Commander Theodore Willburg, Starfleet(Retired), was not a tall or imposing man by any means. But his presence and bassy purposeful voice always commanded attention wherever he went.

As he approached the USS Victory’s docking port with a travel case around one shoulder, a large briefcase in one hand while the other pushed a medium sized repulsor sled with the rest of his luggage and some new offerings that he would be serving in the Hamilton Lounge.

“Can we help you sir?” One of Victory’s security officers asked.

“Of course my good man, thank you kindly.” The middle aged dark haired Willburg replied as he stopped pushing the sled, took a step back and motioned for the security officer to take over.

“Ha! Funny. I meant, state your business.”

“I’m here to see Captain Hardy, if you could let him know I’ve arrived onboard.” Theodore said flatly.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that, go sell you rotgut liquids elsewhere old man.”

Obviously the security hadn’t looked closely at the cases of fine exotic alcohols on the sled, or known that the new Bar Manager was arriving that day.

“Be sure you do, and I intend to flog my booze where I see fit Ensign.” Came that voice that demanded respect as Willburg resumed pushing the sled directly up the short ramp into the Victory’s airlock.

A few seconds later the officer turned back towards him and said, “Whoa bud, I didn’t say you could come aboard.”

The officer blocked the old Quartermasters path and began eyeing the cases of booze.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either. And by the way, how’s that whole ‘calling the Captain’ thing coming along?” Willburg smiled as the security guard started to reach out to inspect one of the bottles more closely.

“Or would you prefer to take the chance that I’m actually a very old friend of your CO who’s signed on as your new Bar Manager, and have me call Oddie, and tell him how I’ve been treated. Make your wager carefully now Ensign.”

The outwitted but not witless security officer stopped reaching for the brown bottle and instead tapped his comm badge.

Willburg winked and nodded at the young man, “Good lad.”

As the security officer contacted his superior Willburg reached out over the sled and pulled out a brown bottle that the Ensign had been eyeing.

“Apologies Mister Willburg, would you like some help with your luggage?”

The old veteran put on an aloof sarcastic tone, “Heavens, and here I was starting to think that all the social graces had left this soul sucking civilization. I thought you’d never ask. Here…” He offered the ensign his briefcase and the bottle.

“Carry that, show me to my quarters, and you can keep the bottle for making the proper wager. Saurian Brandy 20 old, good stuff too.”

“Oh, thanks, uh, looks like you’re on deck 3, right this way sir.”