Star Trek: Cygnus

NCC-71954

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One More Drink

Posted on Wed Aug 4th, 2021 @ 11:16am by Captain Maxwell Stafford & Lieutenant Commander Abrum Micca PhD

Mission: Episode 3: Search and Rescue
Location: Captain's Quarters | U.S.S. Cygnus
Timeline: MD05 | 2348 Hours

"I should've just told the Commodore to shove her 'diplomatic reception' where the sun don't shine." Maxwell grumbled, his words slurring slightly. "Easy for her to give the order when she didn't have to make nice with the Cardies."

"Because you know that if you said that to the Commodore you'd lose that shiny fourth pip of yours," Abrum said taking Max's arm as they made their way back towards their quarters. "You handled yourself very well, I doubt I would have been able to regain half of your composure."

They walked slowly along the corridor that led to their quarters. "Cardassians are such an arrogant people without anything to be arrogant about. And their food and drink," he grimaced as he thought about the glass of kanar he'd shared with Gul Telek, "ugh, I don't know how they keep that crap down."

"I mean they're basically reptiles I guess it makes sense," Abrum replied with a smirk. He felt enjoyable buzzed and realized for the first time in weeks he wasn't thinking about his leg. "You made it through the night, no one ended up in the brig or sickbay. Take the win. But be careful, end up with a reputation of working well with the cardies and you may end up working with them all the time."

A strangled noise escaped from Max's lips. "Don't even joke like that. Whatever Starfleet Command has in store for us next, I hope it's as far away from the Cardassian Union as can be. Maybe a nice trip to the Delta Quadrant." With the Barzan Wormhole stabilised a few years ago, travelling to and from the Delta Quadrant had become as easy as stepping from one room to the next.

"True, plus I'm sure the Hirogen or the Borg are much easier to deal with than the Cardassians." Abrum pressed the door chime to their quarters. Stepping inside he order the light to a mid level and headed towards the kitchen. "I take it you need a drink after that."

A voice in the back of his mind told him, 'you've had enough', but Maxwell pushed it away and instead agreed with his husband. "Absolutely. Alcohol was the only thing that got me through that and maybe one more will help me erase it completely from my mind."

Abrum started making drink, "Go change into something more comfortable, or nothing at all your choice." He said with a grin.

"No argument here." Max replied as he began removing his dress uniform jacket, his relief plain to see on his features. "I swear they design these things to be uncomfortable."

"Probably a general order about it somewhere must cause the most discomfort," Abrum said setting a drink down on the table for Max as he settled onto the couch. Shifting his new leg slightly on to take the strain off.

Max nodded in agreement, even though Abrum couldn't see him from where he sat. "It's the only explanation." He called as he quickly shed his dress uniform in exchange for a pair of heather grey sweat pants with a faded Academy logo on them and a white v-neck t-shirt. "How else do you explain the duty uniforms being so comfortable and the dress uniforms being a device of exquisite torture?" Stafford asked as he emerged from the bedroom.

"Probably something to keep you command officers in check, make sure you don't get too comfortable and relaxed." Abrum said with a grin.

Picking up his glass, Max slowly lowered himself wearily onto the couch beside Abrum. "If that's what they wanted, they could have just installed spikes on the command chair." He took a sip of his drink. "Of course that would still be more comfortable than the dress uniforms." Stafford added with a grin.

"Kinky." Abrum replied with a smirk, "You made it, you didn't cause a diplomatic incident, and now we're down to just dealing with Sular." Abrum said trying to point out the good side. "She's interesting, she asked me to lunch."

Maxwell frowned. "Watch yourself with that one." He took another sip. "I don't trust her. Probably trying to gather intel to take back to Central Command."

Abrum shrugged, "Her brother lost a leg during the Dominion War, she said she had heard about my leg. Got to applaud their intel." He said, "I checked, the brother is legit, Glin Herroc Sular. He was actually a POW."

Stafford remained silent as he processed that information. Maybe she was just looking to bond over the experience Abrum shared with her brother. Maybe her help as they departed DS9 had been genuine. But Max couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on. He hadn't even been in Starfleet during the Dominion War, only beginning at the Academy the following year, but his dislike of the Cardassians began during that conflict and was deeply ingrained.

"I still don't trust her." He announced after a silence that lasted only a few seconds.

Abrum smirked, "Oh I don't trust her either. But I figured it's an excuse to get out of the quarters at least." He said taking a sip of his drink. "I hope we can find these ships quick and get this mission over with. Can our next assignment be dull, a nice survey mission of gaseous anomalies or something?"

Stafford glanced over at his husband with a smile. "We should be so lucky."

 

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