Jack Crow stepped out of his quarters into the dim corridor. He had been on the ship for a long time. He loved his liner, The Aristotle, but it was also good to be back on a Junker base again, especially one like Invergordon. He made his way through the maze of hallways and eventually out a large door into a much brighter area. He was standing on a deck above a garden area beneath the station's biodome. He walked to a table and pushed a button on the comm system. 'This is Crow. Have a bottle of my rum sent up to my private deck.' The bottle arrived in a few minutes and he poured a glass and sat down. What a great place this was that he could sit here in this great garden in space. He pushed the button on the comm system again. 'Stephen, locate Finn and Doc and escort them to my deck.'
A gentle repeated ping drifted from the work alcove of the Clan Chief of Gordon, high in the slowly rotating con tower of Invergordon.
Tim Finnegan sat up, rubbed sleep from his eyes and glanced blearily over his shoulder at the mass of flame-red hair spilling over the pillow next to him. He smiled and ran one hand through his ruffled mohawk, reaching for his kilt with his other.
Tess mumbled a bit and pulled the tartan plaid covers over her head as he stood, yanking his kilt around him and staggering toward the desk, .
"Coffee. Bloody hot" he spoke into the air as he sat, and a gurlging sound answered from the kitchen.
After glancing over the summons, he peered through sleepy eyes out the massive curving viewport at Arbiter Crow's vessel docked at bay one.
The Aristotle gleamed in the reflected blue light of Cannish.
He tapped a panel on his desk. "Dockmaster MacCreary." he spoke at the commset. "Do 'ave a case o' 'Gordon Oban an' a keg o' 'Gordon Black Ale sent t' th' Arbiter's quarters on th' Aristotle, aye? Me 'tanks, lad."
Tap.
He stood, stretched, grabbed the cup of coffee and downed it in two gulps.
He bent over the sleeping Tess and kissed her gently behind the ear. "Oi'll be back, me bonny lass." he whispered.
He strode from his quarters into the gangway, smiling widely.
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Doc crawled out of the cockpit of the TAZ labeled Wasupu that docked at Ivergordon. It was a rarity to find an Ambassador in a flight suit let alone a fighter but it gave good anonymity, even for someone who wasn't versed in there function. He then was escorted to a place where he could change into something more professional. As he did, thoughts of his last visit to Ivergordon went through his head.
Tim Finnegan put a smirk on Doc's face as he thought of one of the few men who could match him in drinking. Of course, marriage had tamed Doc over the years but he was also bested at the card table. It was a fun time, one that he remembered fondly. While today was mostly business, he had hoped there would be some fun as well.
Once in his robes, Doc made his way through a corridor to meet Jack Crow. He saw Crow as a friend for a variety of reasons as he did many Junkers. They were independent minded people, both Crow and Doc had a distrust, if not dislike, for the Gallic Royals and neither were caring of house governments. If nothing else, Doc always felt comfortable on every Junker base he had ever visited and Ivergordon was more isolated than most.
Doc turned to his escort, "If you would so kindly take me to where I need to be, I would be grateful" after he secured his bag into the cockpit of his ship and picked up a briefcase, "I could go for a mug of coffee too."
Tim Finnegan beams a smile at Arbiter Crow as he approaches, his dress Gordon Black Watch kilts snapping as he strides.
"Top o' th' mernin' t'yez Jack me boy!" Finn bellows as the Junker Guardsmen at the door fall back respectfully. "Oi dinnae ken how ye'z drink tha' cat-pess Rum from 'Rico when there be aye all th' free Gordon Oban ye'z can swill at yon fingertips..."
He steps in front of Jack Crow, Arbiter of the Congress, and shakes hands firmly and heartily with his boss.
Nodding in respect and deference, he falls into a chair, sprawling an arm over the back and kicking his boots out before him. "Oi done seen wha' Doc Holliday hae made berth nae long back, Oi imagin 'e be onn'is way 'ere." he says.
A wry smirk crawls sideways across his face. "Best Oi give ol' Murph a ration o' chores wha'll keep th' bugger busy. Dinnae want 'im t' take Doc fer all'is cash - again!"
He taps away at a keypad embedded in the tabletop.
Crow looked at friend across the table. 'Trust me my friend, your people may know whiskey, but the Puerto Ricans know rum. Besides, this stuff is from Gran Canaria. I thought Doc might like it. We'll see. Anyway he's on his way here now and we can have a little chat about what's going on. It will be good to sit down with someone who seems to care as much as we do about what is happening in the Taus. I don't know how much we can do about it, but it's good to keep each other informed.'
Finnegan swiped the bottle of rum off the table, and turning it before his face, peered with slitted eyes as the biodome light filtered through it.
"Canaria ye'z say?" he asks. "Well, them bleedin' Zoners cannae all be wrong, aye?"
And with that, yanking the bottle to his lips he took a long bubbling pull of it.
Clunking the bottle back on the table and wiping his forearm across his lips and beard, he raised an eyebrow.
"Oi've 'ad worse. Oi've 'ad fair worse indeed. Ye'z e'er drink Liberty Ale, Jacky?"
Tim shudders visibly at the thought.
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Doc entered the room carrying not just a briefcase but what looked to be a wine box. He placed the box on the table before Jack and Tim and his briefcase next to the chair where he would be sitting. He greeted his friends properly.
"Arbiter, it's good to be in your company again," he stated as he shook his hand, "It's been too long so I'm sure we'll have much to discuss."
He then changed his focus to Tim.
"Tim Finnegan," he said with a grin, "great to see you. I'm glad that you will be here in these procedings." As with Jack, he shook his hand.
Doc then took the box and opened it before the two. "I don't know if you gents can get ahold of this stuff but you will find some Coalition Vodka" he explained, holding up a bottle of reddish Vodka, "and you will also find some hard-to-get Blood wine from the Klingon colony on Gran Canaria. Serve the wine warm in a mug for the best taste."
He smiled at Time, "if you can stomach this stuff, I'll be most impressed."
He then returned to a more serious tone to Jack. "Listen, if you're OK with it, I may have one of my own people join us. He's a veteran of TAZ and very honorable. He's going to be helping me with some of the foreign affairs and such so I'd like to have him come....if you're OK with it."
He also put out some pastries on the table. "A gift from my wife, Midori. These are some desert patries native to Honshu where she grew up. Do enjoy."
He took a seat, awaiting Jack's OK and getting ready to get down to business.
Tim Finnegan dumps himself back into his seat and smiles genuinely at Doc Holliday - the man who had saved his own life, right here in the very skies they were seeing outside the dome glass - and stuffs half of a pastry into his mouth, covering his beard, vest, and kilt with crumbs.
"Delicious!" he exclaims around the mouthful, showering himself further with detritus. "Me compliments t'yer woife!"
Gulping and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he eyeballs the Blood wine with obvious trepidation.
"Oi's afeared me engine dinnae run on such stuff, Doc. S' wheskey or nae fer this ol' salt." He grabs the bottle of Gran Canarian Rum and waggles it, sloshing it about. "A lad could get used t' this 'ere stuff, though, aye!"
Crow looked over the packages and then sat back down in his chair. Well this will make quite a party. Finn, Invergordon might become quite a lively place again. He then turned to Doc. It is good to see you my friend. We’re honored to have you here. Grab yourself a glass and a chair. We have much to talk about. I know you didn’t fly all the way to Inverness for our hospitality, although we happen to like it here.
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"I like Iverness," Doc explained, "it's out-of-site to most and therefore, it's serenity preserved from the likes of house influence. It's not that far to travel to and from either."
Doc knew that business had to begin but where to start. Gallia? Trade? Other issues? There was quite a list. About this time, his datapad vibrated. He looked at it and smiled.
"Well, another shipment of alloys to Culebra was just dropped off by my young fill-in pilot and he left with manifolds," he explained.
"I'm starting to see a lot of goods that can be delivered between Junker bases and Zoner installations to include Gran Canaria. In the past, I have purchased engine components Kreuzberg and delivered them to Canaria." He then paused a moment and groaned, "although I wish the others that visit there would stop trying to steel my load after I undock. Anyway, Gentlemen, I'm seeing a lot of mutual benefit between our groups. We're alike in so many ways yet still independent groups. I'm not sure how much more we can expand on this but with TAZ being a smaller group, we can fly a bit more under the radar and deliver goods."
Doc then smiled at Tim, "I'll pass those compliments to Midori. She'll be honored."
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