[USS Tempest] You Gotta Be In It to Win It
- From: TKilyle@xxxxxxx
- To: ussgeorgetown@xxxxxxxxxxxxx, usstempest@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Fri, 2 Feb 2007 18:32:48 EST
You Gotta Be In It to Win It
by Jesse 'JD' Orosco & Patrick 'Mac' McEntire with Ralph the Klingon and
Quark
Sitting on the cell's bench with his back propped up against the corner,
Jesse realized that he, of all people, should have known better. He realized
that he could have avoided the fight and, therefore, his enforced visit to
DS9's brig. Despite that, he was still there and the only thing he was
particularly sorry about (for the moment in any case since Tempest's Security
personnel and the captain had yet to appear) was the fact that station security
had
confiscated his aluminum bat.
He sighed and opened one dark brown eye to peer at his cell mate. "We're in
deep trouble, Mac, really deep trouble."
"Gee," Mac laughed, wiping the blood from his lip and shaking his head
ruefully. "Ya think?"
"Just a bit," Jesse said, holding his arm up slowly, fingers a breadth
apart. He didn't dare move his head. It would fall off if he did. Of that
he
was sure. "I suppose I should've just gone home but no......"
~~~~~
Jesse left the holosuite at Quark's in a peculiar state of mind. He'd been
told not to mention the encounter to the wrong people and, if he was honest
with himself, he wasn't sure anyone would believe him any way. No, talking
about that right now would only give him a head ache. What he needed, he told
himself, was a nice cold one.
Mac left Josh's room shaking his head. When had he ever seen his friend
sleep that long? The nurse insisted he was doing better, though. Still not
nearly
ready to be released, but on the mend. He spoke briefly with Zachary, then
headed to Quark's. He seriously needed a drink.
Quark stomped up to the hewmon who'd been in the holosuites, his beady eyes
narrowed even further. He'd been in there an hour or so and no time had come
off his credit slip. "Are you going to pay, Lieutenant Commander, or are
you going to cheat me like you just did?" the Ferengi asked.
"Sorry sir, but I had nothing to do with that," Jesse said carefully. He
dropped into a chair, sticking sneakered feet out to the side. "I'll pay if
you have real beer."
"Yes, yes, you will," Quark grumbled as he made his way back to the bar.
"Make that two and leave out the water this time, will you, Quark?" Mac
called as he sat at the next table.
Jesse recognized the tall blond from the throng of would be rescuers who'd
been stuck aboard Tempest. He supposed a bit of normal conversation might
distract him from that weird one he'd just had. "McEntire, isn't it?" he
asked,
making a beckoning motion. "Pull a chair up and have a seat."
"That's me," Mac answered with an easy smile, joining the man. "Friends call
me Mac."
Jesse held out a hand. "While known in my not so secret life as Counselor
Orosco, I'm Jesse or JD." He waved at his decidedly casual civilian attire
and the accompanying aluminum baseball bat. "I was up playing softball
practice in the holosuites and watching old games."
Mac grinned. "Yeah, I figured something like that. My dad was a huge fan of
baseball when I was a kid. Insisted we all learn the game." Nodding his
thanks and laying out the credits for both beers as Quark returned with them,
he
added. "To this day he swears there's no game out there to match it. He won't
even watch Turbo Ball. Says it's a rip off of the classic."
Jesse took a long gulp of the beer then grinned. "I love a purist like
that. Tells you a lot about how a person thinks. Probably why people think
I'm
a bit obsessed."
"Everyone has their obsessions, I guess." Grinning slightly as he reached
again for his beer he added, "Some more than others." Slowly the grin faded as
he thought of his friend. Shaking it off, he forced the grin to return,
remembering where the topic had began. "Yup, my dad is a purist about a lot of
things. Baseball, the vineyards. Those old petroleum fueled vehicles. He loved
it last time I dragged Bean along with me and he got them all running for him.
He was like a kid at Christmas playing with them things."
"Can't say as I've ever seen one of those actually working except in a
museum," Jesse mused, leaning back in the chair slightly. "But, there's
definitely nothing wrong with obsessions with games. Even the Klingons have
it. It's
really just chess but they call it klin zha and it gets very complicated."
"Stupid Human," came a snarling voice. "You mispronounce."
Turning to the speaker, Mac smiled disarmingly and shrugged, "S'alright.
Just chalk it up to our upbringing. I didn't notice and I'm the one he was
talking to. Tell you what. You find yourself someone real smart to talk to who
won't go mispronouncing all them words, and we'll just go on sitting here
chatting quietly amongst ourselves. Sound good? Good." Turning back to Jesse as
if
that had settled the whole matter he asked, intentionally pronouncing the
words the same way, "Klin zha, huh?"
He shouldn't have. Jesse realized later that that was the moment he could
have just gotten up and left but nooooo...he had to keep talking. "Right,
that's the one. They have lots of versions of it and a lot of them are pretty
complicated." He shrugged and spoke just a bit louder. "Now I'm sure our
ship's ambassador is sharp enough t'play the tough versions but I somehow
doubt
Ralph of Qo'noS over there's got the mentality."
"Ralph, huh?" Mac snorted, having almost choked on his beer. "Is that what
that smell was? I thought Quark had people to clean that up?"he said.
Wondering if the Klingon got the joke or not, he added to clarify,"Doesn't he
know
drinking too much is usually what makes people ralph? Most folks don't
recommend drinking more after that. Especially in his case. Can you imagine him
replicating?"
Jesse grinned widely at Mac's word play. "You know, come to think of it, I
think I picked that name because there was this big, ugly bully kid named
Ralph in my elementary school." He pointed over his shoulder toward the
irritated Klingon, who was still clearly listening. "Kinda like this one, he
was
big and not too terribly bright. Definitely not bright enough to trounce
anybody through brains so I'm sure brawn comes into play."
Mac roared with laughter. "That musta been it."
Ralph was literally starting to foam at the mouth in anger. First the
Humans had the gall to discuss the game but to discuss it so disrespectfully!
He
was shaking with anger just listening to them, completely ignoring the only
other Klingon in the place.
"So, I'm serious. This game's just like chess," Jesse said as he drained
his beer. "Takes days on end at times. The masters have a great attention
span. Suppose you need it for that sorta detail. Takes cunning and skill and
makes them great battle planners."
"Well, that leaves out old Ralphy boy, doesn't it," Mac agreed.
Hindsight being 20/20, Jesse realized later that it had to have been the
beer. He hadn't had any real stuff in a long time. That had to be what made
him twist in his seat and look right at Ralph. He grinned widely at the
rather
large and, in his opinion, very rank smelling man. "Is that why you're
still a bek, Ralph? Hmm? Guy your age oughtta be dead or a lot higher up."
Ralph stood up so fast that his chair fell over. "You will regret that,
Human."
"Dopey bastard, you play very badly. You should have been able to hear me
tell my friend there what my name was. It isn't Human."
Mac bit back a laugh but braced himself. He could all but guess what was
coming now.
"Orosco," JD said slowly as if speaking to an idiot or a small child.
"Remember that: Jesse David Orosco." And then he swung the heavy glass mug
right
at the Klingon's head.
OH, SHIT!, Mac thought as he moved swiftly to take out the massive Klingon's
legs, hopefully before his great ham fist made contact with Orosco's jaw.
Of course Ralph ducked or, to be precise, he dodged the swinging Human's
arc. He bolted out of his chair, reaching to grab the dark haired Human, but
the one with the sickly colored hair struck at him first. He stumbled just as
the dark haired one fell flat on his back.
"Son of a..." Jesse growled as he scrambled to his feet. He paused half
way, spying his aluminum bat, which had been pushed aside. Reaching for it,
he
grinned ferally. "Wonder if these're better for anything other than
softball?"
"Batter up," Mac called as he leaned against the table and used his legs to
propel the still off balance Ralph toward Jesse.
There wasn't quite the satisfying thunk of softball on metal but Jesse's
grin widened as he heard the thunk of aluminum on muscle. Poor Ralph had been
given a home run right across the chest. Of course, that didn't quite knock
him down though it did stagger him.
"Oh damn," Jesse hissed.
Mac echoed the sentiment as the Klingon staggered toward him swinging. It
wouldn't have been so bad if it didn't look like more were about to join them.
Grabbing the nearest chair, he swung with all his might, felling "Ralph" as
the others approached.
If Quark had any hair to pull out, he would have. Oh the profits it was
going to cost to replace all that furniture! And the glasses! Though it did
seem to make the gamblers at the dabo table stay longer. He was torn between
letting the fight continue to it natural end and calling station security.
The decision was made for him within minutes as security officers flooded in.
"Watch my furniture! This is a Ferengi Embassage you know!" Quark whined as
the officers swarmed to pull the combatants apart.
Jesse was about to swing the bat again, to make up for the punch Ralph
landed, when he felt the bat's movement stop. At the same time, he was
grabbed by
the back of his collar, not unlike his fourth grade teacher once did to him.
"Uh oh..."
Mac was dragged up off the ground as soon as the Klingons above him had been
pulled away. He stood, silently swaying, as Security prepared to drag him
out.
Jesse turned his head slightly, to look up at the huge Bolian Security
officer, who held both him by his collar and who also held his bat. "I don't
suppose I can get that back, can I?" he asked. "It's an antique."
Mac broke out laughing at that as the officer gave Jesse a 'You've got to be
shitting me' look.
His feet almost off the deck, Jesse sort of shrugged. "Didn't think so," he
said with a heartfelt sigh. "Mac, we're going to jail."
Somehow that only made Mac laugh harder.
~~~~~~~~~~
"You know," Jesse said as kept his eyes closed, "if I'm really lucky, the
captain'll be so busy that she'll let somebody else bite my head off. Hell,
maybe she'll find it amusing."
Mac guffawed. "We are talking about Captain Craig, right?"
Jesse would have shrugged again but it seemed to hurt too much. "Yeah," he
said slowly. He gave Mac a cringing but hopeful look. "I just really just
got on board. You telling me it isn't likely?"
"Remember that snow ball?" Mac quipped, trying hard to sound sympathetic
through his snickering.
And Jesse just leaned his head back against the brig cell wall and groaned,
the groan both physical and mental.
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