You Need What?

Posted on Tue Jun 21st, 2016 @ 1:10am by Captain Rueben Gregnol
Edited on on Sat Jun 25th, 2016 @ 8:05am

Mission: Mission 1 - Bridges
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: MD -07 1530 Hrs
3160 words - 6.3 OF Standard Post Measure

ON;

Rueben sat at the bar, he was tired and looked ill even around green tinged Vulcans and Blue skinned Andorians. He held his head bitterly regretting what he had done to the Ensign from that ship, at least he now knew that Jeassaho was on the Mercury. She was now Chief Engineer and Second officer, seemed like he might have rubbed off on her after all. She had never seemed interested in leading though he knew she could especially after the Warp Core incident.

“How long have you been watching?” He wondered not looking up from his nectar. He knew Barton was there, it was like he appeared on schedule.

Bartons head shot around toward that oh-so familiar brogue, he’d always likened Ruebens thick accent to the vocal equivalent of a punch to the jaw. He carefully let a look of disinterested surprise cross his youthful features; while he snubbed out his safe-cigar on an ash tray with three harsh, deliberate jabs. His pale blue eyes were aching like they’d just run a marathon, if he was to spend another second feigning interest in the wall decor his brain was going to explode from boredom. For the last 15 minutes he’d dawdled back and forth across Ruebens line of sight, at this point he was wondering how long it would take the man to spot him. Even if Barton was actually trying to hide, let’s face it, on Vulcan he stuck out like a sore thumb. Even for him, the natural clime here was just to hot for a blazer; but his aberrantly cold skin still allowed for a heavy white shirt with a charcoal Donegal vest cinched about his skinny frame. With a blue-toned flannel bowtie clasping shut his collar, and a hair style best described only as radicle, he looked rather like he’d just stepped out of some eccentric ancient earth hologram. On Vulcan, that meant his visage in a crowd was as prominent aa a single red rose grown among a patch of white tulips. Even so, at this rate he was going to have to knock the stupid silver serving tray out of a passing waiters hands just to get his friends attention.

What ever had kept Rueben's gaze un-focused so long, it was something not even his flagrant style amid such a straight laced group could distract from. Barton should probably ask what was burning so at his soul, he knew he should. But he wouldn’t.

How could he, while still he fumed so vehemently at Rueben. After everything they had been through over the last three years, after all the truths Rueben had finally seen with his own two eyes, the bastard still thought Starfleet was a worthy cause. The worth cause in fact. As much as he loved him like a brother, he despised the man for that.

“You over estimate your value of interest.” He said dryly. Using rather salient motions he sauntered up to the bar and casually leaned against it, his body draped like a velveteen curtain over the railing. With his back to the serving counter, Barton flippantly cast his gaze across the milling crowd, pretending to find them infinitely more compelling than this chance meeting with his old friend. “I merely happened to be passing by and you spotted me. I’ve business in town for a spell, that’s all. Shaln’t be staying for a lengthy period, gotta keep moving along. What we have here.” Barton shifted his gaze to his rather forlorn looking friend, “is simply a coinkydink.”

With fleeting gaze Barton noted the glass of half drunk nectar, the same shabby leather jacket he’d worn for the last handful of years, the scruffy stubble prickling all over his face. If Rueben had already gone licking the highly polished boots of which ever superior he answered too, then Starfleet had a lot to say for the way it treated it’s Officers.

“I’m surprised not find you in uniform already.” He spat the remark out acidly, Rueben knew how unkindly Barton thoughts of Starfleet were, there was no point in hiding his disdain. “Expected your eyesight to be blinded by a shiny badge, your neck all chocked up by a red shirt. Thought you’d be gasping for air by now” He kind of knew how ironic that was. For the last 20 years, Barton felt that if he was ever to step outside his quarters not wearing a bowtie, no one would recognize him. That was different though, no one told Barton what to do, or how to do; not like his buddy who was busily drowning his oh-so-happy-lifestlye sorrows away with thick treacle.

“Then again.” Barton said pointedly, locking the glass in Ruebens hand with an obvious stare, “Perhaps you already are.”

“Bart.... Really do you really think that. It’s completely not true.” Rueben sighed squeezing his hand around the glass more. He was determined to drown his sorrows; he needed to forget Jeassaho, needed to forget he once had a future.

“It is too true!.” Barton chuckled lighty, keeping the facade of his overt disinterest intact. As far as he was considered, Rueben could do what the hell he wanted. “I know a desperate grasp when I see one. Your clasping at that glass like it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. Dangerous rode that.”

Between long spindly index finger and thumb, Barton toyed with the gold chain of his pocket watch. Such incremental fidgets helped him think, and the links that drooped like a rope across his vest, stretching from seem to the little pocket holding the device, was and ideal distraction for hands that helped induced pondering. The device itself was his favorite personal touch, the piece de resistance of his flair for the eccentric. In reality, the watch was a cleverly masked,nearly undetectable, portable access node. With 30 minutes and this antique styled-hack tech, Barton could gain access to nearly any computer console he was physical at. He never travelled without it, in fact - he was not certain he would be allowed to travel too Vulcan with out it. Those more refined customs identity scanners, the ones planets such as Vulcan possessed, they had a nasty habit of denying him entry into the more civilized enclaves of humanity.

Pulling his hand away again, he impercetably shook his head and scratched at the light beard on his chin. He’d spent so many years with Rueben that the man was more or less family. At times, that made it hard for him not to act like an older brother. Sure, he was a terrible role model and even worse influence, but he had the interests of Ruebens spirit at heart, even if not so his body or honor or chosen career path. It was true that Barton wanted to see gim well; failing that alive at the very least he would settle for.

Seeing as Rueben was a brooder, a silent sentinel who swallowed his problems and held them tight to his stomach; Barton was all to aware of the slippery slope he might end up walking. If his stoic friend was moody enough to drink, then there was like to be a demon lurking, one that would grind him into dust, cast him into oblivion and abandon him there. Barton would cringe to see that happen to the man he considered his little brother.

There was nothing he could do though - Rueben had made that perfectly clear. Never again, they were the words he had used before leaving, never again would he lower his life into the filth and degradation of Barton's world. Strong words that Barton took to heart; he’d leave Rueben to what ever devices so awaiting him here. It was nice though, to be able to say good bye; to see him one last time. They owed each other much.

“I’m picking up crew, that’s whats got me dragged to the un-fun capital of the universe.” Such a small morsel which said so much. He knew Rueben would not join him, as much had been seen said, rather tersely in fact. Still, he wanted it clear that his mind was also set, nothing had changed, not for Barton. If this life was filth, the he’d remain uncleansed.

“Well negotiating the terms of employment, offering employment... hunting a lead at the very least… point is I’ve a ship…. a real ship. Not yet, but soon; I know a guy who’s pretty certain about a deal, and let me tell you.” Barton made an ascending whistle, it sounded rather like the increasing pitched tone of a bomb destined to explode in short manner, “You can kiss those clunky little freighters and small time haulers good-bye, cause this.” Barton poked Rueben in the shoulder with his index finger a few times, as if driving the point home, “This is a real ship my friend… I’ll tell you a true beauty.”

Rueben shook his head, he didn't believe that in the slightest. Didn't believe that Barton had gotten a decent ship. They had been running from cartels for far to long to have anything decent.

Barton knew that resistance, the un-actioned roll of the eye. Rueben always thought Barton too quick with the tongue, always concocting some scheme or wheeling some deal. He had a word for it ‘Barton-isms’. Things not quite a lie, yet not quite true either.

Barton didn’t like people thinking him a liar - he was of course, prolific. But what was the point in being that way if everyone knew it. Of course, he had not come here for this, he did not want a fight. They were too disparate people, two souls with unequivocally different foundations upon which their personalities were built. Rueben was Starfleet through and through, while Barton - he was something else. That’s not what he came here to settle, or to prove. He just wanted to see Rueben one last time, say goodbye - maybe even say thank you.

“Remember when I bet you against Faldors finest sniper, and you clear hit a target 500m further away than he. That little clay marker thing smashed into smoke, everyone silent as the breeze carried the clay dust away. I know you felt mighty then, you should have, it was a mighty thing. You smiled and despite assuring me it was the most foolish thing I could do, you enjoyed it. Then Faldor got mad and we had to run, camping out in that Nebula for a full three days like that. Like driftwood in a swell. We couldn’t take the Divern anywhere near that sector again, not ever again.” Barton sighed thinking about everything they had been through over the last three years, what a time. “Those somber sots, they’ll never let you have fun like that, you know that Rue?”

It was all he could think of to say We had a time, what ever else came of it, there will always be that. For Rueben though, his first call had always been duty and helping those more in need. He could be sanctimonious pain in the ass at times. A saintly soul was nothing but a burden to Barton and Ruebens un-taintable sense of morality only served to get in the way of business. Perhaps they were both better off, parting like this.

It would mean Barton was faced with having to figure out how to do this alone. Oh, Barton was a great idea’s man and a talented hacker, and he had that kind of un-corkable enthusiasm which usually found him leading others, mostly because he kept striving forward, sweeping the crowds prudence aside in the wake of his fervor.

And Barton had captained ships before, but only cumbersome freighters that needed three crew, and one of those was usually a hired gun. He’d commanded his own Sydney Class for a number of years, but the thing was little more complicated than a bus. Robust and hardy, four humanoids and a donkey could keep the transport tank flying.

This was to be different, the SS Mary Rose was, comparatively, a whole lot of space ship. And a mess of one at that. Barton liked the type of crew who he could delegate broadly too. His orders were sometimes rather vague, things like “Fix the darned engines.” or “take us to sector three, avoid any guys badder than us” or “I SAID DO IT.” He left the more detailed minutia of these action to Rueben and whatever half-skilled hands he’d ensnared.

Without Rueben, Barton would have to find some else he trusted, someone else who knew about running a ship, some other straight laced nutter that loved double checking systems too boring to even retain the names of. Rueben was done, he was out, he was ultimately too kind-hearted for that life anyhow.

"Bart... I saw her..." Rueben said looking paler by the moment. "She was so close i could have just strode up to her." He looked like he was about to choke up. He knew he had just ran off leaving Barton but he had needed space, he needed to work himself up to seeing his reason for living for the last few years. It hadn't happened the way he had wanted it to at all, he had chickened out and he had ended up getting information about her, by being the exact type of person he was now trying to leave behind.

“Brace the hatches.” Barton moaned,flipping around now to face the bar, propping one long leg up on the foot railing as he did so. “There’s not enough drink in this sector for that conversation.”

From around the age of 10, Barton had become aware that men rather enjoyed becoming afflicted with a notion they termed love. A disease that, as far as he could tell, saw perfectly insane individuals go hunting some modicum of sanity, purely to impress the object of their desires. Time and time again he had witnessed those about him, alter the very nature of their being in pursuit of this sickness.

Luckily, Barton had never contracted a terminal case, and this made him look on those who suffered the infirmity of love with a rather unsympathetic pity. After all, why ruin something as beatific as sex, by dousing passion with the mundane frivolity of long term affection.

Jeassaho he’d met more than a few times over the years, she seemed a nice enough sort - pretty too. Perhaps for Rueben she was worth spending the last three years twisted up in a knot over, sleeping alone every night while Barton kept the company of which ever pretty young creature, of which ever gender, was eager enough to join him.

“If a decent poke is all it’ll take to relieve that angst, I can have you amongst a harem of fine ladies lickity split, just say the word.” A sly smile slipped onto his face, he knew Rueben would never, doubt he could even stomach it, but he still loved to offer. “Hell, it might stop you being so brittle and moody all the time. Go-on, go work one out with some plump flesh, do you the world of good. On Risa, I know this man-women team.” He slapped the bar and shook his head, “Rue, they’ll have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth frothing in delight, I could give you their contacts? You could switch it I’m sure, for a woman-woman thing, suit your more bland taste.” He teased.

“What… No.” Rueben shook his head. How could Barton even suggest that after all the heartache he had shared in the darkness moments of the last three years. He didn’t have bland taste’s he just had the taste for one women. He just wanted that one woman in the universe who sung to his heart. “I don’t need a poke to relieve my angst. I’m not moody….”

“Alright, alright” Barton jibed, raising one palm in mock surrender. If he had to spend another minute listening about Jeass and Rue he’d finally snap. For three years it’s all Rueben could chew his ear off about. Seriously, Barton thought he might know more about the Betazoid women than she knew herself. “If this is the life you want, this drudgery and these lies, if they are worth putting up with, for her, then why the fuck are you sitting at a bar watering your miseries? Don’t you know it only makes them grow into weeds.”

“Because it is all I have at the moment.” He breathed downing the last of the glass. He looked deep into the glass and sighed looking miserable.

“Rueben!” Barton snapped. “I’m bored of talking to you” He added a casual wave of his fingers to gesture this point. “I’ve places to see, people to do; so why don’t you stop whining to me about how in love you are and go tell her that. No matter what, I promise she’ll be more appreciative of the fact than I, cause honestly, I could not care-less” His gaze fell on the bottles lining the back of the bar.

“Fine don’t care less.” He muttered softly standing up. “See if I care either… I’ve got nothing left and you know what that is fine.” He added angrily turning

“Rue...” Barton spoke softly as his friend moved from the bar, turning slightly see his form would be clear from the corner of his eye. “If you see sense, or you know if Jeass crushes your soul and effectively frees you from life long enslavement, come look me up. Be in Deep Space Seven for about month, after that though.” Barton shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m seeing sense but it is all out of my control. Stay out of trouble.” He told him firmly hoping this wasn’t the last time he saw this man. The man was the only person he counted as family who knew him alive. He slapped the man on the back and moved away. He had to find the other person he was waiting for.

“Sure thing.” Barton settled his unfocused eyes back on the far wall of the bar, his back to Rueben. “Safe sailing my friend, best of luck to you.” He spoke just loud enough for the man to hear.

He waited about 5 minutes, lost to his own internal thoughts, before he moved from the bar himself. Things with Rueben might have drawn to a close, but there other reasons he had come to Vulcan. It was time to follow up on those.

OFF;

Rueben Gregnol
Executive Officer
SS Mary Rose

Barton Harkins
Captain
SS Mary Rose