The Bar, 22718-2237

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    Adele Mundy

    The Bar,
    Stardate 22718-2237

    Cdt. Felicity Song and Cdt. Harriet Hamilton are sitting at a table together in the Bar. There are a couple of empty plates on their table, which they have pushed aside, two glasses, a bottle of dark golden spirits of some sort, and two bowls of what looks remarkably like chocolate ice cream in front of them; the ice cream is currently holding their attention. After a while of silent concentration on tasting the stuff, Song speaks up.

    So, now that we’re rehabilitated and all, have you heard anything about…
    she pauses, trying to think of a polite way of phrasing her question.

    Hamilton grins at her over a spoonful of ice cream.
    You mean, about whether they’re going to kick me out for going AWOL, or shoot me first and then kick me out? Not a peep. I suppose while we were all under suspicion, it wasn’t worth their while to pay much attention to me in particular.

    And now?
    Song asks.

    Hamilton shrugs.
    No idea. No doubt I’ll find out in due time.
    Hamilton returns to her ice cream.
    You know, this stuff is good! And we owe it all to Lt. Cmdr. Mundy, apparently, for inspiring the Bar staff…
    She stands, and ceremonially lifts up her bowl as if for a toast.
    Lt. Cmdr. Mundy, and Hjocoa ice cream!

    Lt. Cmdr. Mundy, and Hjocoa ice cream!
    Song stands up and echoes her. She sits down again. Looking thoughtful, she asks,
    Do you think we could nominate her for an award?

    You go ahead and nominate her. I’m going to assume that if I say anything nice about anyone, that’s going to get them into trouble.
    Hamilton sits down too, and devotes her attention to scraping the ice cream bowl clean with her spoon.

    Should I move away then?
    Song asks. She reaches for her bowl and glass, as if to pick them up.

    Hamilton shrugs.

    I was joking, you know,
    Song points out.

    Many a true word is spoken in jest.
    Hamilton puts her empty bowl on the empty plates, and reaches for one of the glasses.
    And in case you’re worried, if I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a word I said, not anything I did. No, wait, I’d speak up sooner. I wish I had. I wish I could have dragged the whole Division with me. The hell with the Empire and their xenophobic justifications for genocide!

    Yeah, but Lt.Sr. Quinn had to keep us all alive…
    Song tries to object.

    Felicity, we’ve been over this. You’re my friend and I’ll stick up for you whenever and whatever you need, but I’m not changing my mind. They were wrong, the whole bloody lot of them.

    And you were the lone hero who showed us the way, right?
    Song sounds a little resentful, but also tired; as if this argument has already happened many times.

    It wasn’t about showing anything to anyone. It was about doing the only thing I could think of that got me out of doing the Empire’s dirty work. And I did find the Resistance, you have to admit.

    You know we were exchanging comms with the TSN already, right?
    Felicity points out.

    I maintain that they accepted us quicker because of what I told the other Lt. Cmdr. Mundy. And because I found where Mr. Parra and Cmdr. Verok were.

    Song sighs, puts aside her empty bowl, and pours drinks into both glasses.
    Ok, you win. You saved us all. And you found Lt. Cmdr. Mundy’s alt-brother. Who, if you haven’t noticed, has been a lot on her mind lately. And more so since that encounter with the Griff this past shift. Cheers.
    Song raises her glass and drinks.

    Hamilton raises her own glass.
    So now you claim to read the Lt.Cmdr.’s mind, do you? Well, they did seem to get on pretty well, once she regained consciousness. He was so worried about her, when we were on our way to get the S.O.s out… To Harold Mundy’s good health; may his Imperial xenophobe of a sister never catch up with him!
    She drinks. And sighs.

    Is it just my impression, Harriet, or do you go all misty-eyed whenever we mention Harold Mundy?
    Song tries to hold Hamilton in what she fondly imagines to be a piercing stare.

    Hamilton glares back.
    It doesn’t make the blindest bit of difference if I go misty-eyed or hurricane-eyed, I’ll never see the man again. So shut up, and let’s have another drink.
    She fills both glasses.

    Song sips at her drink. A thought seems to occur to her, and she begins,
    You know, there’s Vice Admiral Horatio Mundy…
    She stops, as Hamilton’s glare has become frozen steel.

    That… that criminal doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence…
    Hamilton practically growls, and then stops suddenly. She stands up, and starts to salute.
    she begins. Lt. Cmdr. Adele Mundy waves her to her seat.

    No ranks in the bar, Hamilton.
    Mundy is carrying a glass of what is clearly Hjocoa, and a bowl that looks just like the two empty bowls on the table by the cadets, except that it is still full of ice cream.
    May I join you?

    Please do,
    Song says, and clears away the pile of empty dishes onto the next table, to make room.
    We, uhm, we were just…

    You were just having a drink after sampling the new Hjocoa ice cream, I can see that, Song. I must say I’m rather touched by all the fuss the bar staff have been making over it. And it does look pretty good.
    Mundy sits down, places her drink and bowl on the table.
    Please excuse me while I taste it…
    She proceeds to do so.
    Oh, my stars…

    The cadets can’t help smiling at her expression.

    That’s what I thought, too,
    Song says,
    Only, well, I put it sort of differently.

    I think the bar has a new best selling item,
    Hamilton says.
    If I were you, I’d demand a cut, since it was your idea first.

    That would be inapprop… oh, you were joking.
    Mundy tries to hide her embarrassment by taking a drink of Hjocoa. The cadets exchange glances.

    Song starts to ask,
    Ma’am… I mean… umm, have you heard anything, by any chance, about…

    Mundy shakes her head.
    Nothing yet. And I’ll let you know as soon as I find out, Hamilton. And of course, I’ll speak in favour of dismissing all charges against you, if they decide to go that route. I hope not, truly.
    She pauses to collect her thoughts and to eat a few spoonfuls of ice cream.
    Personally, I admire what you did. I want you to know that. My br… no, I mean Harold, well, he told me about the conversations you had together. From what he said, I think you made an impression on him. A favourable impression.

    Hamilton blushes. So does Mundy. Song doesn’t know where to look, and takes a drink to hide her own embarrassment.

    Mundy mutters, and gazes into her bowl of ice cream.

    Dammit is right,
    Hamilton replies, and finishes her glass.

    I hate to raise the subject,
    Song says, but clearly she thinks it’s less awkward than the current silence,
    But have you made any plans, Harriet, you know, in case they…

    …throw me out rather than shoot me first and then throw me out? No clear plans, no.
    Hamilton replies.

    You know the proper term is discharge, don’t you?
    Song points out.

    I know the proper term is dishonourably discharge me, yes.
    Hamilton replies. She grins.
    And I still don’t have any clear plans. But how hard can it be? I’m Academy trained, with practical experience. I know my way around a ship. Hell, I made my way through a couple of systems in bloody Imperial space, you think I can’t manage to find a berth here?

    I suspect a dishonourable discharge is going to put some skippers off hiring you,
    Song objects.

    And it might attract other skippers, though!
    Hamilton says, with a wicked grin.

    Song sounds horrified.
    You don’t mean that! I mean, you can’t be thinking…

    Hamilton laughs.
    I’m going to miss you, Felicity. What am I going to do without somebody to worry about my behaviour?

    I can ask Matsiyan if he can put in a word for you with some of the people he still knows in Earth Company, if you like,
    Mundy intervenes before Song can actually burst into tears.
    I think ECS Asia is the ship that normally brings supplies.

    Hamilton turns to Mundy. Her voice isn’t quite steady.
    Thank you, Ma’… I mean, thank you. I wouldn’t want you or the Commander to go to any trouble for me. I’ll find…

    Void-dammit, Hamilton, you went to a Well of a lot of trouble to get me out of Fenring. And the other S.O.s, as well, of course. So stop this nonsense, if you please. If I can help you stay in the TSN, I will. If all I can do is help you find a berth outside, then I’ll do that.
    Mundy stands.
    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a planning meeting to go to.
    She leaves the Bar swiftly, but takes the glass of Hjocoa with her.

    Song looks at Hamilton.
    You know what, Harriet? I think we need another drink.

    • This topic was modified 5 years, 1 month ago by Adele Mundy.
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