Sunday Snippet: The Cockpit

Hello 2020! I'm quite thrilled to have a clean new year to take out for a spin. We have a new puppy named Maggie Mae and she's a sweetie. Her big sister Annabelle needed a companion and so far they're settling in together very well. I'd totally forgotten how much energy puppies have. Yeesh.

Had a limited week of television viewing but got a few shows watched. I caught a full arc of Classic Who and also watched quite a bit of the Doctor Who marathon on BBC America. Sadly, I missed almost all of the episodes from last season.

Started a new episode of Blue Heelers. I had a long hiatus mainly because I've been catching up on laundry and had so much to fold I couldn't do it in my laundry room.

Watched two more episodes of Gargoyles. Also had another great conversation with my oldest about watching this show when he was a little one.

Caught the prom night episode of Riverdale and, again, enjoyed the hell out of it. This show is so incredibly batshit I can't not have fun while watching.

Also watched an episode of Murdoch Mysteries. I'm so on the fence about where they're going with William and Julia. To date, this show has never let me down so I'm hoping that won't be the case here.

Finally, I started an episode of Frankie Drake Mysteries. This is another show that rarely lets me down and I'm having a good time watching this episode.

That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from The Cockpit, a novella that started with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Lark Fisher pulls R&R and hits the most happening bar on Virgonon, The Cockpit. Imagine her utter stupefaction when she finds out its owner is not only an old friend, but the one who got away.

And a sneaky peek…

Fox Wallington replaced the handset behind the bar. "Better get ready, Charlie. Got a star cruiser in orbit." Sometimes it paid to have a high-ranking parent in the military.

Charlie Stax, bartender extraordinaire, quirked an eyebrow. "Should I break out the good stuff?" A running joke… Fox didn't serve anything but high-grade drinks.

Fox snorted. "Might wanna call in an extra order this week." They'd need the additional stock. "A contingent of thirty-five hundred crew means at least three hundred fifty R and R passes." Possibly more, depending on why the ship pulled in for orbit.

Charlie shook his head. "How do you do that?"

Fox shrugged. "I knew every military ship's complement before I could read or write." His chin went up a notch. "When my dad was climbing the ranks, bedtime tended to be more about rote and structure than happy stories." Not that Fox would complain… he made bank off his firsthand knowledge.

Charlie cocked his head to one side. "How'd you avoid getting sucked into the fold?"

Fox chuckled. "I didn't. Served eight years before I bought this place." A career change he didn't regret.

Charlie's eyes widened. "I've been working here for how long… why didn't I know you served?" He laughed. "I assumed the encyclopedic knowledge was from your dad."

Fox rolled a shoulder. "Most of it is. But I—"

"Yo, can I get a little service here?" An obnoxious asshat slapped his palm on the bar. "I'm tired of spending my hard-earned credits for shitty booze and crappy conversation."

Fox gave the guy a long once-over. "This is your third day here. Why complain now?" He held up a hand. "Wait… let me guess… you've been kicked out of every other establishment, right?"

The man straightened. "I don't have to take your shitty insults." Which pretty much confirmed the accusation.

Fox agreed. "No, you don't. You and your shitty attitude can leave… as soon as you settle your tab."

Tough guy shifted his gaze to the side. "Yeah, about that… I'm a little short at the moment."

Charlie started around the counter but Fox stopped him. "Hold up. I've got this." He directed his gaze to the loud-mouthed moron. "All right, let's see if I've got everything straight here. You've been run out of all the other venues and aren't welcome anymore." He held up one finger. "You've been here, drinking and being otherwise obnoxious for the past two days and have a good start on today." He added a second digit. "Now, you're telling me you're a little short, meaning you can't pay off the debt you've racked up." A third finger shot up. "Am I right so far?"

The guy shrugged. "I guess so. Not really in a position to argue, now, am I?"

Fox snorted. "No, man, you're not. And, if my guess is correct, this whole being a dick and running your mouth is a big front so the big guy here" he pointed toward Charlie—"will throw you out on your ass, yeah?"

The not-so-tough-anymore guy gave a reluctant nod but remained silent.

Fox shot Charlie a look. "Do you believe this moron, Charlie? What's the solution here?" Fox had a specific way of dealing with tab-jumpers.

Charlie's lips spread in a wide grin. "Well, boss, I believe it's the three-strike policy, isn't it?" He clapped his hands together and rubbed them up and down. "Which means the tab for… hold on, lemme find the name here…" He made a show of rifling through the open panels. "Ah, here it is… Banta Johnson will be settled in the ring with the boss man here at seven sharp." He slid his gaze toward Fox. "I can take bets on who'll win, yeah? You know, to cover the open balance…"

Fox tapped the bar. "Absolutely, Charlie." He directed his attention to Banta. "Should be a good match. Johnson here looks to be in decent shape."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, until he goes a few rounds with you." He took some chalk and wrote the odds on the board.

Banta held up his hands. "Now, hold on a minute. I didn't agree to this." He started backing away from the bar.

Charlie barreled around and blocked Johnson's path. "Doesn't matter. It's in the ring or in front of a magistrate… and something tells me you don't want Virgonon's local law enforcement to get involved." Notorious for making the laws up as they went along, not many people wanted to tangle with what passed as the police force on a rim planet.

Johnson squared his shoulders. "Fine. But change the odds. I'm better than ten to one."

Charlie flashed a toothy grin. "That's the spirit, man." He met Fox's gaze. "What do you think? Seven to one?"

Fox shrugged. "Make it five. The longer Mr. Brawler here stays in the ring, the better the chance to cover what he owes." The odds didn't matter. Johnson would go down whatever they were.

Fox is a fun guy to write. He's going to have his hands full between taking down Banta and having a star cruiser in orbit.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye