Representing the Science Department at the Captain's get-together was
not, Burgundy had started to learn, a simple affair. He had been given
very precise instructions on what to do and where to be. A lot of it
sounded to his ears like chores, but for once he gave it the benefit of
doubt. His department head had offered an olive branch, and if it came
attached to ludicrous traditions then, well, he'd only do this the one
time.
Presently he found himself in a bar. While he would normally consider
that a good place to be the grocery list of liqours in his hand reminded
him that it was for [i]work[/i] this time. He sighed as he went through
the items in his head. Was "Refikian Spirit Spirit" even a real thing? A
liqour for souls? Made of souls? A soul who listened to soul? The
ensign snorted and sat down at a bar stool. He would allow himself some
wallowing in self-pity for the arduous task placed upon him. A short
respite. And a beer.
He turned to look for the bartender and found himself facing a
Cardassian in full uniform and a martini glass in hand. Before he could
stop himself he stared in surprise, turned away and looked back again.
The man was still there.
"I'm hallucinating, and I haven't even started drinking yet," he said, not fully realising that he voiced that thought out loud.
Hazel eyes that looked darker in the shadows of Harun's eye ridges fixed
on the little Star Fleet officer, raking over the teal-blue highlights
of the man's uniform before narrowing with annoyance. He supposed
someone was going to say something eventually but he hadn't expected it
quite so soon and from a little medical officer no less.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the ensign where to put his
hallucinations but he stopped remembering the last time he'd shot his
mouth off at a bar to a member of Star Fleet. No, he had learned his
lesson, he supposed Kenji would be proud. So, shoving down his annoyance
he smiled and said, "No hallucination, just a good martini."
He raised his glass to emphasize the point and took a sip of his drink.
"You look like you could use one," he said and raised his hand to flag
down the bar tender.
Burgundy snorted a short laugh. "I've never tasted a 'good martini' in
my entire life," he said, smiling defiantly and emphasizing with air
quotations. The ensign was too self-absorbed to understand that he had
just insulted someone, and a Cardassian at that. Ever since waking up,
every day had offered surreal moments to him. Most of the time because
of his department head, whom he was starting to suspect had made it a
personal mission to drive everyone around them insane. Compared to most
of those moments this one felt like an innocent and welcome distraction.
"Nah," he continued, "humans have weird tastes in liqour. And they have
no Prepondrian beverages in the replicator databases, because of some
stupid age old imperial edict. Poor me have only found one alcoholic
drink to be passable." He turned to the bartender, briefly wondering if
it was a hologram or if it would purse its lips rudely like all the real
bartenders did to him. "A Warmpess beer, luke warm and with a big
splash of white wine vinegar."
The bartender pursed its lips rudely, but didn't say anything. Hologram
or not? Burgundy wasn't sure. He eyed its back suspiciously for a moment
before turning to his new company. "So, what's a Cardassian military
officer doing here? Have we been occupied? Because I know a few people
who'd be great prisoners and a lot of fun torturing," His smile was
quizzical and not entirely sincere as he thought about the many officers
on the Lone Star who had already offended him in his short time here.
Harun couldn't help but give a sympathetic glance to the bar tender,
poor man probably dealt with fussy Star Fleet officers and their
fastidious tastes every day. Cardassians were rarely so demanding when
it came to drinking, so long as it wasn't overly sweet and had enough
alcohol to pickle the liver. However, he recalled when Kenji had
introduced him to a warm liquor called Plumb Sake. Harun had wanted to
claw out his tongue for the sweetness until the alcohol hit and then it
wasn't half bad, especially when the grilled and salted cephalopods were
brought out.
Taking another measured sip of his martini in order to keep himself from
saying something equally insulting back at the little Prepondrian,
Harun quirked an eyebrow at the mention of occupation. "Why?" he
inquired letting his eyes drop down into the glass as it left his lips.
His eyes lifted slowly to the ensign's as his head tilted, "Are you
looking to be occupied?"
Harun felt no real attraction to the Prepondrian but the suggestiveness
of the comment could potentially get the man to shut up. Few people
really knew what to do with themselves when hit on by a Cardassian.
Harun waited to see if his gamble paid off.
The Starfleet officer blinked at first, confused. He couldn’t tell
whether his impromptu drinking company was being serious or not.
Then again, being liked was the best thing in the world, wasn’t it? Why question it?
He sat up a little bit straighter and beamed at the Cardassian warrior.
”Why not me, personally, but thank you for the show of interest!” he
offered enthusiastically. ”I’m Burgundy. Science officer at the USS L-”
he hesitated, suddenly aware of his ship’s, and by extension his own,
reputation. ”Lantern,” he finished then. ”Just here for a very short
errand.”
Just then the bartender handed the ensign his ordered drink. Burgundy
eyed it a little, noting the beads of condensation forming on the glass.
The beer was cold. It was his turn to purse his lips, but instead of
commenting on it he took the opportunity to hand his list over, asking
the bartender to provide him with an anti-grav trolley with all the
items. Then he turned back to the man he now saw as an admirer. ”What
brings you to a Starfleet station?”
"The Lantern," Harun repeated in a thoughtful tone while his eyes never
left Burgundy, "I don't believe I've heard of that ship." Back when he
had his pick of assignments he had taken the time to study the
Federation Fleet in its entirety but he didn't recall a Lantern, given
his excellent Cardassian memory he doubted he'd overlooked it. Perhaps
it was a science vessel? Made sense since Burgundy was a science
officer.
Harun resumed sipping his martini as the Ensign handed his grocery list
to the bartender who looked none to happy to receive it. He decided then
he would leave the man a tip, after all given the Lone Star operated
from the station it would be good to make friends with the bartender. He
set down the nearly empty glass as Burgundy asked his question, "I'm
assigned to a Starfleet vessel. Why else would I be here?"
The exchange program between Starfleet and the Cardassian Union was no
great secret. Four of his compatriots were either on or headed to Space
Stations just like this one to start their assignments. The initial
agreement was three years with an option to extend into five. Harun
didn't know if he would be given the option or if he would want to spend
two more years away from Cardassia, he was certain his father would
have opinions on the subject.
"It's new," said Burgundy of the fictitious USS Lantern. He proceeded
quickly to the other topic, unwilling to dig himself deeper in that
particular lie. "Assigned to a Starfleet vessel, you say?" the ensign
only paid a small amount of attention to the Cardassian at this point,
as the bartender came over with an anti-grav trolley with what he
assumed was his order. "That's not nearly all the things I ordered! What
is this? Eight keggs of beer, two crates of champagne and a box with -"
he opened it and peered inside, "- four other odd liqours! I had a list
of nine!"
The bartender gave him an indifferent look and handed back the list.
"There are no drinks called either 'Pheromones', 'Hades Delight',
'Orthodox', 'Odd Nog' or 'Litterbottle'." Burgundy wasn't given a chance
to reply, as customers called for attention farther away. Instead he
stared at the last five items on the list. For the first time he saw the
alliteration of the first letters: PHOOL. Strange way of spelling it,
sure, but the meaning was obvious.
Annoyed the Prepondrian turned to Harun, "Let me give you a piece of
advice, mate; Starfleet is shit. Utter. Fucking. Shit." He stopped for
half a breath to let that sink in, feeling rather good to have someone
listen to his truthtelling - albeit someone who hadn't exactly
volunteered for it. "It's full of stuck up idiots who love nothing more
than to screw up your life. Take a page from the playbook of the
arch-Cardassian Gul Dukat and kick some ass to let them know their
place," he finished his tirade off by taking his beer and pourig it out
in the sink on the other side of the bar.
The Cardassian merely nodded acknowledgement but said nothing further in
regards to his assignment since Ensign Burgundy was preoccupied. When
the bar tender turned to go, he raised his glass, tipping it back and
forth so that the motion caught the man’s eye. “Another one of these if
you please,” he said and then returned his attention to Burgundy, rather
his list.
Phool. A little hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but
was quickly gone as soon as the exasperated Burgundy turned to him.
Years of having two nosy younger sisters had taught Harun the value of
hiding his emotions behind a mask of indifference. He listened to the
Prepondrian rant, nodding and making polite, sympathetic noises in the
appropriate places. Ultimately, he found it very amusing that the little
science officer was letting himself get flustered over a mild prank.
Then again, Burgundy had fallen for the prank so Harun supposed he
shouldn’t be surprised.
Harun’s expression froze a little at the mention of his grandfather but
he recovered quickly and simply smiled. He knew the name Dukat was
infamous beyond the boarders of Cardassian space but he hadn't expected
to be met with it. He only hoped Burgundy didn't notice the slight
lapse. “I will keep that in mind,” he said and decided to add a little
flattery to soothe the man, “I appreciate your candor.”
Burgundy was about to go off on another rant, but caught himself.
Politeness was a bit of a mood killer, in that regard. It's hard to stay
mad when someone's being nice to you. He settled for a shrug instead.
"You're welcome," he acknowledged. "Have a good day," he added then, as
he started steering the anti-grav trolley out of the bar. He paid little
attention to the reciprocrate adieu from his new Cardassian aquintance,
expending his focus instead on composing a mental list of predators
that could be convinced to eat a lump of jelly.