Bah and Also Humbug!

Posted on Tue 6th Dec, 2016 @ 2:32am by Carlo Rienzi

835 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Murder on the Silent Night Express
Location: Pub 10-42, Deck 595
Timeline: MD 1, 1200

Block would have slammed into the pub, if there had been anything in his way to slam. As it was, he stomped heavily and plopped himself down at the bar, showing definite signs of surliness.

"Barkeep!" he roared. "Gimme a Guinness, and make it snappy! And a plate of some kind a red spaghetti, too. Guinness first!"

Carlo blinked at Hieronymus. He'd known the guy to be cranky, but this was beyond the usual.

"One spaghetti marinara coming up," Carlo said and sent the order to the kitchen. He filled a Guinness glass from the tap and placed it before Hieronymus on a napkin. "Crappy day?"

Block grunted and took a deep draft. Wiping his mouth with the napkin under the glass, he set it down with a thump. "You might say that. Have you ever seen such an uproar about a little death? You'd think no one ever died here in paradise," he said with evident sarcasm.

Continuing his waspish tone, he grumbled on. "Can't get a thing done with people being pulled here, pulled there. How'm I supposed to grow food for all these people if I don't have any farmers, I ask you? What good's a farmer going to do security, anyway?"

Of course, the head agronomist was totally ignoring the secondary training that half his "farmers" had ... that of security. He had not one iota of interest in the rest of the station, only his beloved farms and gardens. "It's the captain's job to take care of the station, and freakin' leave me and mine to do our job!" He slammed his hand on the bar, causing the glass to jump a millimeter.

"How many people have been pulled off your detail?" Carlo asked. "I heard there's a Marine assigned to each crew member of that Dopterian ship--got a memo about it in my email. So why would they need to increase security so much? Or is it just because Security is stretched so thin right now? Seriously, I see more Marines in here than Fleet Security, any day of the week."

"Ah, who knows?" grumbled the gardener. "No one tells me anything. Or asks, either. They just take what they want, to the devil with anyone else." He took a long drink that emptied his glass and put it down to push it across to the bartender. "Fill 'er up again. Barely touched my thirst."

He watched as the tap spilled the waterfall of darkness into the glass. Just as it was set in front of him, his plate of spaghetti showed up, too. He picked the fork up in his left hand and dug into the pile of noodles, liberally doused with red sauce, twirling the noodles around his fork. He chewed the first bite and then the second, before saying anything else.

Shaking the fork at the bartender, he said, "I'll tell you this. If they want to complain about production on the farms, they're going to get an earful from me. I've told 'em time and agin, we can't do the job if there's no one there to work. Complete nonsense, taking farmers off to be guards." He went back to eating, beginning to feel a little less aggressive as his hunger was assuaged. He knew he wasn't being quite fair to Starfleet, but he was tired of them conscripting the work force he needed to take care of menial security issues.

"If they need more security, let 'em hire some mercenaries, or bring in more Marines," he rumbled, taking another drink to wash the spaghetti down.

"How much acreage is not being covered?" Carlo asked. "And do they at least rotate the farmers so that they aren't just leaving their fields untended for days at a time? Though I gotta admit, I don't really know how much daily attention a crop needs. I water my tomatoes and my basil and keep the caterpillars off, but I'm not a gardener deep down in my soul, like you are."

He breathed in the aroma of Hieronymus' marinara sauce. "Man, that smells good. Hieronymus, you want some garlic bread? I'm gonna wheedle some from the cook."

"Yeah, that'd be good. And you really want to know more about crop needs, you come see me. I'll set you straight." Block wiped his mouth with the napkin, and then took a drink. Now that he was on his second one, and the edge was off his hunger, the gardener was feeling a lot more mellow. "That is, if you're serious."

"Sure, I'm serious, depending on how much time it would take," Carlo said. "I have to run the bar, so I can't help a whole let. But what I can help you with, I'm willing to, and I'm not afraid of learning or getting my hands dirty."

"Come to my office when you're free. I'll be there or the droid on the door will know where to find me," Block said, turning his attention to seriously depleting the meal.

 

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