Of Bathtub Gin and 'Blue'

Posted on 15 Oct 2016 @ 1:39pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Lieutenant JG Astrid Jurgen

Mission: Prelude; Breakfast at Curmudgeon's
Location: Various, Ending on Deck 9, "Backwater Gulch"
Timeline: MD -1: 2200 Hours

The constant background hum of the large station had become un-noticeable to Astrid, it was almost comforting - in the way the engine noise on a ship was more notable by its absence. Deep in the bowels of the huge structure, she made her way along a Jeffries tube, mentally cursing the designer for the tiny size of the crawlspace she found herself in. Finally arriving at an access hatch, she popped the panel off and stared at the main network junction inside. This close to a computer core, it was understandably busy - the visual indicators being the number of blinking and pulsing lights showcasing the throughput. Using her Tricorder, Astrid noted the energy signature was very slightly off - it was was still well within specs, but it was enough to get her attention.

Putting the Tricorder away she began to check the connections one by one. Following the path of one such connection, she used her fingers to trace where it vanished behind a bulkhead - and it was there she came across something unexpected. Twisting the object away from the wall of the junction box, she withdrew it to find herself staring at a small data amplifier and transmitter, something definitely not part of the original design. Opening her tool case, she stashed it in an empty storage pocket, then used her Tricorder to check the energy signature of the network junction once more - it was now exactly as she expected it to be. Crawling back out of the confined space, Astrid made her way to Station Security, someone had planted that device, and she was sure they would want to know about this.

Apparently she was wrong. After half an hour of explaining the box to a bored Security Officer, Astrid was walking out of the main security offices shaking her head when she was stopped by a messenger.

"Astrid Jurgen?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Yes, that's me."

The messenger nodded and handed her a PADD, before getting her to scan her thumb on his logging tool.

"Have a nice day." he intoned, before dashing off down the wide corridor again.

Astrid watched him disappear, then looked down at the PADD in her hands. It took her a moment to register that it wasn't simply another list of repairs from Lieutenant Bowyer but was in fact transfer orders, effective immediately. She scanned down quickly, hoping that she was finally getting a shipboard assignment, her heart skipping a beat as it was confirmed - the USS Arizona, a Sovereign class vessel! She frowned, the name seemed familiar to her, and suddenly it clicked - the ship was right here in Spacedock.

Moving to a table, she opened her tool case once more - scanning down her remaining jobs for the shift. Nothing major, two small tasks that shouldn't take longer than another hour, then she could officially sign off and pack her things. Pushing the excitement down, she hurried off in an attempt to be done as soon as possible.

As ever, things took a lot longer than planned and so it was rather late by the time Astrid finally boarded the vessel. Unpacking her meagre possessions in her quarters she realised she was far too wired to actually sleep, and so decided to explore the ship. Just over an hour later she discovered the main crew lounge, largely deserted at that time of night. Walking up to the bar, she sat on a stool near another late night drinker and waited for the barkeep to notice her.

"What will you have?" The barkeep asked.

"What do you have in the way of single malts?" Astrid asked.

The bartender shrugged at the question, "All depends on what you like. We've got just about everything."

"Before you do that," the old man sitting directly to Astrid's right interrupted, "You got any more of that 'green' from the other day?"

"No," the barman confessed, "But I do have this..."

The man produced a bottle of liquid with a stunning shade of blue that made Romulan Ale look pale and uninteresting. He set the bottle in front of the old man and set out a glass. "It's 'blue'," was all the bartender said by way of identification, making it clear that it wasn't related to Romulan Ale. The old man held up two fingers, which seemed to mean something to the barkeep because he produced a second glass and slid it over to him.

"I'll tell you now, if 'blue' is anything like the 'green' they get around here, you won't easily wander back to regular brands," the man in the red uniform said as he poured himself a glass, then filled the other and slid it over to the woman. The angle at which he was sitting obscured his rank from the woman, and even as took a sip of the blue, he didn't move in such a way that it was visible.

"Damn good stuff... doesn't burn as bad as 'green' but I already feel it..." the man said with a smirk.

Astrid lifted the glass, swirling the blue liquid around inside it, before raising it to her lips and taking a mouthful. Raising her eyebrows, she drained the glass before sliding it back along.

"Not bad, not bad at all," she commented, "The color-based naming system adds to the charm of it I think."

"Could," the man shrugged, "If anything, a name would just set you up for something of a letdown. I can remember years ago, walking into an old backwater like this back on Earth if you ordered something by name, usually they didn't have it but they had something they said was close. It never was... Now, you order it by how clear you want it, then you were looking at maybe getting something decent out of the deal. Used to be, the clear stuff would put you on your ass in about ten minutes. The closer toward piss colored you went, the slower it got. Once you ran afoul of the stuff that looked like mud... you could drink that for hours and just barely maintain the buzz. Cheap as all hell too. Never go for the cheap shit. It'll run through you like a Klingon chasing a Tribble and knock loose everything from your mouth to your asshole on the way."

"Makes sense," Astrid nodded her agreement, "The stuff they'd distil on the freighter I grew up on was as clear as it gets." She laughed, "I don't think I can remember having more than three shots of that at any one time - I may have had more, but I don't remember it!"

"Bathtub gin... I remember cooking some of that stuff up years ago. Can't for the life of me remember the damn mixture anymore, been about three or four hundred years since I made it. I will say this though, it was damn good stuff. Just south of alcohol poisoning when you had more than four of them. No one ever got past three," the man chuckled to himself.

"Not alive anyway." Astrid grinned, pouring herself another glass of blue, before proffering the bottle back to her drinking companion and looking around the space. "Seems we're the last people in here," she noted, "I wonder how much of the crew have made it aboard so far?"

"Most of 'em," the old man said as he finished his glass and took another, "And if people don't piss around too much, ought to be out of the dock in the next few days. Then the real fun starts..."

Astrid realised two things at that point. The first was the colour of uniform her companion was wearing, and the second was that he seemed rather well informed. Filling her glass for the third, and she decided final, time - she took a sip before looking sideways at her drinking companion

"Should I be calling you 'Sir'?" Astrid finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

"While I'm here drinkin', nah," the older man said before turning just far enough to reveal the four golden pips on his collar, "When I haven't got a glass in my hand... probably would seem appropriate. Pretty much everyone else will, and we can't be playin' favorites just because you're a good drinkin' buddy."

"That's fair." Astrid nodded, "My dad was big into the chain of command too."

She took another sip from her glass and tilted her head in thought.

"Of course he always claimed it was the chain he'd beat you with until you understood who was in command."

"If it works, don't fix it," the Captain said before making the rest of his blue drink disappear, "Damn good stuff. And now that my head is a little fuzzy, I'm going to stumble through the corridors and take myself to sleep. Might even wake up early enough to make it to the bridge before 0800 tomorrow... but who knows, I might sleep in. Best damn thing about being the boss is I set my own hours. Let it never be said there aren't perks."

The Old Man swiveled around in his chair and slowly rose to his feet, testing which way his body thought gravity was strongest before slapping the woman on the shoulder, "Have fun with Mr. Pixels down there in Engineering, Miss Jurgen. I don't envy you having to deal with a hologram with a bad case of 'woe is me'. And don't be a stranger to the Gulch either."

Astrid grinned to herself and shook her head, he'd clearly known exactly who she was all along.

"Goodnight Sir." she replied, tilting her glass in his direction as he disappeared through the doors, before draining it and then standing herself.

"Thanks." she nodded to the bar keep, before heading back to her quarters. Tomorrow she'd need to check in with the CEO, but the Captain's parting comments made her decide to read some personnel files before she did so. It seemed things might be more interesting on the Arizona than she'd dared hope.