by Jack Hubbard and Trick London
80918.13
Hours After Just Fine
-=USS Serendipity: Quarters of the Chief Medical Officer=-
80918.13
Hours After Just Fine
-=USS Serendipity: Quarters of the Chief Medical Officer=-
Hubbard was finding it impossible to sleep on board the ship. His change in assignments was catching up with him and it wasn't something he was used to. He'd grown used to shifting his home every couple of years and for some reason, this was different.
Perhaps it was his introduction to the crew-the beam aboard of the pair in stasis without any warning. He had decided he couldn't let one crew member be off-putting. But for Jack that was easier said than done. Hubbard had probably been too outspoken during his Starfleet tenure, but he was comfortable with himself.
Salvek had seemed decent enough.
Hubbard rolled out of bed and put the thoughts out of his mind. He thought briefly about Alorha on Betazed, and then, she too, was a fleeting memory. As always, his thoughts traveled to San Francisco. He wondered if accepting this position had been a mistake.
He rubbed his hands on his face and stood up from the bed and paced his quarters. *Where am I headed,* he asked himself. Jack was sincerely cavalier about most things, and now he felt a pang of disappointment about considering a career move. He'd always been footloose and not concerned with hierarchy and how to get ahead in the Starfleet world. For as long as he could remember, his work had been enough. He kept it varied and it kept him amused.
Again he brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed tenaciously, which of course, brought no relief and no sense of being.
He considered a shower and shook it off-he made for his dresser and found a fresh civilian tunic, as he was after all, off-cycle. He quickly changed and threw water in his face, careful not to get his shirt wet. He stared into the mirror, "Who the hell are you Jack?" he asked himself rhetorically.
He'd never felt like this before...ever.
He decided to head to the lounge and ponder the fate of his universe over some synthehols, at the very least.
Upon reaching Illusions lounge he found the barkeep, a dark-haired man, and only a few others in scattered corners around the establishment. Jack felt like keeping his distance and so he took the remaining lone corner table so that he could survey the new surroundings. He was torn between longing for the Buena Vista and being here...
The barkeep approached.
"'Evening, Sir. I don't believe we've met. Lieutenant Commander..." Trick smiled amiably and waited for the Terran to insert his name to complete the sentence.
He also put his best listening ears on.
This man was definitely new to the crew since the Alchemy and Sera had reunited and even with his empathic abilities being limited, his bartending experience if nothing else told him this man felt like a fish out of water.
*Men who have the look on his face that he has tonight usually drank like fish too...*
Jack gave a careful nod, not much of a smile, still sizing up the man who was obviously gauging him.
Trick noted with unusual nervousness the size and brawn of the man before him as well, and his mind couldn't help but be dragged back to the very sore point that he'd just finished putting Illusions back together after a very un-Starfleet like brawl that had been started by another big, particularly well built Human male.
"Jack Hubbard," the man offered at last, noting that in civilian garb he wasn't always the first to offer up that he was a doctor. "New to the ship, trying to get the lay of the land. Can't sleep, so I'll take your best recommendation this evening." Hubbard eased up slightly, wondering if he could befriend this man. "I didn't catch your name."
"So sorry, where are my manners?" He bowed slightly at the waist. "Trick London, at your service." He paused thoughtfully.
"I'd like to recommend the Synhale but you know, it's Synthale. Can't do much about that until the Captain lifts her current ban on serving the real thing. I am happy to report, however, that the kitchen is still open and we do have a lot more to offer here than drinks. Might I interest you in a late dinner? Chef MacDougal is preparing salmon as the special, but if you're the sort who prefers red meat..."
Jack wasn't much on rules and wondered if this man didn't bend them once in a while, "Actually something to eat might be good, and if some contraband ended up in my glass, I wouldn't say anything." Jack winked.
"Duly noted, Sir. I shall return."
Within moments Trick brought him a tall glass-which at least looked harmless.
London observed Hubbard as he took in the sights around him and slowly nursed his drink. Trick was in an especially gregarious mood tonight, and therefore decided to venture on and offer the kind of unsolicited advice that bartenders are known for the galaxy over.
"You haven't really met them yet, you know," London offered. "Zanh. Blane is a good man. Lieutenant Grace has always been a particular favorite of mine, even though her husband is a bit," he paused, "Have you met Commander Reece yet?"
"No," Jack replied warily. "Why?"
"You'll understand as soon as you do." London explained, feeling no need to elaborate further. "You haven't seen them, or her, in their element."
*Observational skills worthy of Intelligence,* thought Hubbard. "Grace?" Hubbard was confused. "I've never seen her, period. I neglected to mention, I'm the doctor-so I have a handle on some of the files..." He thought for a moment, "Grace...She's due to come in for a physical but she seems to be dodging it."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean Bru. The 'her' I meant was the Sera..." Trick explained. "She's just like a woman that you meet once and never forget. Complicated. Mesmerizing." He looked all around him, then flashed a wide grin. "Beautiful."
Jack thought about beautiful women for a moment, actually for several moments. Again, the doubt of his assignment came to mind, which was quickly replaced by the thought of several beautiful women, all of them in San Francisco. *This isn't helping.* He returned to his drink.
Seconds after he set it down, Trick picked up Hubbard's now empty glass. "Just give it a little time, mate, and you'll see that this ship and her crew are like no other. And believe me, they need someone just like you to make sure they don't just."
"Just what?"
"Die off because of the crazy things they do! I don't think any of these people are actively suicidal but believe me, they know how to do a damn good impersonation. Schizophrenic Trill symbionts. Electrocutions, Telepathic alien interventions, and my personal favorite, Pon Farr gone terribly, terribly wrong." He shook his head. "I promise you this much, this lot will never bore you."
Jack didn't want to spoil the man's illusion. One starship was like the next. At least in Hubbard's opinion. Small community, lots of drama-change the faces and the scenarios were pretty much identical. Jack longed for the life in the colony-he'd seemed happiest there...or in San Francisco...*Damn can't shake the images of The City* Jack asked Trick, "Ever been to San Francisco? Now there's a beautiful woman." He smiled at his analogy.
"Indeed, I have. Only on the way to other places, though. I've never spent as much time there as I would have liked. That is one port, I am sad to say, I have never had a girl in."
He widened his eyes and flashed Hubbard a different sort of grin.
"Though that's probably the only port I haven't had a girl in." London surveyed the lounge and saw that everything was quiet, everyone's glass was full except Hubbard's, and he checked the antique watch strapped to his wrist.
He was due for a break.
"Are you off duty for the rest of the night, Doctor Hubbard?"
Jack nodded slowly. Again his hopes were raised that some sort of contraband could be obtained on this boat.
"Be right back."
Trick moved into the kitchen, and returned a few moments later with one of his waiters in tow. The young man had a tray laden with food- and London was holding a bottle in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.
He displayed the bottle for Hubbard's inspection as the waiter set a large porterhouse steak down in front of the doctor and another across the table for London.
"I hope you won't mind if I intrude upon your solitude, but I am so enjoying talking about your lady San Francisco that I hope we can continue in a more casual, friendly way."
Hubbard looked over the food, and the bottle of wine, appreciatively. "Nice vintage." he said holding up the bottle, "and you're not intruding. Romeo...a fine blend, good choice on your part."
"You're ever so kind." London uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses, then settled into his seat. "Montague, you say? I assure you I've been called much less flattering terms. Usually while something heavy was being hurled at my head by the object of my desires."
"Happens to the best of us." Hubbard replied, sampling the food, which was delicious and most definitely better than the replicated fare he'd been subsisting on since leaving Betazed.
"So, Doctor, tell me. If you are chafing at being held within the confines of a ship in space...why did you ever choose a life in Starfleet?"
"Good question. Love the medical end, and wanted something that wasn't so pedestrian. Seems I'm finding that anything can become pedestrian after a while. I suppose most people go through that. I know Gaugin did when he headed to Tahiti. He thought it was the ticket and then found that, well, life anywhere, was just, life."
Hubbard peered through the bottle admiring the way the liquid fell slowly down the sides of the interior. "What about you, Mr. London? Why did you sign up to be a part of a circus like this when you could clearly write your own ticket planet side of anything with an M class atmosphere?"
"The challenge, mate." London replied, swirling the wine in his glass and watching it spin. "I've lived planet side one place or another all of my life, and it seemed to me that the last great adventures were to be had in the heavens. So far, I cannot say that I've been disappointed. This ship. Her mission. Her Captain."
London rolled his eyes.
"There's a woman for you. A true Amazonian spirit. Untouchable by those of us who are merely mortal, mind you, but not unworthy of consideration just the same. She's like no other I've met with four pips, and believe me after years of catering huge Starfleet affairs I have met more than my fair share of 'fleet brass."
Jack nodded, but thought about his time on the Rousseau. Serving under Nolan and alongside Avery Breaux. He had the feeling others would be scrutinizing once they knew of that affiliation. Hubbard took a sip. *Maybe I'm over reacting-I need to give them a chance-stopping putting up defenses* He wondered if things had gone differently in Sickbay, if he wouldn't have felt he'd gotten off on the wrong foot. Salvek didn't seem to be upset, and Trick seemed to be a straight shooter.
"Yes, I'm sure," he looked about the lounge, "...I do have to ask...I have a weakness I'm afraid...one of many actually...women?..." Hubbard raised an eyebrow, he knew Trick would follow his lead, "How are we fixed for women aboard?"
Trick sighed slowly. "We could use a few more around here if you ask me." He finished the contents of his glass, and refilled it.
"But, people come and go from this place all the time. High pressure assignment. So all I can tell you is, keep your eyes open, mate. You never know who could get transferred here tomorrow."
Trick grinned as he cut into a piece of his steak, speared it with his fork and elevated the utensil toward his mouth. "After all, you did."
LT Commander Jack Hubbard
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Trick London
Manager, Illusions Lounge
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Trick London
Manager, Illusions Lounge
USS Serendipity NCC-2012