A Singsong and a Scrap

Posted on Thu Mar 25th, 2021 @ 8:03pm by Lieutenant Commander Mindo & Qaraq (Deceased)

Mission: The Gauntlet
Location: Paradise Bar
Timeline: current

ON

“...and I said, 'That's why I have these,'” said Lieutenant Mindo, patting the leg braces that allowed him to hover. “And then I turned them on and he slammed back into the wall.”

Qaraq bellowed at the story and slammed his fist onto the bar where the enormous and prolific Broot sat alongside his newfound drinking buddy, the diminutive Chief Engineer of the Pandora. They had plenty to discuss, but Captain Temple had suggested the two get a drink first. It was a good idea, Mindo thought. What better way to a Broot's heart than through his liver?

“So you defeated the Klingon and professed your love for this Lieutenant Fick?” Qaraq said in his mighty baritone voice.

“Actually no,” said Mindo, taking a gulp of his Romulan Ale, thankfully legal in this territory of space. “K'Laus was sent to the brig, but after that they hooked up. They're engaged now, too.”

“How dishonorable,” Qaraq said, taking a gulp of his own drink.

Mindo shook his head. “No, it makes sense in the end of it. My people aren't exactly exclusive when it comes to relationships. In the end, Fick was looking for commitment, and I was just a fun distraction. It makes sense, in a way.”

“Not to me,” Qaraq said. “Mr. Mindo, if I meant so much to a person that they would fight for me against such odds, they would be more valuable to me than any treasure in the galaxy. Even if they lost. Your friend Fick is a fool.”

Mindo shook his head. “No he isn't. He followed his heart. I don't think there's anything foolish in that.”

Qaraq smiled slightly. “Sometimes the heart can be foolish.”

Mindo shrugged. “You're not wrong,” he said, and took another drink. “What about you? How does a Broot settle such things?”

“With a fight, and then a drink and a song!” Qaraq boomed. “Your Klingon colleague tried to kill you. We abhor killing an adversary over trivial things. It takes a strong man to admit when he's defeated, as long as he's the one buying the ale!” Qaraq roared with laughter, and Mindo laughed too.

“Your race must have a hard time holding grudges,” Mindo said as he signaled another drink from the bartender. The man was no doubt aghast at the amount of Romulan Ale Mindo had consumed and yet was still conscious... lucid even!

“Why hold a grudge, Mr. Mindo?” Qaraq said. “A grudge is a negative thing. We Broots strive to be happy and positive, always! We are natural fighters, both men and women. Warriors to the end. But our true honor is in family. Tell me of yours. They must be a mighty sort!”

Mindo looked downward for a moment, and took another drink of ale. “I don't really have a family,” he said. “My mother was never in my life growing up and my father was highly irresponsible. Fesarians care a lot about money and status. My dad had been a vastly rich person in the community in Eloi, but by the time I was old enough for school he had lost everything. I was barely an adolescent when he died, and I was left with nothing but a small cabin by a river. I spent the rest of my youth being berated in an orphanage.” He took another drink and sighed. “I hated it on my homeworld. In Starfleet, I was able to be something new. My life was different. Money and power were no longer factors, just order and discipline. We're all equals in Starfleet.” Then he added, “At least, we're supposed to be.”

“Tell me,” Qaraq said. “How did such corruption occur in your Starfleet? If you are all equals, why was my friend, Admiral Francis, left for dead and framed for horrible crimes?”

Mindo chuckled. “Because some people want to be more equal than others.” Qaraq exploded in laughter at this. Mindo laughed too. “It doesn't make sense, does it?”

Qaraq shook his head. “The problem is that it shouldn't make sense, and yet it does! Your Federation is a complicated institution. I think they would have much to learn from the ways of the Broot!”

Mindo nodded. “You're probably right,” he said, and the two touched their glasses in toast.

Mindo finished his drink and cleared his throat. “I think we should head to your ship and find that Pakled's signature.”

“I agree,” Qaraq said, still smiling. “I have learned a lot in the last day. Your new Aenar officer, and now you, have shown me that there is indeed hope for your Starfleet's future.”

“I hope so,” Mindo said, hopping off his stool. “But we have a big struggle still ahead of us.”

OFF