Ensign Roy Bancroft - The Grok Brothers' Guide to Ruining Friendships
Carter Schimpff
(( Main Mess Hall - Deck 3, USS Artemis-A ))
The moment the doors slid open, Roy knew he’d made a tactical error.
It had seemed harmless during Meris’s onboarding physical: “Go to the mess hall, meet people, unwind.” The kind of socially responsible prescription doctors gave when they didn’t want to commit to a follow-up. Now, walking into the sensory onslaught, he realized he’d essentially recommended they stroll into an open-air festival where the theme was noise.
Gaming tables sprawled across the space like little islands of chaos – 3D chess here, Qupids there, and in one corner, a particularly rowdy group deep in a version of Rules of Acquisition so intense it probably needed legal representation.
Most of the pips in the room stopped at one solid and one hollow – junior officers and enlisted, the demographic most likely to end the night broke, embarrassed, or in Sickbay. The high performers would manage all three.
Meris: This place is quite lively!
Bancroft: ::deadpan:: Lively’s one word. I’d also accept “unsupervised” or “three drinks away from a diplomatic incident.”
They drifted further in, passing a table where a crewman was about to strip an officer of their latinum via Rule #31. The officer threatened disciplinary action. Whether that was a joke or the opening statement of an actual court-martial was anyone’s guess.
Meris: You do not think he is serious, do you...
Bancroft: If he’s joking, he’s committed. If he’s not, this is about to become a case study in some “healthy conflict resolution” seminar.
An unfamiliar voice called out from behind.
K’Wara: Well now, this seems like a party.
Lieutenant K’Wara approached, dressed in what Roy would conservatively classify as “artisanal” in most haberdasheries.
Meris: ::quietly:: Do I have a veridian patch on my back?
Bancroft: ::without looking:: If you did, you’d already be in a holding cell somewhere exotic. So… probably not.
Beside K’Wara, Roy noted Tho’Bi’s looming figure.
Meris: This is Doctor Bancroft.
Bancroft: ::convivially, to K’Wara:: Dr. Roy Bancroft. The pleasure’s mine. ::to Tho’Bi, with a grin:: Dr. Roy Bancroft – the pleasure’s all yours, I’m sure.
K’Wara leaned into small talk. Tho’Bi, wisely, attempted an escape – but was intercepted by Natasha Cole, who had the quiet, predatory efficiency of someone who knew exactly where all the exits were.
Cole: Response.
Meris: I am Ensign Meris, helmsperson, and this is Doctor Bancroft.
Bancroft: ::extending his hand, bright fake smile:: Roy Bancroft, Ensign, M.D., general nuisance. My friends call me Crashcart. Pleasure to meet you.
Cole: Response
Roy let his gaze sweep the room again. That’s when he spotted it: a table advertising Galaxy-opoly in bright, predatory lettering.
The board was sprawling, littered with credit chips and plastic starships. A holographic banker – a smiling Ferengi with teeth so polished you could see your reflection in them – presided over the chaos.
Bancroft: You ever played that one? It’s the galaxy’s longest-running war of attrition disguised as a board game. The Grok Brothers bought the rights from some ancient Earth company and made it “more engaging.” Which is to say, less about property and more about economic conquest and the occasional hostile takeover.
K’Wara/Meris/Cole/Tho’Bi: Response
Bancroft: ::gesturing to the table:: It’s a perfect way to spend three hours and end up friendless and bankrupt.
K’Wara/Meris/Cole/Tho’Bi: Response
Bancroft: Don’t worry – the only real skill you need is the ability to crush hope without blinking. Flipping tables is a bonus.
K’Wara/Meris/Cole/Tho’Bi: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1