The Public House

Posted on Thu Mar 26th, 2020 @ 10:07am by Captain Enalia Telvan & Commander Rita Paris & Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Petty Officer 2nd Class 'Big Ethel' Jablonski & Petty Officer 3rd Class S'Rina Wil'I'Ams & Petty Officer 3rd Class V'Nus Wil'I'Ams
Edited on on Thu Mar 26th, 2020 @ 1:15pm

Mission: Back Down the Long Ladder
Location: Mariposa
Timeline: 2397

“Bitches, I frickin’ OWN you, now! Briaar Fricking Gavarus for the WIN!” The two-meter tall Tellarite engineer proclaimed as she pumped her thick, three-fingered fist in the air and took a massive swig of her beer as she stomped over and yanked her darts out of the weathered old dartboard of the Mariposian pub called The Bottom of the Barrel.

Walking back, she actually strutted, waving her arms at the two, thickly built redheaded men that were standing at the line of demarcation on the floor in front of the dartboard. Fergus and Maxwell O’Dell were staring at Briaar in mild disbelief. The taller of the two, Fergus, had a thick fro of red curls and an equally thick and bushy beard, but no mustache to speak of as he looked at the portly porcine and grumbled. “How ‘n th’ FOOK did’ye fook the both’a us!? Yer a fookin’ SHAAAAArk, ye’ are!”

“Damn frickin’ skippy! Me and your sister are in Ten Forward almost every night throwin’ darts. I’s got SKILLS!” Gavarus said with a broad, unguarded grin, as she was proud of herself for beating the two Irish stereotypes in their own local pub. “Hey, Fee! I WON!!!

Calling across the pub on the homeworld of the tiny test pilot, Fiona O’Dell, there were several members of the U.S.S. Hera mingling and drinking, as was tradition, with the locals. Captain Enalia Telvan and her Artan legal aide, Dana Nyn, were at a corner table with Commander Rita Paris. Who was bouncing the miniature minotaur, Minerva Moo O’Dell, on her knee. At another table sat two massive women in Starfleet gold: Klingon Petty Officer’s V’Nus and S’Rina Wil’I’Ams, who were nursing the largest beers available and seeming to enjoy scowling at anyone that looked at them funny, which was pretty much everyone.

At the bar, Fiona sat, nursing a much smaller beer next to the even larger mountain of muscle, Petty Officer Ethel Jablonski, who was keeping an eye on her friend who was still a bit morose from the tragic and chaotic events of the day. “Oh, hey there, Fiona. Briaar there sure is whippin’ yer brothers there.”

"Oh aye, a good for her, eh? T'will make 'em respect 'er, and they'll like that she kin drink like one's the boys. Me society is patriarchal, and tis good the menfolk of the family know me girl's a force ta be reckoned with." As Gavarus approached, O'Dell held up her arms in a cheer, beer bottle in hand. "There's me stout beauty! Didye leave enow o'me brother's manhoods ta guarantee a few more generations of O'Dell's, Briaar? Or tis this where their branches wither off, aye?"

"Well, I'll let 'em stick around if they c'n keep up with me..." Briaar said as she came over and gave her pint-sized partner a hug with a smile before plopping down on a stool next to her. "But they can't keep up with me! TWO stomachs, bitches! Twice the storage capacity! Just TRY drinking that under the table! HA!" 

The tipsy Tellarite yelled across the room at the defeated O'Dell boys, holding up her glass. Then, turning back to Fiona, she leaned in conspiratorially. "So, do ya' think we could take the Captain and Commander in a doubles match?"

“Could we? Oh aye, we could. Should we? Naaaaay, that’s a right terrible idea. Ye know neither of ‘em can throw a dart worth a shite wi’ them big wobbly weights they’re carryin’ aboot. Instead, howzaboot we dinna embarrass them and we keep it on a nice even keel in these parts, aye?”

That was when a handsome man strode in- there was a touch of grey in his sandy blonde beard, and his thick hair was styled and neatly combed. He looked every inch the dashing man about town, and as he entered the pub, he was greeted with shouts of congratulations and welcome. Behind him, like a sullen wall, was Duncan O’Dell. While you had to squint a bit to see commonalities in the handsome face of the younger man and the haggard bloated older man, still they were there.

Which might have been enough to clue Gavarus in that this was yet another of Fiona’s brothers, save that the little lass in question was immediately up, ran delicately along the rail around the bar, then launched herself in a flying tackle at the ruggedly handsome individual. Who was unsurprised at her approach, and caught the winsome aviatrix with practiced ease.

“WALLY! I was beginin’ ta wonder if Duncan ate ye!” Fiona squealed in delight, even as her brother laughed, hooking an arm beneath her rear to hold her as one would a child.

“Hullo, wee Fiona. How’s me daredevil test pilot little sister, who braved the stars and alla space joost to come back to pay her respects, aye?” As he said the words, she grinned and hugged him tightly once more, then she pointed down the bar.

“C’mon, ye got to meet me partner, so’s she kin find oot that alla the O’Dell men are nae wastes of flesh or lousy at darts,” Fiona declared, pointing the way to the salty space swine.

But after the last few days, Briaar was at least a little suspicious of anyone new and just drunk enough to let it show on her face with a light scowl. As she did, she felt a firm but gentle nudge from Big Ethel, still sitting with her unlikely friends. Unlikely, if only really due to just how strong of a crush Briaar had for the farmgirl that could bench press a combine now. "C'Mon, Briaar. Don't have a sour puss on ya'. This one looks nice enough, and Fiona clearly likes him. Lighten up."

Rolling her eyes slightly, the temperamental Tellarite took a swig of beer and half-whispered, "Yeah, yeah. Still wouldn't mind if you kicked the shit out of the other piece of shit for what he put Fee through."

Then, as they got closer, Briaar raised an eyebrow and hopped off of her stool, just to show off how tall she was, even though she was no real fighter. Looking down at the newcomer, she tilted her head and smiled a little, waiting to get his measure and clearly looking like it. "So, you're... Wallace? I'm Briaar. Briaar Gavarus. I'm Fiona's girlfriend."

"Aye, the great space swine, the brilliant engineer who keeps me sister in the air.... well, in space I suppose. And the Mom to her mum wi' the little maiden minotaur, aye?" Sticking out his hand with a grin, the Irishman took Gavarus' three-fingered mitt into his own and shook it enthusiastically. "Wallace O'Dell, but Fioooona's better half kin call me Wally, aye?"

Looking from the surprised expression on Briaar's face, then to Fiona's, the handsome bearded fellow with the twinkle in his eye shook his head. "Da told me all aboot ye. I was still stoppin by every week to catch oop with him and have some lunch, but he was alllll aboot ye three, after that call ye made. Got his arse otta bed and he got busy livin... welll, right up until, aye?" Wally paused at that, brows furrowing as a wave of grief slid over him, as these things were wont to do. Fiona reached out and took her brother's rough, stained workman's hand in her own. Bolstered by the contact, the new head of Clan O'Dell nodded, then continued.

"He was proud fit ta burstin over all ye've doon in Staarfleet, and he said this one was a rum sort, and he was lookin' for'd ta drinkin ye under the table ta find out yuir intentions t'ward his daaater, y'ken?" Clapping Gavarus on the shoulder, Wallace grinned winningly, and in that expression, Briaar Gavarus could see the family resemblance to her own Fiona.

While still a bit on guard, Wallace was undeniably charming and even disarmed Briaar's attempts at staying judgmental. "My intentions? You're lookin' at 'em, Wally. We make each other happy. We have fun. We raise our little Minnie Moo and try to do right by her. An' like you said, I keep her in the air when we're working. An' she brings me up there with her in every way that counts."

"So, you're not the asshole brother, obviously. An' you're not the priest or the ones that suck at darts. Are you the one that took her flying when she was a kid?" Briaar asked with a raised eyebrow.

That brought a warm smile to his face, and Wallace nodded. “Aye, guilty as charged. Littlest thing ye ivvir seen, but when I put her on my lap in the cockpit of my puddlejumper and put her wee doll hands on the stick, her eyes opened up and for the first time, it was something SHE wanted to do, not what Da and Margret wanted of her. She begged me to teach her to fly, and I could ne’er say no to me baby sister. Up there amongst the clouds, she was a natural, even ere she could reach the pedals.”

In reverie, it was clear that Wally was revisiting the memories in his head, and the crinkle around his eyes and the smile on his face made it clear that he was reliving fond memories. It also made it clear just who he was in relation to Fiona… the big brother she looked up to, who had helped her reach for her dreams.

“Speakin’ a miss Minnie, where is that adorable little scamp?” he asked, looking around exaggeratedly. “Where could I possibly find a wee furry Minotaur lass here in the public house? Who would bring such a babe to a poob?”

It was clear his gaze had passed over Minnie, winking at Commander Paris as he did so, but he still offered his ‘hide and seek’ to try to delight the small child to whom he was improbably related. Of course, given the size, shape and disposition of Fiona’s brothers, it seemed just as improbable that she was related to them.

"We bring Minnie everywhere we go. An' she likes it. She pretty much can't get hurt by much and she loves the attention." Briaar said as she stepped over beside Wallace, putting an arm around Fiona's shoulder as she did. 

Meanwhile, little Minnie had noticed that someone was calling her name and looking for her and her big, brown eyes lit up and a grin spread across her face as she continued to sit on Rita's lap. Bouncing a bit excitedly, the tiny tot bit the bottom of her lip and looked at the comely Commander in gold as she ducked down to hide from Wallace in, perhaps, the most unlikely place she could: Under Rita's prodigious bosom.

While she did, her stubby but still pronounced black horns popped up, still visible, over the crest of Rita's assets.

Moving about to make a wide-eyed expression of surprise, Wallace O’Dell spotted his unusual niece hiding behind the prodigious bosom of the old-fashioned officer, and his face lit up in a delighted grin. “There she is! There’s mah wee niece! Come to Unca Wally, aye?”

At that, Wallace held out his hands, and while Minnie reached for him in response, Paris looked to the unlikely duo who were the devoted and doting parents of the child for permission. As Fiona nodded her assent, Paris hoisted the youngster up to Wally, who immediately held the babe up high, at the extent of his arm’s reach.

“Well joost lookit you, m’darlin! Yuir joost a handful ov adorable, ye are, aye? Aye? And I’ll joost bet your like yuir mum, aye?” With that said, Wallace ‘flew’ the youngster about, supporting her with his arms as he spun her about and simulated flying with her. In doing so, he looked years younger, and somehow it was quite easy to imagine him doing the same with a small mop-topped redhead once upon a time, that similarly inspired her with dreams of flying. The care and warmth he exuded in doing so made it clear that he found delight in this, and in the excited, happy squeals emitted by the hooved heifer as he spun about, others in the pub giving him a berth with which to work.

It was clear that Wally was good with children, as well as the fact that this was something he did with kids in the pub- ‘flew’ them about, much to their delight.

"Okay, well Minnie Moo likes ya' so I guess I can lighten up on a little bit there, Wally." Briaar said, slamming back a huge swig of her beer. Considering the distressful circumstances, the portly porcine felt fully justified in flipping the expectations on the dynamic of 'meeting the family' and was sizing each of Fiona's brothers up, one by one, to determine if they were worthy of their own sister. Alcohol, of course, made this dynamic a bit easier for her to flip.

Meanwhile, in the rear of the pub, the thick and ponderous Duncan O'Dell stood watching with a pronounced scowl on his face that he clearly didn't mind if anyone else saw. At least until the mountainous Ethel Jablonski met his eyes and hers narrowed. She was still very much on duty as far as she was concerned, and more than her charges, Fiona and Briaar were her friends. So she made sure it was clear from a simple stare and a flex that Duncan should mind his manners. And for the moment, at least, he was complying.

With the happily clapping Minotaur clearly enamored of her new favorite uncle, said gentleman in question turned to the two seated senior officers. “So you two must be Fiona’s… what, bosses? I’m Wallace, Fi’s brother. We’ve heard quite a bit about you… particularly of late,” Wally spared a glance at his brother, who lifted his pint, and Wallace nodded in reply. “So I imagine it’s best I thank you two for getting her here, and unraveling that business with Kathryn.”

As he said the words, he spat on the ground after speaking the name of the murderess who had slain his father and stepmother. Minnie, puzzled, spat as well, to which he nodded smartly. “Right ye are, wee Minnie. We spit upon even her name, and she’ll know naught but shunning from our clan from this day for’d.”

"Well, if Minnie likes you, you're a good man in my book," Enalia said, standing and offering a handshake to the new Laird of O'Dell Manor. "I'm Captain Enalia Telvan, Fiona's CO, and this is Commander Rita Paris, my First Officer. It's been a pleasure sampling the local flavors. I just wish we had come here on more pleasant business."

There was no small amount of pride that swelled the chest of the elder O’Dell, and he bowed a bit to the Captain. “Aye, better tidings would ha’been preferable, mum. Me family owes you and yours a debt, to be certain. I will say… me wee bebeh sister seems happier than I’ve seen her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. Me Da told me that she’s a test pilot for ye, and that she’s done well on yuir ship. For that, yuir intercession on her and our behalf, and the fact that yuir showin' the Federation ta be as good as their word…” Wallace paused to eye his little sister, who was hugging the titanic Tellarite to whom she was paired, and a knowing smile creased his face. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit lower, but he did not try to hide what he was saying from the subjects of his speech.

“Fiona was… well, she was never interested in innyone, and she was so determined to prove herself… I was afraid she’d be alone for the rest of her days, and I dinna want that for me baby sister, y’ken? But lookit her… got herself a gal who’ll take not a lick of shite, and an adorable wee one… aye, that’s you, Miss Minnie,” Wally stroked the hair of the toddler on his hip, then leaned over to kiss the top of the toddler's head. “As for the local spirits, that I’ll take as a point of personal pride. Tis O’Dell’s Own yuir drinkin’ there, and that’s me distillery. I used the family recipe, and when we settled on Mariposa there were no proper single malts to be found, joost… replicated. Which isnae bad, mind, but we prefer the old ways, y’ken? I’ll be happy to send ye off wi’ a few cases when tis time fuir ye to take to the stars agin. Least we kin do, all things considered.”

"Then perhaps you'd be willing to come to a trade agreement regarding it?" the buxom captain queried, her grin widening. "The Artans are always looking for new markets for our products - home-brewed ales and brandies, medical supplies, canned foods and rations being the main bulk of them. As Queen, I called in my personal lawyer and in order to get here in time, she had to commandeer one of our largest bulk cruisers and I'm told they have around thirty tonnes of cargo they're willing to trade, should the opportunity arise."

"And as a connoisseur of alcoholic beverages, I believe your fine beverage may be just that opportunity."

The cheerful Laird of the O’Dell’s turned to look to his little sister, who nodded sagely. In that one questioning look was the entirety of the questions at hand- Is she for real? Do you trust this woman? Is this a deal you stand behind? The sagacious slow nod of the shortest sibling of the O’Dell clan was enough for Wallace, and he turned to address Minerva on his hip. “Looks like yuir captain knows her fine spirits, aye? That’s right, wee Minnie, she knows a damn good whiskey when she tastes it, mm hmm. So it looks like the O’Dell Distillery is g’win ta enter into a trade agreement wi’ the… Artans, ye say?”

Extending his hand with a broad smile, Wallace O’Dell apparently planned to make a deal on the spot, and seal it with a handshake.

"Wallace O'Dell," Enalia began, returning the handshake with a smile. "Welcome to your first day of being an intergalactic brand."

"Ohhhh, I like the sound'a that. Dye like the sound 'a that Miss Minnie, aye?" At that, Wally O'Dell, laird of Clan O'Dell and the Irishman who could inspire children to want to fly, set his bovine niece on her tiny hooves, and began to dance a jig with her, there on the spot. As the wee one laughed and hopped about a bit emulating his lively dance, he looked to his wee sister. The only one who had left this paradise their forefathers had brought them to, a land of plenty with good soil and temperate weather. A world of rains, that intermingled with the intermittent sun to grow lush greenery across the hills and valleys.

With a gleam in her eye, Fiona O'Dell capered out to the dance floor, dragging the beefy three-fingered hand of her best friend with her. Even as she started to tug, the feet of the pilot whose callsign was 'Leprechaun' were already in motion, dancing a merry jig all their own as others hiked their skirts and kilts and began to dance along, whilst a song struck up from a band of old men in the corner who produced and began to play a lute, a squeezebox, and a flute.

Thankfully, the basics of the 'jig' had been well taught to the tipsy Tellarite during the recent bachelorette party they had attended on Risa, where Briaar had unexpectedly shown some skills. And here, on her partner's homeworld, her hooves clicking on the old, tile stone floors of the Public House, she was a hit as others hooted and clapped for her big pig jig. As she did, she yelled over to Fergus and Maxwell, who were nursing pints and their bruised egos over losing at darts, "C'Mon, you two! Get yer asses over here and dance! Ya' gotta be better at this then darts!"

In unison, both brothers raised their hands to flip off the dancing swine, who let out a massive belly laugh and just kept dancing with her partner, Wally, and Minnie as they capered in celebration. For true to her word, Captain Enalia Telvan would indeed make O'Dell's Own, and all of the subsidiary products, an intergalactic brand that would join the ranks of Romulan Ale and Saurian Brandy, as Irish Whiskey claimed its place amongst the stars.

Through the exclusive distribution of the Artan Trading Fleet.

Watching the pub erupt into gaiety and dance, Rita grinned, enjoying the quaint atmosphere that really felt a lot like being home on Earth. A stern-faced matron dropped herself in the chair the Captain had abandoned when she'd been pulled into the dance by Wallace O'Dell. The local woman's hair was grey, and her clothes more simple homespun than most of her neighbors. But the shawl she wore bore intricate needlework, and it was clear that her warm brown eyes missed little. Glancing over Rita's uniform disapprovingly, the woman raised her chin towards the buxom blonde.

"Ye're with Staaarfleet then, are ye, missy?" The older woman's tone clearly indicated some level of disbelief. Which could have been because Rita's outdated delta wasn't a modern Starfleet emblem, to be fair.

"I am indeed Starfleet, ma'am. Commander Rita Paris... and you are?" The experienced explorer, sensing an encounter with a local, offered her hand.

Eyeing the hand as an unexpected turn of manners, the elderly woman took the hand and made the introduction, if a bit grudgingly. "Brenna O'Dell, pleasetameetchye. I seem to recall that Staaarfleet wore more... pants..."

"Mmmmmm, it's a long story. Look, did you just come over to let me know that you disapprove of my outfit? Because if so, we can get that over with and move on, disapproval noted. I..." Rita gestured dramatically to the ceiling. "Am... not of your... planet. Your ways are.... not... my ways..."

"Well, I think ye look like a tart showin yer altogether in alla that, boot that's yuir business," Brenna O'Dell sniffed dismissively, then arranged herself on her chair, like a hen settling on an egg."Ah knew a Commander in Staaarfleet once. Quite the muckity-muck these days, I hear. Big man. Lotsa pull."

"When me niece, the little moppet there... when she wanted ta go to the Academy, none would take 'er serious, aye? Joost a wee widget wi' too much wrong with her, they says. Aye, she's quick an' smart an' she's a right clever puss, magic wi' her hands, she should be a musician, says all. But tisn't what's in her heart, y'ken? All her life she spent runnin' from where she belonged, like she was tryin' ta find where she did, strewth?"

"So me, I calls that dashing commander I once did knoow. Ask'im how things are doin, an aye, he's a wife and children, home and hearth noow. I asks him for a favor, for an old friend, aye? He says ta me," The old woman leaned in conspiratorially, and Rita leaned in a bit to indulge her.

"He says to me, he says 'Miss O'Dell, there are so many qualified candidates from all over the galaxy, and only so many billets to be filled'. So I says 'Aye, tis true, that. Well, if not wee Fiona wi' her clever hands, what aboot me own boy? He's the one at the bar, there, the one wi' the hair an' the beard, smile that lights oop a room?" Looking over, sure enough, there was a handsome and dashing young man who stood out from the rest. His thick dark hair and neatly-trimmed beard made him look like a Starfleet hero.

It dawned on Rita Paris what the woman was driving at as the man, who was around Rita's own age, smiled, and damned if it didn't light up the room. Turning back to the old woman, the face of the old-fashioned officer wore an expression of being suitably impressed.

"I'd nivvir breathe a word uvvit, nor bring that sorta shame upon me dear Billy. He's a good lad, and he looves his Mum. But it got our smidgen oot inta space, an' sure as she claimed, once she got oot there in the universe... it looks like she found her a place where she belonged."

The picayune pilot danced a merry jig, leading the bovine toddler, patiently teaching her the dance before being twirled onto the shoulder of her paunchy porcine partner. Watching the little woman forget her pain of loss and celebrate life and the living with her odd little family, the first officer was inclined to agree.

Amongst the stars, Fiona O'Dell had finally found where she belonged... on the USS Hera.