Some Teams are too Good to Break

Posted on Mon Jun 20th, 2016 @ 9:11pm by Captain Rueben Gregnol
Edited on on Sat Jun 25th, 2016 @ 4:04am

Mission: Mission 1 - Bridges
Location: Promenade - Deep Space 7
Timeline: MD 03 0630 Hrs
1547 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Barton looked out over the expansive promenade while the sever slipped his espresso onto the table. Below, specs of people milled about, looking like autumn trees shifting in the wind as they skittered in teals, oranges and greens across the plaza floor. If you watched them long enough, it almost looked like they were dancing.

He did not come for that view though. Barton took his morning coffee here to look over the majestic visage of his Rosie. She was pulled up to the promenade deck, a gangplank extending up into docking port seven and the powerful space-station flood lights dancing over her age worn hull. It looked almost like a steam-ship of old, dominating the imagination with dreams of freedom and far off lands.

From this angle, and this range, the SS Mary Rose looked tall as a mountain. The Saucer Section loomed as big as the sky itself, her nacelles so expansive you could not take them all in, without turning your head. She might have been less than a quarter the size of most modern haulers, and there was truly an unnerving amount of white stains on the dorsal neck, but Barton did not care. To him, she was the finest looking boat in the bay.

“Whose watching who now.” he quipped, Rueben had been kind enough not to talk, just to move close enough for Barton to notice. “Come to see for yourself if it’s true I suppose?”

A smile crept over Bartons face as he squeezed the requested slice of lemon peel, over his espresso. Rueben was still in his jacket, his scuffed up boots still adorned his feet, there was not uniform yet. This pleased Barton immensely. He bought the rind up to his nostrils, bent it in half, and inhaled deeply. “Lemons smell so sweet.” He said absentmindedly, before making a magnanimous sweep with his hand in the direction of the SS Mary Rose.

“There she is, purring like a kitten, sparkling like a jewel.” Just after he spoke, the external lighting on the vessel flashed a few times, then shuttered out. All the windows along both hulls went dark, and there emitted a rather loud sounding rumble from deep inside the ship, which eventually popped out the impulse drive like a soot filled back-fire. “As you can see, I have an able engineering department aboard already.” Barton sipped his espresso unconcerned.

Rueben had spent an hour walking around the station trying to work out what to do. His handler had told him he couldn't return to his old life yet, he had to remain where he was. They wouldn't give him any information about his family or even let them know that he was alive.

"I'm in..." He said simply sitting on the seat next to him. "If the offer is still there that is." If the offer wasn't he possibly was going to steal a shuttle and head after the Mercury in the Delta Quadrant or head to earth by the same stolen shuttle, hope that his parents wouldn't kill him and possibly would let Jeassaho that way, either way Starfleet wasn't finished with him and his life.

“Just like that?” Barton looked a trifle disappointed. “No subterfuge, no wit? I suppose they never where your strengths, to Russian to play coy you are.” He gestured for Rueben to sit across the table from him, gently taking a sip of his thick cup of coffee while he waited for the Russian to take his place. “Alright, so you’re in. I’ve no qualms with that, need a skilled man like you - times I might even need a more accurate moral compass to guide my track by, and to my reckoning there is none points a truer North than yours.” He puased a moment, looking out over the Refit Constitution that was his ship and the expanse of the space station beyond. “But why? Why are you in Ben? You know my game and you know I’m to darned stubborn to change my MO. Come a fortnight and we’ll be drudging the, what was it you termed it, the ass-end of the galaxy? Slipping nooses, trading our souls for a fist-full of credits. By my counts it weren’t a whole lot of weeks ago you served up a rather nasty, impressively lengthy sermon which highlighted, in detail, the ills to such a way to life. Perhaps I’m paraphrasing, but it climaxed I think on something akin to you saying you would never, never-ever, sink so low again? There is not enough space in the holds of my new ship, to fit all the humble pie you’d need to scoff in being here, so why are you?”

Rueben sighed softly and grabbed up Barton’s coffee and downed It, he needed it more than Barton. He hadn’t slept in days or even found a place to rest.
“Because no one else knows I am alive… Everyone thinks I am dead.” He said softly. “You Bart are the only person who I can run away from things with.” Jeassaho was in the Delta Quadrant he was hoping Barton might be willing to see what opportunities arose there.

Barton thought for a long moment. Ruebens answer was never really going to matter, but he needed to know all the same. “Yeah well - I guess were all running from something out here, that’s the appeal of these back-waters, plenty of places to hide from prying eyes and nasty pasts.”

There was something a little off about Rueben, he seemed more agitated and fidgety than normal. Barton put it down to the fact he was not with Jeass, however that had gone, the fact Rueben was here made him assume it ended badly.

“One thing Ben, something we have to have straight between us. So long as the straight and narrow keeps us feed, keeps us flying, then I’ll walk it. But if there is crime to be done, and I’m liking to think there will be more than some if our bellies and holds both are to be full, then there is to be no balking. No matter how grievous the chore, when the time comes, when I say we jump, you’ll save any moral indignations you harbour for that time and place where it is welcome. I can’t lug about a paper-weight to scared stop fraudulent slips from blowing away in the wind, no matter how good it is at it’s job otherwise. We clear?”

“I get that but I think we need to discuss some stuff we will do and stuff we won’t do.” He said firmly. He needed to decide just how grey his morals needed to go.

“Impressive.” Barton actually smiled. “Sauntering up here with demands, fine form Ben. If you were any one else I’d ask you to leave about now. You’re an old friend, so I’ll over-look it. Alright, lay it on me thick, tell me just what the fuck you think I should not do?”

“Nothing with slaves.” He said firmly thinking back to the Orion Market.

Barton rolled his eyes, it would be just like Rueben to take away the most lucrative cargo. Sure, slave running was grimy and unimaginative work, but it was a fine way to make some quick, easy latinum. “Straight for the jugular, as always.”

Barton was silent a spell, he looked over the ship which dominoored the view above the promenade as he silently pondered just how far he thought me might get without Rueben. So far, no appropriate applicants had presented themselves to take on the roll he usually played. If he turned him away, there might never be another chance to get this whole thing running.

He gave a long sigh. “No slaves then.”

Rueben went to speak again, Barton quickly stopped him. “Don’t push your luck Ben, let’s call this a deal while I’m in such a good mood.” He held out his hand to formalize the arrangement, before Rueben had them flying as a good-will charity ship.

Pulling himself up from his seat, Barton gave his back a heavy arch, stretching out the muscles along his spine while he twisted his head. “And seeing as you’ve finished up my coffee, how about I show you to your office? Then you meet the shambles of a crew currently aboard, start straightening out the mess I’ve gone and got us into.”

Rueben nodded and rose from his seat. Barton hadn't needed the coffee, he was jittery enough, himself on the other hand needed that coffee plus a few more.

"You didn't need the coffee Bart... I need it more." He said simply. "But sure lead the way."

"Of course." Barton said, his drawl a little longer than normal, noting his suspicion. Rueben had a history of drinking away his issues, and Barton felt he was more than a few sheets to the wind right now. "Just order your own next time." He added with a smile, making a note to keep check on how much his friend was drinking.

OFF;

Rueben Gregnol
Executive Officer
SS Mary Rose

Barton Harkins
Captain
SS Mary Rose