"Sloshed"

[Guest Laarell]

"Sloshed"

April 05, 23--

Kroells and Teykier

 

"Chicago," she stated, her controlling nature kicking in. "We'll give EnnAy a try."

 

John gave her a small nod. "I grew up only a few hundred miles from Chicago myself. Nice town."

 

"What time period, John? You've probably run more of these programs than I have."

 

He tapped several controls. "I would suggest the early 20th century, before the great depression that gripped most of Earth."

 

"Sounds fine. Poor people ... trapped in a world of greed and hunger. Poverty was everywhere." Grinning, she winked at Kroells. "Then again, the society did conceive such wonders as the "modern girl" and the "speakeasy". Nothing like the Roaring Twenties, eh?"

 

The two walked into the holoarch, and their clothes changed appropriately. "Indeed, I appreciate the twenties a great deal. It was a time when a man could come up from nothing, and still be the man he was before. The people lived for the night, you can't find that kind of life anywhere but Risa now."

 

"Mmm ... nightlife. I relish it. Live for it. Can feel it course through my veins. You know, you can find great nightlife on Orion." She tousled his hair, playfully. "Hopefully we can recreate a little of that here tonight, if we work hard enough."

 

He smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist, as they walked into the small jazz club. "I can't help but wonder what would become of me, if I were less of a gentleman in thought with a woman like you." He gave her a dirty little smile.

 

"What would we do, John?" Inhaling deeply, she allowed herself another pleased smile. "It has a very sensual atmosphere. What do you think?"

 

"We can put my dirty thoughts into action later, my dear." He paused as he grabbed a cigar and lit it. "This place has everything. Good music, good food, good booze. Perfect first...or second date."

 

"I should be offended. Good women, I'd hope, too," she purred, cattily. "I want something that will leave me with a hangover. Can this be programmed to serve real alcoholic beverages? After Mog's liquor I can't relish the thought of synthehol..."

 

He smiled, as he produced his own bottle of bourbon. "And the lady lets her hair down. So is the little relationship of ours going to be simply getting sloshed and shagging in different locales?"

 

"Unless you have a problem with that. I know I don't," she replied, matter-of-factly.

 

He smiled as he looked ahead. "Don't get me wrong, drinking and sex is fun and all, but I've been doing that for a long time now. I was hoping for more."

 

Coyly, as befitted her green skin, she stole the bourbon before handing it back. "You open it, bartender. More, huh? Well, how much more Orion do you want? Or maybe I should say ... how much more can you handle?"

 

He smirked as he gave her a quick and unseemly kiss. "I have seen and done more then most men can stomach to hear. Learning a little more about you will hardly do me in."

 

"Laarell Elai Teykier. Chief Operations Officer, USS Excalibur-B. Starfleet Academy Class of '77. Grew up on Qo'NoS and I've never seen the inside of a slave camp. Now you know everything."

 

He frowned. "I should let you know, that there are two sides of me. So far you've seen John, the womanizing stiff arm of the Grail. He isn't me, not when it matters. Hell, John isn't even my real name.

 

"Yeah, now would be a good time to learn your real name. Mog slipped up... Tr-something. Tristan?"

 

"Lieutenant Travis Jon Kroells. Former Chief of Sciences, USS Reaent-G, Class of '74. Grew up on Earth, and there are probably more demerits on my record then there are commendations."

 

"Travis ... ahh. You know, I've heard rumors of that incident, now that you mention your name. Thank the gods I haven't been in your position... Travis. I think I'd have snapped mentally," she said. Laarell didn't really think she was made of the sterner stuff.

 

"It was...something that you can't really prepare for. It was one of those split second instinctual things. You think you know what you'll do...and then again, you never really do."

 

Nodding, Laarell smiled. "I'm sure it made sense at the time, Travis. But for me ... I'm admittedly loyal. To a fault. I'd have followed my old science chief into the depths of hell. As I would the command staff. Again, it's almost a fault."

 

"Loyalty, no. Blind Loyalty, yes. But alas, I feel I should mention that my career was marked with a few successes." He chuckled at that. "I even co-invented a new sensor device...what was it again...ah yes, the "Kroells-Garnoopy Array"

 

"Does Excalibur use it?"

 

He pondered for a moment. "Last I checked, it wasn't required equipment for a starship. But I wouldn't be surprised it there's a couple laying around in a storage bay here in Camelot."

 

"Heh. Let's see ... what have I done with my life? I joined Starfleet. .. I've helped save the universe from total annihilation a few times. No, wait, I didn't. Scratch that heroic part. But I take good care of my tarantula. That a valid contribution to Life?"

 

He gave her a genuine smile as he pulled her in. "I seriously doubt that anything you do wouldn't be a valid contribution to life."

 

"I'm glad someone does. So do you find your life rewarding, Travis?"

 

"There were periods where I didn't do anything...positive. But, right now, I couldn't think of doing anything more meaningful."

 

"Yeah ... meaningful. I'm doing something meaningful, I'm told. Assembling a communications and sensor relay station," she announced, impressing her tipsy self with that mouthful.

 

He smiled at her, and buzzed sort of goofy smile. "Trust me Miss Laarell. Such things are very important assets."

 

"Yeah, communications in general are undervalued, I'm noticing," she said, slugging down another shot of bourbon. "Hail this ... hail that. But does anyone actually think about how you go about hailing this and hailing that? You have to ask a drunken Orion! And that's hard. That's very hard. Ever try to hail someone? Someone who doesn't want to talk? For example, a bad guy who wants to blow you out of the sky? Well, they don't like to respond to hails. They like to keep firing. And then the XO growls at you, not them, as if you were the one who's responsible for them not wanting to talk. It's a hard job," she monologued, slamming her fist on the table at various intervals for emphasis. Blinking, she looked at Kroells dumbly. "Did I make any sense whatsoever?"

 

"Something about you getting hung up on, and Commander Corizon getting pissy about it." He was grinning from ear to ear.

 

"Oh, he wasn't angry at me per say ... just the situation. And for gods' sakes they didn't hang up on us ... the overgrown stinging nightmares didn't even respond!"

 

He smiled at her. "Well, I can think of a much better situation, not involving overgrown scorpions."

 

"Tell me about it, Travis." That evil Orion glint had returned. The air was suddenly electric.

 

"Well, it involves an epic journey to your quarters...your bed more specifically. Coupled with a sudden, unexplainable loss of clothing."

 

Her smirk spread into a fully fledged grin. "Let's get on it then, shall we?"