Helm and Ops walk into a bar....

Posted on 06 Jun 2020 @ 9:21am by Lieutenant Mitchell Graham

Mission: Mission 4 - Race against the machine
Location: Medusa's Head
Timeline: MD 3 1900
1911 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure

After a day of checking the operations of the ship, sifting through readings,fielding communications, it was time for his shift to end. Some food, some drink against the background of muted talk of people gathered in one place was sounding pretty good. He liked to be around people watching as they interacted with each other. There were some that liked to sit alone at times, others, they liked to sit with friends. He'd been getting to know members of the command staff and those who served on the bridge. There was one person he'd not talked with outside of work, and that was Lieutenant Graham. He wasn't certain if Graham would accept his invitation to meet at the Medusa's Head but it was worth a shot.

When he got to his quarters, Michael sent him a message inviting Graham to meet him there. With that done, Michael headed there himself. Just stepping inside to see if Graham had arrived all ready.

He had not, but it took less than two minutes for the helmsman to walk through the double doors. He returned a wave from a couple who were sitting by the large observation windows, then met Hawkins at the bar. "Evening, Mister Hawkins. Long time no see." It was a joke, of course. They spent their entire duty shift sitting next to each other on the bridge.

Michael grinned, "Evening, Mister Graham it certainly has been quite a long time." he quipped back. "Nice weather we're having don't you think?"

The person manning the bar glanced at Michael momentarily with a quizzical expression, "A Shirley Temple if you would please." Michael ordered. "And give me double the cherries."

"Are you allergic to synthehol?" Mitchell asked as the bartender filled the order. "I assure you it's safe." Then he added his own order. "Saurian brandy, please."

In a mock pirate tone Michael replied. "Arrr matey, I be not allergic to synthehol, when ye be drinking the grog of the seven seas like a true pirate ye not be allergic to most drinks". Michael took one of his cherries and popped it in his mouth, then said in a normal tone. "I just was in the mood for a Shirley Temple." he chuckled. " And truth be told, i have had grog to drink, and blood wine."

The bartender set the Saurian brandy down in front of Graham. He took a small sip and set it back on the bar. "At my previous duty assignment I had a night in the town with some Klingons. They were from some cruiser or something. First shore leave they'd had in weeks. I remember drinking blood wine with them, laughing it up. Next thing I know I'm waking up in someone else's clothes on a planet thirty light years away, middle of a jungle, loaded disruptor in one hand, and some Risiian girl passed out next to me. She had my uniform on." He took another small sip and added, "Well, the pants anyway."

"An incredibly awkward and humorous situation." Michael chuckled "The Klingons do have quite the sense of humor. And evidently from you being here, you and the beautiful Risilian girl were able to get out of your situation." Michael finishing off his Shirley Temple then ate the rest of the cherries. "He turned to the bartender. "Saurian Brandy please."

He looked at Mitchell. " I can't say I've had that happen to me." raising his glass towards the helmsman, when his drink was brought over.

"We were stranded there for eight days," Graham added. "Had no idea where we were, and my universal translator wasn't working, so this girl and I couldn't understand each other. By the time it was all over I had learned a few phrases in her language." He took another sip. "Starfleet had ten shuttles and roundabouts out looking for me. The girl's parents also hired a private investigator. They were people of some importance, but I was never clear what exactly. Boy, we're they sore with her." He grinned. "But enough about my not-so-proud moments. How's it going on your end? Liking it here so far?"

"It's going well enough, and yes I am liking it here so far." Michael smiled. " I've been working with Iola, the lady from the Crossroads. I've been helping her with her speech and she's been making a lot of progress."

"Iola. She's the Orion, right? She's a lovely one. So is it just the speech therapy, or is there something more going on there?"

"Speech therapy, mainly, but I am also opening her world up to different aspects she's not even experienced. Like eating ice cream. I think there is a friendship developing between us. From what I can tell, and what she's told me, she had been rather secluded where she grew up. I am thinking of seeing about others who are willing to help her out on her speech too. Also I have been treating her like a lady, of which she is. If you ever take her out to get a meal, don't and I mean definitely do not ask for stew. Iola and I had a close encounter with two bowls of stew which was not pleasant."

"How about you, do you have any interest in anyone?" Michael queried, before taking a drink.

Mitchell turned and surveyed the room. "Well, not at the moment, but you never know what will come through the doors. What's the story with the stew? Not some kind of stomach virus, I hope?"

Michael softly chuckled, "Nah no stomach virus. I had met Iola for dinner, we ordered stew, and well one of the wait staff was on his way to deliver our food when someone stood up at the wrong time. Sent the stew catapulting through the air, and I'm sure you can guess the next part, Iola and I were wearing our dinner instead of eating it. It was a mess."

The helmsman grinned. "Is that all? That doesn't sound so bad. You can both laugh about it someday." He downed the remainder of his drink and set the glass on the bar with a sharp click. Hearing his cue, the bartender appeared and poured a refill. "So what did happen after that? Date over? Or did you carry on?"

Michael finished his drink, and put his glass down for his own to get refilled. "The date wasn't over, clothing was changed. We ended up having a later dinner, sandwiches and fries and a drink. Nothing fancy. We agreed though from then on, that next time we went out to dinner, no stew. It will definitely be a joke between us." Michael laughed quietly.

"How long have you been serving on the Andromeda?" Michael asked.

"Not long at all," Graham answered. "I think we reported aboard around the same time." He thought so but wasn't sure. It seemed a lot of junior officers had come aboard around the same time. "Although with everything going on, it sometimes feels like we've been here a couple of years already. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean."Michael motioned for another drink after he drained his glass dry."Here's hoping we can get through this. And why not, with you at the helm. I've noticed that you've got some skills, and you seem rather comfortable being at the helm. Any aspirations at a command of your own?"

Graham answered with a nervous chuckle and a noncommittal shrug. "Sure, I've thought about it. Lately the Captain has me pulling extra duties to get certified and current on the center seat. It's quite a bit of work. How about you? What sort of thing are you passionate about?"

" I think you are doing fine. As for me, I have quite a few things that I am passionate about. Probably due to my upbringing. My parents believed in having their children explore what life could offer, and definitely having a rather well rounded education. The major things I am passionate about is,sailing a tall ship, and exploring space." his eyes lighting up as he mentioned the latter. " I would love to be in command of my own ship sometime down the road, much like my Grandfather Hawkins. He used to be in command of the USS Brixham, a science exploration ship. He retired a few years back.I had hoped to be able to serve on that ship while he was in command. " Michael shrugged. " I did get to serve on that ship, until they decommissioned her a few months back. It was heartbreaking to see grandad standing on the bridge one last time."

Michael's face turned somber, his eyes going a little bit misty. He looked down at his glass to collect himself.

"What are you passionate about?"

Graham nodded empathetically, his mind still focused on his friend's missed opportunity to serve with his own grandfather. It would have been a great memory. Then, realizing that Hawkins had changed the subject to something else, he blurted out, "Oh, uh...Parrises Squares. I played on the Academy team, but it's been years. Do you play?"

"I've played a few times." Michael answered, "Parrises Squares is quite the grueling game." he grinned. "Another game that I like even more is Rugby." He looked at Mitchell, "Have you played Rugby?"

"Yeah, once," Graham said with a laugh. "Some friends from Samoa once convinced me to play a pick-up game. It was fun, but I was bruised and sore for a week."

Michael chuckled,"Oh they definitely play rough. I had a friend who was convinced to play a game with his Samoan friend. As soon as he stepped on the field they all shouted, Fresh meat! He was the only caucasian, around 5' 10", playing rugby with men who were on the average of 6'4" the smallest to the tallest which was 6'7". He survived. The only reason why he survived was he was rather quick on his feet, when he had the ball. He declined to play next time an invitation was sent. "

Michael went silent for a few moments, then he looked at Mitchell, "What inspired you to join up in StarFleet?"

"Let me think," Graham said, his eyes wandering upward to the ceiling. "It was probably when I was a kid. I visited a Starfleet ship that stopped at our colony. The USS Valour. It was the nicest, cleanest ship I had ever seen in my life. The crew looked sharp in their uniforms, and they were all very friendly and professional." He shrugged. "I guess I liked what I saw. Seemed like a good job. Besides, I was getting to the age where I wanted to get off my boring planet and see other places." He smiled. "What about you?"

"I can honestly say, I was inspired by my Grandfather after hearing his stories of exploration and seeing new planets, meeting new people." Michael said with a smile.

Graham smiled at the second mention of the man's grandfather. He obviously meant a lot to the young man. He held his empty glass out to the bartender. "Let's have another round for Grandpa Hawkins, shall we?"

Michael nodded raising his glass as well, glad for what seemed to be a beginning of a friendship.



●● Lieutenant Mitchell Graham
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Andromeda

● “ Ensign Michael Hawkins“
Chief Operations Officer
USS Andromeda