Old Friends Part. 1 (Fox/Steele)

[Destry Steele 0]

Approximately twelve years ago in San Francisco.

 

While still in the Academy...

 

"I told you that mechanical monstrosity was dangerous." Destry sat next to Ellen on the bench of shame, waiting for them to be summoned into the office of the head of the campus housing authority.

 

Ellen grinned, her head tipped back against the wall, her eyes half-shut, her fingers dancing in a restless, syncopated rhythm on her knees. "There is nothing dangerous about my oven; it's not its fault that guy in downtown Frisco sold me a faulty converter. Good converter, maybe a new set of heating coils, and it will never set fire to another bed again. Besides...you were complaining just the other day that we never got any good shows on campus."

 

Still staring straight ahead, wondering if it was only her imagination, or did she still smell scorched linens, Destry rolled her eyes, and made a 'hmph-ing' sound. "I was referring to the fact that the only thing that ever plays in the auditorium, besides some windy old admirals, are various instrumental groups of varying species that have a whole different idea of what music is than I do. Not that I wanted to be treated to some pyrotechnics. And it was MY bed!"

 

Ellen opened her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and drumming one leg up and down, her expression twisting into a parody of innocence. "See...this is why you need to be specific, Des...I was only trying to help." Grinning again, she bounced up to her feet and began to pace idly along the edge of the wall next to the bench. "Least it's just Housing this time, and not Campus Sec. That was a headache last time..."

 

Used to Ellen's inability to sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time, Destry pulled her long legs out of harm's way as her roommate paced the area like a caged animal. "True. This time we weren't arrested." Sending a dour look Ellen's way, she added, "Yet." Now it was her turn to lean her head back, giving the ceiling tiles overhead far more scrutiny than they deserved. So much of the Academy's environs were beige. "I really am hoping the verdict is misuse of an appliance from Hell and not arson. I had such high hopes of actually embarking on a career."

 

"You can always claim that I was forcing you to partake of garlic bread and spaghetti against your will," Ellen deadpanned, meeting her friend's chastising expression with a teasing grin. "Given the fact that the food is all still there -- and covered in suppression foam at this point -- I don't think we can really be accused of anything that would make us Starfleet rejects, Des, don't worry." Dropping back down next to Destry again with a heavy grunt, she blew out a sharp puff of air. "Be nice if they didn't leave us out cooling our heels all night, though. I have a date with a transporter theory textbook."

 

"And I have a date with Jared, and since it was my evening to have the room and his roommate never frackin' leaves theirs--you can imagine how romantic an ambiance that fire suppression foam-" Destry fell silent as the door slid open beside them and a voice that sounded as if it came from the depths of a sepulcher called their names. "Time to face the music, Fox," she muttered, getting to her feet. She shot Ellen a sudden grin. "Your garlic bread actually is worth it."

 

* * *

 

A couple years later in a bar off Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco.

 

It was getting late, but despite the hour and the amount of liquor the bartender had allowed her and Destry to celebratorily pour into themselves, Ellen wasn't tired. Her usual restless energy had a different tenor to it tonight, the rough-edged tension of an era coming to a close. Excitement about the future mixed with reminiscences about the past, and bed didn't even enter into the equation.

 

Her voice was still every bit as cheerful as ever, though, as she lounged back against the bar, twisting her hips on her barstool and sipping slowly at the large rum and coke in one hand. "I'll be damned," she said, glancing sideways at Destry with a grin after a few moments' contemplative silence. "We made it through."

 

"You say that like it's some big surprise," Destry complained, while crooking her finger to the tender. "Another whiskey...easy on the ice," she told him, before turning so that her elbows were on the bar behind her and she could look out over the noisy crowd filling the room. A lot of new graduates were on the premises and it sounded like the party was just starting to heat up. "The Fleet is damn lucky to have us and they know it, Fox," she assured her companion.

 

Ellen laughed. "Damn straight," she said, slapping her free hand down on the wood of the bar. "Give it six weeks and they'll have us both on plaques up at Fleet HQ...saviors of the galaxy." She took a large gulp of her drink and set it down, watching as the tender poured out Destry's drink, then gave her friend a teasing glance. "That survey team they're setting you up with won't know what hit it, that's for sure."

 

"Yeah," Destry sighed, sounding a little morose as she lifted her drink from the bar, and met Ellen's gaze. "It figures that after spending almost my whole life in an underwater colony and joining Starfleet to get out into the big emptiness of space, my first posting is to a planet—and not a very prepossessing one at that. At least you've been given a shipboard post," she grumbled, before taking a long swallow.

 

Ellen smiled at the familiar gentle asperity in her friend's tone, and slapped Destry lightly on the shoulder in an encouraging sort of way. "Hey, come on, now -- you're out there on the front lines, doing the exploring -- means they've got faith in you! I'm just crawling along the border with the cleanup crew. Besides, I've heard those kinda planetside postings don't last too long -- and when you get a transfer, you'd better put in for the Athens if you've got any say in it." She addressed herself back to her drink with a somewhat pensive expression, then with an attempted and quite unsuccessful casualness, "I'm gonna miss you, by the way."

 

"Front lines, my ass," Destry muttered. "Just a survey to see if it's suitable for colonists. With my luck it'll turn out to be a breeding ground for some awful fever and I'll spend six months dodging projectile vomiting." She'd heard Ellen's last comment, and she wasn't deceived by her friend's attempt at keeping the subject of their upcoming transfers light. They'd roomed together the last three years and Destry felt as close to Ellen as she did to her brother, Devon. It was bittersweet this celebration tonight. For all her grousing about it, Destry was excited to see what the planet Meridian held for her and the crew she would soon be joining. But though their parting had always been inevitable, it was painful nonetheless.

 

"Fox, you won't get the chance to miss me. You know my affinity for subspace transmissions—there's no place you can get off to that I won't hunt you down through some communications buoy." She turned fully to face Ellen and lifted her glass, saying solemnly, "We'll meet up again—anyone's guess where, but we will."

 

Ellen's eyes flashed with a mixture of sharp emotions from amusement to affection as she lifted her glass in return. Des was right. There was no way in hell they were going to fall out of touch, not after the shared off-and-on adventures that had already peppered their years together in San Francisco. "I'll hold you to that, you know. Here's to having some damn good stories to tell when we do."

 

* * *

 

Approximately eighteen months later in a bar called Finnegan's Wake, Star Base 314.

 

"...and that's when it became apparent that the entire thing was just a Ferengi ruse! Captain Maxwell is probably never going to live it down," Destry laughed as a grin slashed across her face. She took a sip from her glass, feeling the whiskey burn its way down, as she beamed a smile across the table at Ellen. By some great stroke of luck, both her ship, the USS Constantinople and Ellen's, the USS Athens were docked at the same starbase. It had been a long while since she'd seen her in person.

 

"Ok, Fox...enough of this shilly-shallying around—I've heard the story for months of every damn rivet and conduit that you've fixed on the Athens. Tell me about the man in your life. Um...was it Charlie? If you weren't always such a damn clam, I would know his name."

 

Ellen grinned. "Maybe I'm waiting to get a word in edgewise." She was curled up against the corner of the booth they'd found in Finnegan's Wake, an out of the way pub on Starbase 314 which had proved to have a pretty excellent pale ale. Ellen had developed a taste for the stuff during the last couple years, but it was hard to find any that was really good. Right now, she was ignoring it, however, in favor of trying not to laugh at Destry's blunt directness, familiar as ever, and damn refreshing. "It was Carlos, actually. Well, it is Carlos. I guess." She shrugged slightly. "He's back on the Ath doing EPS updates while we've got a moment to spare. He may be out later, though once you ship out I'll probably be going back to get started on some transporter diagnostics...they've been touchy lately."

 

"You guess? Sounds like true love to me," Destry scoffed good naturedly. "I swear there was more passion in your voice just now when you mentioned getting up close and personal with the transporter crap."

 

Ellen gave Destry a mock-aggravated look and picked up her ale, draining a long pull from it. "Hey...transporter diagnostics are universally acknowledged as the world's most romantic maintenance task," she deadpanned, then shrugged. "I dunno. I'm not sure what's going on right now. Believe me, I'll let you know when I do." There was a short silence, and then she shook herself and went on briskly, "What about you? Last I heard you were bailing what's-his-face out of jail...your fellow bug-nut who was running fake antiquities."

 

Destry looked affronted. "His name is Marcus Voortmeyer. Dr. Marcus Voortmeyer. And I suppose 'bug nut' is a poor man's euphemism for entomologist. He is a victim of Federation bureaucracy at its worst. It was just a simple misunderstanding. They were supposed to be souvenirs that he could sell to fund his research. He explained the whole thing to me and it sounds like an honest mistake the Federation's Antiquities Preservation Division is blowing out of all proportion. It really amounts to persecution."

 

The grin spread back onto Ellen's face at once. "Ah, of course...my mistake," she said with amusement, finishing off her drink. "Glad to hear he's still sweeping you off your feet, then."

 

"Ah, well...no. Unfortunately, and it's a great injustice, he is languishing in a Federation prison awaiting trial on fraud charges." Destry made a resigned c'est la vie motion and sighed. "He had the most beautiful brown eyes, too. And a certain way of-" She caught Ellen's look. "What?"

 

Ellen made a sort of choking noise which she converted into a cough in rather transparent fashion. "Nothing, nothing at all..." she said, grinning at her friend across the table. "Just thinking how much some things don't change. It's kind of a relief, really, given how crazy everything else is."

 

"I'll pretend I don't know what you mean by any of that," Destry said mildly, before looking regretfully at the screen on the wall showing the Federation date and time. "I'm afraid I have to go, Fox...the Connie's pulling out at 22:00 hours tonight and I've got to get back to her Sickbay."

 

Ellen glanced at the clock as well and sighed with a wry laugh. Shore leaves never lasted as long as you wanted, but this one had seemed even shorter than most. "Yeah...I should probably be going too, before someone starts on the transporters without me." Seeing Destry getting to her feet, she dropped a few latinum slips on the table and pushed off with one hand to pop to her feet as well, falling into step as the two exited the pub. "You have any idea where you're headed next?"

 

"No, why would I know where we're going before we actually go?" Destry gave Ellen a fleeting grin, thinking the time had flown by way too quickly. "An AMO is about the last person on the ship to learn anything." She stepped forward and wrapped Ellen in a hug. "You take care of yourself...cut this Carlos guy some slack even if he doesn't have the magnetism or rugged good looks of a plasma manifold."

 

Ellen returned the hug fiercely, squeezing her arms around Destry's shoulders before releasing her. "I'll try my best. Stay out of trouble, Des, or if you do get into it, let me know so I can get in on it with you."

 

"I have missed my partner in crime," Destry laughed, blinking back sudden, hot tears. "I'll be talking to you soon, Ellen."