It was another rainy day upon Planet New London. Wellington base, the local Armed Forces ground base for the sector was bustling, busy as usual. With reports coming in frequently of skirmishes, be it against the Gauls, Corsairs, or perhaps even the Mollys.
However, deeper within the facility, there was a simple door, with a keypad on the outside. Any officers of Lieutenant rank or higher would find their personnal access codes having sufficient clearence to access the room. Within, you would find a simple room, with many chairs and tables for seating.
The bar was another simple design, yet functional for the space.
Dotted around the edges where little alcoves, allowing officers to have more private discussions.
This room had been designed for those officers wishing to socialise a little, to spend some time away from the wars that plagued their home. It was their escape, slap bang in the middle of their problems
//As mentioned above, this is only open to officers of Lieutenant rank or above. Ensigns cannot join in on this, unless they have special permission (as discussed over skype) with a member of the Admiralty Board. Others wishing to join for whatever reason may do so, just ask AlphaWolf215, and explain your reasons for joining. Have fun ladies and gents!
Lieutenant James Peterson tapped in his personal code. the door opened.
"Gee, no one around, thats a shame. not even the Bartender.Well, self service."
Two minutes later, he came out, Gin and Whiskey in one hand, and a Martini in the other.
"Now, to find a good place to sit and watch the Game."
James activates the Neuralnet Screen to catch some news.
"Ah, I quite like this. Gives me an incentive to fly more."
James looks to see if anyone else was coming. Probably commander or higher. he couldnt guess. But he was sure someone was. He heard the codes being entered.
Captain Brooks staggered into the room, weighed down by the vast amount of paperwork she'd been tasked to by Admiral Reaser. She looked over the pile and saw the Lieutenant sitting there enjoying himself as if he was some sort of king. "Lieutenant! Give me a hand over here!" she kicked the door closed and continued to make her way towards Peterson.
"Yes Ma'am!" James said, and rushed forward. The paperwork really WAS heavy!
"Ma'am, no offense, but that is a crapton of paperwork." James said. Within himself, he thought"Grrr, wont even let me catch a break!".
Setting the paperwork on a huge table, which made a squeaking noise, he said"Ma'am, what would you like to drink? the Bartender isnt here, but I can make cocktails pretty well."
Charlotte let the weedy young boy take the paperwork, she laughed to herself while he struggled to place it onto a nearby table. "Aye it is." She sighed and sat down at the desk. "A drink? Mmm a tea would be nice." She began reading through the what seemed endless paperwork, every so often signing it.
"Humph! Now I realize why higher ups like tea so much!" James thought. He almost thought of calling in an ensign. but he couldnt.
"Tea, is it, Ma'am ? Here." He handed in the tea. Normally, he wouldnt make it himself, but his mom forced him to learn how to. Atleast, those minutes werent wasted.
Now, he cautiously waited."God! They said this place was for relaxing! Hell, I made all my favourite drinks! I wanted to watch the cricket match!"But he kept his own counsel and stood there.
"Well, If I were to drink an alcoholic drink then imagine what sort of nonsense I'd write on this..." She pointed to the seemingly bigger pile of paperwork before. She continued singing paperwork until the Lieutenant was done making tea. "Ah thank you." She took a sip and nodded to the Lieutenant in approval. She carried on with her paperwork while twirling her hair between her fingers.
Peterson waits for Captain Brooks to leave the place, hoping the game wasnt over yet. As soon as the Captain left, he was back in the big sofa, lounging and having fun.
"Cant understand why the Captain brings her paperwork here. It said relaxation room on the door. Oh well,I dont care, as long as I get to drink."
at that instant, a familiar ping of another keycode being applied.
As usual, he was immaculately attired, and approached the bar with crisp precision. Removing his cap from under his arm, he placed buffed the counter top for a second before setting it down. Peering over the bar, he spent a few moments looking for the bartender, before impatiently tapping on the counter top and remarking "What's it take to get service around here?".
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