That's the Way It Is

Posted on Wed 27th Feb, 2019 @ 9:56pm by Carlo Rienzi

826 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Pub 10-42, Deck 595
Timeline: MD 2, 1900

"Yeah," Brandt said to the bartender, "that's how it is when you're only a pilot. You go out, you do what you're told, and you don't talk about the strange things you find out there. The stories I could tell you." He shook his head and emptied his glass, setting it back on the bar. "Hit me again."

"It's a damned shame you can't talk about them," Carlo said as he poured the pilot another shot of Puni. "So everything you do out there is top secret or something?" He put the bottle of Italian whiskey away, added the refill to his guest's tab, and then scooped some ice into a tumbler, filled it with water, and placed it on a napkin in front of the guy. Darrell was one of his more interesting customers. It wasn't every day that actual fighter pilots came to his bar.

"You know, I don't think it is. It's just treated that way," Darrell replied, taking only a sip of his second drink and setting it back on the napkin. He reached for the bowl of peanuts close by and threw those in his mouth, chewing and looking thoughtful. "Here's one for you. We went on a sweep where there had been some pirate activity. Our job was just to circle around while other people did the real work, ya know? Something odd was discovered, an escape pod from somewhere, but it didn't appear to be from one of the ships involved in the action. It was towed home ... and that was that. Never heard anything more about it. Now, I ask you, why would that be a secret?"

"No reason I can think of," Carlo said. "I guess the contents might be a secret, but no reason why the escape pod should be. You never found out who was inside or where they escaped from? That's a pisser. You'd think they'd at least have let you know."

"For sure? No, there's a tight cap on it." Brandt moved his glass around in a circle on the bar. "There are rumors, though." He glanced up at Carlo through his lashes. "Speculation? Maybe. Leaks? Possibly. I heard there's an Egyptian Goddess in there, in suspension. Another one says it's an ancient Vulcan philosopher. Maybe it's a Bajoran prophet. Who knows for sure? No one." He picked up his glass and swallowed half the drink. "I can't help but think about it, though. What if it changes the way the world works?"

Carlo chuckled. "Careful there, buddy. You might convince me you've had a little too much to drink! Wouldn't mind meeting a Bajoran prophet, though. I mean, people who actually are gods? Makes me wonder if they brush their teeth in the morning, just like everybody else."

Darrell laughed, "It would take a lot more than two drinks to get me to tell you the really crazy stuff we contact out there. After all these centuries, the universe still has secrets, and space is a scary place.

"Speaking of which, there's been some kind of monkey business right here on the base. I could swear you had the prettiest red-headed bartender in here a few weeks back. Then I came in ... and she's blond. Said she's always been blond, born that way." He shook his head. "I know there's something different about my fighter, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I've been going around curves on the promenade expecting one thing and finding another. It's fading fast, but it still happens sometimes. Just this morning, I was going to a ..." he paused. He couldn't remember what he had thought, or why finding a jewelry store had been such a surprise. Hadn't it always been there?

"Well, just like that, it's gone. Maybe I should go see a counselor. I hear there's a good civilian one who doesn't report visits to Starfleet. I don't want to lose my license to fly." He finished his drink and turned the glass upside down on the napkin. "I should get going, but ... anything weird like that happening to you?"

Carlo shrugged. "Yesterday, I had the weirdest conversation with a little kid--about marasca worms and maraschino cherries. There's no such thing as marasca worms. I realized her aunt was pulling her niece's leg a little, so I played along. But last night, I did just a casual search, and guess what? There they were!" Carlo shook his head. "I know my Italian liquor like the back of my hand. Maraschino liqueur comes from marasca cherries, which are named that because they're bitter. Worms got nothing to do with it. And yet, there they were, and it was like I had a second set of memories for a moment. Like mezcal con gusano, but with maraschino liqueur, instead. I'm still trying to get used to it."

Brandt was silent a moment. Then he nodded, "Just like that. Exactly like that."

 

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