The Brew House

Posted on Sun Jan 19th, 2014 @ 3:31pm by Captain Tim Williams & Lieutenant Commander Horatio Hawke & Lieutenant Commander Ciaran McIntyre
Edited on on Sat Jan 25th, 2014 @ 2:27pm

Episode: Orphans
Location: Justerini Street Brew House
Timeline: MD01

The Brew House lay on Pike City's Justerini Street, two streets away from the bars and restaurants readily frequented by Starfleet Officers living and working on the planet. They saw the homely style of the old Mercantile Zone as something to be sneered at, meaning that its pubs and diners were mostly frequented by civilians and cadets.

All in all, it had earned itself a bad reputation among the great and the good of the Federation.

"Mac!" Joanie shouted with delight as he entered the bustling bar. It was that kind of place. "How have you been?"

In his civilian clothing, McIntyre looked wholly out of place in Pike City's sea of Starfleet uniforms. It was part of the reason he enjoyed the dingy surroundings of The Brew House so much. His dark grey blazer and open-collared white shirt meant no-one was likely to need him for anything- just the way he liked it.

"Not too bad, Joanie. Not too bad." He regarded the Bar's owner with a smile. She was a formidable woman in her mid-fifties who had thrown down with more than her fair share of drunken punks. She reminded him of one of his old teachers. "Has Hawke been in yet?"

Joanie's eyes narrowed in something approaching disappointment. He was at the usual table. Mac should have known.

Hawke sat at the table that had become so much like home for him these past few weeks with his feet crossed on the chair next to him and his eyes fixed out the window, staring off into … whatever. He hadn’t shaved in almost three weeks and was wearing a black jacket over a dark grey t-shirt and counterfeit jeans he bought from a one-armed man operating out of some garage. He looked like he belonged in this pub; at least he looked like Horatio Hawke's version of what belonged in this pub.

"Same again?!" Mac shouted across the room with the comfort of a regular. "Aye, same again for him and I'll have a pint of that notorious Pike City Porter, Joanie."

When Tim walked into the bar, he was still wearing his uniform, albeit with the zip down enough to let the collar hang loose, and yet he still somehow carried himself in a way that didn't make him seem out of place. "Tim!" Joanie called, showing a similar amount of enthusiasm she had shown when Mac had entered. "What can I get you? The usual?"

"You're a star, Joanie," Tim replied with a smile, as he settled into a seat at the bar. He had brought the large Padd he had been given by the personnel officer with him. "But synthehol this time around. I've got a hell of a read to get through here."

"Coming right up."

"His is on me, Joanie." McIntyre tugged the proverbial forelock to the man he identified as a superior officer. "If you've got to drink synthehol then you damn sure shouldn't be paying for it."

"Thanks," Tim responded, nodding in the man's direction.

The landlady returned with the drinks in short order and set them on the bar. "That's three slips, Mac."

"There's five. Keep the change." He slid the drink down the bar to the uniformed officer, being instantly thankful that it didn't spill all over him. "I keep telling her she's going to go bust if she keeps charging a slip a drink."

As Tim picked up his drink to take a sip, he re-read the same sentence for the sixth time and tried to make it stick in his head. He was still only on the service history of his new first officer - the first on his list - but just the thought of reading through so many service records made him dread the task enough that he couldn't concentrate. Giving up on the service record for now, he flipped the screen back to the full roster view and began to absently scroll down the list.

He flipped the list back up to a pair of faces that he recognised that were on the senior staff register. He glanced over at the two at the end table and then back at the list to confirm that the two at the bar were the same two on his list. He smiled to himself as he began to think of some fun that he could have with this new information. Turning slightly to be able to talk to the two men, he said, "So, Mac? That short for McIntyre?"

McIntyre shot Hawke a concerned look. Mac could have been short for anything and McIntyre wasn't exactly a common name this far out. He looked the officer up and down before settling on the assumption that he wasn't a poorly disguised assassin.

"It is." He replied. "Ciaran McIntyre, at your service. This is my friend and death-cheater extraordinaire, Horatio Hawke."

Hawke faked a wide grin and lifted his glass to the captain. "Yup," he said before downing most of the drink.

"'Death cheater extraordinaire'?" Tim asked, turning a bit more fully towards them now. "Let me guess... pilot?"

The pilot laughed out loud, "Spot on, Captain," he said, then slapped the side of McIntyre's arm with the back of his hand. "Now do Mac!"

Tim rested his chin in his hand and leant forward, pretending to be sizing McIntyre up and trying to decide what sort of a role he would fit into. He figured that part of the man's current dress was to try and stop him looking like an officer as much as possible, but Tim didn't really need to size him up to know what job he had. "Security officer," he announced dramatically.

McIntyre stared at the Captain as he took a long sip of his drink, giving him long enough to size him up. "Well we know you're a Captain, you don't have much interest in the standing orders of Starfleet." He homed in on the Captain's face. "You've recently shaved and cut yourself in a variety of locations suggesting that you previously had a beard and therefore hadn't been on active space service. Given that you've clearly been in here before, I'm going to say that you've been teaching at the academy and spending your evenings drinking with planet-based academics really doesn't suit your style."

Tim made sure to keep his impression as still as he could, waiting to see what else the man would come up with about him.

"So if you've been teaching at the Academy, either here or off-world through a choice that wasn't your own- that must mean that you've lost your ship and not been assigned a new one." McIntyre had given himself enough time to work out how he was able to size them up so perfectly. "Until now. So the question is, what else does your PADD tell you about us, Captain Williams?"

"You tell me," Tim said, standing and making his way over to their table. "I always get bored reading personnel records, I can never get past the first two sentences. And you were close, by the way, but I haven't taught at the Academy for a good three years, after which I got back aboard the same old ship that I had before."

McIntyre snapped his fingers loudly and laughed. "I'm a bit rusty."

"Not too rusty, I hope," Tim replied, brandishing his Padd. "According to this, you're my new security chief and helmsman."

"Not at all." He said, regarding the Captain's casual style. "A couple of months of having counselling sessions every other day takes its toll but we're fighting fit and raring to go."

"Just don't ask us about our feelings, skipper," Hawke interjected. He suddenly felt a great weight lift off his shoulders and he sat up just that little bit straighter. The frustration of being grounded and session after session after session with counselors were already fading into memory. "If I ever see another counselor, it'll be too soon!"

Tim just smiled knowingly, deciding to let the two find out for themselves that they'll have a counsellor onboard the ship. Just then, his com-badge chirped. "Commander Stone to Captain Williams."

"Williams here."

"We've completed the evaluation of your ship, captain, and she has been certified as space-worthy. The official documents releasing her to you will be on the desk in your ready room."

"About time! Williams out."

Standing, Tim looked at his two new officers. "Care to join me to see your new home?"

Hawke all but leaped out of his seat as the instant excitement of the chance to see his new bird overwhelmed him. "Hells yeah!" he said, then quickly downed the rest of his drink.

As they walked out, Hawke leaned close to McIntyre and said, in a voice that the captain couldn't hear, "How is it you can profile this guy and determine who is in about five seconds ... but you suck at poker?"

"Who said I actually suck at poker?" McIntyre clapped Hawke on the shoulder. "Mister 'I-Touch-My-Temple-When-I'm-Bluffing."