“Sixteen men on a deadman’s chest,

And I’ve been drinking from a broken cup.

Two pairs of pants and a mohair vest.

I’m full of bourbon, I can’t stand up.”

Tom Waits. (1985)

 

The thing about bourbon, Macey Lewis reflected morosely as she rolled the smooth glass of tawny amber liquid around between the palms of her slim, brown hands – was that it never let you down.

You bought a shot of bourbon from a barkeep just about everywhere in the known galaxy and, replicated or the real thing, you were assured a smooth, rounded burn, a smoky finish and the promise of oblivion to whitewash away whatever predicament ailed you, if only for a few hours.

Macey Lewis had been let down a lot in her life.

Her mother let her down the moment she was born, dying in childbirth to her twin sister that had followed just after her own entry into an uncaring universe, robbing both Macey and Jasmine of the maternal love and protection that Mace had spent her entire, miserable life looking for in others, only to find her own dissatisfied self blearily staring back at herself from a thousand grimy mirrors in an endless cavalcade of seedy shithole dives.

The loss of a matriarchal beacon to guide them through her formative years, meant that the Lewis girls were entrusted to the dubious care of their father. Whilst not particularly cruel, Darnell Lewis was not particularly present and far from what most would call an appropriate parent. A systems technician aboard a series of civilian merchant vessels, Darnell dragged his young daughters from rusty cargo-junkers to a bewilderment of strange ports of call – mostly abandoning the girls to their own devices whilst he pursued the one thing he really loved in this world – gambling.

Young Macey Lewis came to learn that life was a gamble.

You were dealt a hand when you chipped in and you found yourself at odds with everyone in the world who wanted what you had and would do anything the could to destroy your hand – doing so with blank, unreadable faces that hid their true intentions as they did so.

Her father’s losses (which were frequent) made his sad and when he was sad he drank (which was often). Whilst he never lashed out or touched them, Darnell Lewis was so absolutely absorbed in wallowing in the mire of his own narcissism and self-pity that he entirely failed to notice when someone did.

Macey Lewis was 12 years old when she broke her first man’s nose.

Inevitably both Macey and her sister were taken into the care of the Federation who decided that, given the trauma the Lewis sisters had experienced, that it would be best if they were split up and placed in the care of different foster families. The social services worker that came and took Jasmine away from her explained this with kind eyes and a bored voice and it would be many years until Macey learned where her sister was and would see her again.

That was the second time Macey broke a man’s nose.

For her part, Macey’s upbringing didn’t improve demonstrably when she moved in with the Hedderman’s. Transplanted from the dive bars and flop houses of the frontier – rim into the staid and homogenous outer suburbs of Philadelphia, on Earth,  Macey found it almost impossible to adjust.

They say children become their parents and, as much as this was seated at the core of the innermost fear Ensign Macey Lewis harbored deep down in her fractured heart, she was forced to admit that (like her estranged – father) she had become a gambler at heart.

As a teenager, she suppressed her childhood trauma’s by delighting in flaunting authority and engaging in a series of increasingly worrisome episodes of risk taking. This wasn’t to say that she was a bad kid or even a poor student. Paradoxically, Macey did extremely well at her secondary studies and showed a particular flair for mathematics. Yet her tutors were constantly confounded by her rebellious nature and acts of willful bravado.

When she was 16 years old she stole an eye -wateringly expensive Lexus luxury- flyer and led the Philadelphia PD on a white knuckle high – speed, low altitude pursuit that ended as these misadventures inevitably did and Macey found herself before a particularly foresightful Magistrate that (perhaps seeing the latent potential trapped inside this angry young woman) gave her a choice that would change her life.

She could go to jail and continue her downward spiral into mediocrity, or she could join Starfleet and try to forge her ire into something altogether more constructive and of service to the community.

Of course, she chose the latter.

Life at the Starfleet Academy San Francisco campus wasn’t as easy as Macey had first envisioned and, more than once, she had cause to as herself if she hadn’t made the wrong choice after all. She still rankled at the perceived yoke of authority and her background of poorly – lived, lived experiences, made it hard for her to trust others and make friends.

It was during that first year, desperately unhappy and facing the prospect of washing out and having to face imprisonment after all, when Cadet Macey Lewis found the singular thing that would resonate deep within her soul and satisfy the need to take risks and preserve despite of the odds. In some ways she had been doing it all of her young life.

Flight.

From the moment she put her hands at the control of an Academy shuttlecraft and thrilled to its systems coming to life, Macey Lewis knew that she had always been destined to become a pilot. The sensation of flight and the freedom from the bonds of earth were as manna to her and for the first time in her life she not only found something she was actually good at but experienced the strange sensation of actually being praised for her aptitude from her tutors.

Finally at the controls of her own life, Macey soared through the remainder of her tenure at the Academy and graduated third in her class, being easily the most talented pilot to graduate that year. As she received her commission and her Ensign’s pip with an overwhelming sense of pride, Macey finally felt that her life was on track to something significant and a universe rife with possibility and adventure beckoned.

She was soon to find that life doesn’t always turn out the way you thought it would and, despite a period of self – belief and actualization, that the universe remained an uncaring place.

Ensign Lewis found herself assigned to duty aboard a doughty but aged California – class utility cruiser operating in the Beta – Quadrant, running a series of hum-drum supply missions that were only remarkable for their crushing monotony as they were for their mundanity.

The life of excitement and adventure, that has bubbled like a torrent of promise in the mouths of her fellow graduates, had passed her by, flowing perhaps down some branching tributary of life that favoured those looked kindly – upon by fate.

People that weren’t her.

A malaise set in, deep in her soul. Whilst she performed her helmsman duties competently, the risk taker inside of her screamed its frustration and hammered impotently against the unyielding walls of its containment. Macey steadily gained experience that she considered to be of the wrong sort, she gradually climbed the precarious ladder of advancement to become a Lieutenant, yet there was no holo – entertainment that could quench her lust for adventure, no bottle she could crawl into long enough to make her problems go away.

Ironically, all things considered, she only felt alive when she was gambling.

Friendly poker matches aboard ship turned awkward and then unfriendly, as her desire to win blinded her to her own shortcomings and crewmates just didn’t want to play with her anymore and she stopped getting invited. She sought out the glittering Dabo-parlors in the less glamourous parts of the stations and planets they visited, where her reasons didn’t matter a jot to the hard-faced people that ran such establishments, as long as she had the latinum to keep playing.

And play she did.

Macey played hard, always chasing that elusive win – the adrenaline rush of being on the knife edge of failure became all the more so important than the prize – pot to her. She played hard and by the time she began to lose hard, the most shocking revelation that came to her was that she had somehow become her father.

It was this series of missteps and poor – judgement that landed her in the predicament of owning too much money to the wrong people and when they came to collect, all she could do is sell herself.

Lieutenant Lewis began to abuse her position aboard ship to help the cartels smuggled contraband, hidden inside the cargo consignments that the California lugged from point A to wherever and, despite the fact that in doing so she risked everything, the thrill of this deception somehow fed that part of her that was voracious in its desire for risk and she became quite adept at subterfuge.

Yet Starfleet is a complex and compelling machine of many parts and, as much as that mean that it took time for it to realize part of it wasn’t functioning as it should, notice it did.

As it does.

Lieutenant Macey Lewis’s crimes were uncovered and she faced a Courts Martial that found her guilty and stripped her of her commission and sentenced her to five years imprisonment in a Federation Penal Colony. Five years to reflect upon her shame and the knowledge that, whilst she had been the architect of her own downfall, that she was still a victim of her father’s abuse.

And there she would have languished, had it not been for the disastrous events of Frontier Day.

Near the end of her second year as a prisoner, a representative from the Starfleet office of the Judge Advocate General visited and delivered a proposition eerily similar to the one that had seen her join the Academy in the first place.

The ranks of Starfleet’s young officers had been comprehensively decimated by Borg Assimilation during the events that took place when the Federation gathered the fleet to celebrate the moment of it’s birth. Starfleet now faced the prospect of an uncertain future where they had ships aplenty to stand the line yet had a serious lack of capable officers to crew those vessels and boldly go forth to do their duty.

The JAG officer offered her a reduction of sentence and re-instatement as an officer in the Starfleet – Reserve, albeit with a rank reduction back down to a lowly Ensign, in return from her loyalty and service.

At the end of the day, what else could she do?

Ensign Macey Lewis considered the glass of Bourbon for one more moment and then stopped rolling it between her hands and knocked it back in one go, feeling the burn and chasing away bad memories.

But you can’t really escape the past.

A heavy hand came down square on her shoulder and Macey’s heart sank. She didn’t even look sideways as a sour – looking Angosian with a fantastically scarred face sat down at the barstool beside her and wordlessly signaled the barkeep for a drink. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded a little sad, but this did nothing to lessen the menace of its intent.

“Long time Mace.” The Angosian rasped, his voice sounding strained from where someone had tried to (unsuccessfully) slice his throat with a monoblade.

Macey stared at her empty glass, as the barkeeper refilled it at the newcomers expense and then left quickly, suddenly finding anywhere else to be.

“Long time Khorvo.” Lewis replied neutrally and lifted the shot and knocked half of it back. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to rush her last drink.

If the knot – faced Angosian was there, then the heavy hand that rested tellingly on her shoulder would belong to Dr’hkas, the two were inseparable as pestilence and plague. Khorvo could be reasoned with to the extent that he was greedy, but the Nausicaan was a dyed – in – the – wool Sociopath and only chose a life of crime so he could hurt people.

There was a long moment of silence in the sparsely patronized lower- levels Station dive bar, where Khorvo rolled his own glass around in his callused fingers, obviously pausing for effect. It was an affectation that irked Macey, like the situation couldn’t be any more menacing.

“Brak the Butcher is unhappy with you Mace.” Khorvo eventually said sombrely. He had a mannerism that could make announcing a birth seem as joyous as a funeral. That much hadn’t changed evidently.

Macey laughed despite herself; despite the imminent danger she knew she was in.

“Brak’s running the cartel!?” She shook her tight perm of afro hair in grim amusement. “That greasy little Ferengi bookkeeper is calling himself the ‘Butcher’’ now?! Please tell me that your joking me, Khorvo?” She smiled thinly and knocked down the last half of her drink. “I thought that pig – faced Tellarite fucker, Onkem – Pog, still ran Factor – Red?”

The Angosian made a pained expression on a face that saw to the pain of others almost daily. He grimaced and said.

“Yeah, well, Captain Pog and a whole lot of other heavy – hitters had themselves a ‘situation’ with a Changeling and a Singularity at Vannis – Ursus #3 a couple of years back, ended up pretty much as you can imagine. Kind of why Dr’hkas and me are here, but I’ll get to that.”

Macey didn’t like the sound of that, but good riddance to Captain Onkem – Pog. The man was a utter pig, both literally and figuratively and the universe would assuredly be a richer place without that stinking pirate infesting it.

“But yeah, Brak’s in charge of the cartel now and yeah, he calls himself the butcher.” Khorvo turned his head a fraction to face her and he nodded. “It’s probably best that you don’t find out why Mace. Like all Ferengi he has an obsession with balancing the ledger. Mad little fucker has developed a taste for blood like he has a hard-on for Latinum and he says that you still owe him for the cargo that was confiscated on the Entredi – run.”

Macey snorted derisively and turned to face the Angosian. The compelling hand remained on her shoulder and from the corner of her eye, she could see the murderous Dr’hkas lurking in its periphery like a bad dream.

“The HELL I do!” Lewis spat between clenched teeth. “I spent two years rotting in a Federation prison for Factor – Red! Two – fucking – years of my life gone! You can tell Brak that he can cram his threats up his lobes! I did my part and paid the price! I did time! I don’t owe that little shit jack!! I’m out!”

Khorvo nodded slowly and sadly and Macey felt the Nausicaan’s iron – grip tighten painfully on her shoulder, like the eponymous dive – bar’s namesake.

“Yeaahhhh…Brak said that you’d say that.” The Angosian pirate sounded genuinely regretful. “Said to remind you that when you got pinched, the Factor lost a very valuable cargo and that’s on you too. Said I could just airlock you, right here and now, and he might just write the debt off to poor Human Resources. Said I could do that, or I could make you a counter – offer. Maybe a way for you to walk away from this whilst you can still walk.”

Macey spat on the floor defiantly.

“You can tell that Ferengi – shiteater that THAT’s what I think of his offer!” She sneered, trying to ignore the vice – like pain increasing on her shoulder.

The Angosian nodded sadly and turned to fully face her. The effect did not improve the view any.

“Brak said you’d say that too, Mace. Said I should show you this.” Khorvo shrugged and took out a small holo – emitter, placed it on the scratched and grimy, beer – stained bar top and activated the device.

A small bright hologram of an African – American family sprang to life and Macey’s heart sank.

“Nice family.” The gangster commented in a voice devoid of empathy. “Nice kids. That’s your sister isn’t it? Apparently she’s a schoolteacher. That’s nice too. Dr’hkas here wanted to be a teacher, but life kind of led him in another direction.”

Macey seriously doubted the Nausicaan had ever harbored desires to work with children, beyond loitering outside schools, dreaming of doing unspeakable things to its students.

“What do you want, Khorvo?”” Macey’s voice was dangerous, but it carried the note of inevitable capitulation.

The Angosian shrugged.

“This ain’t about what I want Mace. This ain’t nothing personal, I like you kid, you know I do. But you owe the Factor a debt and Brak has been on shaky ground since he stepped into Onkem – Pog’s greasy little boots. Figures that if he is seen to be avenging the nasty little fuckers death, then that will gain him respect amongst the crews and shore up his reputation.”

Macey knew she was powerless to resist the ‘Butcher’s’ offer. To do so would mean Jasmine’s life. Her husband, and the nieces and nephews that Macey had never met. These were deadly serious people and she knew they would not even think twice about making good with their threat.

“What does Brak want me to do?” She asked quietly.

Khorvo leant forward, his breath smelling overwhelmingly sour and whispered in her ear the price of her life and freedom.

Her eyes went wide in shock and she recoiled from him.

“He cannot be serious!” She gasped, her mind reeling at the perfidious ambition of the Ferengi kingpin.

The Angosian just sniffed, nodded and sat back in his seat.

“You know the answer to that, Mace.” Khorvo replied knowingly.

It was that moment that the Nausicaan, Dr’hkas,  felt a hand even more large and compelling clamp down on his own shoulder. A hand that delivered a pressure so absolute and crushing that the pirate’s own grip on Macey’s shoulder faltered as his legs gave way.

“Is there a problem here, Ensign?” Boomed a cavernous voice.

Macey and Khorvo both turned to see one of the biggest aliens they had ever seen, like a cliff – face clad in the uniform of a Starfleet Security Officer, clamp a massive three – digit hand on the struggling Nausicaan’s shoulder and physically lift the (not – insubstantial) pirate slowly, deliberately and bodily away from the Ensign – as if he weighed nothing at all.

The alien was slab headed, with small piggy black eyes peering out from an armored cranium that mantled a chiseled face the color of grey – blue modelling clay.

Lieutenant Va’Nar was one of the few Vodrian’s that had found their way into Starfleet service and the hulking Gamma – Quadrant native served as Chief of Security aboard the USS Vigilant.

His people had evolved on a high – g world and had been enslaved by the Dominion and genetically repressed to serve as laborer’s under the regime. Intrinsically a peaceable people, their extreme mass, bone density and power to weight ratio nevertheless made them formidable opponents when provoked.

Mace’s eyes were drawn to Khorvo’s hand, which was slowly inching towards his pocket and the weapon that inevitably would reside there. Then the Angosian shrewdly re-evaluated the odds of his survival and wisely stayed his hand and smiled easily.

“No. No problem here pal. Just catching up with an old friend here, weren’t we Dr’hkas?” Khorvo smiled greasily and slammed back his drink and lounged, seemingly – unconcerned in his seat.

“Ensign Lewis. You are absent without leave.” Lieutenant Va’Nar, still holding the Nausicaan straight – out at arm’s length with apparent ease boomed without a shred of good humour and Macey had never been so glad to see the law in her entire life. “I am here to escort you back to the USS Vigilant where you will be placed upon administrative punishment.”

The hulking Vodrian dropped Dr’hkas, who scuttled up off the filthy bar – floor and attempted to salvage what little pride he had left as he scowled ineffectually at the Vodrian that physically eclipsed the alien standover – man in every sense.

“Yeah, well. Have fun with that Mace.” Khorvo nodded poignantly. “You think on that offer now, kid. You think real good.”

Lieutenant Va’Nar clove a path through the dubious denizens of the “”Ion – Bar” like an icebreaker persisting through pack – ice, people gravitating out of the massive grey/blue – skinned alien’s progress, less they be swept up in his gravitational – pull and Ensign Macey Lewis followed in his wake, feeling sick to her stomach and knowing that the Bourbon wasn’t to blame.

As always, she was to blame.

She had been naive to think that she was free of the sins of her past. Factor – Red had caught up to her and now Jasmine and her family would surely suffer if she did not do what the insidious gangster desired.

But what was demanded of her in return was unthinkable.

“Are you alright, Ensign?” Va’nar’s subsonic rumble shook her bones and she tore herself away from her troubles and replied;

“What? Oh yes! Thank you Lieutenant.” She mumbled, her mind reeling.

Va’Nar frowned massively (a process that looked like two tectonic plates coming together) and he rumbled a disapproving admonishment.

“This is not an appropriate establishment for a Starfleet officer to frequent, Ensign. Those men were obviously criminals.”

Macey was distracted and she nodded in vague agreement.

“Yeah, it’s a shithole and they are shitheads. No doubt about that.” She murmured miserably.

But her mind wasn’t really focused on the conversation as the pair exited the dive – bar, it was transfixed with the leaden words that Khorvo had whispered in her ear, when he had laid out the awful price of The Butcher’s Bill…

 

To wipe out her debt, she had to kill Captain Samantha Hyland!