The Hole in the Wall

Posted on Thu Jan 14th, 2021 @ 11:25pm by Lieutenant Charlie Caspian & Lieutenant JG Ovrora Sh'rholok & Ensign Sturnack
Edited on on Thu Jan 14th, 2021 @ 11:51pm

Mission: 28 Days
Location: Starbase 15: The Hole in the Wall - Deck 88
Timeline: Mission Day 8 at 0700

As it turned out, the bar Ovrora had so eagerly anticipated was named The Hole in the Wall. An earlier proprietor with a particularly punny sense of humor thought the name was charming and it had stuck, even though it had changed hands several times over the years. The Hole in the Wall was cramped, tucked away in a dead-end corner of one of Starbase 15's public dining and shopping levels. Lights low and entrance worn, an unsuspecting individual coming across the place would likely turn in search of more reputable dining options.

Ovrora loved it instantly.

"Isn't this place brilliant?" she enthused as she headed toward the small bar walking between Sturnack and Caspian; both of whom had been quieter than she would have expected as they made their way to this location. In true Ovrora fashion, she had filled in the space with chatter, describing in expansive detail how lovely it was to be out with them both, how much she was looking forward to this couple hours break, and how it had been far too long since she's enjoyed a bar with some "ambiance".

"Brilliant?" Sturnack repeated, upturning the end of the word into a rhetorical question that indicated anything but. "Your taste in refreshment locales continues to elude me, Ovrora," the Vulcan replied, his right eyebrow severely arching in comparison to the left. "This establishment is quite...concerning," he finished, eyeing the grime-encrusted bar, which was itself a polished beam of mahogany wood. Particulate of unknown matter was engrained within the wood lines, leftovers from years of drinking and eating on the surface. The sound of billiards balls breaking drew Sturnack's attention then, his gaze settling on a rather rough-looking pair of Saurians circling the table, cues in-hand.

"Oh, I dunno," Caspian's mouth turned down at the corners as she glanced around them. "I've drunk in worse. This is just your average spit an' sawdust bar..." She walked over to the bar where a portly Tellarite was redistributing the grime on the rough mahogany surface with a similarly filthy cloth.

"What'll it be?" the porcine bartender growled to his latest customer without bothering to look up.

"Beer," Caspian replied as she settled herself onto one of the tall, battered bar stools. "And a whisky chaser. What'll you two have?" she called over her shoulder in the general direction of Sturnack and Ovrora.

"Just whisky for me," Ovrora called, making her way over, "But make it a double on the rocks."

"I will refrain from imbibing alcohol at this time," the engineer spoke up when it was his turn. Instead, Sturnack ordered a highly specialized blend of tea native to the Shalthak region of Vulcan. When the bartender's eyes flashed annoyance, he rescinded his order and simply took a seat, eyes drifting to his Andorian and human companions.

"So..."Ovrora started, settling onto a stool and surveying the clientele. "Think we're the only Starfleet they'll see today or are we just early?" She accepted the glass of tawny liquid and sniffed it before taking a sip. She breathed in sharply and grinned. "This'll make your antennae stand on end."

As she spoke, the doors to the place whooshed quietly open again. It wasn't until a group of four tall and particularly muscular human men came to the bar next to the trio that Ovrora bothered to look up. They weren't exactly athletic so much as unusually well-endowed in the realm of musculature. Each wore loose-fitting black trousers and combat boots. Sleeveless black shirts clung to their well-formed chests, showing off pectorals that tapered down to hardened abs. Two of the four had shaved their heads while the other two had their hair closely cropped. None of them smiled and it was with interest that Ovrora noticed the Tellarite bartender shrank back from them ever so slightly as the apparent leader rested his forearms on the bar.

"I don't want any trouble here," the bartender said, pulling four glasses from underneath the bar as he did so and setting a full bottle of a clear liquor on the bar next to them.

The leader's face lit up with the kind of smile that was more of a rictus than anything resembling true joviality. "From who? Us? We'd never so much as think of it," he drawled, his voice giving the impression of a snake stalking prey. "Why would you even say such a thing?"

The Tellarite shrank back further, mumbling something in reply that couldn't be easily heard. Clearly eager to put distance between himself and the newcomers, he hurried to the other end of the bar and pretended to polish a set of glasses.

Caspian lifted her heavy beer mug and took a deep swallow whilst casually watching the movements of the four men in the tarnished mirror-effect paneling behind the bar. The beer was warm and bitter. She slowly raised the glass mug to her mouth and took another swallow and watched the humans as they headed straight towards the three Starfleet officers.

"It would appear," Sturnack spoke up with quiet dispassion, "that we are about to interact with the newly arrived patrons currently approaching us." The Vulcan arched an eyebrow as the humans came within speaking distance, offering them a nod in greeting. He did not speak to the quad, nor did his gaze linger. Instead, Sturnack looked to Lieutenant Caspian as the most senior officer present and wondered if she would deign to engage or navigate them wholesale away from the group.

Ovrora smirked as the men approached, choosing to feign ignorance at their arrival than acknowledge them as Sturnack had. She sipped her whiskey quietly but had the group been more familiar with Andorian antennae they might have noticed the way hers had swiveled outward as if casting a wide net for information gathering.

The de facto leader of the group oozed menace and arrogance as he approached, his every move indicating his certainty that he was the most worthwhile person to grace the bar. He leaned over next to Caspian, his eyes flashing as he took in her companions.

"Now what is a fine specimen like you doing slumming it with two inferior species?" Though he addressed the question to Caspian, he was eying Ovrora and Sturnack, his pose resembling a predatory cat aware that his prey was near, but giving the appearance of indifference before leaping to tear out their throats.

Caspian took another swig of her beer, her back still turned towards the newcomers. She lifted her whisky glass with a wistful expression, inhaled the distinctive fumes of the amber spirit, and smiled. With a single swallow, she downed the scotch and placed the empty glass upside down on the bar top. She glanced first at Ovrora to one side of her, then at Sturnack.

"Well, I guess that's what they call 'Murphy's Law', hey guys? The first-ever time we take shore leave and the ship's anthropologist stays behind... we discover an almost perfectly preserved example of Terran Neanderthal man, here in orbit around Denobula..." She raised her eyebrows in a 'who'd have guessed?' expression and took another gulp of beer before turning on her stool to face the group of men. She gave the leader of the gang a wry smile.

"Hey, Joe - whaddya know?"

The newly dubbed 'Joe' placed an arm awkwardly close to Caspian on the bar and leaned in. "Oh, you've got some spice to you then." he quipped, a wicked smile crossing his features.

"This little girl might need rescuing!" he announced loudly to his companions who laughed--the sound more menacing than jovial. "Seems she's been brainwashed by the Federation and doesn't recognize good stock when she sees it."

Ovrora threw back her whiskey, taking the remainder of her drink in one large gulp. "Oh, poor pink skin," she said leaning toward Caspian and directing her comments to her friend although her gaze never left the man whose face crinkled in anger. "He seems to be laboring under the delusion that large muscles equal solid breeding capabilities. Think anyone has warned him about what messing with genetic makeup does to libido?"

Messing with genetic makeup? Was Ovrora suggesting that the newcomers might be Augments? If so, Caspian realized that the situation might be slightly more tricky than she had thought. She glanced at her friend before returning her attention to the leader of the group.

"You're wrong there, my friend. I recognize 'good stock' when I see it. My mother used to make good stock after dinner every Sunday - from boiling down the chicken carcass after the meal. Now... take three steps backward, please. You are in my personal space... and you are way too close to me for someone of such disappointingly poor standards of personal hygiene..."

"And if I don't?" Joe asked, no longer smiling. "What will you do? Sick your blue chihuahua on me?"

It was helpful that Andorian blood was not so easily visible through the skin. If Ovrora had been human her skin would have turned a warm shade of red as anger kicked up adrenaline. As it was her antennae twitched back along her scalp, unintentionally fitting the impression of a dog whose ears were pulled back in as it snarled.

"Or we'll make you pink skin," she growled, seething. "My friend has asked you nicely. Don't make her ask again."

Caspian raised a palm to Ovrora as she lifted herself off the stool to stand in front of the man. "It's alright, Ovrora." She looked up at the man who towered over her. "No," she said calmly, her voice remaining low. "I'll make you, you racist son of a bitch."

Joe spread his arms wide in a faux magnanimous gesture. "You will, will you?" he said, backing up a step, the gleam in his eye suggesting something quite opposite of his body language.

As quickly as he stepped back his arm snapped out, grabbing Caspian around her upper arm and pulling her to him. "Now why would a pretty thing like you want to use ugly language like that with a good looking gentleman like me?" He breathed heavily in her face, a bit of spit leaving the corner of his mouth and landing on her cheek. "Here I was doing you a favor by offering better..."

Caspian wiped the spittle away with the cuff of her jacket. "Better? Better than what? I'd rather spend the night with a Klingon eunuch."

Before the man could reply, she gripped his shoulders tightly in both hands and brought her right knee up hard into his groin with all the force she could muster. The man grunted in a mixture of surprise and pain and momentarily sagged. Pressing forwards her advantage, Caspian reached behind her and grabbed her recently vacated barstool by one battered duranium leg whilst pushing the momentarily stunned Augment away from her with her left palm. Then, hefting the bar stool in both hands, she swung the heavy object in a wide arc towards the man's head. Sensing movement through his pain-obscured vision, the Augment instinctively turned towards the rapidly-approaching metal stool just in time for it to make contact with his face, the impact causing his nose to explode with an audible crunch in a fountain of blood. He collapsed to the floor.

Hefting the stool in both hands, Caspian glared balefully at each of the fallen man's companions in turn. "You want some?" she growled.

The three men seemed to consider for a moment and then, judging themselves the better fighters rushed the group.

"Oh no, you did not," Ovrora growled a manic grin on her face. She lept up onto her stool, grabbing the glass she had been drinking from and throwing the dregs into the face of the tallest man of the remaining three. He sputtered, momentarily distracted, with just enough time for Ovrora's foot to reach his chin snapping his head back. He groaned but recovered quicker than she hoped.

"I'm going to make you regret that Andorian dog." He growled, reaching over and hefting Ovrora bodily from the stool. Finding herself suddenly in the air she twisted in his grip, writhing until one booted foot met a softer spot in his side making him drop her suddenly.

The bar around them had grown, surprisingly silent as any remaining denizens beat a hasty retreat or moved to the sides of the space to allow the fracas to play out. Ovrora took the opening up of space as an opportunity to back up flowing down into the familiar crouch used by Andorians engage in the Ushaan-tor. She may not have a weapon in her possession, but she wasn't defenseless without one.

Sturnack, meanwhile, had been watching the altercation predictably play out. Ovrora was a known quantity, her behavior as reliable as the rising of Vulcan's moons. Caspian, however, was a newer variable, though the engineer anticipated that she would react to such treatment in a volatile manner. As the tension ramped up during the Trading Barbs phase, it was as if mathematical symbols floated in front of Sturnack's face, his eyes tracing them as he calculated the various ways the situation could sour. One equation, in particular, separated itself from the others, denoting the most possible probability. And sure enough, the next few seconds made it real.

The Vulcan remained seated on his stool, watching the fight begin in earnest with interest. One reaction after another played out exactly to form until, finally, the bar -- it seemed -- was now involved, with consent or not. As days were ruined (or possibly enhanced, for some) by the unfolding action, Sturnack finally rose from his stool and deigned to get involved. Dropping into the navorkot -- a crouch/roll that was a foundational move of the Suus Mahna, a traditional martial art on Vulcan -- the engineer dodged away from an oncoming attack from one of the Augments and popped back up with a back-palmed strike that broke yet another nose. Sturnack noted, however, that the man's cranial structure did, indeed, seem more hardened compared to those of other humans -- a gift, no doubt, from the man's Augmented nature.

Watching the man fall back, Sturnack turned to Ovrora. "If you recall, I did predict this outcome..." he trailed off neutrally, dodging another blow from the side.

It was with a flare of relief that Ovrora noted that Sturnack had joined the fray. Not that she doubted that she and Caspian could hold their own, but she always felt just a little extra confidence knowing he had her back. The tall augmented man who had been so unceremoniously forced to release her moments ago was now circling opposite her.

"Did I ever say... On your right..." she exclaimed, dodging a jab from the much taller man, "Did I ever say you were wrong?"

"You never say," he leaned away from the called-out blow, "it. However, your implications," Sturnack struck again, this time elbowing an Augment in the ribs before grabbing one of his wrists, "are always quite clear." Vulcan calm seemed to lend itself to passive-aggressive quipping, even if the Logic-Monsters of the High Arid Desert would never admit it as such. Wrist still held tight, Sturnack twisted it and then rolled forward, leaning in with his right shoulder. The man attached to said wrist sailed over said shoulder, careening into one of his compatriots who -- interestingly -- had manifested a rather wicked-looking knife from somewhere or other. The blade was now stuck firmly in his friend's thigh.

The knife-wielding thug backed away from his friend quickly, leaving the other man to drop the blade still embedded. Growling he turned back on the three remaining brawlers seeming to survey them as if to decide whether to take on Sturnack or make a run at Caspian.

Ovrora ducked under another swinging blow as Sturnack's efforts resulted in the incapacitation of his attacker. "Nicely done Sturny!" she exclaimed. The small Andorian ducked again as the man's fists grazed her antennae. Instead of weaving back into a stance, she used the momentum of the dodge to run headlong into the man using her lower center of gravity to force him back into a table. Once he was on the ground she swung her leg around landing a glancing blow on his temple. He stayed down.

Standing she wiped a trickle of deep blue blood from the corner of her mouth where a blow had landed despite her best efforts to avoid her attacker's fists. She spat a gob of the stuff onto the floor.

The last attacker had decided Caspian was the best choice by this point and had run at the woman swinging leaving Ovrora and Sturnack standing over two groaning incapacitated augments.

"Would you expect anything less?" she asked Sturnack referring back to his earlier passive aggression about what she might imply when suggesting they visit this bar.

As the man charged her, Caspian dropped the stool she was brandishing to the floor. Waiting until the last possible moment, she crouched low and twisted her upper body to the left, her right shoulder coming forwards and upwards as the remaining attacker reached her. Grabbing his legs with both hands as her shoulder made contact with his torso, she stood up quickly with a grunt and lifted the man off the ground. The augment's momentum carried him over the top of the bar, the big man crashing into the shelves behind with a loud shattering of various glass bottles arrayed there. Caspian reached out and retrieved her unfinished pitcher of beer and took a deep swallow. She glanced over at Ovrora and Sturnack with a grin.

"You think we should get back to the Uly?" she suggested. Then, with a second glance at the Andorian woman, taking in her bloodied and disheveled state: "Now I know you're my friend and everything Ovrora... but you look really hot right now." She downed the last two mouthfuls of beer and set the empty pitcher down on the bar top. "Alright then. Shall we?"

A wolfish grin crossed the Andorian woman's face at the compliment and her antennae swiveled forward and perked up as if to say oh really? . Instead, she said, "Why thank you, Charlie."

And then she winked.

"We probably should get back," she sighed, one hand attempting to finger comb through her hair and only succeeding in disheveling it further. Her tone suggested that she was very much loath to leave the scene of the fracas, but her body language spoke otherwise, and assuming it was on her to make the decision as she had picked the locale, she began to pick her way through the tables to the door.

Caspian fell into step beside her. "And doing that with your hair really works for me too," she said as an aside. "Tousled bed-head." Before Ovrora could reply, she turned back towards the bar and called out: "You ready, Sturny?"

Sturnack looked from the tangle of unconscious Augments to Caspian and Ovrora, nodding slowly as he moved to join them. "Lieutenant," he looked to Caspian, "I would prefer to be addressed as 'Sturnack' or by my rank, please. 'Sturny' is a bad habit of Lieutenant Ovrora's that I would prefer not propagate throughout the crew." He continued forward, exiting the bar and following the pair of women. Something was clearly on his mind, however, and finally, the Vulcan bade the women to halt.

"Ovrora," he turned to his roommate and friend, "you asked if I would expect anything less than what just happened. To offer an answer," Sturnack continued thoughtfully, "no, I would not expect such. However, asserting a thing to always be true," he referred to the Andorian's earlier catchphrase, "does not mean it always should be true. I had hoped additional years in Starfleet had curbed your more base impulses. I can see how this is not the case. That is...unfortunate," he trailed off.

Without waiting for the woman's reply, the Vulcan set course forward once again, aiming not to stop until he'd reached the Ulysseys.

Ovrora stood in the middle of the corridor smarting as the rebuke from Sturnack mingled with her rapidly dropping adrenaline. "And apparently you haven't learned any tact since the Academy," she muttered under her breath, irritation coloring her tone.

Letting out a comically large sigh, she turned to Caspian, "We should probably follow him."