[USS Vanguard] Living the cliche

  • From: "Alexander Keenan" <alexander.keenan@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: <ncv80221@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Mon, 8 Nov 2004 11:09:28 -0000

Lt.Sam McCaw
During Recent posts

This was not a day of progress. Sam watched the clock as his Asrophysics
lecturer bemoaned the lack of cartographic information from a particular
stretch of Klingon space. Having witnessed his mother do buisiness with
Klingons Sam could perfectly understand why they weren't sharing their data
with this particular weak livered waterery eyed old fogey. Sam made a mental
note to ask his mother about thsi Klinzai place later...

In the Mess hall Sam was accosted by two buddies from the flight team, both
already lairy and talking of a soujorn to the strip joints on Columbus
Avenue near North Beach. Today however Sam was in to mood for their
ebullience and brushed them off. He left the mess hall and wandered into
town, carrying his introspective melancholy with him. He missed life onboard
ship - sky diving and high jinks were not substitute for the lasting
excitement of stellar exploration. I wasn't that his mother's wayfaring
freighter was really discovering new life and new civilisations, but she was
getting more done than Sam was by pootling around the Sol system in an
academy shuttle 'learing' how to fly - as if there was a rule book!

Somewhere on Mission Street, Sam was overcome by the need for Scotch and
wandered into the first bar he found. A rowdy group of students occupied one
corner and a haze of smoke hung in the air.

"Double Scotch please, no ice."

A voice from behing his shoulder offered "Want to reconsider fly boy..."

With heavy heart, Sam realised he'd not removed his flight team jacket
before leaving the academy and as such might as well be wearing a "kick me"
sign. He clenched his fists.

"Ghobe'! Toba!"

Nick Santos only laughed. "Take it easy, we're not on Kronos now. There's a
special on Sangria is all." Santo made a signal to the bartender who set
about fixing two more jugs. Feeling a little foolish, Sam offered a hand
"I'm sorry, too much time in around Klingons. My name's Sam."

Santos shook his hand and led him back to their table "Nick Santos, I've
seen you around..."

As the pair headed back to the rowdy table in the corner the barman heaved a
deep sigh, it was Qbed and she was frankly amazed at the ability of
Starfleet officers to congregate in bars waiting for trouble to start. It
was almost like they were trained to look for Nausicans. Something had to be
done to upset this cliche....!


(ooc: Tag! ... and for the record, please don't ever stop congregating in
bars waiting for trouble - I like it!)
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