Wager

 Episode Name:  Wager

   Written By:  Starfleet

         Cast:  Balin, Crayn, Cross, Donavon, Fischer, Ghorev, 
                Havaris, Haven, Idrani, Javits, Laco, Starfleet 
                and Vala.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Starfleet

     Aired On:  Sat Mar 20 16:49:08 2004

     Stardate:  53960.5

Time: Sat Mar 20 12:17:36 2004

Stardate: 53960.0

Crayn makes his way into the Holodeck. Even if you aren't a golf fan, you can't help but enjoy the serenity, and calming effect of the weather. "Ah.. You picked a beautiful day, sirs."

And it is a beautiful day, indeed. The weather in this program is designed to generally be gorgeous with some minor random variations for wind and cloud cover, but today it is crystal clear with very little breeze. The sky is azure as the Lakes of Minareth, and the grass is as green as a baby Orion's bottom. Balin and Donavon stand together. Beside Meg is a very nice set of clubs. At Crayn's words, Balin smiles. "Thank you, Mr. Crayn." Nearby is Balin's gladitorial opponent - the half-crystal/half-man known as Science Officer Laco.

Laco stands near the beginning of the first hole, tossing a glowing blue golf ball into the air and catching it. His own clubs are laying on the ground near his feet. He seems to be watching the holodeck's entrance.

Donavon protects the weapons of destruction, Balin's clubs, with a hand curled over the straps. Eyes glitter and gleam with excitement - any competition or battle is well worth caddying for. She whistles a harmonious ditty to pass along the time until tee-time. Oh then there's a thought which she quirks at.

. o O Donavon thinks "Battle on the greens. Caddies duke it out. Oh yeaaah."

Haven steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.

Haven has arrived.

Balin smiles at Donavon. "You look lovely, Mr. Donavon," Balin says. "Mr. Harris is quite the lucky man." He gives his caddy a wink. "I think even Ambassador Lux would be envious of our attire." Then, turning toward his opponent, he takes a few steps toward him. "Mr. Laco, you appear to be short one team member. So much for solidarity of the sciences, I suppose." He grins slightly, then regards the assembling spectators. "Would some brave soul not stand forth and bear the weapons of this fine duelist?"

Balin:
Deeply-set eyes peer thoughtfully out from under his bushy black eyebrows. The iris and pupil of his eyes are a matte black. A few wrinkles show around his eyes of the kind generally attributed to smiling, but when on duty he's generally all business. His face is clean-shaven. His regulation-cut dark brown hair is greying at the temples and is combed back with no part. He's not an attractive man, rather average really, but there's something about him that exudes confidence in thought and action.

He is wearing a pair of pastel yellow plaid traditional golf pants. Tucked into this is a polo-style shirt of a solid pastel yellow. His socks, which are pulled up to his knees, are the same. On the top of his head is a plaid yellow Scottish beanie with a white pom pom. On his feet are a pair of black cleats.

. o O Donavon amusingly chuckles inside, relaxing further with the Captain.

Laco: Philip James Laco's appearance is either comic or horrific, depending on your outlook. He's a fairly tall human male, a few inches beyond six feet, but an above average portion of that is devoted to long legs attached to a comparatively small torso. A pair of equally extended-length arms add to the impression that his body is just a knot of flesh to hold his limbs together. The science officer's hair is a dirty blond, and his eyes are a greenish-brownish hazel. Overall, his head is very round, with a unusually high forehead to boot. Of course, its hard to notice his eyes, or hair color, or anything, really, due to the gleaming piece of blue crystal embedded into the right side of his face. The crystal begins in his forehead, heads back over his temple curves, around his right eye, and ends just below his cheekbone, which is pretty much entirely replaced by it. Around the edges of the crystal the skin is red and irritated, and in many spots dry and cracked. Not exactly a pretty sight.
He's dressed in a pair of light tan slacks and a plain green polo-shirt. On his feet are a pair of white athletic shoes with small metal spikes extending from the bottom. He's also wearing a black glove on his left hand. Its made out of a thin material that looks like leather, and has numerous tiny holes punched in it for air circulation. Additionally, somewhere around him is a large hard-shelled bag full of golf clubs...possibly leaned up against a table, or if he's walking, slung over his shoulder with a wide carrying strap.

"Thank you, sir. I'm certain Mr. Harris shares the same setiment else he's a fool." Donavon brushes her knuckle over a nose, chuckling softly. "And Donavons don't marry fools. Bafoons, but not fools." She tugs the golf strap further up onto her shoulder and twists to view the spectators.

. o O Donavon thinks "Yes, who will take up the club against me?"

. o O Donavon likes at her corny humor.

Vala snickers a bit, but says nothing, she doesn't want to volunteer. She's just here to watch, yes, watch Laco make a fool of himself.

What a comment to walk in on! Loni perks a brow as she pauses just far enough within the room for the arch to vanish at her back. A soft chuckle breaks through as the medical officer searches for a good place to watch and stay out of the way. For once, she's not present for medical watch but simply to watch the duelists.. and the caddies. A glance is flashed to Meg and that soft smile becomes a full blown grin. A small head shake is given to Meg but there is something else in the look given Meg.

Donavon Desc:
Plaid pixie of Golf Caddiness could describe Meg by first glance. Auburn spun tresses stick out from either side of her face - Miss Braided Pigtail Girl - which adds charm to her doe eyes of wooded fields. An open pearly smooth face is speckled lightly, a brush of tiny freckles over the nose. At the cleft of her chin, lifted in pride, is a jagged scar, having busted her jaw once or twice. Amber ear studs twinkle that soften the sharp lines to her cheekbones. A golden band inscribed with celtic runes meaning destiny encircles the fourth finger of her left hand. Set above the band is another golden ring with a diamond at the center flanked by a sapphire and an emerald.
She wears a ribbed collared solid body cotton vest of red. A diamond pattern band in red and green with a black background and white lines wraps around the waist to make up the hem of the vest. To compliment or contrast with the top she wears a similar colored pair of pants except for in /plaid/. Completing the outfit, two shiny black cleats with red highlights peek out from the wide brimmed pant leg.

Crayn makes his way over to the men, and bows.. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, but you seem to be without a Second. Could I have the honor of protecting your.... instruments?" Obviously Crayn doesn't know much about the game, but you don't need to to carry around a bunch of sticks... "i do regret that I don't own any attire quite like the Ensign's." He motions to Meg.

Laco turns to face the Captain. "Yeah. I guess she might find herself scrubbing sample dishes for a couple of weeks," he jokes. "Should nobody volunteer, though, I suppose I could carry my own clubs. Seems a suitable handicap to offset my superior level of skill, si-" But then Crayn speaks up. "Oh, certainly Ensign." He guestures towards his golfbag with his empty hand.

Donavon waggles eyebrows playfully at Haven while waving ambically. A finger points at the hair as she mouthes 'Is this good?' Seems Meg went wild in her wardrobe and somehow managed to match...somewhat. She peers around at everyone, then gasps!

. o O Donavon thinks "Almost forgot to display this!"

Donavon digs into her pocket and produces one glittering bright green shamrock. This is pinned to the breast of the vest - a shiny vigil of good luck for the Captain. /Now/ she's ready.

Balin grins at Laco. "We'll see about that. And we'll see who is paying up on the wager." Ah, a wager. But he speaks no more about it, leaving it to spectator speculation. "Besides, I was teeing off with Admiralty while you were still in your training pants and learning the finer points of waste extraction. I'll concede this tee to you and your fine new caddy. Tee up." He makes his way back toward the fine set of clubs that Donavon is guarding with her life.

Laco gives Balin a truncated bow and proceeds toward the tee, leaving Crayn to follow his his clubs. Once there he pulls a wooden tee out of his pocket, and plants his ball on the ground. Still looking down the hole, he holds out his hand behind him and requests, "Driver. Uhm...it is the wooden one with a '1' on it, Ensign."

Clubs she will phaser anyone for attempting to steal or break; we'll not mention /where/ that phaser is however. But the Captain must have foreseen the benefit of having a security officer as a caddy. Donavon dips the bag just enough for Balin to peer into so he can make a choice. "Good luck out there, sir."

And so Meg should be guiding those clubs so carefully... On a station were very little remains secret, the making of those clubs managed to stay just that... a secret. Unless, of course, one Yeoman was ordered to spill the beans. A flash of pride lights Loni's green eyes when she sees the clubs. A champion chosen, Loni settles back to watch. Sorry, Phil..

. o O Haven thinks "Tough luck, Phillip.. the Old Man is going to beat you soundly."

. o O Vala wonders where those clubs came from, but even more, wonders what the wager is.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Fails!

Crayn bows again and makes his way to the golfbag. He then carefully picks up each club, and gently places each one in it's spot, using the Captain's set bag as an example. He looks to Laco.. "Lieutenant.. Your clubs do not seem to be properly attired either.." He makes note of the lack of... socks.. on Laco's clubs. He nods and follows the Lieutenant deftly, taking out the ordered club, handing it to the man.

Laco knocks his ball down the hole, but it doesn't go nearly as far as he needs it to. It appears that, most likely, he'll need at least two more strokes to make it onto the green. Laco sets his jaw, then hands his club back to Crayn.

. o O Vala doesn't understand why Laco can't carry his own clubs. Is he lazy? Or the Captain for that matter.

Balin pulls the sock off of his driver. He doesn't have to study the bag long - he's well familiar with the set of clubs that Haven secretly gave him. He gives Donavon another wink before moving to the tee. He tees up his ball and takes his stance. Judging the distance, the wind, and how much power to apply, he rears back and swings, and with a woosh of club and thwock of ball, he sends the ball soaring down to the fairway and onto the green. A couple of strokes later, and he's got Laco by one. "Very nice, Philip," Balin says. "You have good form."

Haven's smile widens as she picks a spot on the grass from which to watch. Hands are tucked into her pockets as Balin takes his turn. A small nod is given in silent approval before her glance wanders.

Golf clap. Donavon's study its form a mere few hours ago on holovids. Tap one hand onto the palm of the other. Apply this motion gently so that it doesn't disturb the contestants too much but signals appreciation on the form. Then she swiftly swings the bag over her shoulder, hefting it with ease down the driveway towards the green.

Vala doesn't understand golf at all, so she doesn't understand why the Captain and Laco can't carry their own bags. Are they lazy? She doesn't get the point of swinging the club around so that a little ball can get into a hole.

Crayn takes the club and returns it, watching the Captain. He's beginning to make a little more sense out of the peculiar 'sport'. he smiles and nods to Meg, officially acknowledging her existance, since he hadn't the time prior. He picks up the bag and walks towards Laco's ball.

. o O Donavon tenses about the same time as Crayn's nod. Is it the competitive edge at work or anomisity towards the Ensign? The difference can't be noted yet.

Laco proceeds to the second hole. He's going to have to do better than this, if he wants to win. Once there, he stands off to the side.

Balin makes his way to the next hole, striding beside Donavon. While he walks, he speaks quietly to her. Balin whispers to Donavon, "There's no problem is there, Ensign?"

. o O Donavon thinks "If there's a tie do the caddies face off?"

Donavon matches stride for stride alongside Balin. Dimpled smile beaming brightly beneath the sunny skies, how could there be a problem? She glances at the Captain and head shakes with braids slapping her cheeks. Donavon whispers to Balin, "Nothing major, sir."

. o O Donavon unloosens the tense knots gradually - almost mantric like.

Balin nods once to Donavon and places his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "Very well," he says, and removes his driver again once they are at the second tee. He gives Laco a nod and steps up to the tee, then takes his swing.

Crayn follows Laco and stands with him, examining the ball and awaiting a club order.

Laco stands back to watch, possibly placing every single silent golf hex he knows on Balin's magical clubs.

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

Laco's own swing isn't quite as bad, this time...until his ball lands in a sandtrap at the edge of the green. An extra stroke is taken up getting out of that with his sand wedge. A couple of putts later, Laco is finished with the hole, and another stroke behind.

Donavon cheerfully strolls behind the Captain and keeping pace. Over the hills, round the traps, to the fairway green we go. She beams widely at the display of golf pro-dom. Another round of golf clapping commences before she lugs up the bag to prep for the next hole.

Laco continues on to the third hole as well. The expression on his face would seem to indicate that things aren't quite going as planned, but it is only a game and he isn't going to get angry about it. Hopefully the fear of losing this particular wager will kick in, and give him the drive he needs to pull ahead. No pun intended.

Crayn follows the Lieutenant to the third hole.. He seems to be getting the idea of the game.. "Quite a frustrating game, for such a serene setting. Perhaps it is needed for balance."

Donavon idly thwaps a braid while staring up at the sun. Oh, the Captain's soon up. This time, she remembers the earlier request and presents the club towards his hands. A look passes over Balin's shoulder, analyzing the opponents. "Are they saving the best strokes for last?" she asks Balin.

Balin smiles at the support offered by his caddy. "Possibly. I think we've got him on the run, Mr. Donavon. Keep giving him the darker thoughts. I think it's resonating his crystal." The captain approaches the third tee and nods to Crayn. "There is no singularly more frustrating sport, Ensign. It doesn't look challenging, but it requires strict focus, discipline of both mind and muscle, and little bit of luck." He grins at the security officer, and prepares to tee off. Thwack!

. o O Donavon thinks "Midnight, shadows, death, losing the wager. Dark enough?"

. o O Donavon giggles inside at her hopeless attempt at thinking dark thoughts.

GAME: Laco spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill (given advantage) and Succeeds!

Laco tees off once again, but ends up yielding another hole to Balin. This time, while chipping onto the green, Laco ends up putting little too much force behind his swing, and the ball rolls back off the other side.

Crayn isn't sure of the Lieutenant's temper. He'd offer the man some advice, but is not sure if the man may just try to take the clubs to him instead of the ball..

Balin claps Laco on the back while they move to the fourth hole. "You'd give Admiral McLean a run for his money, but I believe today fortune is favoring the foolish," he says to the science officer. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Philip. It's just a game. For honor. And a bet. But mostly honor." He winks at Laco mirthfully, and sets up for the next drive.

GAME: Laco spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill (given advantage) and Fails!

Donavon's eyes bulge and she whistles low. The trick must have worked. Cocking a smirk, she leans against the bag to wait for Balin's drive. Crayn gets another odd look before she whips her head about to track the ball's flight.

Haven strolls along with the others, ever the silent shadow, simply watching the match unfold. A small smile curls her lips as she watches Balin work the course, hole for hole. It's rather odd to see Balin so laid back and relaxed but it's so needed that Loni will only be grateful for the pursuit of a much loved hobby.

Not so much the honor, but the bet. Oh yes, the bet. Laco will not lose this bet. "Just giving you a bit of a lead, Commander, of course. After all, I can only make so many birdies without people suspecting that I programmed the holodeck in my favor." And with that, the acting science officer takes his own swing, eventually getting an easy par.

Balin is not favored that last hole, having sliced his drive in his overconfidence. "Well played," he says to Laco, a good sport to the last. He stands off to the side with Donavon and awaits Laco's drive on the fifth.

Crayn smiles and nods in congratulations.. "Ah.. there.. back on the right track." He follows the Lieutenant. He's not cheering for either man, but caught up in the sportsmanship, and the non-violent battle between the two men. "Just keep focus, and breathe.. It's just you and the ball.." Yeah.. jo sounds like a nut.. WHich is why he doesn't speak too often.

Laco walks over to Crayn and his clubs and selects his five wood, as the fifth hole is a short par three. He nods to Crayn's encouragement, then steps toward the tee. Taking careful aim down the fairway, as the short holes aren't a good place to hook or slice, Laco makes a practice swing, then takes a step forward for the real thing. *Plink*

"Still up, sir," Donavon reminds the Captain off handedly. "So...when do we duel with the clubs? At the end?" She grins charmingly - ever the seeker of combat sports. Which means she must have skimmed Golf for Dummies 101 Book. Or she's being playful. Seeing that it's Balin's turn up, she tugs out the appropriate club, as asked for.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

Balin moves up and makes his own swing. The ball falls short of the targeted green, and it takes an extra stroke to get back to Laco. "Congratulations, Mr. Laco!" Balin calls out to him as they move to the next hole. "It seems that you'll earn the right to graduate from the miniature golf courses yet!" He nudges Donavon after that and says, "More dark thoughts, Meg. He's catching up."

Ghorev steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.

Ghorev has arrived.

Crayn seems to be counteracting any negative energy, his own countenance showing nothing but peace and calm. There's only the Lieutenant, the ball, and the hole. No distractions. "Good job, sir."

Ghorev slips in, quietly, dismissing the arch as rapidly as possible so as to avoid breaking anyone's concentration with the sudden jarring slip in the holographic decor. He joins what knot of spectators, real and holographic, there might be.

Donavon blinks with a chuckled oof. "Right away, sir. Right away." Eyebrows squint together. Intense concentration directs at the opponents.

. o O Vala wonders if Crayn needs a cloth for the brown stuff on his nose

Laco shakes the head of his club at Balin in a friendly salute. He puts the pin back, and proceeds towards the sixth tee beside Crayn. He swaps his putter for a wood, then strides ahead of his caddy. Once he gets to the tee, and sizes up the hole, he lines up his shot and lets loose.

. o O Donavon thinks "Dirty peetri dishes. Ummm..Gwen's Golbins. Banshees!"

. o O Donavon unleashes those thoughts, but manages to giggle inside. Darkness wrapped round a center of sweet.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

. o O Donavon's heart jumps in startlement. Uh-oh.

Donavon bites on her tongue before passing off the club to Balin. Seems her dark thoughts have failed.

The Captain ends up bogeying the hole on a missed putt, bringing the two warriors back on even footing. "This would be a good time for the Romulans to attack the station," Balin says hopefully. But no such luck. He grins at Laco. "Well played, Phil. But I'll have you on the next hole, to be sure."

Crayn just looks over to Meg and gives her a wide smile.. Even places his fingertips in the dimples to make it look amusing. See? No dark thoughts here.

"I don't know, sir. I think even the Romulans would have enough respect for this ancient game to wait until we were finished." Laco replies as he heads toward the head of the seventh hole. Pulling a tee out of his shirt pocket, Laco sets himself up for another drive.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

Okay, so the Romulan comment earns the CO a lifted brow look from Loni but she says nothing .. out loud at least.

Ghorev, for his own part, winces at the Romulan jokes. Peers around. Inches a little closer to, oh, say, Vala. Makes an inquiring gesture as if to ask, without asking, "Who's winning?"

Donavon rubs the base of her thumb over the shamrock pin, murmuring a few words. Crayn and his looks have been entirely dismissed or ignored. She strolls behind the Captain and ponders what advice if any to give. Hmm. "Just have fun out there. Heard it relaxes the muscles."

Vala whispers to Ghorev, "It's tied so far. But I'm betting Mr Laco will win."

Donavon ducks close to Balin, Donavon whispers to Balin, "I could russle up those Romulans, sir." She winks at parting.

The wind gusts and Balin's drive goes wide. This gives Laco the seventh hole and a marginal lead. "Very nice, Mr. Laco. But you're not getting out of the bet so easily." He smiles at Donavon. They're not out of the game yet. Besides, it's all in good-natured fun. And honor. He laughs at her comment. "Maybe not. We'll pull through yet." He stands aside for the eighth hole drive by Laco.

GAME: Balin spends a courage point.

Laco lines up another nice, easy shot at the eighth tee.. Laco isn't going to jeopardize his minor lead by doing something stupid, like try to get over a water hazard from the tee. Better to only make par, than to get a penalty.

. o O Balin isn't exactly /worried/ by this turn of events. But he's determined to do better and begins to inwardly focus himself.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill (given advantage) and Fails!

GAME: Laco spends a courage point.

Vala quietly heads out of the holodeck.

Vala steps out of the holodeck.

Vala has left.

Balin grows quiet during his next few swings, trying to inwardly focus himself. It seems to pay off, as he takes a nice easy par against the science officer. As the ball clatters into the cup, he looks mildly relieved. He returns the putter to Donavon, and says quietly to her, "Your lapel pin must be working again."

Ghorev watches Vala depart, concerned for a moment, then turns back to watch the game, marching along as the other observers do to keep pace with the terrain.

Donavon respectfully slides the putter back into the bag. "St. Patrick's Day Token. It should work." She tosses a wink, nods, and hefts the bag up. Time to begin the walk for the next hole. This time whistling as she works.

Laco continues to the second hold and begins to size it up, before referring to his scorePADD to check the yardage. This is, as it turns out, becoming a very close match, and Laco is going to have to play smart if he wants to win.

Crayn smirks and looks to Donavon.. "It's too bad that golf was originally a Scottish sport."

"St. Patrick's day?" Balin asks as he prepares for the next drive. "Ah, yes, the Terran custom of green beer. Never understood it." He approaches the tee and, after sizing up the hole, issues forth with a drive. *Pock!*

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill (given advantage) and Fails!

Donavon snorts. "It's Celtic." Back meets Crayn for paces increase ahead as the officer strolls up the hill. Her pigtails appear to angrily dance alongside her face. She pauses at the driveway and bites down hard at Balin's drive. Someone isn't thinking darkly enough.

. o O Donavon thinks "Bullocks"

. o O Ghorev thinks "Green beer? How revolting."

. o O Ghorev feels mildly nauseated.

. o O Donavon combats the inner fear - the Captain's threat - by keeping light hearted.

Laco watches Balin's ball arc into the air. Once it has come to rest, Laco takes his own spot at the tee. He has his driver, and is aiming slightly off center. He's taking a gamble that he can get enough power behind the swing to make it past the bend in the fairway, and be just that much closer to the pin. It works out pretty good, and Laco comes out ahead on the ninth hole.

GAME: Laco spends a courage point.

GAME: Balin spends a courage point.

GAME: Laco spends a courage point.

GAME: Balin spends a courage point.

"Ifni's Curse," Donavon lowly whispers and shakes her head dismissingly.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill and Fails!

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Balin contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Laco's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

Balin smiles to Donavon as they pull out of the fifteenth hole with Balin slightly on the losing side. "The Lieutenant is a mighty opponent, Meg. Don't kick yourself or me too hard." He gives her another fatherly squeeze of the shoulder. "Mr. Laco, your drive. May it backspin right back onto the tee," he says good-naturedly.

Laco smiles to himself. "We'll see, Captain." Laco lines up his shot, and swings. *Whooosh-CLANK* And the softly glowing blue sphere is off.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

Haven strolls along, hole for hole, shadowing the groups, her hands clasped at the small of her back. When she notices Ghorev, he gets a nod and a quiet 'Sir' before her attention turns back to two duelists.

"Habit, sir." Donavon shrugs non-committedly. "Cursing and praising Ifni that is." Relaxed in the fatherly aura of Balin, she chuckles and strolls easily. "I never did ask. If there's a tie, do the caddies battle it out? To the greens?"

Crayn raises an eyebrow to Meg.. "Why, is that a challenge? If it's not in the game, we can always handle that later." He chuckles.

The Captain chuckles as his manages to fall down yet another hole. "Ah well," he says as he watches Laco deftly chip his putt in. "Nice stroke, Phil." Turning to Donavon, he laughs at her question. "No. We just buy each other a drink. Golf is less about competition with your opponent and more about competition with yourself. I picked it up because it was one of the few sports I could play that being a telepath didn't matter. That, and the Admirals played it at the Academy," he says, giving her a playful smile.

Donavon gives Crayn a well meant look - Were we talking to you? She blinks to turn back at the Captain with a returned playful smile. "Look forward to the whiskey shots, sir. How long have you played with the Admirals?"

Ghorev meanders along, quietly, occasionally peering at his PADD as business comes up but mostly content to watch the concentration and finesse of the athletes at play. Ah, the Andorian love of competition in all its forms.

"Indeed." Laco chimes in. "You don't so much play against your opponent as you play against the course, then compare your results." He heads to the next to the last hole, prepared to finish up. Once more Laco places his tee, takes a practice shot, then makes his swing.

Balin replies as he stands aside for Laco to take his next drive, "Since the second Sunday I was at the Academy. The first Sunday I learned where the brass went. The second Sunday I picked up a club. They say it's the only sport that can help your career."

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Succeeds!

. o O Donavon gulps as the creeping suspicion that she's causing bad luck surfaces.

Crayn watches the last hole with interest..

Donavon politely grins. Who wants to point out that the Captain is a brown nose? Not here. She plays it safe and stands back to the side, arms crossed over the bag held before her.

And another hole falls to the crystalline onslaught. Laco comments, as he heads for the final tee. "One more to go, sir. It's going to be close. You're definately the most challenging opponent I've faced since Commander Rutu at Starbase 298. Just about any par three he played should have been considered a par two for him. I don't think I ever saw his ball stop more than twenty feet from the pin on a short hole."

"You've played Rutu? That scoundrel owes me five strips of Latinum," Balin says. "It seems today you're the better player, today. But we'll see where the last ball falls at the very least. Perhaps I'll get lucky and a bird will fly down and peck you in the eye..." He awaits Laco's last drive.

<CONTEST> Laco contests his Athletics (Golf) skill vs Balin's Athletics (Golf) skill and Fails!

And so, Laco makes his last few swings of the match. They aren't particularly great, but at this point, they don't need to be. As he replaces the flag, he walks up to Balin with his right hand extended. "That was an excellent match, sir."

Balin claps, and walks over to Laco and shakes his hand firmly. "Good showing, Lieutenant, and the better man definitely won today. I will make good on our bet immediately." He turns toward the assembled spectators. "The drinks are on your captain in the Neutral Zone, everyone!" He then moves toward Donavon. With his club.

Crayn applauds.. "Good job, sirs. The both of you."

Javits steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.

Javits has arrived.

Havaris steps into holodeck 1 from the Dream Factory.

Havaris has arrived.

Ghorev, as the crowd begins to make its way for the door at the sound of '...drinks are on your captain...', follows suit.

Laco steps over to Crayn to collect his own clubs. "Thank you, Ensign. You did an excellent job. I'll take my clubs back now, if you don't mind."

Haven claps quietly as the match comes to an end. Hrm. Maybe she needs to tweak the cub design a bit. That's something to think about. She sends an encouraging smile Megs way then turns for the arch, making her way out as quietly as she arrived.

Donavon cannot say a word. Not a solitary word. Not even a look. She's expressionless at accepting the club while quietly putting the socks back on.

. o O Laco thinks "I hope I don't find myself 'accidently' getting assigned some waste reclaimation duty."

. o O Donavon thinks "Is this when waste reclamation duties are uttered?"

Havaris apparently has arrived too late. He steps in only to realize most everyone is stepping out. Far from going against the flow in that respect, he performs an about-face and starts back through the archway, getting out of the way of traffic.

Balin puts his arm around Donavon's shoulder and hands her the club. "We did great, Ensign. You're a caddy to be reckoned with. And of course, my threats of waste duty were hollow. I'd be proud to have you caddy for me any time." He grins to her. "Now, if you will excuse me, I've got to change clothes. I have a bet to settle. You'll be at the 'Zone, yes?"

Javits steps into the holodeck, then comes to an abrupt halt upon seeing everyone headed in his direction. With a disappointed expression, he asks, "It's over already?"

"Aren't the caddies suppose to share in the wager?" Donavon whispers directly at Balin, face lowered and hidden from others. "Wouldn't mind it in the least, sir. It is a team effort. If one falls, the team falls." She grins at stepping back. "And I'd be honored to caddy again. It's fun putting on these duds. Never knew golf fashion was so loud."

Haven steps out of the holodeck.

Haven has left.

Ghorev steps out of the holodeck.

Ghorev has left.

Crayn hands the clubs back to laco. "An honor, sir." he heads for the exit.

Balin laughs lightly. "No, this was a bet of honor between Lt. Laco and myself. I'll share my loss with none. Besides, I think Mr. Harris would have my head if he knew what it was." He gathers up his clubs and hoists them over his shoulder, heading toward the door with a final, "Computer, terminate program."

Laco follows suit.

Laco steps out of the holodeck.

Laco has left.

Crayn steps out of the holodeck.

Crayn has left.

Time: Sat Mar 20 15:39:59 2004

Stardate: 53960.4

Fischer sits down at The bar.

Cross arrives from the mall, the entrance's double doors sliding silently closed behind him.

Cross has arrived.

Fischer is sitting at the bar getting nice and drunk.

Pigtails dance as she bounces in a stroll for the bar. Ms. Cute Caddy is here for one purpose - free drinks. She claims her favorite seat, dropping down with finality. Others are observed as they interact.

Donavon sits down at The bar.

Javits sits down at The bar.

Laco heads towards the large table, his clubs slung triumphantly over his shoulder. He drops them lightly onto the ground, and takes a seat.

Milara serves drinks to a group of loud Klingons.

Crayn arrives from the mall, the entrance's double doors sliding silently closed behind him.

Crayn has arrived.

. o O Javits thinks "Who won?"

Havaris opts to travel with the throng. Thronging is easier when you're the smallest person in a crowd. It prevents things like trampling and broken appendages. He makes the bar and hops onto a stool with a chuckle of relief. Hooboy. "In studying the game," Havaris notes to no one in particular, "I discovered that you can pretty much get away with only watching the last few holes. A true veteran galleryman, however, knows how to see none of the game and still acquire the free liquor in the aftermath."

Fischer takes another sip of her ale and sighs to herself.

Havaris sits down at The bar.

Crayn makes his way in with the others, quite thrilled.

. o O Javits thinks "I'd still have preferred to see a few... whatever they're called, shots? holes? putts? I made golf clubs and yet I know nothing of the game."

Balin comes walking into the bar wearing... a Dabo girl's dress. Low-cut, it shows off his hairy chest well, but he doesn't fill the dress out very well. Sequins glint as the captain strides towards a table and makes to stand up on top of a chair. He clears his throat. "May I have your attention please," he says. "In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I am settling on the wager between Lt. Laco and myself. Lt. Laco was a fierce adversary, showing skill and prowess on the battlefield. Three cheers for Mr. Laco! Hip hip!"

Cross steps into the Zone with a large grin on his face. He comes to a stop, seeing that the room is busy today. He shrugs to himself and moves down to the bar.

Donavon uncomfortably shifts on the stool, ending on an exasperated sigh. Apparently she forgot where that phaser was hidden. Inconpiciously she slides the holster to her hip and - gut busting laughter releases. Both hands clamp over her mouth.

Crayn shouts out.. "hooray!" in answer to the Captain.. He may even partake of alcohol this evening.

. o O Donavon thinks "Camera! Camera!"

Javits' eyes pop out at Balin's arrival, or at least the Captain's new clothes. Recovering enough to pick his jaw up off the bar, he joins in with a loud, "Hooray!!!"

. o O Javits thinks "This is funnier than the Carmen Miranda prank!"

Fischer looks at Balin and shakes her head. "Hooray." She says quietly to herself. "I guess." She takes another drink this time a deep long one.

Havaris turns about and -stares- at Balin with widened eyes. His jaw sags open into an off-kilter laugh which he tries very hard to subdue. Donavon's laughter, however, sets him off fully. He can't 'hooray', but he can applaud the back of one hand against the palm of the other. Good show, apparently. "No monkey this time," he notes Donavon's way with a grin.

Fischer sighs really upset at her selfa nd turns to go home. "

Cross turns at the Captain's voice and just blinks with very large eyes when he sees the attire. "Uh..." He slowly starts to claps his hands, backing slowly against the bar.

Donavon regains composure to sweep up two bottles of beer. "Hip, Hip HOORAH! HUZZAH!" She raises the drinks high in the air. "No," is said flatly to Havaris, before she cheers and whistles joyfully for the Captain to show support while making her approach. One bottle is held up to Balin. "Can't celebrate the victory without your drink, sir." Eyes lower to Laco. "Congratulations to you as well. Good match."

. o O Cross thinks "Okaaaay, either the universe is now suddenly broke or....I'm in the wrong dimension."

Balin repeats the cheer thrice, a wide smile on his face. He's not embarrassed in the slightest - after all, he lost his bet, and this was all in good fun anyway. When the cheers are spent, he suddenly belts into a song. The Terran anthem. "Bring me my bow of burning gold / Bring me my arrows of desire / Bring me my spear. O Clouds Unfold / Bring me my chariot of fire. / I shall not cease from mental fight / nor shall my sword sleep in my hand / Till we have built Jerusalem / On Terra's green and pleasant land." The last note warbles to a close. "Drinks on me!" He hops down off the chair (a little awkwardly in the slinky dress) and makes his way around the bar. As he passes Donavon and takes his own drink, he gives her a wink and a nod that says, 'See? Harris would kill me.' "Who's having what? Mr. Havaris! You look like a wine spritzer man, yourself."

. o O Javits thinks "Great, my clubs lost."

Donavon offers the other drink to Laco.

Several Starfleet Ensigns make their way out, heading back on duty.

. o O Donavon warmly agrees with Balin's statement - no arguement there.

Laco laughs himself at the Captain's attire. He knew what was coming, but still, to actually see it? He waits for things to quiet down a little again, before replying. "Thank you, ensign, everyone. It was a close match, two more strokes, and that would have been me on the table."

. o O Javits thinks "That would have been even better. We've already seen the Captain in drag before."

Score one for the Captain. Havaris does not know the significance of the Wine Spritzer, you see. He tilts his head in consideration, doing his level best not to resume his laughter. It makes for an awkward answer, that. "Ah. Well. Sir. That might be just the thing, I suppose. Springwine, by preference, if you're supplying, Sir." Havaris glances to Laco for a long moment, then back to Balin, "Might I just say, Sir, that I'm very, very glad that you lost?"

Balin grins at Havaris. Springwine spritzer coming up. He's actually not a bad bartender - he makes his pouring moves with mock flourish. "Easy there, Mr. Havaris, or I'll draft you to be my backup vocalist on the next number." He gives the Bajoran a wink and hands him his glass.

Cross finally takes a seat at the bar. The piece fall into place what's going on and grins wide. He looks at Laco and smirks before turning to order a Root Beer for himself. He turns back to watch the festivities.

Cross sits down at The bar.

Idrani arrives from the mall, the entrance's double doors sliding silently closed behind her.

Idrani has arrived.

Balin's behind the bar, tending it. In a dabo girl's dress.

. o O Cross thinks "I don't know, the Science Department would have got a hoot at Laco in a dress. I wonder if the security sensors are recording this...."

Donavon slips back to the bar and stool, but further down. An elbow slides to the counter, cheek lowered to the hand. She smirks out of observation, tugs down a braid, and casually sips at her bottleneck.

Crayn orders... something from the bartender..

Idrani walks quietly into the Zone, heading up toward the bar. About to make her usual order, Jaylas stops short, blinking in astonishment, at the Captain behind the bar. "Uhm.... oh...."

"Shall I fetch the guitar, Sir?" Havaris challenges with a wry grin, lifting his newly presented spritzer in toast to the Captain. "I haven't given a command performance since Michael's going away party. He might resent the duet, but under the circumstances, Sir... I can probably convince him it was somehow mandatory." Havaris wets his lips and chuckles, finally taking a sip of his drink. His eyebrow shoots up slightly. Apparently he likes wine spritzers. Surprise, surprise.

Balin whips up a root beer for Cross. "Lt. Idrani! What are you drinking?" he calls out to the Andorian. He adjusts the chest of the dress. It rides up, after all.

Idrani clears her throat....twice, before speaking. All that time in the diplomatic conference room must have paid off, as any surprise or humor she might be feeling does not show in her voice. Likewise, her expression clears to one of passive neutrality. "Endilev ale, sir."

Milara darts among the dirty tables, cleaning them up.

"Coming right up!" Balin says cheerfully. He ducks down behind the bar for a moment and reappears with a chilled Endilev ale. "Here we are." He pours a glass for her, then hands it over with a grin. "Remind me to put you in for a commendation, Lieutenant, for staying cool under fire. Who's next?"

Idrani quirks a little smile, "Thank you, sir. My sympathies on the golf game." She doesn't take her usual spot at the bar, instead moving to a table.

Idrani sits down at square table.

Javits still looks out of sorts, a bit lost, and disappointed. He does manage to turn to Balin with his order, "Watneys Cream Stout please, sir." He pauses a moment, glancing back towards the rest of the officers at the bar, then asks, "How did the clubs handle?"

Cross takes up his frosty mug. "Thank you, Sir." He takes a moment to look down the bar, offering a smiling now to the others. Seeing Idrani, he offers a wave as she heads off to the table.

Balin pops the top off of Javits' stout and dumps the contents into a frosty mug. He slides it down the bar toward him. "Incoming," he says. "Lt. Laco showed remarkable skill on the links. But I'll be turning his clubs over to an independent investigation unit to verify their regulatory status," he says with a wink.

Idrani spots Cross's waves and gives him a little smile. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant Cross."

Donavon raps her foot against the counter, setting the tempo to the merry song in her head. Her head bobs with the braids, even the bottle bobs in being sipped.

Laco takes a sip of his beverage, then looks at the bottle. It would seem it is something he has never had before, and didn't taste like thought it would. "Those clubs were certainly appeared impressive, but I've been using mine since I was sixteen. I know them in and out. Perhaps that gave me an edge."

Outside the viewport, a freighter passes across the star-filled skies.

Javits reaches a hand out to catch the mug, "Thank you, sir." He takes a long draught before looking over to Laco with a smile, "They should be. They're quite literally part of the station. I'm lost when it comes to golf, save for the mechanics of the equipment, so I'm certainly no judge of it. Those clubs are rather new, though. I fabricated them last year for Doctor Haven."

"Always, Mr. Laco, attribute your successes to your skill and not your equipment," the Captain says with a grin to Laco. Blinking at Javits, he says, "Doctor Haven?" He looks rather surprised. "The mystery is solved, at last!"

"Afternoon, Sir." Cross answers back to the Lieutenant with his smile. He looks slowly back to Donavon and her head bobbing. He chuckles out to himself, taking a drink from his mug. He looks up at towards the Captain with an arched brow.

. o O Cross thinks "What about Big Sis?"

Crayn finishes his drink, and quietly heads for the exit, enough of a crowd for today.

Idrani comments, "I don't have enough skill to do the game justice, but hitting the little balls as hard as you can, does offer a certain relief from stress."

Havaris drinks his spritzer contentedly, offering a glance back to Idrani with a small toast of his glass. Cheers, or similar. He turns back to the bar -- and therefore his Captain -- and shakes his head in vague amusement. Spritzer. It's safe.

Crayn heads out and into the Mall.

Crayn has left.

Ghorev arrives from the mall, the entrance's double doors sliding silently closed behind him.

Ghorev has arrived.

Balin's playing bartender, standing behind the bar and dispensing with drinks. In a glittering Dabo girl's dress that shows off his hairy chest quite well. "Mr. Ghorev! What will it be then?" he asks, upon noting the XO's entrance to the 'Zone.

Donavon mutters spiritedly into her bottleneck, "Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner." A smile shines when she lowers the bottle, mutters still soft and quiet, "Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;" Tap, tap of her foot to the bar, she casusally waves down at Idrani. "Wasn't it the truth I told you...Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake." The rest is hummed to herself, stiffled by yet another sip of her beer.

Ghorev winces. "Borva's breath, Captain ... something acidic enough to put out my eyes, I think." And then he laughs and gestures. "Browndubble with a shot of /agranu/, if you please. I think I'll be off duty for awhile."

A Bajoran starts arguing about the Cardassian occupation with the man he is sitting near.

"I'd be careful with your drinking, Sir," Havaris offers aside to Ghorev when the fellow steps to the bar, "I'm only half way through my first drink and the dabo dress no longer shocks and apalls me." Havaris eyes his drink and takes another gulp of it.

Balin searches briefly for the browndubble, then the agranu, pours, and then offers up the two of them to his first officer with a grin. "I've had holograms made of me just for you," he says to Ghorev. "And you, too, Mr. Havaris."

Cross chuckles out to Donavon's singing after having more of his root beer. He turns slowly to look to Ghorev after the Captain calls out to him. He smirks to himself at the reply that is given before turning back, hey maybe Donavon will sing some more?

. o O Cross thinks "Grumpy Ghorev. I'm so doomed."

"I will add it to my holocollectibles under the heading 'Fashion Accidents of the Mid 24th Century', Sir." Havaris grins up at the Captain with that said, sliding his drink forward for a refill. "Couldn't you have at /least/ let someone take it in?" He shakes his head, forlorn.

Ghorev murmurs to the Captain as he takes the hot mug and the shot of sweet wine, "I will share that hologram only with the Commander-in-Chief, I swear."

Donavon twirls the bottle's neck between forefingers. Her brogue thickens, rising a bit more in pitch. "One mornin' Tim was feelin' full, His head was heavy which made him shake;" Wryly the smile broadens, smirked at taking up another sip. The melody changes, song switched as she peers over at Balin, humming quietly, "In all my life I ne'er did see , A maid so sweet about the soul." This ends with a chuckle into her beer - Caddy Support still there.

Idrani sips her ale.

A small maintenance drone drifts by the window.

Balin laughs at the comments from his senior officers but uses the time to refill Havaris' springwine spritzer instead of repartee. He casts a look down at Donavon and grins at her. "Okay, this bartender is chafing, and it's about time for a conference I had with Admiral Whitehorse. I should, perhaps, change clothes." He smiles. "Thanks, everyone, for patiently seeing me through my loss of the bet. Mr. Laco, congratulations on your victory, once again." He raises his own bottle, the one proffered by Donavon, and toasts Laco. He takes a long swig, then makes his way out from behind the bar. "Good afternoon!" he calls to the others.

Ghorev sips down the top two centimeters of the mug, then drops in the shot glass of agranu like a depth charge. Still sipping, he makes his way over to Laco. "Congratulations," he adds, on his own.

Idrani smiles a little, lifting her glass.

Javits grins and raises his mug to Balin in a last salute, then down the rest of his stout on a long drawn out draught.

Donavon tips her bottle at Balin, then Laco. Time for a celebratory drink. Eyes glimmer appeciatively as well.

Laco says, "Good afternoon to you to, Captain." Then, to Ghorev, "Thank you, Commander."

"I should say, Sir. I can do bespoke tailoring, but I'm afraid on such short notice..." Havaris gets one last dig in at the Captain as he starts away. He chuckles his way back about and adopts his usual 'Havaris in the Neutral Zone' condition. Sitting more or less alone and nursing a drink.

Cross chuckles out as he listens to the Captain. The comment and his appearance helping to lessen his anxiety of those of the three pips and higher, at least to the Captain. He raises his mug in salute to the two competitiors. "Sirs."

. o O Cross pictures Whitehorse as a stick in the mud compared to the Captain.

Balin slinks out in his ever-so-sexy attire. He gives the room a final wave as he leaves.

. o O Javits thinks "I definitely did not want to hear about chafing Captains."

Ghorev nods once to Laco, then watches Balin depart. "Now there goes a commanding officer with a dire need for a Havaris Jiasha special order."

Javits sets his empty mug down on the bar with a hard chick of glass on metal, then turns to Ghorev and Havaris with a grin, shaking his head.

Havaris double-takes aside to Javits and adds further, "And the color is all wrong for him. He's more of a winter. A classic black, perhaps." Havaris turns to offer Balin a sunny wave from across the room.

Idrani comments, "Everyone needs a little black dress. Timeless."

A Tellarite makes his way past. The exit parts for him and he disappears into the mall.

"He needs a shorter skirt. The Captain's got great legs." Donavon takes a swig from her longneck and hums to herself.

Cross catches Idrani's comment about little black dresses and just grins devilishly as he takes a drink of his Root Beer. Not one word from him.