"How old is that Bolian beef?"

Posted on Thu Dec 7th, 2017 @ 4:48am by

1,489 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Episode 95 - Helping Old Friends
Location: Skyline Lounge
Timeline: Just after Hank stowed his gear.

ON:

===Cecil======================

Cecil loved cleaning glasses...Yes, he could simply put these into reclamation...But these were glasses used by people he liked. Though to the human eye, they all looked the same...He could tell them apart.

It never took him too long, four hands were faster then two...and to him they looked beautiful.

The doors opened. Jack Kirby walked in wearing strange clothing...All kinds of pockets, do-dads and webbing. Was it religious clothing?

"Hello Kirby, ith that religiouth clothing?" Cecil asked.

"Nah...They're my work clothes. The boss got called upstairs, so I'm taking a break. You know...When the cat's away...."

"...the mithe play." The flapper finished for him. "Then...aren't you on duty?"

Kirby didn't mean to raise his voice. "Don't you start going Starfleet on me!" He regained control of his voice. "I'm sorry. Could you give me a drink anyway?"

Cecil grabbed 'Kirby's glass'. "What would you like?"

He knew he shouldn't serve the man, but, somehow when Kirby called him 'Starfleet', a great compliment on Riley's Freehold, it didn't seem like a compliment. He had to improve the man's moral. It was a job Cecil took seriously.

"How about some of that Freehold spice wine, you gave me last time." Jack suggested.

"But, I gave you a whole bottle." Cecil cried. "You finithed it already?"

Jack smiled. "Hey! It's good stuff! Once you start, you can't stop."

"Hmmm...." Was the bartender's reply, as he grabbed a bottle and poured into the glass until it was half full."

Kirby looked at the glass. "A little more."

Cecil paused...Then, poured a little more.

"A little more."

Cecil paused again...And poured a little more.

"A little more."

Once again the bartender paused...and poured a little more.

"There we are." Kirby looked pleased. He had to carefully slide the pint glass to himself and sip some off the top, so that he could lift it without spillage.

"Oh yeah!" He whispered, with his eyes closed. He was in ecstasy...He then took large sip, tilted his head back...gargled the liquid...and swallowed.

"Oooooh, YES!" Kirby looked happy. "Thassss good ssstuff."


===Hank======================

Paperwork.

Nothing worse than paperwork. Hank didn't even know why they called it paperwork. The only place he saw paper was at his grandpa Dave's antique shop in Marcus, he realized that he needed to get down there sometime and visit again, but there was just so much to do here.

The last place he had seen anything like paper, was an ancient piece of parchment, in the old American capitol building.

After receiving his orders to report as the 181st Tactical Fighter Wing's second gun, he accessed the all the up to date records, he could get his hands on. Maintenance records, supply records, personel records...

He was looking at service records. One stood out...A young pilot who had been a student of his...a pilot with promise, who just needed to be helped along. The old birds thought this one wouldn't make it. He...

There was a small leafy guy next to his table.

"Can I get you thumpting thir.?" The little guy asked.

Hank checked the menu..."Bolian food?"

"Mothtly replicated." Replied Cecil. "But we do have thome hatid-vehuunf meat that ith almotht ready. Though it ith only twoo monthth old, it ith cut into thome fine thtaketh and it..."

"Any earth food?"

Cecil paused..."Well...I have made thome thuthi...ath appatitherth..."

Hank interrupted. "I'll take some of that....And if there's a house beer, I'll have some of that."

He was gone.

Even though, during his career in the Marines, he had made it back quite a few times to see his mom and grand dad, Hank was always surprised, when he came home. By how quiet it was and how things seemed to run at a slower, more comfortable pace, then the rest of the Galaxy.

He remembered his last time home.

Marcus Iowa was a 'Time Capsule Community'. Set aside so that visitors could see and experience what a 20th Century Farming community was like. There was no modern technology here (at least not that could be seen by the tourists). All vehicles were of the late 20th Century, either restored or accurately reproduced. Though they didn't really run on petrol, you wouldn't have known it. It was one of these, a Ford F-150 truck that Hank stepped out of on Main Street. He grabbed his bag and guitar case out of the back of the truck, then leaned into the open passenger side window.

"Thanks Fred" said Hank

Fred smiled. "No problem Henry. As I said, I had business in the city anyway, so your mom asked me to pick you at the shuttle port, and having an extra set of hands to help me unload those seed bags didn't hurt me at all."

The corn seed that Hank had helped unload was special bagged in Souix City just for this community, in realistic looking 'paper' seed bags, that even sported the labels of seed companies from days gone by. Today it was Decalb Hybred Seeds.

Henry stepped through the door of Marcus Antiques.

"Mom!" He yelled. "Grandpa, I'm home!"

He startled the high school student behind the counter. Then heard a voice from the back of the shop.

"It's about time Fred got you home." It was his Mother. "What happened, did you two stop at a bar?"

"No Mom. But, I'm sure he thought of it." Hank answered as he stowed the period correct guitar case and sea bag behind the counter. "Where's Grandpa at?"

"He's helping George Nilles get his John Deere Combine running." She said as she stepped into the show area of the shop. She was wearing a gingham dress on her petite frame, with here reddish brown hair tied into a pony tail. Hank could never understand why Dad had left her for that other woman. "And I see you're not in proper uniform, young man."

"I have a pair of jeans and a 'Lynyrd Skynyrd' t-shird in my bag, Mom." Hank retorted. He always showed up in his Starfleet Marine uniform. "Are my old Nikes still up stares?" The family living quarters were on the second floor of the store front building.

=== Later, after supper.===

Hank joined Grandpa Dave as he sat on the bench in front of the store. Grandpa was picking at his teeth with a tooth pick. The sun was going down and the street lights were just starting to coming on. One blinked like it didn't want to...It just added to the realism of the place.

"That was a good meal." The old Captain said, as he picked at his teeth.

They talked for a while. Then...

"I want you to be careful." His Grandpa said.

"I'm always careful, Grandpa." Hank answered back.

"No." Said Grandpa. "I'm talking about your stepmom and her brat...They're up to something."

"What do you think it is?" Hank asked.

"I'm not sure." Replied the old Starfleet Captain. "But, I can feel it in my bones."

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion near the bar...


===Kirby======================

"H-hey...uh. Little guy." Kirby stammered. "Cooould I get sssome more? M..maybe something special"

Some fleeter walked in and piped up. "It would make no difference if you wanted more, you ain't going to get much help from a glorified house plant."

The little guy ignored the tech. "I can get you thumpting from our bottled thtock." He was behind the bar, getting a plate of sushimi ready.

"Thu thu thu thu!" The fleeter berated. "Can't even underTHtand him."

Kirby looked over at the idiot. "Why don't you shut it, Mouth!" He was getting irritated.

Mouth started walking toward the Lance Corporal. "Who you calling 'Mouth'?" The doink said.

Faster than snot, the Flapper was over the bar. Separating the two potential combatants. "Boyth boyth!" yelled the little guy. "There'th no reathon for anger!"

As Kirby was trying to decide which bones to break and joints to pull apart, Mouth tried to push the the flapper out of the way...only to find himself flying through the air.

CRASH! Went a table and some chairs.

"What the hell!?" It was the another fleeter, followed by an Orion gal.

"Don't worry he'th not hurt." The Flapper said. "I made thure he landed correctly.

The other fleeter, a Petty Officer, put his head into his hand. "Conrad..." He didn't finish.

"A problem child?" Asked the Orion.

"Yes." replied the PO. After being thanked for the help, he escorted Conrad out of the lounge.

"Tho." The little guy said, as he climbed back over the bar. "What will it be? Oh, and my name is Thethil thon of Duthty."

"Son of Dusty?" Kirby was shocked. "THE son of Dusty?"

"Why yeth." Cecil answered. "Have I met you?"

"No." replied Kirby. "But, I did meet your dad."

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