Preflight Checklist, Part 2 - Stocking Up (backpost)

Posted on Sun Jul 19th, 2009 @ 12:45am by Brian Mallory

866 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Session One - Jailhouse Rock
Location: SS Warden, Starbase 376
Timeline: Not long after "Like Taking Candy..."

Brian Mallory was famished. Well, maybe not famished, but at least a little peckish. Theft and escape always make me hungry he mused, entering the ship's mess.

A quick survey of the cabinets revealed that it wasn't nearly so badly stocked as he had feared. There was even a small assortment of real Klingon food. This close to the border, he shouldn't have been surprised. But with the way Chase had kept the kitchen on Walkabout, he was afraid of getting spoiled. Of course, Warden had more power for replicators than his previous ship. Talk about spoiled, he thought.

Mallory quickly and quietly warmed a soup packet, slurping down the teriyaki-flavored noodles and thick, salty broth. It wasn't the tastiest thing he found in the kitchen, but had been the most expedient. He had a lot on his mind, and as it turned out, not much of an appetite after all.

As twirled the noodles around his spork, he thought of Decker and Doc Baker. Both men were gone now, having apparently been scared off by the dubious legality of their recent "retrieval mission."

Wimps, he thought, smirking. But if I had any sense, I'd be gone right along with them.

Regardless, he stayed. So far, these affairs were no more or less troubling to him than any number of assignments aboard Walkabout, or any other ship in his long career as a space jockey. And knowing Captain Jones -- albeit only slightly -- the skipper was probably already tracking down a new engineer, at least, and maybe another medic. They could do without the latter for a while, but this bucket of stem-bolts wasn't going anywhere without the former.

Mal drained the last of his broth, and popped the empty packet into the recycler. Looking again at the half-empty kitchen, he thought of a few items that he could pick up from the starbase markets. A quick glance in the fridge inspired another few, if he could fit them in around the massive load of beer. And then he thought of his first meeting with Jones. With a little spring in his step, he headed for the airlock.

* * * * *

While the promenade on Starbase 376 boasted the best shops in the sector, Mallory soon found out that was a grandiose overstatement. Still, he was able to find a few things to take back with him. Ktarian eggs, Andorian spice bread and tuber root, several kilos of raktajino, various cheeses, and the like. The most promising were the Aldebaran shellmouths he'd managed to find, below market value, but still fresh. He suspected that particular merchant had made some back channel deals to get them in a hurry, and wanted to avoid undue attention.

He arranged for the small crates to be dropped off at the Warden's dock and then made one last stop, at the station's small off-license shop. The Yridian behind the counter burped a welcome, and Brian had the distinct impression that the small, pruny alien was quite fond of drinking his own wares.

Without a word, Mallory selected several bottles off the shelves: Aldebaran whiskey, Bailey's Irish Cream, and the makings for a classic sundowner. He forwent the ingredients for a Samarian Sunset; if he had the opportunity to exercise his blending skills, he didn't want to start off too flashy. His hands passed over the rum, but he thought that would be a bit too cliche.

And then he noticed the Yridian beside him, having moved from behind the counter. "Perhaps I can interest you in something...Rihannsu?"

Mallory looked him square in the eye. "Romulan ale is illegal in the Federation, last I checked."

"Now, but this stock is from the time of the Dominion War alliance."

Brian laughed sharply. "Even if that's true, and even if that made it legal, I'm not interested." He turned away from the Yridian and scanned the shelves. "Tell you what, though. I'll take a case of Risian white whine. Give me your...valued customer...discount, and I'll forget about making a call to station security about your...Rihannsu stock."

"That's outrageous," the Yridian yowled, almost sounding like a Ferengi.

"Take it or leave it," Mal said. "Or they'll take you for everything you've got." To emphasize his point, he flipped his wallet open to the private investigator's license he still kept from his time working with Drake. The Yridian was so flustered, Brian figured he wouldn't notice the license had expired years ago. "You can throw gredlahr while you're at it."

The shopkeeper indeed didn't notice, and with a resigned sigh, led Mallory to the checkout.

"A pleasure doing business," he said a few moments later, pocketing his change. "Have the cases shipped to the SS Warden by 1800 hours tonight."

With that, he turned and left the liquor shop, taking his other purchases back to the ship. Sometimes it helps having a con man for a father and a private dick for a brother, he thought. I just hope Shrive likes gredlahr.

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