Going Home ((Kawalas/Bardolph))

[Jameson Bardolph 0]

Kania stepped aboard the yacht behind Robinson and took a seat in the back, not wishing to do any piloting in this area after what had transpired. She sat down in one of the back seats and buckled up getting ready to head back to the ship as Robinson finished his preflight checklist. She nodded as Bardolph followed her.

 

Whiskey let himself drop into a seat across from the captain, shooting a glance in Robinson's direction up in the cockpit area. They'd been scooped up out of the prison a few minutes earlier; he wasn't entirely sure what was happening to the others but he couldn't say he'd been sorry to leave that bloody place behind. It was a bit of a dump, even as prisons went. Settling himself into his seat and strapping in, he ran a hand through his short hair, puffing out a slow breath. "Well. That was interesting," he muttered, to no one in particular, leaning his head back against the headrest.

 

Kania looked to Bardolph. "Care to elaborate on what you mean by that comment? Don't worry about Mr. Robinson; he can handle getting us back just fine."

 

Whiskey blinked and raised his head again, then looked towards Robinson. "Oh, I'm quite sure he can," he said blithely, reflecting that he doubted his own help would be accepted by Robinson right now even if it were offered. "And, well, I mean it was interesting, Cap'n. Not exactly what I was expecting from my first Fleet shore leave." He cocked his head sideways, looking a bit thoughtful, then shrugged.

 

"I have to agree. Of course it was an unusual circumstance altogether. Now if we can get the remainder of our team back in one piece...I'd feel a lot better if they would have allowed them to come with us."

 

Whiskey nodded slowly. "In my experience, if you're not trusted in a place, you're not so liable to get a lot of leeway." He folded his arms across his chest and the thoughtful look deepened. "Seems to me that this was all honest mistakes, though...if they've got any sense at all down there, they'll realize that."

 

"Let's hope that's the case," Kania answered. "You've had some bad experiences like this before...you spoke of one, would you care to elaborate on others?" she then asked.

 

Whiskey glanced at her sideways and then raised his eyebrows and laughed quietly. "I hope you don't have the impression I was a jailbird, or anything, sir. I've just seen a couple of jobs go bad here and there in the freight business; it can get sticky, you know?"

 

Kania nodded. "Sticky, yes -- but sometimes these so-called sticky situations can prove to have circumstances that can be of help in other situations."

 

"Well, I'd like to think it's taught me how to keep my cool at any rate," Whiskey said, with another slight shrug.

 

"Yes, situations can do that as well. What type of situations have you seen? I would like to know about my crew. Please tell me of others." Kania sat back in her chair to listen as Will began the flight back to the Republic.

 

Whiskey gave her a look as if to check if she was making fun of him with her apparent interest, but the captain seemed sincere enough. He supposed even listening to rambling from a LtJG freighter brat was preferable to fretting about her people planetside; fair enough. "Ah...well...we put in all over, trading stations, planet stops, even a few Fleet bases. We didn't have too much trouble most of the time -- my parents worked a good business. But...well, you've got reasons to have security on a ship like I grew up on; half the time people are trying to steal your goods, and the other half con you out of them."

 

"First time I ever really had to deal with the law was when I was barely more'n a kid -- we picked up a stowaway belowdecks on the ship...he lived down there a good four days before we caught him; he'd been eating through a comestibles cargo we were carrying. Took quite some doing to figure out what planet he belonged to and who we could turn him over to..." Whiskey grinned to himself, thinking back on the chaos that had resulted from that incident.

 

"Well, Mr. Bardolph, there is exactly why I like to know about my crew. If we ever have that type of situation, I know I can count on you to be in the forefront of getting to the bottom of the problem. Is there anything else I should know about you? You never know I may just find a special assignment for you or something."

 

Whiskey laughed. "Ah, good, so I'm to be the Republic's expert on hull-rats, am I?" he asked, using his mother's slang term for stowaways. "Good to know. Other things to know about me..." He made a thoughtful face. "Well, I can shoot, run a stake-out, swear like a devil or buy you a drink in five languages, and make a passable fettucine alfredo, but I doubt any of those skills are particularly useful at the moment."

 

Kania gave him an odd look, none of those things anything she would expect from a Starfleet officer. "What is a Fuchini Fredeto? I have never heard of it." The look on her face became very much puzzled.

 

Whiskey had to resist the urge to laugh at the confusion he saw in the captain's face, though he knew that, as a Bajoran, she had no particular reason to know what he was talking about. "I wish I could say it was something highly impressive but it's just a meal. Terran -- a pasta dish."

 

Kania nodded and turned to look out the front viewer, seeing the Republic coming into view. "I see. Well, one of these days you will have to cook it for me. Thank you for being honest with me, Bardolph. I like a crew that I can trust and count on. Also, do remember that I have an open-door policy on this ship. If you have a problem, do not hesitate to come speak to me about it." Kania smiled trying to show the LtJG that she was sincere in what she was saying. "And don't worry about Mr. Robinson there. His bark is worse than his bite but watch out he swings a mighty phaser."

 

Whiskey chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, Cap'n...all of it." He glanced past her to see the ship hovering into view through the window, and puffed out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again as he stood up. Time would tell what would happen to the group still belowground, but that was in the hand of the diplomatic types now, and for the moment he couldn't resist admitting to himself that it was good to be going home. Good to be calling a ship home again, too.