The Pip and a Half Club pt2
Posted on Mon Mar 30th, 2026 @ 3:43pm by Lieutenant Commander Bonnie "Bon-Bon" Durnell & Lieutenant Leo Da'Cinci & Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen & Commander Dean House & Lieutenant JG Micheal Stevens & Lieutenant JG Jacob Rosen & Lieutenant JG Rowan Hale & Lieutenant JG Olivia Voight & Lieutenant JG T'Lar & Commander Jennifer Baldric & Lieutenant Sarah Wilson
2,633 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
Character Development
Location: Holodeck 5
Timeline: 2200 Hours Shiptime
Baldric and Dean entered, almost completely unrecognizable. That was the point, to blow off some steam, relax, and enjoy themselves. Jen sauntered up to the bar, the sway of her hips completely different out of uniform. "Whiskey, leave the bottle. Two glasses" she ordered, eyeing the label and wondering if it was real or not. Only one way to find out. She poured two healthy fingers worth and handed a glass to Dean.
If it wasn't real, Dean could always fix that for them. Though, given that this is 'invite' only or in a manner suppose to be, why wouldn't whoever set this up have real alcohol if someone wanted it. Taking the glass and holding it up to her, "To a well needed good night."
"Damned straight" she clinked the glass and took a swig, feeling the burn as it went down. "Tastes real" she shrugged and finished the glass, pulling him through the throng of people with her glass and the bottle in the other hand. She found a small table near the band and put the bottle on it, claiming it as theirs. She poured another and looked for a menu for food, knowing she needed the balance the alcohol or Dean would be carrying her out caveman style.
Dean took down what was in the glass also. Gave it a little thought and nodding. "Yeah, certainly seems like it," said after sitting down with her. Looking over the room and who they might actually know, not just holograms. "What's on the menu?"
"Hrmmmm" Jen looked over the options, musing aloud as she read down the list. "Tacos...no nachos, easy to eat." She looked at Dean for confirmation.
Leo arrived in a heavy wool coat that had seen better decades, boots thick with tread, and a collared shirt that refused to sit flat beneath a worn vest. His snout wrinkled at the neon glow, one brow lifting as he looked up at the sign. “Pip an’ a half, is it. Ambitious name for a room full o’ half-pips,” he muttered, stepping forward with the slow confidence of a man who expected the door to open simply because he stood there.
The bouncer did not move. Cyan lenses stared back at him, unblinking. “Passphrase,” it said, voice smooth and mechanical in a way that irritated Leo on principle.
Leo leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with a stubborn machine. “Aye then. I’m lookin’ fer a good book, d’ye have anythin’ t’read.”
The bouncer tilted its head a fraction. “I did not understand. Please repeat the passphrase.”
Leo blinked once, then again, as though the problem might resolve itself if given a moment. “I jus’ said it,” he replied, a touch sharper. “I’m lookin’ fer a good book. Somethin’ wi’ pages. Words. Ye ken, readin’.”
“Passphrase not recognized.”
A low growl built in Leo’s throat. He squared his shoulders and tried again, this time slower, as if speaking to a particularly dim cadet. “I. Am. Lookin’. Fer. A. Good. Book. D’ye have anythin’ t’read.”
The bouncer remained unmoved. “Please state the passphrase clearly.”
Leo’s ears twitched. “Clearly,” he echoed, incredulous. “I’ve said it th'ee times, lad. It’s nae a warp equation, it’s a sentence.”
“Passphrase not recognized.”
Leo stepped back a half pace, running a hand over his face, then leaned in again with renewed determination. “Right then, we’ll try it yer way." He cleared his throat, "I am looking for a good book, do you have anything to read.” The words came out clipped, forced, stripped of their natural cadence like a tool used wrong.
The bouncer paused, then repeated in its same calm tone, “Passphrase not recognized.”
Leo froze. A vein at his temple pulsed once. He stared at the bouncer as if weighing whether it counted as equipment he could dismantle. “By the core and all her stubborn bolts,” he muttered, voice rising. “Ye’ve got ears painted on, do ye. I’ve said the bloody thing every which way but singin’ it, and still ye stand there like a decorative post.”
“Please state the passphrase.”
Leo threw his hands up, tusks flashing as his frustration broke into full voice. “I am lookin’ fer a good book, d’ye have anythin’ t’read, ye over-dressed coat rack. Open the door afore I take it off the hinges and read ye the manual on how it works.”
The bouncer said nothing. The neon sign flickered overhead. Leo leaned in closer, eyes narrowing, already preparing another attempt that promised to be louder, slower, and considerably more personal.
Bonnie stood in the middle of her quarters with one boot on, one sock half folded in her hand, and a shirt draped over the back of her chair that she had decided on, for the third time. The invite had seemed simple enough when it reached her. A club, music, people. The last part lingered in her mind like a loose wire sparking at inconvenient intervals.
She moved in small, frantic orbits, picking something up, setting it down somewhere else, then forgetting the original intention entirely as another thought took its place. Her hair refused to cooperate, one side pinned, the other falling free in soft bouncy defiance. She paused once, catching her reflection, eyes wide with that familiar edge of anticipation that lived somewhere between curiosity and impending disaster.
Clothes came together through instinct rather than decision. A soft, worn sweater in a muted tone that felt safe against her skin, sleeves long enough to tug over her hands when needed, and draped off her shoulder for that half in, half out look. Dark fitted pants that allowed movement without drawing attention. Boots, both eventually located, laced with uneven tension that she would only notice later.
She reached for a comb, changed her mind, then ran her fingers through her hair instead, leaving it in a state that felt honest if not entirely intentional. The comm-badge found its place by habit, her one constant anchor, and she stood there for a breath, hands hovering as if something remained undone. The feeling passed. It always did. She stepped out before she could overthink it back into stillness.
The corridors carried her forward with a rhythm she understood, each step easing the static in her chest just enough to keep moving. By the time she reached Holodeck 5, the hum of the ship beneath her feet felt like reassurance. She lifted a hand toward the panel, hesitated, then stepped forward in a quiet rush that blurred the edges. The door parted, and the sound spilled out, bright and overwhelming and alive in a way that made her heart stutter once before finding its pace again.
She slipped inside, shoulders drawing in slightly as the music wrapped around her, then paused just beyond the threshold as a familiar voice rose in escalating frustration. Leo stood at the door, squared up to the bouncer with the kind of stubborn intensity that suggested he had already committed to winning this argument on principle alone. Bonnie watched for a moment, lips pressing together as the pattern revealed itself. Accent drift. Phonetic mismatch. A simple system expecting exact input.
She stepped forward, reaching gently for Leo’s sleeve, her touch light but insistent enough to catch his attention. “It wants the words exactly,” she said, voice soft but certain, eyes flicking between him and the unyielding bouncer. She turned toward it, shoulders still slightly hunched from the noise and the crowd beyond, and repeated the phrase with careful precision, each syllable placed where the program expected it to land.
The bouncer inclined its head and stepped aside.
"Oh, and he's with me." Bonnie gave Leo a small, apologetic smile that carried a hint of shared conspiracy, then slipped past the threshold into the press of music and motion, her nerves still humming, though now threaded with something lighter. She eyed the bar and made her way over.
Jacob had watched the crowd in between songs, a difficult process with the purposely low quality lights and cheap smoke machine. He recognized several faces in the crowd, even some of the senior officers dressed down and incognito. Like every secret he'd ever heard aboard every ship he'd been on from Crewman to JG, everyone found out.
At the Academy, he had attended as a prior enlisted student and he felt he knew everything. So much so that when he was required to take a class on Philosophy, Jacob tuned out. Lieutenant Commander Jauron was the Professor, he had opened the class with a lecture on the Ship of Theseus. It wasn't until much later that he found his answer to the question.
A ship was not just the structure, the machine. A ship was the collection of people; their goals, their hopes and fears, their successes and their failures.
Rowan had asked him why he, when returning to the fleet, chose Operations. At the time Jacob answered he just wanted to help keep things moving. Looking out at the crowd now, this was his answer. Keeping things moving, helping where he could, wasn't just about modulating sensors or optimizing power distribution. It wasn't about supplies, cleaning schedules, or uniform requisition. Although all those things were also important. Medical kept people physically healthy, Counseling kept the crew mentally healthy. Maybe Operations could be a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long day, or making sure that care package from home made it to your quarters. Tonight though, tonight it was providing a space for a gathering of voices to cry out that they were still here, together, and that mattered.
They played fast, pouring every ounce of pent up frustration and stress into their performance. Within the first of their numerous Ska reimagined covers Jacob felt his own tension evaporate as he melted into the song. Almost too much as he barely came back to himself for the required Ska shout of "Pick it up! Pick it up Pick it up!"
Eventually their set wound down, Gonzalez looked to the next group awaiting their turn and mouthed a quick "One more song" while the drummer Ensign Farrington brought his percussion solo to crescendo.
"Thank you, before we hand things off The Fig Neutrons." Jacob said with a smile and gesture towards the quartet of science officers dressed in traditional Punk attire. "We have a special treat for our last number. Please put your hands together as we welcome to the stage T'Lar!"
T'Lar made her way to the stage looking every bit a glam goddess in the spotlight. Stepping behind the microphone, her hair cascading down like a femme fatale over one eye, her look was only enhanced by her Vulcan features. The gold lame' gown was tight and accentuated her every curve and she exuded sensuality with every move. A hush fell over the crowd and she began to sing~
… Birds flying high
You know how I feel
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by
You know how I feel
The tempo slowly built, her voice low and sultry...
… It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
The rhythm section kicked into full swing on that note as she swayed to the beat and the swell of the horns.
I'm feeling good
Her voice came up a register as she continued ...
… Fish in the sea
You know how I feel
River running free
You know how I feel
Blossom on a tree
You know how I feel
… It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
Now the band was really hitting its stride as she sang soulfully each verse, the song building to its crescendo where she really began belting it out.
… It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life!
… It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life!
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
It's a new life
For me
She held the note for many long seconds before belting out the end...
… And I'm feeling good!
Her voice dropped low and sultry once more as the horn section got low and mean again
I'm feeling good
I feel so good
I feel so good
The band played a big outtro of drum fills and horn flares and guitar wails as the crowd erupted with applause. T'Lar simply gave a small bow of her head and said "Thank you" before leaving the stage. She thanked each member of the band for letting her join them for a song and then she came to Jacob.
"Jacob, I want to thank you again for this opportunity. I enjoyed it very much. The accompaniment surpassed all of my expectations. You are quite talented with your trumpet. I hope you feel I acquitted myself adequately."
"That was incredible!" Jacob replied, beaming while returning his well worn brass to it's equally worn case. Clipping it closed he offered to help T'Lar down with the rest of the band and make space for the Science punks. "I wasn't sure how this whole event would go, but I'm ecstatic at the turnout."
Jacob looked around at the shuffling between acts, the lines for food and drink, the mingling of people who worked alongside each other and those who did not. "Looks like this was needed." He smiled again as he stashed the instrument case under a table to the side of the dance floor. "Can I get you another sweet drink?"
"I would not mind another chocolate martini, thank you," T'Lar admitted
"When you told me there would be music I couldn't help but ask if I could do a song. I am gratified that you and your band gave me a chance. Have you been playing together long?"
Jacob inclined his head at the holographic bartender who served their real booze. Booze that had been discreetly acquired. "They've been playing together for some time but I only joined them within the last few weeks. Gonzo had been bugging me after learning I play a couple brass instruments. They helped me set this whole soiree up." He handed her martini over and took a sip of his Mai Tai.
Inclining his head towards the throng Jacob smiled. "Did you see some of the Commanders are here?... and Rowan, excellent."
"I did, though I confess I only recognized them from their personnel profiles. I have not had a chance to meet all of the senior staff as of yet. I did recognize the doctors though," T'Lar replied; alluding to Rowan and Sarah. She'd also thought she spotted Olivia Voight enter during her song.
"You are to be commended. From a crew morale standpoint this event seems to be exactly what the crew needed after a very stressful mission. You get this counselor's 'seal of approval'."
She raised her glass in salute then promptly knocked back the martini. The result was instantaneous. She began to giggle.
"Hooo boy. That is the good stuff."
T'Lar noted the look on Jacob Rosen's face and sought to reassure him...
"What seems to be the officulty difficer?" she gave a little chortle
"I mean OSSIFER. Although I appear to be under the alkyfluence of inkyhol I assure you I can straight a walk line pro noblem. Yep."
Jacob laughed playfully at her slurred speech. "I believe you! Still, let's get you a place to sit, how about that hightop over there? Let me help you."
TBC
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