Guys night -2

Posted on 12 Aug 2025 @ 9:47pm by Lieutenant JG Douglas McDougal & 1st Lieutenant Robert Jones & Ensign Teton & Master Chief Petty Officer Harrison Madrie & Corporal Haden Stroad

1,184 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: General Sim Postings
Location: Odin's bar- Star base fifty-one
Timeline: Pre deployment-

ON:


Every week, like clockwork, the small crew of friends from the USS Tomcat met at Odin’s Bar on Starbase Fifty-One for their sacred tradition: cards, camaraderie, and a brief escape from duty. It was their little pocket of normalcy amidst the chaos of Starfleet life, and tonight had a special significance, this was their last gathering before shipping out in just a couple of days.

Odin’s Bar, with its warm decor and soft amber lighting, always seemed to offer shelter from the storm. The air smelled faintly of spiced whisky and synthehol; glasses clinked in the background as off-duty personnel mingled. But the game was central tonight. The friends occupied their usual corner table, marked by a faint scratch on the surface shaped vaguely like Andor, a fact Teton swore wasn’t his doing, although his smirk told another story.

First Lieutenant Robert Jones leaned over the table, his green eyes sparkling with amusement as he shuffled the cards with practiced speed. His brown hair was neatly combed, as always, but even in off duty attire, Robert carried himself with that steady ease of authority. “Alright, folks,” he drawled. “Last game before we’re all elbow-deep in station logs and duty rotations on the Tomcat again. I'm dealing, and before you all conspire against me, let me just remind you—" he tapped the wedding ring on his finger "This is for the Jones family honor.”

Across the table, Haden Strode snorted, slouching in his chair, one boot crossed casually over his knee. “Oh, here we go again,” the blond haired Marine groaned, though a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We get it, Robert, you’ve got kids. But just so you know…” He flicked a credit chip onto the growing pile in the middle. “They’re going hungry tonight. You’ve got no chance.”

“No chance?” cut in Doogle, the ever-jovial Ensign McDougal, his accent wheeling in from Celtic hills. His brown hair was as untamed as his humor, and he leaned forward dramatically. “You call that bold, Haden? I'll see yer stakes and raise ya two Andorian ales—an' I’ll drink ’em me 'self when I 'ave won.”

“Oh, please,” shot back Teton in his smooth, measured tones. The Andorian Ensign rested cool blue elbows on the table, his snow-white hair catching the low lighting. His dark blue eyes glanced at his cards briefly before his antennae twitched in mock exasperation. “The only thing you’ll be winning, Doogle, is a trip to Sickbay when those ales knock you flat.”

Before anyone could pile on, the group’s regular server materialized beside the table, balancing a tray of drinks with the precision of a seasoned veteran. Paula greeted them with a wry smile. She’d worked Odin’s Bar long enough to see every type of personality Starfleet could produce and she’d long ago decided this group was one of her favorites.

“More of the usual,” she announced, setting down drinks with the efficiency of a starship transporter. “And Lieutenant Jones, before you even ask no, I will not tell you if your wife sneaked in here earlier to set up some sort of ‘behavior report.’”

The whole table burst into laughter, Jones included, though his cheeks turned faintly pink. “Barbara doesn’t have spies everywhere, Paula,” he said defensively. “She trusts me.”

“She lets you think that,” Paula quipped, shooting him a wink as she pivoted on her heel and returned to the bar.

“Even your server knows you're a marked man,” Harrison finally chimed in after sipping his drink. The tall, calm Master Chief was the quiet backbone of the group a steady, dependable presence who rarely offered much commentary beyond a low chuckle or a subtle raised eyebrow. But leave it to his deadpan delivery to land the best punchline of the night.

“Oh, come on!” Robert raised his hands in mock protest. “The next person to bring up Barbara or my kids owes me their first duty shifts when we hit space.”

“You don’t want my shifts,” Teton replied dryly, suddenly focused on lining his chips in a perfect row. “Last I heard, I’m scheduled for more simulations combat drills.”

“Don’t remind me,” Haden groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Marine prep never ends. They’ll probably have me running deckside laps before I even get unpacked.”

McDougal grinned. “Still reckon you’ve got it easy compared to me. I’ve heard our security drills include pugilism tournaments this time.”

“Well then,” Teton quipped, smirking. “At least you’ll lose gracefully.”

The energy around the table was as charged as ever, but something about tonight felt especially poignant. They all felt it, even if no one said it. Deployments were routine they’d been together long enough to handle anything Starfleet threw at them, but the stars held risks beyond measure. For all their bravado and teasing, they each knew just how precious these fleeting moments were.

As the game went on, the pile of chips and credits shifted back and forth, each hand full of explosive reactions the cheers for bluffs that worked and groans for those that didn’t. By the time the cards finally settled, it was, unsurprisingly, Teton who walked away with the most winnings, his antennae giving the faintest of arrogant twitches.

“Y’know, I like to think we let you win,” Robert said, standing and stretching as the others chuckled.

“Oh aye,” Doogle chimed in with a grin, rising from his seat and swiping up the last swill of his drink. His voice carried that lilting, musical quality of the Highlands, warm and full of life. “Let’s call it a wee send-off, eh? Let the Andorian bask in his moment before the call o’ duty comes knockin’. Won’t be long till he’s knee deep in the chaos again, poor lad.” He winked, setting his empty glass down with a thunk, the motion as carefree as his tone, but there was a twinkle in his eye, betraying just a hint of mischief. “Och, duty’s a harsh mistress, but let him savour the calm while it lasts.”

There was a collective laugh. None of them disagreed. One by one, they filed out of the bar, their weekly ritual drawing to its inevitable close. Paula waved a quick goodbye from behind the bar, already preparing for the next shift of Starfleet officers who’d shuffle in.

As the officers walked side by side down the quiet corridors of Starbase Fifty-One, their laughter and banter echoed through the station’s endless halls. The USS Tomcat was waiting, Refitted, her engines primed, ready to pull them back into the vast unknown of space. But for tonight, they carried the warmth of the moment, the strength of their friendships, and the unspoken promise to see it all through together just like always.

Next week, they’d likely be lightyears away, dodging anomalies or staring down new challenges. But everyone knew, cards or no cards, that their bond was an ace in the hole.


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