share her chipper attitude. "No offense intended, sirs, and I hope I'm not out of line, but you both look like hell."

"And feel it. We haven't had a lot of sleep since we got back from Bellatrix. There's," Jordan paused as he finished the espresso, choosing his words carefully, "there's been a lot going on. Between refugees and garrison vessels we didn't know a damned thing about, it's been a weird few days."

"It sounds like it," Allie replied, taking another drink of the frozen beverage. "I guess things like that don't really trickle down to the small fry like me. Now I know what I get that to look forward to as I go on in my career."

"Look on the bright side, Small Fry." Gunning made a mental note to give more people nicknames. "At least you got to go to the dim and distant past."

The engineer raised her glass. "I'll drink to that. I bet there aren't many ensigns in Starfleet right now who got to see the inside of a real life 23rd Century Constitution class while in the 23rd Century. What a crazy life we live?"

"No doubt." Gunning replied, raising the empty coffee cup half in a toast and half to indicate to a nearby server that he needed a fresh one. Before he could speak again, a young Trill woman in a white shirt and black tie stood by his elbow. "What can I get you, Mister Gunning?"

"Just a calypso please, Dyri." Gunning replied. She was one of the few members of staff who knew that he was the proprietor and she knew that a calypso meant to add a tot of rum to a black coffee. He glanced around the table at his companions as an open invitation. "It's on me, guys."

Price grinned and held up her still mostly full glass. "Thank you, Commander. but I'm still good."

Gus gestured with his index finger for one more as he quickly drained his drink.

Gunning watched Dyri walk away before leaning forward slightly. "You know, I've looked up what happened to the Seraphim. You know it was the first ship to discover Cestus Three?"

The ensign was pretty surprised. She didn't know a lot of history, but she knew enough about the fleet to know where the 11th Fleet was headquartered. "Really? No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Not only that, it survived right through until they started to break up the Constitution-classes. Captain McIndoe went on to become one of the first heads of Starfleet Intelligence. I bet by the time she got that high, she'd have known we lied."

Gus smiled and shook his head, imagining McIndoe as head of Starfleet Intelligence. "We might have inspired her?" he suggested, then another thought occurred to him. "Whatever happened to my mate Commander Anto?"

"He remained with the Seraphim right up until it was decommissioned." Gunning replied. "There's a seal on part of his file but he never made it beyond First Officer."

"That's surprising." Allie took a sip of her daiquiri and considered it for a moment. "You said there was a seal on part of his file. Do you think he joined McIndoe in Starfleet Intelligence?"

"I don't think so." Gunning replied, mulling over the question for a moment. "It's almost like something stalled his career but the seal's been there so long, I don't think it will ever get lifted."

"Poor fella," Gus said in a musing tone. "I quite liked him."

Drayel, a massive form, stared at the others in silence. His ice-blue eyes shifted from face to face, and he sat back for a moment, a full drink untouched before him. He had listened to them talk about this nonsense for some time, and didn't buy a damn bit of it. He would, if pressed, admit that something weird had happened, but that was as far as he'd go. As far as he was concerned, they all needed to spend some time with a shrink.

"You're awful quiet." Jordan said, motioning toward the Marine who had joined them as their refilled drinks arrived. "Still don't believe us?"

Drayel looked up and sighed. "I don't know." He leaned back, folding his thick arms. "I've seen some weird bak'tag but this tops it."

"I hear that." Gunning nodded. It was hard to deny Drayel's suspicion. One minute he'd been standing there undisturbed by anyone and then the ship had disappeared. To his mind, they had never been 'away'.

Deakin raised his glass and flashed an amused smirk, "You're just gonna have to take our word for it, Captain," he said to Drayel. "Well ... that and the bloody great missing ship that vanished while your back was turned."

Drayel grunted. "While my back was turned," he said, pointing at Deakin.

Allie chuckled. "Yeah, honestly, Captain. How did you lose a whole ship? You only had the one job." She smiled and lifted her glass towards him, just to let him know that she was joking.

Drayel grunted, finally picking up his own drink. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the amber liquid, and then knocked it back in one sharp motion. "I didn't lose the ship," he said. "It was right where I left it."

---

Commander Jordan Gunning
Chief Strategic Operations Officer

Lieutenant Augustus Deakin
Chief Operations Officer

Captain Vahn Drayel [NPC: Kamdram]
Fox Company Commander

Ensign Allison Price [NPC: Von]
Engineering Officer