I Hate This Game

Posted on Mon Apr 6th, 2015 @ 1:51pm by Lieutenant Commander Horatio Hawke & Lieutenant Commander Ciaran McIntyre

Episode: Trauma
Location: The Brew House, Pike City
Timeline: 2 December 2390

"There's no way," Hawke said, holding his pint up to his lips but not yet taking a drink. He and Mac were at what had become their usual table in the Brew House over the past few weeks. "Sure, she's old, but there's no way she's over a hundred and twenty."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you." McIntyre replied, trying not to peer to closely at the owner of the bar without being too obvious. He knew Joanie well enough; she probably already knew they were talking about her. "I was reading a record in the Cestus archive- I was looking for information on a distant relative- and it definitely referenced her as being here in twenty-two-seventy."

Hawke took a long draught of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Definitely her?" he asked, nodding toward Joanie. "Not someone else with the same name?"

"The same as the one above the door- there aren't many Joanies on Cestus," McIntyre thought on it for a moment. "I doubt it was a relation."

The pilot thought for a moment and did his best to watch Joanie without looking directly at her. After a while he conceded the point, "I suppose it's possible," he said. He drained the rest of his pint and pushed the empty across the table to Mac. "Why don't you ask her while you get the next round?"

"Smart arse." Mac replied as he stood up and took the empty glasses over to the bar. The Brew House was empty at this time of the day and Joanie was immediately over, bussing the glasses and smiling a weary smile at the Lieutenant.

"What'll it be, son?"

"Just the same again please, Joanie." Mac, who found himself adopting a more obvious Scottish accent every time he spoke to her, replied. "Joanie, if you don't mind my asking. I found a historical record which references a Joanie O'Leary running this place in twenty-two-seventy. Was it a relation of yours?"

Joanie seemed unfazed by the question and placed the two glasses down on the bar and offered a cryptic response. "You should never ask a lady her age, Mac."

Hawke was leaning forward on his elbows, listening intently to the exchange. He snorted a laugh when he heard Joanie's response and quickly looked out the window, suddenly very interested in the brickwork of the building across the street.

Mac returned to the table with his tail between his legs and the glasses in hand. He muttered something incomprehensible and glared at his companion. "That went well."

Hawke was doing his best to contain his laughter and so purposefully avoided eye contact with his friend. He hadn't had a good laugh in a little while and it did feel good, but the last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself; as if that hadn't happened enough since the Endeavour went down.

"You know, I hate playing this game, O'Leary!" A voice rang into the Brew House from outside. It was a terse, high-pitched, vicious voice and it didn't sound any friendlier when its owner appeared through the threshold, flanked by two burly looking humans.

The menacing tone shook Hawke right out of his mirth and his jaw set into the straight face he usually wore. He exchanged a concerned look with Mac and then looked past him to the newcomers.

They clearly hadn't noticed the two officers sitting in the corner as one of the thugs, clearly under some pre-given orders, knocked a few of the glasses down onto the floor. Their leader, the weasely little man with the pointed nose only outdone by his sharpened chin wandered aimlessly around the bar, knocking things over. "Where's my money, O'Leary?"

Was this really happening? Hawke thought, feeling adrenaline flow through his veins; a not at all pleasant sensation.

The pointed chin continued his verbal assault on a silent Joanie. "You owe us our protection money!"

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" Mac had risen from his chair and was manoeuvring to put himself between the 'creditors' and the bar.

Mac had moved halfway across the empty bar before Hawke realised what was happening. Dammit, he cursed, but he didn't slow his instinct to back up his mate. He rose and followed Mac into the fray.


To be continued ...