Dead Ringo

"...Nine... ten... Turn and draw!"

Jimmy Jem'Hadar was fast.  He pivoted, ten-gallon hat spinning off his horned head, pistol out, flashing in the noon sun.

But Simon "Deadshot" Ringo was faster.  He planted lead between Jemmie's eyes.  The Jem'Hadar fell flat on his back with a satisfying thud and that was all she wrote.  Time for the fat lady.  Ringo twirled his six-shooters, dropped them neatly in his holsters, lit a cigarette and smiled at how good he was.  Par for the course.

He wasn't ready for the bullet in the back.  Pain wracked his brain; he dropped his cigarette, forced himself to turn, trying to draw, but his arms wouldn't obey.  He looked down.  Clicker held a cannon in his little six-fingered grasp, pointed up at Ringo.  Another gunshot sounded and Ringo joined his latest victim.

The furball clicked excitedly, did a little hop and rolled over beside Ringo.

Ringo winced and lifted his head.  The new interactive routines weren't fatal, but they sure felt like it.  Realistic – a bit too realistic.  "You weren't supposed to shoot me, you little lump!  You were supposed to help me against him!"

§"Oh."§  Clicker's black orbs darted to the fallen Jem'Hadar.  §"This one concludes you did not require assistance."§ <tink!>

Ringo sighed and threw himself back on the ground.

"Bridge to Lieutenant Ringo."  Langui's voice.

Ringo sighed again.  "Yeah, Issa?"

"Oh shit," Ringo whispered.  "I'm sorry – I'll be right there!"

"Too late," Langui chided.  "I'm scheduling the court martial now."

Ringo was on his feet, kicking up spurts of dust, spurs jingling as he jogged for the exit.  "Remember when Eve's binzwalla recipe came out plomeek soup?"  Issa's hesitation was his answer.  Eve Ordalani hated plomeek soup.  "Yeah... that's what I thought."  He snapped his fingers, a pre-set signal for the exit arch to appear.  Stopping at the terminal, his fingers flew over the pad.  A second later, his cowboy getup morphed into his Starfleet uniform.

"You'd better not," Issa said, hushed.

Ringo shrugged.  "You're lucky I love you.  See ya soon, babe."

Langui giggled.  "Okay, 'babe'."  It sounded funny in her thick African accent, and one could tell she felt odd saying it.

Ringo had no sooner arrived on the bridge when Captain April called.  He caught Eve Ordalani looking at him and hesitated.  He was late for his shift again, and she'd probably chew him out for it.  Rightly so; he understood that.  He wouldn't mind.  Deep down, he still felt... something, when Eve Ordalani was around.  She'd probably always wondered why he acted so unruffled, calm and complacent, when she gave him what-for (in her own professional fashion of course), as opposed to others who got nervous in her presence.  One took what one could get... for otherwise Eve barely gave him the time of day.  Ringo accepted it... not to say he accepted it gladly, or welcomed it, for it still went against him officially.  But he accepted it from her.

He turned and saw Langui watching him too.  Ringo's look at Eve Ordalani lasted no longer than a second, but the way Langui looked at him now... was it jealousy?  Or sympathy, for also knowing what his tardiness would cost him?

April went on to delineate the reason for his call, and Ringo acknowledged before tapping off.

"Sorry, babe," he whispered in Langui's direction and blew her a kiss, wheeling back into the turbolift.

Langui smiled warmly and blinked once, accepting the apology.

On his way to deck five, Ringo wondered why April called him down.  Him, rather than another.  Ringo was a command watch officer now.  In his mind... didn't that entitle him to something better, in the way of treatment?  April still treated him like he was his liaison officer.

He pushed the matter aside as he found her in the counseling office with Ensign Galthrax.