Lt Cmdr Wil Ukinix - Batavia
Wil Ukinix
((Grand Mezzanine, Amity Outpost))
Solak: ::To Wil:: Commander Ukinix.
I am reporting for duty as requested.
::The tricorder in his holster beeped, he takes it out and reads display:: Sensors indicate there has been a fire.
Has there been a recent safety incident?
Wong/Aleksandrov/Corelli/Teller/Any: Response
Wil took off his apron, then placed it over Solak’s head.
The Vulcan now sported the garment that read “Kiss the Cook.”
Solak: I contend that the slogan on this protective garment could be considered inappropriate, Commander.
Ukinix: ::Hand wave to Solak:: It’s an Earth thing, you’ll be ‘right.
::To others, rubbing hand together:: Righto!
Who’s up for a perfectly symmetrical cocktail?
Wong/Aleksandrov/Corelli/Teller/Any: Response
(OOC: Happy to backsim here for Solak as necessary... )
Teller: =/\= Teller to Reade, lock on to my coordinates and standby to beam yourself and our little surprise to my location. =/\=
oO What? Oo
Wil turned around to look at Commander Teller.
Reade: =/\= Response =/\=
Teller stopped everyone from walking and pointed at an empty area of the Grand Mezzanine.
He seemed to want to organise everyone into line, before he turned to look at Wil.
Teller: I'm given to understand your birthday is coming up, Mr. Ukinix. I realize this is a bit abrupt but as our time here is brief, I thought we might work a bit of celebrating into our day. =/\= Teller to Reade. Energize. =/\=
In front of the group materialised Scotty, along with a gravsled that had something built on top of it, in the shape of a Starfleet delta.
Wil’s mouth began turning into a smile when he saw beer taps, stools, and pedals.
The lights around the bottom of the grav sled glowed. The polished metallic bar was topped off with several umbrellas above them.
In the middle of the Starfleet delta was another stool, with a console in front of it – obviously for the driver of the vehicle.
Teller: Happy Birthday, Knackers. Mr. Reade and I thought you might get bored, tired and dehydrated from walking around this big space station of yours and applied the fine art of engineering to the problem. Frankly, I think it's some of my finest work. So, who wants to hop on and float this thing down the Grand Mezzanine with me? The beer's cold and the pedaling is optional.
Wil’s jaw dropped so much that it was almost on the floor. His expression turned into a huge wide-mouthed smile, so wide that a Galaxy class starship could have coasted into it.
Ukinix:
You built me… a hoverpub!… for my birthday?!
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Corelli/Any: Response
With a strut, Mr Teller walked over and stepped up onto the base of the vehicle. He seemed to admire his and Scotty’s handywork, before turning to look back at Wil.
Teller: You'll also be happy to know it has been fitted with a rather robust sound system. You'll be able to share your love of ancient terran geology
music with a whole new quadrant. Mr. Reade, what else did we cram into this thing? Oh and can I pour anyone a beer? Because I'm suddenly finding myself quite parched.
Wil couldn’t find the words to express his surprise, gratitude, and delight.
Instead, he simply offered Ensign Reade a hand to shake, before pulling him closer and slapping him on his back, to say “thank you”.
After that, he raced over to Geoff who was sitting on a stool, pouring beer into empty glasses from one of the taps connected to the Starfleet delta shaped bar.
Wil wrapped his arms around the little man, and squeezed him tight with a hug.
Ukinix: You bloody legends.
Thank you. This is the best birthday present ever.
Even more so given I didn’t even realise my birthday is coming up!
Days ran into each other in transit on the Thor, and then after arriving on Amity the hasty organisation of a festival had meant Wil hadn’t even looked at the stardate.
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Corelli/Any: Response
Teller: Well if you're all comfortably in position, we can be off for a slow hover down the mezzanine. I'm pretty sure the collision sensors will keep
us from bumping into anyone...too hard. Mr. Reade, I think the honor should be yours. Take us up!
Ukinix: ::Hands up:: Wait, wait.
He finished the almost empty beer can that was in his hand, and then crushed it against the front portion of the bar.
Ukinix: I christen thee the USS
Batavia. Named after the first Dutch ship to be shipwrecked off the coast of Australia on Earth.
Seems appropriate somehow. ::Jumping onto seat:: Right, *now* we’re ready.
Wil turned to look at his fellow hoverpub buddies.
Ukinix: Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the maiden voyage of the USS Batavia, a
Reade-Teller class hoverpub. I’m your commanding officer Wil Ukinix, your First Officer is Commander Teller, Ensign Reade ::gesturing to Scotty in the middle of the bar:: is at helm, and Ensign Corelli is our Chief of Rngineering.
Sit, relax, and enjoy your drink as we cruise around the Mezzanine nebula.
Wil tapped the small LCARS console that was in front of him, and ensured that his personally amassed music collection of 20th and 21st century Earth songs from his library were available to the hoverpub’s computers.
With a few presses of the buttons, he picked the first song for the hoverpub’s speakers to play.
Speakers: // Biiii-cycle. Biiii-cycle. Biiii-cycle… //
Ukinix ::To Scotty:: Helm, ahead one-quarter impulse.
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Teller/Corelli/Any: Response
As they slowly and safely made their way around the Mezzanine, they received many amused stares.
Two of the local Talaxians jumped on and took a seat, which made Wil gladly pour two beers and hand to them, before raising his glass in their honour.
The crowd on the mezzanine parted to let them through.
Keehani: ~~ ::Telepathically to Wil:: What in Four’s sake are you
doing! ~~
Wil looked over to the stall that his second cousin Keehani was standing at.
She was standing next to a human male who was holding an old-fashioned hat.
Ukinix: ::Yelling out to Keehani:: Oi!
Stop that, I said! ::Looking back at others:: The “joys” of having a telepathic relative. ::Eye roll::
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Teller/Corelli/Any: Response
Ukinix: ::Impersonation of an English sounding Frenchman:: Captain’s log, stardate seven-one-six-three-alpha-pear-yak-petaQ.
Point seven. These are the voyages of the starship Batavia.
Its Five-Beer mission: to explore strange, new parts of Amity.
To seek out new tasty craft beers.
To boldly go where no hoverpub has gone before – ::gesturing with chin:: - down those stairs.
Wil gestured to the nearby, fancy polished stairs that led down to the ground floor below the mezzanine.
Ukinix: ::To Teller:: Commander, set a course.
::To Reade:: Helm, full impulse. Hold on everyone!
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Teller/Corelli/Any: Response
It was a bumpy ride down the stairs, to say the least.
Ukinix: ::Holding palm over beer glass:: I-i-i r-e-c-k-o-o-n i-i-t m-u-u-u-s-t b-e-e th-e-e S-I-F-F-S.
Reade/Wong/Aleksandrov/Teller/Corelli/Any: Response
Tags/TBC!