Star Trek: Starbase 777 - dining-district

He was off duty for the time being, and he thought that it was the perfect time to get some Mac and Cheese. Really, he was just happy that nothing seemed to be going haywire that day, which allowed him a little bit of time to relax.

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Another shift over, another cause for celebration! In this case, celebration was a pumpkin spice latter from Gliqqigug's, just in for their season. (Autumn, for those who don't get the joke.)

The Golem dragged her thumb across the knuckles of her fingers, indulging in the strange figure of their construction. Tapping the thumb against the side and highest section after every drag across. Subtly adjusting the muscles on her face, she stopped fiddling with the mountains on her knuckles instead taking a drink of the warm coffee on the table in front of her. A Detective and a cup of coffee was incredibly stereotypical to say the least, but she enjoyed it, plus, her drink wasn't bitter, instead it was half creamer and sugar. A kick to actually invigorate her and dispelled the gray curtains across her eyes. (edited)

Ellie found the bottom of her coffee, again, around the third one in the last few hours. Bulldozed and slammed into her artificial digestive tract as it filtered through. She didn't really know if the body permitted the usual overconsumption of coffee she was accustomed to. She adjusted her sit and uncrossed her legs to stand. Using the table to simplify the already easy act, an old habit from the complications of her origin body. She walked along past the ever shifting crowds of the district. Lingering iris' on people's complexure, but not too long to spawn her own discomfort. Recognizing a few faces as ones that were passed sometime in the last week or so.

The noise boomed of a yellow alert across the district, and Ellie felt her skin pull itself apart at the noise.Anxiety instantly rocking her herself into a shaking position. Reaching for a stun baton or phaser she'd have on her hips. Nothing was there. Even if there was she still was new, didn't know the layout, or where something was happening. The idea of false alarm kicked at her frontal cortex. Strangling the thought back she hurriedly ran through crowds, pushing through people. Yelling at civilians and enlisted personnel to get into a safety hold somewhere. She'd have to remember, or people might die. This wasn't the situation to forget where left and right were. Ellie stampede her lengthy legs, taking her security access and prying an emergency protection stash with a phaser on a stun setting. A pair of cuffs and that phaser was all she took before blasting off with wide sweeps to find a place to position herself and protect others.

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Tavaen was headed down at speed (for a man of his health) to Hlleistau bar. It was a place he wasn't normally wanted, or allowed for that matter, but at least in this moment he knew an exception would be made. He was the only one on the station, as far as he knew, who knew everything about Rojin, and he knew he needed to inform Rojin of what had happened so the man could respond. So he went to Hlleistau, almost certain he'd be able to find Rojin there, and if he couldn't find Rojin there, certain he'd be able to find someone who would know where he was.

He was there. Of course he was there - one of the fixtures of the 777, manning the bar like it was his ship and he was it's captain. He was standing close to one of the patrons, eyebrows knit together at their anxious speech, the concentration only broken as he heard the telltale clicking of the old Khellian's cane. White and gray shift to stare right at him, the beginnings of a scowl... suddenly dissipating. Because for all the animosity between them... Rojin knew that Tavaen would not be approaching his bar like this. Not if there was a reason. Something was said to the client, before the Lareth swerved around the bar and began to approach Tavaen with haste in his gait.

Perhaps Tavaen was slightly out of breath upon reaching Rojin, but he still did not stop until he and the bartender were face to face, able to speak without the involvement of the walls with ears. His expression was so cold, lacking all of the warmth that had come to characterise his existence as a civilian, his old age warming his tired bones. He was more akin to the soldier now, the life of which he had chosen to leave behind so long ago but the history of which clung to him the way the scent of iron clung to a butcher. "The red alert," he started after a deep breath to steady himself, "it's an infiltration. You need-" he coughed, once, clearing his throat before dropping his voice even further, almost whispering now, "-you need to move quickly. It's your father... and he's taken Saren."

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Tavaen might as well have gutted him. Driven a knife through his heart and twisted it for a good measure, because that feeling, that amount of pain, would've been more easy to handle than the news that this man just brought him. Briefly his eyes closed, hiding away the emotion that threatened to well up and overwhelm. Because while he was busy shutting down his bar for the alert, while he got distracted by a blubbering officer who was anxiously telling him about an assault on the promenade, one of his worst nightmares just came to reality so quickly, so brazenly, that it was borderline absurd. He reopened his eyes again to look at Tavaen, steely gaze concentrating on the man's face like a beam of light from a magnifying glass. "You should go to your quarters, Khellian. Civilians are supposed to stay out of danger when the red alert is active."

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Tavaen watched Rojin's reaction closely, not disappointed by the way he steeled himself, much like he'd had to. For all their differences, Tavaen knew they were much alike; something he wouldn't speak out loud for fear of being punched in the face again, but something he recognised nonetheless. "I know, Lareth. I have to speak to my sons- my other sons, anyway. I merely thought that if anyone should come to bear bad news, it had better have been me." Tavaen turned around halfway, ready to leave to speak to his children as he'd said, before having another thought, one that was terrible as it left the old man's face, turned at a ninety-degree angle, his face en profil mostly lit by the light of the promenade coming in through the door: "Your brother. Should I get Letor to inform him, or will you take the time?"

A nod followed, his mind lingering on the usage of "other sons" in that sentence, but he refrained from questioning it. Not now. Perhaps later... "I can't ensure a swift meeting with my brother due to all of the precautions surrounding him. I hate to burden someone else with it, but... maybe it's for the best."

Tavaen nodded once, decisively, then turned to go, this time to actually go to his quarters. Or perhaps Ev'kor or Letor's quarters, but did the distinction at that point really matter anyhow? "I will see it done. Good luck, Rojin."

He turned, walking back to the bar, only to disappear behind the staff door. If the same man did not walk out of that door before the bar closed... well. No one noticed.

As soon as they disembarked, Dwyer headed straight to the dining district, ready to down some caffeine to settle his nerves. He was mentally exhausted, but he had to stay alert; it was vital to figuring out a better way of tackling this. Hopefully his superiors had a better clue than he did.

And just as promised, there she was: in the first bar that she found on her way out of engineering. The bar served food aside from drinks, which was good since she needed proper nutrition. She ordered a simple lasagna. There was no going wrong with those right? And a salad on the side. She debated a lot on whether she should ask for a juice or an actual drink. In the end she ordered a beer and a cup of water. Raising her cup slightly at nothing nor anyone in particular she sighed before taking her first sip. “To one step closer.” Then she started on her lasagna. Not the best one but also not the worst ever.

Gene shuffled through the bar doorway, rubbing his eye wearily. These past couple of days had really tested him, and he needed a drink desperately. He approached the replicator, rubbing his shoulder. * "Raktajino...spiked." *He grumbled, watching idly as the machine summoned it. "Oh and--..nachos." He took his mug to make room for the manifested plate and then grabbed that too. Turning to look towards the seating, he spotted Garcia, and he smiled, giving her a wave as he approached. "Hey, Lieutenant, mind if I...?" *He pointed down to the seating nearby. *

”Oh! Hey Gene.” She was midway through her salad, which at some point she decided to finish before the lasagna so she could only eat lasagna until she was done with her meal, as a treat. She gave the ensign a small smile as she munched on a lettuce leaf. “Not at all, please.” She gestured to the seat with one hand, while minding her manners and covering her mouth with the other.

Gene sighed, mostly from exhaustion and relief as he sat down. He immediately lifted his mug and took a few large gulps, swallowing hard before placing it down again. "Gah...is it usually this stressful in Starfleet or do I just have great timing?...--You uh- you been on this Star base long, or...?" He asked, brows knitting quizzically as he glanced over at her.

”Well like I said back there, I’ve been here for a bit longer than a week. Certainly an exciting welcome gift.” She giggled a bit at that.

"Hah, yeah, damn..." Gene chuckled, shaking his head, "Well what you were able to uncover back there? Really impressive." He said, sipping his drink again; he was glad of the energy boost; he felt as though he would pass out otherwise.

”Wouldn’t have worked if you all didn’t help with the code. I call it team effort.” She raised her beer towards him. “How about you Gene. How many Starfleet years and how much 777 time so far?”

Gene raised his raktajino in solidarity, clinking their cups together (he hoped that was the traditional earth-culture gesture she was going for). "Yeah, I uh...well. I was transported onto the Eventide just after shit hit the fan -so...3 days? I have no clue anymore- time is beginnin' to lose meanin'-" He cleared his throat "And I guess that's 3 days for Starfleet as well." He smiled nervously "I just came outta the academy. I know it don't really look like it-hah-...I got delayed lets say." He shrugged, chuckling, referring to his age. He was still young, but not academy young.

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At first she did not intend to click the cups, but as the ensign made the move she met him, not wishing to leave him hanging. “Ouuf guess its both of us on trial by fire.” She laughed. “Though I’ve been around for 20 years, more or so…” At the commentary about him not “looking like a fresh out of academy” she raised her brows (no, she never managed to learn how to raise only one of them). “Why? ‘Cause of your age? Don’t worry about that, one of the best officers I know only joined academy around his forties something.”

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Gene's shoulders dropped, the comment washing relief over him. "Phew- that makes me feel a whole lot better." He grinned, running a hand through his hair, He let a moment of silence hang in the air as they ate, but he looked up, his expression a little more earnest, "Did you meet any of-...the kidnapped people? Know any of them?" He asked. It had been weighing on his mind, imagining them out there, helpless, probably terrified.

She should have been expecting that question to pop up sooner or later, yet it still took her off guard. Her shoulders dropped slightly and she sighed. “Yes…. By coincidence, the same officer I mentioned. He is one of my best friends, we served together for many years before he was posted here.”

Gene's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. He couldn't begin to imagine how she must feel. He looked up, locking eyes with her with a look of profound sincerity, "We're gonna get them back, Garcia. I just know it." Dwyer assured. There was one thing Gene had in droves, and it was determination. He wouldn't let anything get in their way, even if he was just a beginner ensign.

”We are.” She nodded. “No matter if I have to beat the shit out of the Tal Shiar myself and drag his Vulcan-ass back.” She took a sip of the beer. Yes, of course 5 feet Garcia would, of course. But maybe if she repeated it to herself enough times, it would become true. “He is strong. He will hold on till we get there.” Now, in that she truly believed.

Dwyer nodded, his lip curling upward, admiring her confidence. He finished off his last sip of raktagino, pleased with the buzz it left him. "Now we just gotta hope they got a good plan B brewin' up there in command." He huffed, rolling his shoulder.

”Plan A. And make that an A+.” She corrected. “We lost the battle, time for a brand new strategy to win the war and save our people.”

"I'll drink to that." Gene hummed, bringing his mug to his lips, quickly realizing it was empty. He placed it down again. "Do you know anyone in command, that's with us on the Starbase right now? I guess I should know a couple of names before shit hits the fan again-..I know the Captain, read their file-" He picked up a nacho from his bowl, munching on it idly.

She made a “no” motion with her head. “I know the Captain, professionally of course, and the XO, the latter… was taken. I have not met a lot of people yet.”

He nodded, "I'm sure we'll all get acquainted pretty quick." The general stress levels of this situation were becoming the new norm; it was strange to feel this nonchalant; it unsettled him. It was probably his body's way of dealing with it.

”Well I hope they haven’t taken the whole commanding division minus the cap!” She laughed and then immediately stopped herself. “Shit, bad joke, really bad…. Sorry Gene.” Two things Garcia could sometimes be the queen of: tragedy jokes and self-deprecating jokes. Not everyone’s cup of tea.

Gene scoffed, then smirked, though his eyes were soft, understanding. Dwyer's sense of humor and way of dealing with misfortune was admittedly the same, he could only relate to her coping mechanisms. "Don't be, Commander." He sighed, shaking his head. "This whole shit-show is depressing as hell; if we didn't laugh- we'd cry." (edited)

”Oh I’ve cried already, so you can cross that.” She said in a joking tone. “Guess thats my permission to laugh. How about you? Any tears yet?”

Gene blinked, his brain whirring for the right response. His desperation to appear resilient and composed usually sculpted responses to questions like these but Garcia was being open with him; he wanted to be honest. "...Yes." He answered through a sharp exhale, the confession seeming to have a physical effect on him. He then grinned, but it was more of a wince, "Just a little- when I left Engineering the other day- hah...it all just burst out-" He shrugged, eyes averted.

”Happens.” She smiled. “Specially on your first job. Sometimes way before that, on academy grounds.”

Hearing the comms message from the Captain, Gene's eyes widened, and he shot a glance at Garcia, before sitting up to move from his chair. "Command hub it is." He grinned

”Hold on ensign! I have short legs and it’s a long way.” She downed the last of her water, the beer long finished already, and retrieved her jacket, ready to go after him.

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