[USS Vanguard] RPG: I've Seen Fire And I've Seen Rain
- From: "andywoho@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx" <andywoho@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: ncv80221@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2004 13:23:33 -0600
Capt. Dominic Santos
Hong Kong/Old England
After Mr Kavan's Post
RPG:
Capt. Dominic Santos stepped out of the refresher and called out to his sister.
"Petra?"
"Sssh!" said the nurse standing by his father's bed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Santos said, lowering his voice. "I was looking for my sister."
"She left a few minutes ago. I passed her in the hallway."
Santos frowned.
"She was with another man," the nurse said, noticing Santos's confusion. "I
think she was going for a cup of coffee."
"Right. Thanks."
Santos entered the cafeteria and spotted his sister sitting at the table he had
begun to think of as "theirs" by the window.
He came up behind his sister as she was finishing some anecdote that had made
the other man laugh.
She stopped short as she looked at Kavan, who had noticed Capt. Santos.
"Nick!" Petra said, standing up. "This is..."
Kavan stood up. "Chief Petty Officer Kent Kavan, sir. It's a pleasure to meet
you. I hope I'm not intruding."
Santos nodded. He couldn't explain why, but instead of feeling put out, what he
felt was more guilt than anything else.
"Not at all, Mister Kavan," Santos said, taking the man's hand. "I'm sorry you
weren't given a more formal welcome. We'll have to do something about that."
"It's all right, sir. Petty Officer Wats gave me a tour and welcomed me aboard
earlier."
"Right. I'm glad to hear it."
"Kent was just telling me this is his first visit to Hong Kong, Nick," Petra
said.
Santos turned from Kavan to Petra to Kavan again. "Riiight," he said.
Kavan stood up again. "I've obviously caught you at a bad time, Captain.
Perhaps I should..."
"Not at all, Mister Kavan. I'm having dinner tonight with a few members of the
crew. Perhaps you'd care to join us later."
"Certainly, sir. Formal attire?"
"Nothing like that. More of an informal affair. I'll send you the location
later, if you like."
"I'm looking forward to it, sir. And thank you."
"Of course, you're welcome," Santos replied. Kavan got up to leave, collecting
his things.
"And Mister Kavan?" Santos said. Kavan turned to look at him. "Welcome to the
Vanguard."
_____________________________________
[Hours later]
As a student at Starfleet, Nick Santos had whiled away many an off-duty hour
with Bonaparte "Blown Apart" Stamper and Hernando "Henny " Silva in the
environs (and pubs) of Old England.
Ducking out of the wind and rain, Nick Santos entered an old favorite--the Fox
& Hounds just outside Bathwick.
He took off his Starfleet overcoat and unwrapped the muffling scarf, hanging
them on the coat rack by the door.
He looked around, unable to resist the smile playing at his lips.
Not much had changed in the hundreds of years the public house had stood at the
spot.
A fire in the fireplace, stone walls and wooden tables.
Nearby, a gambling machine showed a hologram of a woman pulling three "Bars"
out of thin air. She smiled and gestured at the "jackpot."
A family sat in the dining room, the husband cutting up chunks of pizza for a
toddler girl while an infant boy sat and watched from a pneumatic high chair.
"Will you eat this bite, then, darling?" he asked her.
She turned her head away in disgust. "No! I won't eat pineapple on pizza!
That's disgusting!"
"Do listen to your father and try a bite, love," the mother said, clearly at
the end of her patience.
"No!" the little girl insisted.
Santos turned from this picture of domestic bliss and walked up to the bar.
"All right, mate?" the barman asked.
"Yeah, how about you?" Santos replied.
"What can I getcher?" he asked.
"Pint of John Smith's, sidecar of Southern Comfort."
"Ooer," he exclaimed, "that's a wicked combination, that is."
Santos shrugged and smiled.
The barman placed his drinks in front of him and turned to the computer.
Santos drained the little glass of Southern Comfort and placed the empty back
on the bar.
The barman turned around and looked at the empty glass.
"I was thirsty," Santos said.
"Aye," he said, "I guess you were. That will be 32 new pounds sterling, please."
"Right, so you're still on the old system," Santos said, producing his
Starfleet micro-PADD.
"Some things never change around here, Mister Captain."
"Here, here," Santos said, lifting his pint glass. "To Old England--may she
forever remain true."
"Aye," the barman nodded. "I'll join you in a toast."
As the barman turned to his glasses, Santos eavesdropped on the customers next
to him at the bar.
"...and I told Mick, I did, I told him, 'Well, Andoria United's crap this year,
aren't they?' And he said, 'What, John? How many championships have Vulcan won
in the last century, then?'"
"Cor..." his friend exclaimed, empathizing with "John."
Santos smiled and looked at the bottom of his glass. He sat down and watched
football (New Berlin City versus Real Madrid) on the big-screen as he waited
for his crew, his friends, to join him.
OoC: Tried my best to get the English speech pattern right. ;) Does anyone who
hasn't eaten dinner want to join the captain for a pie and a pint?
=================
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