It isn't only eggs that get fried...

Posted on Mon Oct 18th, 2021 @ 10:51pm by Commander Finchley Kerr

Mission: Gamma Quadrant
Location: Main Lounge, Deck 5
Timeline: Current.

The doors to the Main Lounge opened and Finchley stumbled drunkenly through them, bottle in hand, falling against some chairs and a table sending them tumbling.

"Who put them there, damn stupid place!" he yelled.

Straightening up as best he could, he staggered across to the bar and slammed his hand down on the counter calling out "SHOP.!!!..anybody here?"

There was no reply straight away, so Finchley looked around to see if anyone was about.

Behind him, a head appeared above the bar and a shaky voice replied "Err, can I help you Commander?"

Looking wildly round at the person who had just spoken to him, Finchley shouted "SEE!!!...it's about how we can help each other...that's what we told them", and then grabbing the poor barman's collar and pulling his face into his own he added "You remember that don't you!"

"I eh...I'm not entirely sure you have the right person here Sir" the barman replied, trying to disengage himself from Finchley's grip on his collar. Finally managing to do so, he came around the bar and pulled a chair over to where the drunken officer was standing swaying alarmingly.

Dropping heavily down into the chair, Finchley slammed the bottle down on the bar top.

"Those bastard Cardassians, they're just scum!" he shouted "Do you know what they did on that Bajoran Carrier, they set an explosive on the engine housing...a bloody explosive, I mean, what were the Bajoran's going to do to the eh?...and why, because they're shit scared to do anything face to face. It's was like Karana base all over again!"

He quickly stood up again, and swaying violently, he side stepped two or three paces before finally righting himself. Taking a large draught from the bottle, he looked at the barman again, anger in his eyes "You remember that don't you.." he went on, now a haunted watery distant look in his eyes "they were just grunts, but brave as lions, all of them!"

He took another pull from the bottle, "But the Cardassians left us a present or three, those fucking 'sleak Cardies' explosives, you remember, they didn't show up on the scanners...and I sent in those...those..." but he couldn't finish the sentence.

He let out a heavy sob and fell back against the bar beside him saying "They were just children and those bastards murdered them!" Angrily, he shoved himself off the bar again and staggered forward, eyes blazing, thrusting the hand forward that held the bottle in it "but it wasn't going to happen again this time, not on my watch...not on MY watch, nobody was going to die because of them!"

The barman decided it was best if he just spoke simply and let the Commander do most of the talking, try and get whatever it was inside of him out of his system.

"Perhaps if I got you a soft drink Sir, you could explain what's upsetting you?" the barman asked.

"It's them Jackson, the Cardassians and their bloody allies, they just won't lie down, they won't admit it that we defeated them, they're still trying to bring death and destruction wherever they are. I mean, we lost so many family members and friends during the war, and now it looks like they're doing it again, this time with the Bajoran's and beyond here in this quadrant. Today...today, alongside the XO, I had to try and help defuse an explosive device that those bastards left on a poorly equipped, badly armed, almost defenceless ship. They'd already damaged it so it had t make an emergency landing on an asteroid. But that's not why I'm drunk, I'm runk because I think we're going to have to go through all that shit show of a war against them for a second time and I don't know if my nerves will take it a second time. I've witnessed horrors no-one should, I've ordered officers and grunts to their deaths, me and them knowing that's what I was do..." and he stopped.

He took another long drink from his bottle and looked far far into the distance, "those poor people, they knew they weren't coming back, they knew they'd never see their families and loved one's again...so did I, but I sent them anyway, it was my duty."

"They knew the risks when they signed up Sir, they were willing to take them to defend what they believed in" the barman answered.

"It still doesn't stop them haunting me in my dreams!!!" Finchley shouted, "I see them, limbs missing, horrifying scars, they still question me as to why them, why are they dead and not me...why not me?" and yet again he lifted the bottle to jis lips and drank.

"I can't answer that Commander" the barman said "Perhaps if you spoke with a Counsellor, they could help you find answers."

"Pffffffft, a head shrink...don't you think they tried that with those of us who had seen front line action?" Finchley asked.

The barman shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, they tried it alright" Finchley went on, "all those trick cyclists were lining up one after another with their analysis of this and their analysis of that, yet not one of them had front line experience, not one of them had seen what I'd seen, witnessed what I'd witnessed...so after all their shit talk and sessions I turned to the one friend I had left in the universe who could help me cope" and he slammed the bottle he'd been drinking from down hard on the table saying..."MEET MY ONE AND ONLY ABLE COMPANION, JACK DANIELS!!!"

"Does it help Sir?" the barman asked.

"He helps me drown out the voices, helps me sleep...eventually, but most of all, he's the one thing that helps me cope with days like this...he makes me forget" Finchley finished. He lifted the bottle to his lips one more time, then realised it was empty.

"MORE!" he said, thrusting the bottle at the barman.

"We only have synthahol here Commander" the barman said.

"That's no bloody good, I need a drink!" he said, staggering towards the exit.

The barman watched him go, he could tell that whatever had happened on the Bajoran ship had triggered some seriously bad memories, one's that must have been so awful the Commander had to drink himself into a stupor to try and cope. Maybe he'd find his way back to his quarters and sleep it off, he certainly hoped so.