Elias Abernathy Machk Kincaid - Kindred Spirit
Rameses
((The Saloon, Deck 9, USS Constitution-B))
In the years he’d been on board the Conny there was always something new to happen that he didn’t expect. Seeing the hull growing white hot from whatever they had to do to sort out things in the nebula back there had been a first. Elias of course had to make sure everyone was moved away from the viewports and kept to the interior tables. Even still the Saloon itself had heated up like midday in the Mojave. Needless to say the Montana born cowboy was incredibly grateful to be back to the regulated temperature the ship usually had.
With them nearing Trip Depot for some much needed repairs and a refit, he knew the crew would soon be stepping off the ship to explore whatever small facilities the Shipyards had, but they would always trickle into the Saloon here and there. It was just a matter of course. They always had the Saloon, the Tea House and the Brew Continuum, so when given the opportunity to visit other commercial venues they’d do it.
The Saloon was their homestead though, always here for whenever they came back home to the Conny. At the moment both decks had a fair number of crew. Not crowded, with many tables and spaces around the bar still available.
The wooden doors swung open to admit another crewmember, yet this time Elias was treated to his favorite sight. A brand new face taking in the place for the first time. Some, particularly non-humans, had mixed reactions if they didn’t understand the historical context. The new guy who entered was clearly someone who was beset with awe.
Kincaid: Howdy, pardner. Have a seat and sit a spell.
The cowboy bartender couldn’t help but chuckle as he tipped the brim of his Stetson to the man in his usual cordial gesture. He sized up the Ensign and placed a cold glass of beer in front of him.
Kincaid: Name’s Elias Kincaid and this here’s mah Saloon. Nice ta see a new face on board, so let me know if I can getcha anythin’. Menus are holographic.
He gestured with his one hand towards the aforementioned menu sitting on a stand at an angle in front of the feller.
McCray: I think Starfleet knew what they were doing when they put me here.
Elias chuckled again as T’Seva entered not far behind him and took a seat next to the new Ensign.
T'Seva: I hope so. Most of us consider the Constitution to be the best ship in the fleet, but I have yet to meet a crew with no bias.
McCray: I’d assume most officers have a devotion to their ship and shipmates. ::he nodded.:: Did I miss something on shift today?
T'Seva: Actually, I was hoping to get to know you a little now we're under less pressure. That bridge stint was what humans call a baptism of fire.
McCray: I’d like that Commander. I’d like to say that the final training exercise prepares you for days like that, but I don’t think they really can. I guess things change so fast out here.
She turned to Elias.
T'Seva: Glass of springwine, please.
Elias: Sure thing, darlin’.
He stepped sideways down the bar to grab a chilled glass from one of the cooling units built into the length of the barback. And a little further to grab one of the actual bottles of springwine from within.
T'Seva: Did I hear on the bridge that you want to know more about plants?
Blaine took a sip of his beer, letting the flavor of the bock dance on his tastebuds as he listened to T’Seva’s question and thought about what he wished he had learned in his annual stays on Vulcan. When he spoke, his natural Texas drawl slipped in.
McCray: I wish I’d listened more to my Vulcan grandparents when they tried to teach me, but yes. I would like to learn more about plants.
T'Seva: I should introduce you to my mother. She's on the ship as a civilian, but her degree is in xenobotany and she's an ex fleeter. Sherana also knows a lot about plants.
McCray: I’d like that a lot, Commander. What I know about plants is very basic.
T'Seva accepted her springwine and took a sip.
McCray: I’d assume you grew up on Bajor, the way you speak
T'Seva: I did, although I spent several years of my adolescence on Vulcan. My guess is you were raised mostly human?
McCray: After my parents died on the Dawnstar in ‘86, I was shipped to Texas to live with my dad’s parents. They have a ranch in the Panhandle, raisin’ horses. My dad’s mom is a pre-kindergarten teacher and my granddad runs the ranch an’ teaches high school agriculture classes. I did get to spend the winters on Vulcan with my mom’s parents. Grandfather works for the Science Directorate. Grandmother is an artist an’ musician. She taught me poetry and how to play the lyre. I try to find a good balance between the two, though I’ll admit to bein’ mischievous enough that I like to go full logic when I first meet someone before springin’ the accent on ‘em.
T'Seva: A lovely part of Earth, with some very interesting traditions. Especially if you find large herd animals interesting.
Elias caught bits of their conversation as he poured her drink and stopped briefly by the window to the kitchen to grab a plate of cornbread.
McCray: I really enjoy it there, especially the history. One of the neighbor ranches had a Native American battle site on it. I’d spend days riding along the river breaks. Though I love the family estate in Shir’khar too. My human grandparents actually sent a few horses there and we built stables there too so I could ride.
T’Seva: Response
McCray: What about you, ma’am? What’s Bajor like?
T’Seva: Response
McCray: An’ what’s it like servin’ here? The records really only tell so much about the culture of a ship.
Elias strode up, tray in his only hand with a glass of springwine and a small plate of about a dozen squares of freshly baked cornbread.
Kincaid: It’s a right, treat it is pardner. As tha lady said before, hard ta find a crew that ain’t biased fer their ship. But this here crew is as exceptional as they come. Reckon havin’ a Mama Bear like Jalana is a good part of that. ::he chuckled:: One springwine, darlin’. And I reckon yer a feller that can appreciate a good cornbread, Ensign…?
He set the tray on the inside counter, then place the glass of springwine in front of T’Seva and the bowl of cornbread in between her and McCray
T’Seva/McCray: Response
Kincaid: Pleasure ta make yer acquaintance, McCray. Yer particular twang, Georgia or Florida abouts if I had ta guess, yes?
T’Seva/McCray: Response
Kincaid: ::he tipped his hat slightly, then gestured to the picture of a ranch beside a replica of his blackfoot headdress above the bar behind him:: Montana. Family ranch outside a Bozeman. Been in mah family fer generations. ::he chuckled:: Nice ta meet a kindred spirit. If’ ya want anythin’ food wise my people can make damned near anythin’ from anywhere in tha four quadrants. And at least some of its not replicated.
That reminded Elias that he’d need to double check the inventory in the cargo bay and see what things he might be able to arrange to be delivered to Tucker Shipyards while they were here. He was getting low on some of the real ingredients he kept on hand for the crew so they could enjoy a meal made from scratch from time to time.
T’Seva/McCray: Response
tags/tbc
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PNPC Elias Abernathy Machk Kincaid
Retired Marine - Captain
Civilian - Bartender
The Saloon
https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Elias_Kincaid
humbly simmed by
Lieutenant JG Lystra
Tactical/Security Officer
USS Constitution-B NCC-9012-B
Writer ID: A239410TR0
https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Lystra