Hitching a Ride ((Bardolph))

[Jameson Bardolph 0]

“Whiskey? Is that you?” The signal from the Skoll was a little staticky, but Delia Harmon’s broad, good-natured face and piercing voice were unmistakable anyway. Whiskey grinned, leaning against the couch in the middle of his team’s quarters on the Orlando.

 

“Yep, it’s me, Cap’n,” he said, tossing her a mock-salute, palm to the face and out as had been the habit on the Fenrir.

 

“Hell, boy. You don’t have to call me captain; you’re wearing military brass now,” Delia said, laughing. “Unless they kicked you out -- in which case, you can blasted well take your mum’s place and make a schuttin’ honest man of yourself.” Her accent was a mix of a thousand cultures, all those she’d traded with in her long years in the civilian merchant fleet -- first on the Fenrir, the small, stocky cargo boat Whiskey had grown up on, and now on the more streamlined freighter that her successful career had finally bought her.

 

“Ah, no, ma’am,” Whiskey said, amused. “Not while they’ll have me on the Republic.”

 

“Well, can’t blame a woman for trying,” the freighter captain said cheerfully. “Ever since your parents scuttled off to retire, I’ve been achin’ for a good gun hand. But your business’s your business of course; Whiskey ain’t the little half-pint bottle anymore that I can order around, huh? How’s your sis?”

 

“Neck-deep in grease as usual, I’m sure. Haven’t seen her in a good year now; her ship’s been doing lots of patrol work out on the fringe.” Whiskey was aching to move to the real subject of his call, but he could tell the older woman was glad to see him, and in truth, it was good to hear from her too. He so rarely had much contact with the freighter crew he’d grown up with -- thought now it seemed he was about to get a good close taste again, maybe more than he’d bargained for before. “Keeps her busy, what with raider scuffles and all.”

 

“And she did take after your dad...put her head down and fixed things till they were fixed, no chit-chat. And they never get all fixed on a workin’ ship, do they?” Delia’s dark eyes sparked teasingly. “You on the other hand were always more good at chattering away and breaking things.”

 

“I stick to what I know, ma’am.” Whiskey said with a smirk.

 

Delia grinned, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table she was sitting at. “Anyway, boy, I know you didn’t call to chew the fat. What’s so important that you tossed that touch-and-go line on your message?”

 

Good, she’d caught the end of his note. It had been relatively rare that the Fenrir had been caught up in less savory activities, but they’d always had their code words for the few times when it did happen. Whiskey’s phrase of choice for today had been one designed for really tense situations. “Low hum in the engines, but flying on all thrusters.” It was a catchphrase in more than one engine room, but on the Fenrir it had simply meant, Playing with fire a bit here -- but good reason for it.

 

So he could tell she was watching him very closely even though he kept his tone light. “Nothing too crazy. Only I was wondering if your crowd’s anywhere near the Cardassian border.”

 

“We do some trading with the colonies there...why?” She studied his expression. “Need a lift?”

 

“Fleet Base two-one-four to Minos Korva, if you can manage it,” Whiskey said, after doing a quick doublecheck that his line was as heavily encrypted as possible. “We’ll be at the base in about three days.”

 

“Minos Korva?” She looked sort of skeptical. “Why are you going there?”

 

“See the sights...” he said carefully. “Just a bit of a blaze.” Another bit of argot, that. Delia’s old navigator used to use the term when they were on a fast run where time was critical in the delivery.

 

“A paid blaze?” she asked, her lips twisting slightly in wry amusement.

 

“We’re on a bit of a budget, cap’n. But I’ll hunt your rats for you,” Whiskey said, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

 

“Mmm. Ship was never so clean as when you got your first pistol. Thought sure you were going to take one of my cargo crews out while you were at it. Well, fine, for old time’s sake, boy. But I can’t guarantee I can take you both ways; my route’s going back towards Luna soon, and that’s a bit of a way to come even for an old friend.”

 

“Thanks, Delia,” Whiskey said, unconsciously relaxing in the shoulders.

 

“Three days, you said?”

 

“Three days. It’s me and two others. We may be going by different names though.”

 

“Schut, boy...that’s a hell of a hum in those engines.” Delia didn’t look annoyed, per se, but a little bit puzzled -- and definitely cautious. Whiskey couldn’t blame her, and he appreciated that she was trusting him all the same. “We’ll keep an eye out for someone who looks nothing like you, then. Just say Whiskey sent you and we’ll take your word for it.”

 

“Sounds good. I’ll owe you one.”

 

“That you will, boy. And you can start by telling me all about it once we're face to face. Harmon out.”

[Capt Rian Kwai 0]

Nice log :)

 

Looks like this team has a lift. Let's see if the others can catch up :)

[STSF_BluRox 0]

Great log! Why do you get the feeling that Bardolph is sorta like "Face"?