Is It a Secret If We Both Know?
Posted on Tue Aug 18th, 2020 @ 1:29pm by Captain Luka Mahone & Cornelius Warner MS
2,733 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
Equivalent Exchange
Location: Silver Tongue
Timeline: MD 07 : 2301 Hrs
The intention to stay a couple of days on the ground while he made the attempt to stave off Koplo's gung-ho insistence turned into a reminder for the young Captain that he had people he had to watch out for. Not that the constant training on the Titania had not been, but the reminder had more potency when he was surrounded by those he knew relied on whatever order he was going to give.
And now the gears in the back of Luka's mind were turning. There was high potential for a more military-like presence upon Haumea with the arrival of Shaun and any marines that came with him. No matter how temporary or permanent, the idea of having him looming did not sit well with him.
So, with a pair of rather fancy growlers in his hand, Luka stepped out from his quiet little cabin to make the late night trek down to the Silver Tongue. Without his dog or Starfleet uniform, the man caught very little attention from the few he passed by. Taking the ignorance of those around him as a success that his lightweight, bright blue jacket seemed to blend in with its darkened springtime surroundings, Luka quickly arrived on scene and into the establishment. As he entered, he noticed the number of patrons had far exceeded what he expected for the middle of the night, a number that he had somehow figured was less than ten.
"... Oh no..." he muttered, quietly making his way to the bar in the hopes that no one would at all notice or, worse, recognize him while he was there. Only when he reached the bar did he remove his gaze from the crowds and toward the list of brews on tap. Quietly. Totally inconspicuously.
Luka was anything but inconspicuous, there was no denying that, and Cornelius waved off Trell as he went to go talk to the Captain, instead Warner approached him and leaned on the bar. "Good evening, looks like you have some growlers to fill," he said, his attitude suave and calm, like any patron would expect of him. "I think you'd enjoy our Imperial Ale, it's got a good robust flavour, but the White Ale is a popular choice as well," he said, a smile on his lips.
In two beats, Luka's cheeks turned bright red, and his lips pressed together. "I think you know what I like," he muttered under his breath, giving Cornelius a frown as he looked over. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, and something a little consistent would be nice for once. Nothing green - you don't make... green beer, do you?"
"Only once," he replied, taking the growler and placing it in a purge located below the counter to push all the oxygen out and flood it with carbon dioxide. "Wanted to celebrate Saint Paddy's day with the humans on Romulus, but turns out the Romulans didn't care too much for the beer the colour of their blood. It's too much effort so I likely won't again. Depending next Christmas on business, I might try and make a nutmeg stout though. I do love nutmeg." Humming to himself quickly he poured a eight-ounce of the guest beers, a new England style Pale Ale called "Martian Sunset." He wasn't as much a fan, but the beer had been popular, so he placed it down in front of the Captain. "Hints of cinnamon and apple," he said, drying his hand on a towel around his waist. "Not my favourite, but it seems many of the people are liking it. It's a strong one though, so if you're looking to get drunk fast it's a good option."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." Luka set his hand on the growler, insistent on not moving from his spot. "Though I would... probably advise against green beer if that was the reaction, but a couple of complaints like that I think I can deal with. It's... other issues I may have... well, issues with." The pause was accompanied by a vague hand motion. "With all the changes coming up, I'm having... doubts." He needed another perspective, one that was not his own... or Koplo's. He had yet to broach the subject with the gung-ho officer, though Luka was fairly certain the answer to his dilemma would have been a slammed down fist and vehement acceptance. "But I'm sure you've seen them in the establishment once or twice..."
"If you're referring to the Flyboy and his few Marine Engineering Corps ," replied Warner with a grin, "then of course. They're Marines, and I am sure Aarav has already run them out a time or two. They can drink with the best of them and still be effective the next day. I once had an opportunity to tour Camp Chosin and see what they went through. I wanted an entire battalion on training, full in their conviction they were going to have the next day off, drink until 0200 and stumble to bed by 0300. The simulated attack on the facility started at 0400. They still fought like the machines they are." He thought back to the day, he had of course known and had been to bed and awake in time to observe, and had watched as Marines who were haggard and worn had still fought tooth and nail. "Marines are an unpredictable lot, kept on a short leash by SFMC Command, and just hungry enough to be ready to launch themselves at a target with a ferocity that makes some Klingons pause. " he said with dramatic pause, "I have been removed from a poor situation twice by them, and wouldn't have had it any other way. Never cared for them, stayed a clear of them as I could for the most part, but when shit hits the fan, I'll take green over gold any day." He offered a shrug before turning to look around the bar to see if anyone was paying too close attention before leaning in.
"The real question is why are they here?"
That seemed to satisfy the awkward nagging in the back of Luka's mind. Not that he knew what to expect of Cornelius's opinions on 'Flyboy,' but at least they shared an opinion on the subject matter. "I've only ever met a handful of marines," he admitted, "But if they weren't distantly removed from whatever I was doing, they were busy disagreeing with a Captain and holding a fair number of people hostage. But the Lieutenant Colonel- " Luka paused, to glance over his shoulder a moment. "... He's here to help. Has a little experience from Falkirk, so the Admiral brought him along." As he admitted to it, the Captain realized that there was something... off... about the statement. Or the situation, he could not figure which. "But we've never had a marine presence or even requested one upon the colony..." he mused in a hushed tone. He appeared to be absently talking to himself. "So... why the Lieutenant Colonel instead of anyone else?"
"Well half your answer is the fact that a Falkirk Marine is here on station," replied Cornelius, stroking his beard lightly. "MacTayrn, head of 2nd Lightyear Division is known for the fierce loyalty he commands. He's hot-headed, a ferocious fighter, and a damned skills tactician. Also means that if he was asked to provide assistance in the matter, you didn't receive someone he could simply spare. You received a Marine who is skilled in a field, and specifically was chosen to make Starfleet look bad at their own game." Placing two shot glasses from the bar, he pointed to them.
"When someone approaches a bar, solo, and asks for a shot, you always pour two. Never one. Either they will take both, or you do the shot with them. It is designed to keep them from noticing you haven't filled the glass to the top, not to short them, but to ensure that it doesn't spill. Someone who dumps a drink down the front of their shirt looks the fool. Alternatively, this is a great trick if you are almost done the bottle, and want to open a new one. Fill the customers with the old stock, your own with the new stock." He slid the empty glasses towards the Captain. "If you're smart, as a patron, and watching, you can grab instead the new stock, getting what looks like a better deal. But what if the new bottle is worse? Bad batch, poor taste, what have you. Starfleet is assuming their internal stock is better and is keeping them for projects that are more important. Romulan resettlement, Cardassian rebuilding, that missing colony the Commodore got himself involved in. They think they're handing you the old, less desirable stock." Scooping the glasses he placed them in the sink below to be washed and reused later.
The Captain's shoulders sagged, a realization that Cornelius was quite likely correct in his analogy. Haumea was already an established piece of land, and it was off the beaten path enough that they must not have felt the need to send whoever they thought was the best and brightest. Koplo was indication of that enough. The Klingon had been instrumental in assisting in Haumea's overall growth, but he did not fit the leadership style Luka felt was needed on the colony. But then, perhaps Luka was not the leader they needed either. "I suppose that makes sense..." He stated reluctantly. He settled into his seat, eyes cast downward. Cornelius had only half answered the question he himself had posed, and Luka knew just enough about the situation to know that this felt... fishy.
"That doesn't explain why a Falkirk marine," Luka pressed. He leaned forward. "Why anyone in green at all? I don't doubt he has good intentions, but marines come with an... aggressive reputation behind them. We're getting things done here, so it's not that... What do they think is on Haumea that requires first a known, aggressive Lieutenant Commander in my leadership and then this. It's odd. And I feel like adding more of that to our image may invite the problems that Starfleet Command is already worried about."
Whatever weighed on Luka's mind tended to come out around Cornelius. Was he wrong in trusting someone who wore the other color he was so worried about? But, where else was Luka going to turn? "We've been here long enough that we would be fine without that sort of assistance. What piece am I missing that they think they need to make this move for?"
"A Falkirk Marine is easy. Someone thought they were playing the Major General as part of the movement. They would make him play nice with Starfleet. He in turn gave you his CAG officer, who was part of the initial recovery of Falkirk after Starfleet failed to leave it functional." The brewmaster leaned against the counter with a mischievous smile. "You're in the middle of a chess match as old as the NX prototypes when MACOs were forced to play nice with Starfleet before the two organizations were combined. Also, have you actually talked to the Colonel, looked at his record? He's effective, known for his kill count, but he's no jarhead. Sure, he walks the walk, and talks the talk, but he's a flyboy first, a Marine second. MacTaryn knows his men, and likely chose him specifically for that. As for help?" The man pushed off his bar and took a few paces back, "Starfleet is overly cautious right now, you're standing in proof of it. This isn't the organization you, me, or that flyboy joined. Things are different, and now we're starting to see just how different." When one of his staff snuck past to grab a beer, he stepped out of the way, and offered one of his famous playboy smiles, before stepping back to close the gap between the Captain and himself.
"If you want a real chance to know the Marine, buy him a drink, get him to talk, and see if he has any family. Have them for dinner, get to see what he's actually planning. If you're right, he'll come alone, talk in circles, and leave before the night is done. Otherwise, he might surprise you." Cornelius cocked his head down, raising an eyebrow, his smile widening a little bit. "You only have an evening to lose."
By this point, Luka had leaned so far in that when he hung his head, he smacked it against the table. A muffled 'ow' came out, as the Captain rested his forehead upon the bar counter. His shoulders rose as he sighed out into it, before he lifted his head up, sitting himself upright. "... I've spoken with him, but it was... not... helpful?"
Frowning, Luka eyed the bar behind Cornelius. Maybe he should have looked a little less conspicuous and not like he was talking to the bartender about the latest hot gossip on the colony. "... I may need to give that porter of yours a try. This is... going to be a long night I think."
"Did you actually talk to him, or did you let your preconceptions about him get in the way of a real human interaction?" asked the bartender with a smile, pouring the porter in question and placing it in front of the Captain.
Luka took the porter, making a face at the drink as if it were the tea that Cornelius spilt truth from. "When you haven't had a good interaction with a marine, certain notions stick in your head." He shot a look to the bartender, taking a small sip of the porter before pressing onward. "He also came to me to talk, not the other way around. I guess I had some lingering thought or another in my head that kept me from trying to do more than figure out what he was all about."
"Let me guess, asked about the more violent side of the Marines, and got told exactly what you wanted to hear, right?" Cornelius frowned, which molded into pursed lips and a shaking head. "You're smarter than that. If you're going to have to work with the Colonel for a week or two, get to know him a bit better. Marines are often told that they are hated by most Fleet staff, to the point they begin to hate the Fleet just as much. Give him a chance. And if he's a dick?" Cornelius pointed his thumb over his shoulder and blew a raspberry. "Send him up stream."
The shade of pink Luka's cheeks turned gave way to his embarrassment. He was caught up in everything, and there were enough stupid mistakes to show for it. He frowned into his glass of porter, sniffing the roasted malt and light hop aromas before taking another healthy sip. "Nutty," he commented off-handedly. But then his glass was set down and he was rather serious in demeanor. "I'll give a go. I wonder if he likes Hawaiian food..." The only dishes Luka tended to know how to actually create involved a grill and some form of fruit. "I guess we'll find out, huh?"
"That's the spirit Cap," replied the brewmaster, nodding as one of his staff leaned over to whisper something in his ear. "I have an issue with the CO2 system I need to go check out," he said as the woman walked away and he frowned. "Let me know how dinner goes, okay?" Cornelius said as he took a step back, and paused. "And hey, how about dinner for me sometime? Hawaiian sounds great!" With that he spun on his heels and disappeared behind the bar to check on his hardware.
"Dinner for-" Luka watched hopelessly as Cornelius retreated to the back. A sigh escaped his lips, taking the last few swigs of his porter to finish it off and setting the glass on the counter top. He hesitated, nodding toward the employee who took over the bar, before he took a hold of his growler and left his seat. There was much he had to think about.
And now he had a growler's worth of think juice to do it with.
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