The Party Pooper

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Cocktail party: A gathering held to enable forty people to talk about themselves at the same time. The man who remains after the liquor is gone is the host.

-Fred Allen

 

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“Pink Passion sir?”, the human waiter asked.

 

“No thank you”, the blue lieutenant replied.

 

It was the sixth time this evening that Shontuk had engaged in a variation on the same thrilling exchange of words with one of these men dressed like penguins who circled the room like vultures, preying on the sober. He’d tried to hide in the corner but that just seemed to attract them more. As if they could smell the boredom on him.

 

“Gala receptions”, he thought to himself. “What was the obsession in Starfleet with gala receptions?”

 

Shontuk was not averse to a party or celebrations in general; it was just the overall tone of ones like these that perturbed him. This was supposed to be the formal commemoration of the expansion of the fleet. A grand gesture of military strength in a time of great public uncertainty. So why the private tacky backslap-fest? Why have (in his own opinion) a sub-par musical quartet, a mile-long buffet table, paper chain decorations and a plethora of humorously named drinks with funny little straws and umbrellas in them? It just felt...vulgar.

 

He knew the proper pomp and circumstance would be tomorrow, that then would come the speeches, a parade of sorts and a grand (and far more talented) officer’s band performing for the cheering crowds but somehow it seemed tainted following nights like this. The sight of an overweight admiral in a formal-uniform two sizes too small, on his third ‘typhoon’ trying desperately to entice a much younger female yeoman to dance the cha-cha made certain of that. It wasn’t as if the Imperial Guard’s brass on Andoria never held functions, they were just usually a lot more reserved than this even if the booze there was a lot stronger. This was more like something the politicians back home would arrange.

 

The fact that Shontuk was already tense probably wasn’t helping his enjoyment of the event. His confirmation as Comanche’s chief of security had arrived only hours after all the fun on Delta Vega was over, leaving him with just the uneventful trip to Topeka docks as steward of his department. Leave then followed for almost the entire crew (he’d declined the offer) meaning that he’d had nothing of real interest to do for the last three months apart from overlooking some computer system upgrades in the security office and reading the latest reports on border hostilities. Though the quiet peace of an empty ship had been refreshing and allowed him the chance to take jogs round the saucer section unhindered, the Andorian was getting fed up. He’d already spent a year doing nothing and had his fill of it. It was why he wasn’t touching liquor tonight, he wanted to be clear headed on his first real day back in the action. Sure it was only a simple escort run but he had a team to oversee again and that was everything. And this time he wouldn’t let his guard down with them, not like...

 

“Schussboomer’s Delight Sir?”, the human waiter asked

 

“No, thank you.”, the blue lieutenant replied.