Warmer Welcome

Posted on Thu Jun 13, 2019 @ 10:39am by Civilian 'Key Holder' Yolanthe Ibalin & Lieutenant JG Erich Hartmann
Edited on on Thu Jun 13, 2019 @ 10:12pm

1,952 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Doors of Perception
Location: The Box of Delights
Timeline: MD 10 1930

[ON]

Lieutenant Junior Grade Erich Hartmann walked briskly past the doors, which obediently opened to permit his entrance with a gentle whoosh. He stopped just briefly enough to scan the area to see where he might go, both immediately and after. Finding the bar, he found an empty seat and signaled the bar tender.

A woman, taller than him by some inches, with skin a velvety violet, and long rich purple hair came over. "What's your poison, sweetie? We have all genuine, hand crafted beers, wines and spirits from two quadrants."

Erich thought it over a spell. “Have anything...” his hand fluttered in the air, as if he could reel in the word he needed like a stubborn trout. “...unique?”

The German saw an eyebrow arch up in an unspoken question.

“I mean, is there anything you have that maybe only YOU make? I like to try different things.” He quickly added.

"Oh, I don't brew myself." She turned back to her shelves, now thankfully fuller than they'd been in a while, and examined them. Then she chose a squat , square bottle. "This is a single malt whiskey from the Isle of Moray, on Earth. I know they don't send this to anyone else this far towards the galactic core. You won't get a whiskey this good in four quadrants."

“On one condition: you must drink it with me. To ensure it’s not poisoned.” Erich retorted slyly.

"Cheek!" Her skin turned from violet to azure, and she put two tumblers in front of him. Then she unscrewed the bottle, and poured a finger into each. "Though knowing Starfleet, this will do you far more damage than me anyway. Fleeties can't take their drink."

“Oh so?” He said, a grin coloring his features. “Well guess what? We are going to sit here and prove you right.”

She laughed, her sking and hair turning a darker shade of blue. "What's your name, sweetie?"

Hartmann made a show of curtsying, even though he was seated. “Erich Hartmann, at your service.”

"So what brings you to my Box of Delights, Erich? Temporary assignment, or permanent? Or passing through?"

The German parted his hands out in a show of faux apology. “Now now, if I told you, I’d destroy my ‘mysterious stranger’ persona.” When that got a chuckle, he deigned to reply. “Permanent. I’m the new guy around here. Came from the Reserves.”

"Reserves?" Yolanthe wasn't familiar with the term. A waiter, slim hipped and long haired handed her a pad, and she started to fill out the order, putting a pint glass under a bar tap. "Tell me more."

“It more or less functions as the de facto Earth Defense Force. It’s ships and personnel rarely travel beyond 50 light years from Earth. Some of us are full time Soldiers, some part-time. I was the latter. We basically put on Grey Shoulders once a month and go on a deployment once a year, surveying or the like. I myself taught at the Academy.” Hartmann was very conscious of trying to sound nonchalant, and not like he was bragging.

The blue faded down to purple. "So they make the teachers go out and be soldiers?" She asked The federation was entirely too weird.

Erich shrugged. “More like the other way around methinks.” Erich tried to study the tall woman. He had heard of her species’ ability to change colors linked to moods and feelings, and was trying to gauge what her hues were broadcasting, if anything.

After all, Erich thought she could either be in love with me or as easily wish me dead.

"So what did you teach?" She put another pint glass under the tap. "Flying? ops?"

“History, actually.” He felt acutely aware that his subject wasn’t as glamorous sounding as the ones the tall, azure tinted lady mentioned.

That was a proper career for a man, in her opinion. But she knew most people didn't see gender the way she did. "Is it true that the humans once had kings and queens who were brother and sister?"

Erich looked upward and crinkled his face, thinking hard but wanting to give an accurate answer quickly. “Yes, but in a lot of cultures, this was a political arrangement; the monarchal siblings were not expected to have offspring. There were exceptions, such as Ptolemaic Egypt, where Cleopatra VII, the famous lover of both Julius Caesar and Marc Antony, was wed to her brother...well, before she had him killed anyway.”

She nodded. "Our queens used to dispose of unwanted concubines as well. But that was thousands of years ago. When we had men to spare."

“And now you do not?” The young man asked, his interest piqued.

The violet took on hints of grey. "No. No men to spare. Not for about a thousand years. So no frivolous beheadings to get better tail."

Erich colored a bit and sniggered to hide it; she was not the only one whose colors could betray a mood.

“I guess it’s all the better for you then; I imagine any queen would have you killed, lest you steal away legions of her adoring men with your beauty.”

Was he flirting? Yes, yes he was. Was he doing it shamelessly? Probably. But she was a pretty gal, and Erich figures there was little harm as long as he wasn’t a boor about it and she gave clear signals that his flirting was welcomed...or at least tolerated.

She laughed, a delighted dirty chuckle, and she turned a birght sky blue. "Oh, I don't have to worry about that. We came up with a much better solution. We share nicely, and take turns."

Erich turned a bright shade of crimson. The thought of having to be passed from female to female and both pros as well as cons.

“So your culture has no concept of permanent bonding? Suppose one of your males develops strong emotional bonds with one of your females, or she with him? What happens then?”

"Oh," she said breezily, waving away is concerns. "As long as they still do their Duty with whoever else they are supposed to do it with, there's no problems."

“Would uh...any male of any species do?” He thought about what he just said. “Oh. Not that I’d uh...want to uh...volunteer for such hardship, but I was uh...curious.” He sputtered. Hartmann decided the best course of action would be to stare into the bottom of his glass; maybe he’d find his brain there if he didn’t have to look at the pretty gal.

"I suspect not. To start with, We have no other species. My world is thousands of light years from here. We don't get visitors. And I have no idea we could even interbreed successfully with others."

Hartmann cleared his throat. “Right.” It seemed like a safe answer. “Well...what about you?” He said, changing tact. “How does a lady such as yourself make it out here where we should be lucky enough to enjoy your company?”

"Oh thats a long boring story you shouldn't bother your pretty little head with." She put the last pint on the tray. "Service!" she called out, and a moment later a risian woman with very long legs sashayed by to pick them up. She gave Erich a dirty grin, and then walked off.

Erich would’ve lied if he said he didn’t notice the Risian lady, but he had offered his attention to the barkeep. Speaking of which...

“Forgive my poor manners, a man speaking to such lovely company sometimes forgets to be polite. I’m afraid I did not get your name.” He offered.

"Yolanthe." A new drinks order arrived and she reached for a cocktail shaker. "So is this your first time in Deep Space?"

Erich studied her technique, admiring her smooth, practiced hands for a beat. “Yes it is.You?”

"I'm an old hand now. three, four years off world. Maybe Five. I'm losing track."

“Nothing old about you.”

"Very smooth," she chuckled, free pouring a long shot of something clear into the shaker. "So what do you like to do with your free time, I may be able to point you in the right direction."

“I enjoy physical exertions.” He replied. It took him a beat to figure that answer might’ve implied more, and so quickly added “In particular, I enjoy racquetball, volleyball, bowling. I never turn down a spirited discussion, however. I also enjoy playing music, parlor games, and acting.”

"Well, the station AmDram works out of my holodeck once a week. If you're interested, stop by one night. They're always looking for help, acting, music or programming for sets and designing costumes and the like. I'm sure they'd find something for you to do."

“Do you partake?”

The bartender shook her head. "No. Not me. I like to spend my time doing things that are...more physical."

The Germans mind raced. For better or worse, the first things that came to his mind made him almost spit out his drink.

“Athletic, uh, you mean?”

"Yes. Things like that." Her skin was sky blue. and her hair was a bright pure blue. "Though unlike you I'm not one for team games. I'm much more one on one."

His mind raced again. Hartmann uncontrollably blushed at the thought.

“Combat sports...then?” He haltingly said, trying far too hard to sound as nonplussed as possible.

The blue skin darkened to indigo. "Well, some people do enjoy being taken to the mat." she sounded entirely amused at his bashfulness.

“How well do you move? With a partner. On the mat.” The German said, taking a swig of his drink to hide the color of his face.

"On the mat you don't have partners," she replied, there was a tinge of merriment in her voice. She was enjoying toying with him. "Only opponents. Only the victor, and the vanquished."

“Suppose you tie? Just simply wear each other out?” His own tone carried mischief in it.

"I like strenuous exercise, You'd be surprised by my stamina." She raised an eyebrow. Then she looked across the bar to a young man with hair to his bum. "Service!"

The young man headed over. He was incredibly attractive, cheek bones high enough to need oxygen and razor sharp, and dark eyesthat made him look like a puppy dog. Erich quickly realised that many females in the bar were following his walk.

Inwardly, Erich scowled; he never viewed himself as a handsome man, and so he detested the handsome fellows natural looks and ease of manner. Most of the ones he knew took their looks for granted, assuming they were a gift to women by right of birth.

“Who’s the runway model?” Erich asked Yolanthe, his venom apparent in his tone.

"That's Blake," Yolanthe was watching him leave. "Not the sharpest knife on the belt, but he sure does put bums on seats."

Erich grunted a response. He upended his glass, draining the rest of his drink. “Thank you for the drink Yolanthe. I’ll be sure to stop by again soon. For now, though, I have a long day ahead of me, and so must bid you good night.”

"You take care, sweetie." She started on the next order. "You come back soon, too."

The German gave her a slight bow. “I shall.” He turned and exited out the establishment. Once outside the doors, he picked up his pace to a brisk walk, attempting to get some frustration, admittedly childish at that, out his system.


END

Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner
The Box of Delights

&

LTJG Erich Hartmann
Chief Operations Officer
DS5

 

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