Salute

Posted on Wed Oct 28th, 2020 @ 2:23pm by Lieutenant Commander William Rogers & Ashe Zachariah

Mission: Into The Delta Triangle
Location: Personal Quarters

It was getting late, but the computer had finally reported that Commander Rogers had returned to his quarters. Grabbing something from behind the bar, Ashe headed out into the corridor and made her way through the ship, pausing at his door and hitting the chime and waiting.

Buck wasn't expecting visitors, so when the door chime sounded he hurried to grab the nearest shirt he could find in order to appear presentable. "It's open!" He shouted after he'd tugged the shirt over his but before he realised it was the blood stained one he'd worn on the away mission.

Walking in, Ashe looked around until her gaze finally settled on him, taking in the stained shirt and the exhausted appearance. With a shake of her head, she set a case down on the table and opened it, pulling an ice cold beer from what it seemed was actually a cooler full of beer. "Thought you could use this," she said with a smile, offering it to him.

"Thanks. It's been a day." He chuckled and popped the cap on the beer. "I worried you might have been one of the counselling lot."

Ashe laughed and shook her head. "I prefer to do my counseling the old fashioned way, with good old alcohol and bad decisions." She took another bottle and uncapped it with ease, raising it toward him in a kind of salute. "Good to see you made it back in one piece my friend."

"Just about." Buck chuckled and took a pull from his bottle. "So is this the real deal or that synthohol stuff?"

The look of affront on Ashe's face held for a moment. "What kind of low rent bar tender do you think I am?" she asked, eyes widening. "Synthahol? Why would I ever serve anyone, least of all my favourite helmsman gutter swill like synthahol?" With the last few words her voice started to crack before she broke into laughter. "Yeah, I know, I have a lousy poker face. But the beer is real. I wouldn't give you anything less, especially after the day you've had."

"Wasted on me. Lack your sophisticated 24th century palates to tell the difference." Buck dropped into one of the chairs around the table. "how well do you know that bar Klingon of yours? Kurg?"

"You mean Kaarg?" She shrugged. "I know I shouldn't use his batleth to cut a BLT at 3am after I've been drinking. That was a bad idea." She grinned and took a seat across from him. "He's been on and off Federation ships for a while and he makes a mean chocolate brownie."

"He ever talk about augments?"

"If he did, it wasn't with me. All we really talked about was Klingon culture and cooking." She raised an eyebrow slightly. "Why's that?"

"' I shan't suffer augments to live'." Buck shook his head. "Klingon merc said that before trying to kill me."

Ashe remained quiet for a moment. "I don't think Kaarg is like that," she finally said quietly before taking a sip of her drink. "Why would they want to kill you?"

Buck shrugged. "Dunno. At least it sounds like it was something unique to that one guy and isn't a species wide thing."

"I mean, I'm sure the Klingons want to kill lots of people, but, you know, I don't think you're gonna be all that high on their lists, unless you did something to bring shame and dishonour, like killing a high chancellor while he slept?"

"Felt pretty personal when he stabbed me." Buck chuckled. "Figured it was probably related to a general hatred of genetically modified people."

"Well, for our sakes, I'm glad he failed," she replied with a grin before opening the cooler and grabbing out two more drinks, sliding one across the table to him. "This ship wouldn't be the same without our very own Captain America."

"You're always saying that." Buck uncapped his beer and looked at it thoughtfully. "Don't get too used to it. Everyone moves on eventually."

"But eventually isn't right now," Ashe replied, holding her drink toward him. "Salute my friend, and welcome home."