Breakfast At Tiffany's

[rosetto 0]

(joint log by Shane, Dash & Sal)

 

The restaurant was actually named Tiffany’s Café, however, this restaurant – slash – bar wasn’t much to write home about but it was clean and currently not real busy. Fact was, the three QoB crew members were the ONLY customers and the waitress wouldn’t be showing up for a couple of hours. They had asked if ‘her’ name was Tiffany and it wasn’t. Tiffany apparently never worked here or owned the place, but she was dating the hotel’s night manager on and off. They never did find out if the place was actually named after her. More likely it was simply someone’s poor sense of humor.

 

With his feet propped up on a chair and his huge, bionic arm set on the table, Shane sipped a glass of wine as he watched the viewscreen across the bar. He and Dash had decided to come here to give Pher some time to help Chris; "help" being a loose term in Shane's opinion. But Doc Andrews had approved of the patient's "treatment, so it wasn't like his opinion mattered any. Plus, it gave Shane an excuse to get out of that cramped hotel room.

 

Shane focused back on the news playing on the viewscreen, "...and now a Special Report on the recent explosion at Guardian Central earlier today. Initial assumptions have blamed the Rainmakers..." At that, the cyborg grumbled under his breath, "Yellow-bellied, sons of..." Shane spat on the ground in disgust.

"What do you mean you don't have any eggs? It is morning and you're grill's open." Sal was a bit irritated with the chief cook & bottle washer. He was waving a menu in the guy's face that clearly showed a breakfast fare which included eggs -- any style. These 38-hour days were killing him and he couldn't remember ever being this hungry, either. He continued his heated debate.

 

"Well, can you point to what you do have?"

 

"Sir, we apologize for not having the product that we advertise. With the ports closed we haven't been able to restock in five days. It's kinda left us in a pickle. I can make you some nice pancakes or there are plenty of breakfast cereal products over on the breakfast buffet." The gentleman smiled weakly and crossed his arms behind him.

 

"Alright. Give me a tall stack of 'cakes with plenty of butter. I'll be seated over there with those other two gentlemen."

 

He pointed to the table where Shane and Andrews were sitting.

 

Dash only nodded slowly at Shane's act of disgust. Dash's mind was elsewhere... He heard Rosetto at the other end of the bar placing an order for food and it caused his stomach to remind him that his current diet of spirits and the occasional electric-cigarette was beginning to weigh on him. The strong mixture of Home-Planet made whiskey, from some sort of grain that grew heavily in the hills, accompanied by a sour-mix heavy on the citrus, had begun to sweat in his hands. He stared at the moisture for a moment, his visor picking up on the vapor leaving the glass' rim and the H2O composition of the condensation running down the sides. He saw many things these days, many different spectrums... but it struck him funny how he would never again see the color of "Her" eyes when he looked at her picture... He spoke without warning.

 

"So... you want to tell me just how you came to have a hover-dozer attached to your arm?"

 

He had to get his mind away from the sadness it crept to each time he had a moment to stop and think.

 

Taking another sip from his glass, Shane glanced over to the well watered doctor and grinned slightly at his appearance. He normally didn't like to talk about his past; in fact he usually avoided the subject like the plague. But the alcohol had made him a bit friendlier and Andrews seemed like he had a troubled past himself. He looked like a man that wouldn't be running his mouth everywhere.

 

"I had to get something like this a long time ago," the cyborg said, indicating his arm with a nod of his head, "back when I twenty something or another. Had a run-in with an 8472 while working security on a ship. I met him in a corridor on the ship and a little tussle with him. He eventually bought the farm, but not before breaking my rifle, my best knife and my arm. Turns out later on that he had left me a little present in the form of a bacteria; it took the arm and about near took my life. So I had one of them fancy prosthetics but on."

 

Shane set his glass down and poured some more of the deep red fluid. "During the war I was working on a...uh, job with a crew. Something malfunctioned and the resulting blast destroyed my prosthetic, giving me these fancy scars as well." He said the last bit while absent-mindiedly rubbing the white lines crisscrossing his worn face. "With supplies running low, you know how the war was; I had to make do with what I had. Took this off a wrecked repair shuttle and seems to have suited me well."

 

Shaking off the distant look that had come to his eyes in the recalling of the past, Shane looked back to Dash. "What about you Doc? I bet you weren't born with a VISOR."

 

Dash grinned his customary yet half-hearted grin. He never really looked at Shane's face; he just continued to stare at the glass his hands were clasping. He thought a moment about Shane's remark of not being "born" with a visor...

 

"You'd be wrong... You see, I died once. And I was reborn... with this dated piece of hardware around my eyes, and a mangled leg."

 

He sipped his nearly empty glass of Tranquility Whiskey Sour. The loud clanking of the ice on the bare bottom of the glass must have alerted the bartender because he began mixing Dash another drink.

 

"I was in the academy... Starfleet of course. Last year in the Medical program everyone is assigned a ship to intern aboard. There were eight of us working the sickbay... All green, first tour aboard a vessel. When the attack started 'shock' hits you at first. Then when the senior staff members begin barking orders the training kicks in. You don't know how it works or how your mind even focuses in the chaos but 'damn it' it does. After about an hour of constant barrages, hull breaches, collapsed bulkheads, power outages... it all just went quiet. Then the evac order came over the comm. 'Acting' Captain Daniel Marum... Kid was about my age. I met him once the week before; he was just a Nav. Officer. An ensign. Guess he grew up fast."

 

Dash paused a moment as he noticed the new drink in front of him.

 

"We were in med-bay 3... The third deck... bottom level of the medical facilities. There were eleven wounded and only four of us. We started moving the ones we could to the pods... I moved ahead to open the pod-hatch and key in the launch sequence when the quiet finally ended. A torpedo struck two decks below us... apparently the shields had failed and the detonation struck nothing but duranium. All I could see was white... We..."

 

He paused a second fighting off a fit of anger that crept up his spine and in to his nose making his nostrils burn. Then he just grinned again.

 

"We weren't even equipped for combat. We were a medical supply and emergency response vessel... We didn't stand a chance."

 

Sal came back to the table with a very large coffee in one hand and a pot with two extra cups in the other. His mood hadn't changed but he was dragging the best he could. He didn't want to admit it but he was anticipating Joia's next letter.

 

"Coffee anyone?"

 

He set the pot and cups down and pulled out a seat for himself.

 

"I hope you two are getting along."

 

Shane didn't answer Sal at first. He was staring intently at Andrews, his mood having suddenly changed at hearing the doctor's story. The big man almost had a wary look on his stony expression, as if he just discovered something worth taking care around. He slowly brought his glass up for a sip without moving his eyes from the doctor. "Well enough, Rosy." he said in an even tone. He addressed Dash again, "If you don't mind me asking, Doc, what ship did you serve on?"

 

"The USS Pioneer - B..."

 

He watched as Rosetto sat the coffee pot down in the middle of the table and gave them each a cup. Dash knew that switching from Whiskey to Coffee at this time of the day would be a wise decision... Who knew how much longer they would be awake, or what the rest of the day would bring. Nickles... a prisoner... and three crewmates doing something he thought was quite "stupid". Odds were he would need to be awake for what was to come.

 

"Good idea..." he said picking up the coffee pot and filling his cup.

 

"The cook said there was food at the breakfast bar, if you guys are hungry. No eggs though and I suspect no fresh milk either. This closing down the entire planet because of one man is kind of insane if you ask me. It'd be different if this rock could support vegetation; had its own planet-side commerce. But this place depends 100% on space-faring commerce. The even have to get their dang water from space!"

 

Sal had been on this rock for more than enough dances. He knew that there would be places like this. But he also knew that there were plenty of living breathing worlds to explore. He recalled the Zoalus Alphabet Blocks that he'd seen in Westen. That was six annuls ago...longer he thought because that was when Harry found out that she was pregnant. He would see her bright eyes for another 3 mons

 

The other guys didn't seem to notice as Shane's eyes widen slightly when he heard the name of Andrew's ship. Quickly, he looked away from Dash and swallowed a bit before downing the rest of his drink. He stood and pulled a Picard maneuver on his shirt while saying, "Breakfast sounds good to me. Old food is better than nothing at all." Quickly he moved away from the table in the direction of the food bar. There were reasons why he didn't delve into his past. It always made things complicated.