USS Sojourner https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php Nova, Anodyne Productions' premier RPG management software en-us john.doe@example.com Copyright 2024 Captain's Log: If We Tangle https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/420 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/420
Mission - Mean Green Queen
Location - USS Sojourner, Bridge
Timeline - Mission Day 3 at 0700

[USS Sojourner]
[Main Bridge]
[MD 3: 0700 Hours]


Here we go again, Captain Kodak thought.

The Chameloid hated recording his logs on the Bridge -- mainly because flubbing and re-recording his words in front of his crew was embarrassing -- but it was standard procedure, unless said log was to contain sensitive information meant only for the ears of the Admiralty. Then, of course, he had permission to record such missives from the privacy of his ready room or quarters. But such was not the case today as the Captain sat down in his chair to record a log at the start of his shift

Reaching for the controls of his arm chair, the eye sore of the new LCARS interface winked back at Captain, almost as if laughing at his discomfort. Kodak narrowed his eyes in a glower at the glowing panel and jammed the record button especially hard for good measure.

"Captain's log," Kodak rattled off the stardate, sounding only slightly annoyed. "After two days at high warp, we've put some distance between ourselves and Hukatuse Tagumik. So far at least, there've been no indications that First Maje Subrek and the Kordra-Lisrit are in pursuit. Not according to our long range sensors, in any event. Our guess is that they stopped there for the same reason we did -- to find Kaldri. And, knowing the Maje, probably punish those bounty hunters for letting Droll and I escape."

"What Subrek and Hukatuse's Governor don't know," he continued, "is that Kaldri isn't on Hukatuse. She's here, with us. At least for the time being. After giving her a quiet couple of days to have her injuries and malnutrition addressed, I've set a meeting with her for later today. I'm hopeful that she can help us to better understand the First Maje," Kodak leaned back slightly in his chair and crossed his right leg over his left, "especially since he's likely learned we bought his stolen shuttle. I don't think he'll be happy about us pouring over that little ship."

"Speaking of which," the Captain tugged at the neckline of his uniform -- once again an actual garment vs. his own skin, in deferment to his partner's preferences -- and said, "Chief Oliveria and his people have begun to go over said shuttle. The hope is that we'll gain some insights into why Subrek's ship is so advanced. Getting the Sojo back to full readiness has taken the bulk of the time the last couple of days," Kodak lamented, "but they've been poking and prodding some. They should be able to devote more resources to the project now that the ship is mostly back up to snuff, though."

The last was a phrase his dad would often use -- usually with pride in reference to little-kid Björn's having just cleaned his room. Kodak recalled how proud he, too, felt when his dad would use that phrase. In fact, he felt that pride now, the completed repairs to Sojourner giving him the same shot of satisfaction in the arm that his clean room used to. Kodak realized his mind was drifting -- perfect time for it -- and shook the memories away. Time and a place, he mentally mumbled.

"In other news," Kodak's tone took on a much more somber note, "Mr. Timmoz' battle back to us continues. Dr. Wang's latest report is that Timmoz remains stable but certainty of recovery is still very much touch and go. TImmoz took an incredible amount of punishment in that prison, and all in the name of completing his mission. For those listening who might sometimes doubt his dedication and loyalty, let this be a reminder, hmm?" He imagined the faces of those who kept watch over Timmoz' participation in Starfleet suddenly looking aghast at being called out. That was satisfying, too. "I hope he will recover," the Captain rasped, a slight hitch in his gravelly voice.

With a weary sigh, he looked down at the PADD he was carrying. "The board looks green for today," Kodak said, eyes tracing the various readiness reports on the screen. "Barring the unforeseen," he looked up again, "it's a clear path ahead to our next stop. Several days of uneventfulness is probably just what we need right now, to be honest. But we'll be staying at high warp to get where we're going, just in case Subrek is following without our knowledge. I'll feel better when I can confirm we've got some good distance between us. At least for now, while we're still investigating and analyzing. If we tangle again, I want to be ready."

=/\= A post by... =/\=

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer]]>
Thu, 14 Mar 2024 13:44:37 +0000
Pros and Pretzels https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/422 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/422
Mission - Mean Green Queen
Location - Deck Four: Mess Hall
Timeline - Mission Day 5 at 1430

Mission Day 5
Deck Four: Mess Hall
1430

------



Xex was craving something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted. Food, of some kind, but did he want salty or sweet? Something bitter? Bittersweet?

Probably not the last. He was rarely in the mood for things either bittersweet or sweetbitter. He had enough of those in the medical profession and rarely wanted them to carry over to his food, his personal life, or anything else that didn’t pertain to medicine. Let the younger generations drink the bitter dregs and feast on the drama it provided. He was too old and too tired to want to deal with any of that anymore.

Unless there was a compelling reason for it.

He snorted. Jex and the rest of the children would chide him for getting so philosophical- especially when he was simply after a snack. So he focused on his original question: what was he craving? He still couldn’t figure it out by the time he entered the mess hall and decided that perhaps a tray of samples would be in order. If he couldn’t figure out what he wanted by the end of that, then it wasn’t food he wanted, and he had a different problem altogether.

The hall was quiet at this time of day. Mid-way through a shift, those who’d come in after finishing work had left, and those coming in before the next shift hadn’t arrived yet, leaving but a handful of people who apparently had nothing better to do than linger over a meal while they read or watched something on their PADDs.

It was quiet enough that, though Xex wasn’t paying attention to much but his own thoughts, he still heard a soft ‘ow’ and could quickly pinpoint the source of the pained expression: one Ensign Mei Ratthi, who sat at a nearby table with a hand pressed to her mouth while she glared down at a cup of something steaming.

“Are you alright, Ensign?” he asked.

Ratthi looked up in surprise like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. “Oh, I’m fine.” She rubbed her upper lip with her thumb, and her cheeks reddened. “It’s just, you know, when you order ‘black coffee, hot’, it’s good to remember that your coffee will be hot. I think I burned the roof of my mouth a bit. That’s all. I’ll survive.”

"I should hope so," Xex replied, one corner of his mouth curling with amusement, "I'm not prepared for any lifesaving just now." Jerking his chin at her steaming mug, he inquired, "Can I get you something to go with that?" While it was undeniably a polite request, there was something just a little desperate to it, as though he were hoping particularly hard that the answer would be 'yes,' and then the decision about what to eat would be made for him.

"I guess?" She blinked at the mug and the blank spot on the table next to it like she hadn't realized there was no food there. "Some strawberries? And pretzels. Yeah, I think that'll do. Thank you! I've been a little preoccupied. Hadn't actually thought about eating. In the place where we go to eat."

Xex ticked the two requests off on his fingers, and said, "You got it," his own preoccupied expression easing considerably now his own decision was as easily made as hers. He put the order into the replicator, and it hummed pleasantly until the food-- and a steaming mug-- appeared in the slot. Xex scooped all the dishes onto a tray and carted them back to Mei's table, half-sliding into a chair across from her and then pausing at the last moment, "May I?"

"Of course!" she said brightly, stowing the stylus she'd been toying with and turning her PADD's screen off to give him her full attention.

A pleased smile eased Xex's silvery features and he finished seating himself, sliding one bowl of strawberries, and one of pretzels across the table to Mei, and keeping an identical meal for himself. The steaming mug, he left alone, giving it a stern stare. "Fool Mei once, shame on you. I shall not be making the same mistake." With that, he plucked a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. Chewing contemplatively, he cocked his head to the side, and observed around the strawberry, "That is some preoccupied if you're forgetting to eat. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing much. Just the future. My career and where it's going. Little things," she said, tucking an errant curl behind her ear before selecting a pretzel to nibble on. "I mean, I know what I want to do, it's just a question of whether I want to do it now or later. Initially, I thought I'd just do it later. There was so much to do when I came aboard Sojourner , what with the data that needed compiling and cataloging, and then the whole thing with Shaddam IV and the dust and . . . everything else, there didn't seem to be enough time, but since we got back from that station, it kind of feels like I should do it now, you know? Get things started before it's too late."

Xex had to give the young ensign points for ignoring his amused snort. 'Nothing much, just the future.' Not like that encompassed the whole of an individual's potential, the inherent promise lying as yet unrealized in each being... nothing like that. Shaking off the philosophy that seemed to keep sneaking into his thoughts, he popped a pretzel into his mouth. "Well, I will say this," Xex said, swallowing his crunchy bite of pretzel and frowning slightly, as though to better understand the dry, salty taste that slid past his tongue. Almost visibly shaking himself from the sensation, he continued, "Hukatuse Tugamik was many very interesting things, but I'm not sure I would have classed 'inspiring,' as one of them. Until now, of course." He took up his mug and tipped it toward her in salute, intending to take a cautious sip. By the time it reached a few millimeters from his face, however, he was quite certain it was still too hot, and abandoned the exercise, opting for another strawberry instead. "Too late for what?" he asked, with genuine curiosity, "What things are you intending to start?"

"My doctoral program." Xex's brows arched with interest and a hint of surprise; she seemed so young! But then, it was for the young to have ambition. Anxious to make sure he didn't interrupt her, he smoothed his features and popped another strawberry into his mouth as she continued. "I finished up my master's degree not so long before I got here. Command was kind enough to let me defer my first posting for a couple of years so I could study with the Aenar. Two whole years in the Andorian wastes. Sounds awful, but it was worth it. I got to liking arctic places after a while." Mei popped a strawberry in her mouth, though that didn't do much to hide a nostalgic smile. When she'd swallowed, she went on. "I thought I'd wait for a while to start the next phase, until I'd had some more practical experience, but I've been on two away missions so far, and on the first I saw a crewmate die, and on the second I saw another crewmate almost die. Mortality. Kind of makes you stop and reassess things, doesn't it?"

Xex had lifted his mug to try again not to scald his mouth but froze in place as she mentioned the Aenar. "You... studied with the Aenar? What an opportunity, Mei!" Xex's enthusiasm appeared entirely genuine, his gray eyes alight with interest. He nearly vibrated, as though he was finding it difficult to stay in his seat. Certainly, he was squirming around like a hyperactive five-year-old. He carefully put his mug down so as not to spill it. "Tell me about the wastes. Surely you didn't actually--" Xex cut off, and with a visible effort, he reigned in his curiosity, grabbing a handful of pretzels and popping them into his mouth in an effort to stem the flow of his questions. The somber bent of Mei's explanation did not lend itself to being grilled about her postgraduate studies.

In fact, in contrast to his earlier struggles, his expression dropped unprompted into seriousness. Although he dealt with mortality more than your average humanoid, it was the nature of his work to postpone that inevitable fate, even as he accepted that inevitability. It was a juxtaposition he once rebelled against, and now simply struggled with. Daily. Mei though, would not have yet had years to grapple with these uncertainties, and her reassessment seemed entirely reasonable. "It does," Xex agreed of the reassessment after a somewhat painful-looking swallow of his mouthful of pretzels. He washed it down with the coffee, which was not still hot enough to scald, but not yet cool enough to be comfortable to drink, if his grimace was any indication. His sober expression lightened as one corner of his lips lifted in a half-smile. "What is it the ancient humans said? About seizing time? Certainly I subscribe to the theory of 'no time like the present.' You plan to start your studies on board, I hope?"

Mei's eyes widened at the barrage of questions like she was startled she'd inspired such an outpouring. "Carpe diem is the phrase you're looking for, I think. Seize the day," she said, picking the last few to answer. "And yes, I'd have to start here, since my assignment here lasts for a while yet. You're stuck with me for now. I just can't decide if I should go ahead and start or wait some more. Post-grad degrees are a bit time-consuming. And it's not like I have all the time in the world here. But the idea of being Doctor Ratthi is tantalizing. So. I don't know. I've been thinking about it almost non-stop since we got back. It seems like there are pros and cons on both sides, and I'm just stuck in the middle. The very indecisive middle."

"Well," Xex said matter-of-factly, "I'm quite certain you would make an excellent Doctor Ratthi. As for how to go about doing it..." A contemplative look settled over his features, and he drummed the blunt fingers of one hand on the tabletop while sipping at his coffee with the other. "I do believe this is the perfect case for a classic 'pros and cons,' in this case we shall set it out as 'pros and cons for starting your study here on the ship.'" he said with a slight uplift of tone, arching his brows at her as if for permission. At her amused nod, he grinned back and abandoned his coffee mug to the edge of the table before sliding all four bowls of comestibles closer to himself. He combined all the strawberries into one bowl, then all the pretzels into a second bowl, heedless of whether or not Mei was still eating hers. Plucking a strawberry, he said, "Pro: you are on your way to becoming Doctor Ratthi much quicker." He dropped the strawberry into an empty bowl. "Con: Your free time will invariably be taken up with study," he said with grave certainty and a very serious look at her, as though to say, 'trust me, I know.' As he was already 'Doctor Wang,' it was likely that he did. He dropped a pretzel into the second empty bowl and lifted his eyebrows at her in invitation.

Her lips twisted as she contemplated the collections of strawberries and pretzels. Then she picked up a pretzel and dropped it into its corresponding bowl. "Con: a lack of free time means I'll have more trouble making friends on the ship. And I do want to make more friends." She rested her chin in one hand and stared down at the strawberries, coffee cop in her other hand as she pondered the next point. After a few moments, she picked up a berry and put it in its proper bowl. "Pro: there's a lot to be learned out here, and my doctoral work would mean I would get to share more of it with the academic community."

"Pro: you would have an excellent excuse to get out of away missions," Xex said, with a lively twinkle to his eye as he plopped a strawberry into its bowl, then held up a cautionary finger, "should you want it." He reached out for another strawberry, but paused, hand hovering over the bowl. "If you were to wait, where would you most likely be completing your studies after the Sojourner? Home, perhaps? Or back to the Andorian Wastes?" His lips twitched, but he managed to control an outright grin at the suggestion.

"You're really interested in the Andorian Wastes, aren't you?" Mei grinned brightly for a moment. But her smile quickly dimmed. "That's a problem I hadn't thought of. My family moved around so much when I was growing up that nowhere really feels like home. Betazed, maybe? We stayed there for about six years when I was little. Otherwise, there's nowhere, really. Makes me a citizen of the galaxy, but it also makes it hard find a home base, as it were. So I guess that is another pro for the bowl." She reached over and put another strawberry in its place. "I won't have to search for a place to conduct my studies from like I would if, say, I waited 'til I got out of Starfleet."

Xex's hands clutched the edge of the table, as though to stop himself springing to his feet. His silvery features were alive with interest. "I've never been," he explained earnestly of his interest in the Wastes. Almost visibly, he shook himself and firmly reigned in his curiosity. This conversation was about Mei's future, not her past. There would be time for that later; after all, it wasn't as if they lived far apart. Nodding as she plopped the strawberry into its bowl, he hummed contemplatively. "What about your fellow anthropologists aboard? Will they be a help or a hindrance to you?" he asked, hand hovering back and forth over the two bowls.

"I hope they'll be a help, even if it's just defining some term or other. I know Starfleet people are just as flawed as anyone else, but they don't seem like the type to try to sabotage my career out of jealousy or something. So I guess that's another pro? Having help near to hand if I need it?" She dropped another strawberry into the bowl. "We keep this up, we're going to run out of strawberries. Which, I guess, is part of the point. Although, now that I think of it, I have colleagues nearby, but I won't exactly have a thesis advisor nearby. And given how long it can take communications to get back and forth between us and the Alpha Quadrant, that distance is a definite con." There was a soft 'clink' as a pretzel dropped into the 'con' bowl. "But then again, didn't Ensign Balsam finish up his Academy studies here? So all this can be done. It's just trickier than being there in person. I really sound like I'm talking myself into doing this, aren't I?"

As Xex listened with every evidence of intentness, a little smile appeared on his lips. It only widened as Mei continued, until he was full-on grinning by the time the rhetorical question was asked. And if there was one thing Xex loved to do, it was answer rhetorical questions seriously. He looked very carefully into each bowl, and if anything, his grin widened. "I believe the evidence speaks for itself," he said, gesturing expansively at the bowls, like someone unveiling a prize. "Although this experiment is obviously subjective, so too is the question we are answering. I have found the wisest course to almost always be listening to that little voice that is trying to talk me into-- or out of-- something. Pursuing your studies on board might not be the easiest option, but for myriad reasons," he nodded at the bowls, "perhaps it is the best?"

"I'm starting to think so," Mei said, selecting one of the remaining strawberries and popping it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, gaze distant while she thought something over. "I mean, studying for your doctorate isn't easy, no matter when or where you're doing it. So I've heard. So I might as well start where I've got a place to live and people to help me out while I'm doing it. I'm always going to be busy with something while I'm doing this, so maybe it will take longer. But that's okay. If I get the degree at the end of it, does it matter if it takes three years, or four?" She shrugged, then looked back up at Xex and grinned. "I suppose it's time to find that application and fill it out so I can get it sent out."

"Exactly!" Xex agreed, following her lead and popping the last remaining strawberry into his mouth. Around the juicy fruit, he said, "Even if it takes four years, at least you won't be stuck someplace boring." Certainly his time in the Delta Quadrant thus far could not have been described as boring. Swallowing the berry his face took on an almost-painful looking expression that was both hesitant and enthusiastic at once, as though he wanted to ask her something, but wasn't entirely sure how. Falling back on habit, he dove in directly. "Would you... like help?"

Mei hesitated for a moment and looked like she was about to say 'no', then stopped. "Yes. I would love some help. I should get used to asking for that, since it's going to take a lot of help to get through it." She laughed, and it sounded half-nervous and half-relieved. "So. Where do we start?"



--

A post by

Lt. Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer

and

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Anthropologist]]>
Wed, 13 Mar 2024 18:01:05 +0000
(Backpost) Into the Fryer https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/402 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/402
Mission - Mean Green Queen
Location - Executive Officer's Quarters
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0000

Leighton glanced at the name plates on the doors as he passed by each one as he searched for the right one. Having come aboard the hour before, Leighton had stowed his gear in his assigned quarters before being told to report to the XO in her quarters. He knew that on a ship like the Sojourner, space was limited so he wasn't surprised. Finding the right door, he paused long enough to make sure his uniform was presentable before he pressed the chime button.

Was this the second or third? Since the first arrival of new officers on the shuttle, Emni had put aside most of what she needed to do for the morning, opting instead to skim through reports that could be easily set aside. Perhaps she should have scheduled times with each, but she preferred that new officers get the opportunity to acquaint themselves with their new surroundings and perhaps take a moment to breathe before they reported to her. For this group, it seemed, most preferred to lead with reporting and do their breathing later.

"Come in," she said, her voice holding the tiniest bit of distraction as she set her empathic walls aside long enough to get a feel for the newcomer's emotional fingerprint. There'd be enough of them that day that taking a moment to be deliberate about the practice seemed warranted. Besides she'd been caught off guard with the first one to report.

Leighton stepped forward once the doors parted. After quickly surveying the room, he spotted his new XO seated at her desk and he strode over to it. He came to attention in front of the desk before speaking, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Romanowski reporting aboard ma'am," He then handed over the PADD he was holding in his right hand, "My orders and Pathfinder station orientation certification."

Accepting the PADD she waved a hand toward the young man to indicate he should relax before adding, "No need to stand on ceremony Lieutenant. At ease."

Her eyes scanned the PADD quickly, noting the salient details before setting it aside on her desk. "Welcome to the Sojourner," she said, extending a hand for Romanowski to shake. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Relaxing slightly, Leighton took the XO's proffered hand and gripped it firmly. "No, thank you ma'am. And it's a pleasure to be aboard," he said before placing his hands behind the small of his back. "The briefing at Pathfinder station was quite interesting. It's very much the last frontier out here," he said.

There was something of dry almost cynical humor in Emni's responding chuckle, but her expression remained warm as she indicated the couch and two chairs available for them to site. "It is at that," she remarked. "Both in opportunity for discovery and in the risk that comes along with pushing forward the boundaries of what the Federation considers known space."

Selecting one of the two chairs, Emni continued her thought. "Anything in particular catch your interest in that briefing?"

"The obvious was the similarity in technologies with some of the species we've already contacted. While they are all different, it is curious how closely compatible some are to Federation standards," Leighton said as he sat in the chair across from the XO. He kept his back straight in his chair as he looked her in the eye. He was never one for small talk with his superiors, and waited for her to make the next move.

"Indeed," the Romulan agreed. "That is convenient. I imagine it should help make your job at least somewhat easier along the way." She raised her eyebrows slightly then. "Are you a student of xeno-sociology?" she asked, wondering if perhaps the interest in this wasn't so much job related as it was an intellectual curiosity at the development of these civiliations.

"I'm afraid not ma'am. My talents at the academy were better spent on technical applications than xeno-sociology," Leighton offered. He'd run into this type of situation before, many of his colleagues always mistook his fascination for alien interfaces to equate to a sociological interest, but it was purely from a techincal standpoint. There were numerous ways to create computers and interfaces, yet every civilization in the Alpha and Beta quadrants had managed to follow the same developmental lines up to a point.

Nodding knowingly, Emni smiled. "You'll have to make it a point to meet Mr. Balsam. He's one of our systems specialists," she commented with a smile. "I imagine you'll both share a rather deep love of technologies. No doubt you'll run into him somewhere along the way. It's a small ship."

"I'm sure I will ma'am. I must say I'm surprised that a ship like the Sojourner was posted to the Delta quadrant. At first glance, i would not guess she was a deep space vessel," Leighton said making note of the name that the XO had mentioned.

"I can understand that," Emni replied knowingly. "I was on an Ambassador class that was deployed to the DQ first." Memories of the much larger Adelphi flitted through her head. After a minute pause she continued. "We brought her back to space dock completely beyond repair. She's been mothballed now. Turns out a smaller stealthier ship with the ability to go longer without docking for any kind of maintenance or restocking makes for a better deep space vessel."

The Vidiian clamps that had embedded deep into the Adelphi's hull sprang to the forefront of her memory. There had only been so much that Starfleet technology could do by that point. "A more heavily armored ship doesn't hurt either. There are many alike technologies, certainly. But there are equally as many unexpected ones or technologies who are used in such dramatically different ways as to be almost unrecognizable."

Leighton nodded in understanding as he recalled the details of the Adelphi's mission reports. There had been a brief mention of the Ambassador class ship and Leighton had researched more about the subject. If anything, the Adelphi was still proof that the Delta Quadrant was full of species that were hostile to the Federation. "There was a mention of the Adelphi, I can't imagine how she was able to make it back in one piece," Leighton said. His tone conveyed his respect for his new XO and also an acknowledgement of what she had been through.

"Rubber bands and paper clips," Emni muttered with an almost dark amusement. She frowned slightly, her brow creasing for a moment before it smoothed and she let out a long breath. "But there is plenty more time to talk of such things and you've clearly read the official report."

Without preamble, the long legged Romulan stood. "I'm afraid I'm also due elsewhere otherwise I'd be happy to sit and chat longer. Is there anything else I can do to help you settle in?" she asked, somehow managing not to seeme as though she were rushing despite the sudden move to depart.

Taking her leave, Leighton also stood before shaking his head. "No ma'am, I had plenty of time to study the layout of the ship. My orders didn't specify who my department head was," Leighton said as he placed his hands behind his back and waited for her response.

"You'll report to the Assistant Ops Chief, Lieutenant Cross," Emni said with a nod and a smile.

"Of course, I will report to Lieutenant Cross at once," Leighton said before coming to attention briefly and giving his new XO a nod and slight smile. "I'm happy to be aboard ma'am," he added finally before turning and exiting through the doorway out into the hall. He relaxed slightly, releasing a short breath before making his way towards the nearest turbolift. He was glad that there hadn't been any talk about his father, maybe that was a sign he would finally be able to make something of his own on this ship. He stepped into the turbolift when the doors opened and prepared himself to meet his immediate boss, eager for his new duties.

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Junior Grade Leighton Romanowski
Operations Officer
]]>
Mon, 04 Mar 2024 21:38:19 +0000
Into the Welds https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/414 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/414
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Welds, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2115

[The Welds]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 2115 Hours]


Though they'd only been on the station for a few hours, it felt like the Starfleet away teams had been on Hukatuse for days. So much had happened that it was hard to believe that, only a scant three hours prior, everyone had been safely tucked away aboard the Sojourner. But as the hours had passed aboard the station, events had unspooled at an alarming rate, leaving some imprisoned and terribly injured while others had gone outright missing entirely.

Commander t'Nai -- in conjunction with Hukatuse's Governor -- had worked to free those who'd been thrown in The Hole. The incident had begun with a simple misunderstanding that transformed into a major crime, which landed Timmoz and his team in the station's prison. And while the Governor had agreed to free the Orion and his compatriots, their release didn't take place until after a brutal prison-yard brawl. With the team free, Timmoz had been rushed to the station's Infirmary, where Doctors Zamaya, Wang, and Marwol worked quickly to stabilize the flight controller enough to be moved back to the Sojourner.

The Starfleet doctors had accompanied Timmoz back to the ship in hopes of saving Timmoz' life but the situation looked quite grim. Meanwhile, Cross' injuries -- not nearly severe as the Orion's -- had been attended to by Hukatuse nurses and the woman was released in much better shape than she'd arrived. But "better shape" did not mean "perfect shape" and the Operations officer would no doubt struggle with some of the healing still left to be done. But at least she'd been patched up enough to accompany Romanowski, Qo, Parsons, and Ratthi on their (hopefully) last assignment of the mission.

Learning of the lead to Kaldri obtained in The Hole, t'Nai had ordered the quartet into the Welds to find her. This part of the station existed in the lawless welds between various structures that made up Hukatuse. For in these junction points of mismashed structures and technology lived all manner of beings who sought not to be found or bothered. Even the station's Enforcers didn't come down to this area, the Governor considering this particularly dangerous part of the station not worth the effort to search.

Parts of The Welds' outer skin frequently broke apart, exposing the innards of the area to the vacuum outside. And while patch jobs were done from the outside, it often took days or weeks for repair crews to get to them. Meaning that those who lived down here risked exposure to airlessness and extreme cold on a routine basis. As the Starfleet team entered the area -- clad in protective gear they'd purchased in The Exchange before heading down here -- they saw the occasional alien darting away from them down the twisting corridors that made up this place.

If they were to find Kaldri, it wasn't going to be a random encounter in a hallway. It would take intentional searching to track the Kazon down and who knew what they would run into along the way. Luckily -- under the leadership of Lieutenant Cross -- the Starfleet team had their tricorders and hand phasers on hand to aid in the effort.

To say but Victoria was happy to be outside of a maximum-security prison would be an understatement. Though the nurses had done a good job to treat her more serious injuries, namely broken ribs and a fractured orbital bone, she was still gravely bothered by the events that had transpired. Timmoz was injured, severely, leaving Victoria in command of the the away mission in his absence. With communicators and hand phasers handed out, she had taken a moment to get her breath and bearings, before turning to her crewmates assigned to the mission.

Victoria ran a hand through her hair, and spoke." I think for the sake of safety and efficiency I think we should all stay grouped and put our heads together. The brawl doesn't need to derail the mission. We need to find leads, we need to get Kaldri, we need to get back on the ship. So let's gather what we do know. We know that the brute in the prison called her a saboteur, and she is a point of consternation among some in the station. Did you find out anything on your end of the investigation before the fracas?"

"Only that Kaldri had been treated at the infirmary for some injuries she had sustained. Then she was arrested. Aside from that, we weren't able to learn much before they brought you and Lieutenant Timmoz into the infirmary," Leighton offered to his superior before he looked over to Axod in case he was forgetting something.

The Doosodarian listened as Victoria and Leighton spoke. He met Leighton's gaze. "That's pretty much the whole of it." Axod nodded his head. "That Doctor Zamaya wasn't an easy nut to crack." He added, fiddling with his tricorder to ensure it was working effectively. His smooth forehead furrowed as he fumbled with the device in his gloved hand.

"I spoke with a woman in the prison," Mei spoke up then. "She said she'd met a Kazon, I assume it was Kaldri, but that she'd been taken by the Enforcers in the morning. I don't know which morning. She also said something like, 'if she had known to go to the Welds like Zdzisław said', but then she didn't say anything about it after that. There was a bit of a commotion going on. It upset her before I could get anything else out of her. I don't know if Zdzisław was in the prison or out of it. I don't suppose any of you have heard of him?"

"Zdzisław, I haven't heard of him, but he's a good lead as any. It wouldn't be out of the question to assume Kaldri has good mates and people on her side. That being said, I think our best option right now is to pound dirt and ask questions. Be wary of the airless areas, we have our protective gear on for a reason. This place is a patch job hellhole dwelled by only the desperate. If Kaldri is hiding, logic dictates it must be here."

Victoria pulled on her vacuum helmet, before turning to Mei, looking through the transparent face screen of her helm. "Ms. Mei, were you given any description of this Zdzisław fella?"

Mei shook her head. "No. All I got was the name. No sense of race or gender or anything. I wanted to ask more, but like I said. The woman I was talking to was distracted. She didn't seem to think much of Kaldri, either, assuming that's who she was talking about at all. The server I was talking to at the bar seemed like he knew her, too, but I didn't get the chance to ask before station security showed up."

"At least we're connecting all the dots," Parsons spoke up from the rear of the group, eyes having been glued to his tricorder. He wasn't the most comfortable person in social situations -- made even worse confronting the dangers of the station -- but he could interact well enough when work gave him a reason to. "I'm picking up signs of life down here. A bunch of them, actually," he said, looking to Cross by means of reporting. "The problem is, there's some sort of scattering effect happening down here. I don't think it's from any kind of artificial generator or anything. Just all the metals and magnetic fields in this area wreaking havoc on sensors.|

"I can give us a general direction to the highest concentration of beings though," Parsons explained. "But we might have to walk around a lot to find them. Maybe this Zdzisław person is wherever they are?" The engineer pointed to the right and made a curving motion with his arm, indicating the team should follow the corridor around its bend.

"Alright, crew, let's move on. Lots of ground to cover down here."

As the away team had cautiously navigated the decrepit corridors of The Welds, they'd been struck by the sheer magnitude of the station's disrepair in this particular area. The walls were patched together with salvaged scrap metal, and the floors were littered with debris -- it was as if no one bothered to maintain any semblance of repair down here. This particular section of Hukatuse seemed to groan and creak under its own weight, as if barely holding itself together. Despite the danger, though, the team had a job to do and so they navigated the maze of corridors until they'd finally come upon the settlement Parsons had been detecting an hour earlier.

As their eyes drank in the scenery ahead, it was apparent that the living conditions in the settlement were appalling. Makeshift shelters made from scrap metal and salvaged materials offered little protection from the cold and the air was thick with the stench of decay and desperation. Barrel fires provided the only source of light and warmth, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the aliens that passed by. The away team was met with wary glances from those inhabitants, who seemed to blend in and out of the shadows as they went about their business. Unlike the denizens up in the main areas of the station, these people were armed with heavy-duty weapons: rifles and long swords were commonly seen slung over shoulders or across backs.

Despite the grim surroundings, the away team pressed on, determined to find Kaldri and complete their mission. They knew that time was short as every moment spent down in The Welds increased their risk of encountering danger. With their phasers at the ready, they continued their search, hoping that their efforts would not be in vain, but no matter where they looked, there was no sign of the Kazon they'd been sent after: only aquatic-looking face after other exotic-looking faces. It was clear that a visual search alone wasn't going to lead them to their quarry. But their tricorders, however, might as, all at once, they all began to trill, a message appearing on screen...

[Kazon lifesign detected]
[Lifesign confined to 100 meter radius]
[Further localization is not currently available]


"She's here," Parsons said, both shock and relief in his voice. Their tricorders all said the same thing but somehow, vocalizing it helped relieve some of the anxiety he'd been feeling over the last hour. "Not sure exactly where but she's definitely here," he vocalized, trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Their trip down here might not have been in vain after all.

"Great work on the scans, Parsons, we'll be home before you know it. Ms. Mai, Mr. Axod, I think the four of us should stay together for the sake of safety, seeing as splitting up has proven a bit disastrous earlier. She's within walking distance, so maybe we would do our best with some focused tricorder scans, though I know we have some issues with interference. Try adjusting the sensor frequency in your tricorders to account for the interference."

She removed her tricorder from her belt and began to program it, accounting to the best of her ability with guesswork related to the metals in the surrounding area of the station.

Axod nodded in his helmet. "An old colleague of mine introduced me to a mystery-themed cartoon from Earth's 20th century, Scooby Doo. Ever heard of it?" He smiled widely. "Anyways, according to that cartoon, your logic about not splitting up seems pretty sound." He shrugged playfully and then returned his gaze to his own Tricorder and kept his eyes on the readings."

"Yeah, I haven't had great luck with splitting up on Away missions so far," Mei said, occasionally glancing at her tricorder as she examined the corridors around them. "I didn't really interact with Kaldri. If someone else did, where do you think she would have gone? Somewhere where there are more people to hide among, or somewhere with fewer people so she can be alone?"

"My interactions with her were brief. But she seemed like a loner," Parsons spoke up, eyes still glued to the screen of his scanner as he thought back to his interactions with the Kazon woman on the Waverider. "She also seemed concerned about us getting hurt as collateral damage because of her."

"That's because," a slightly muffled voice came from the side, "you people don't know when to leave well enough alone." The voice was husky and dark but there was also, perhaps, a hint of wry sarcasm? "If your Doctor Wang hadn't insisted on taking me back to your shuttle for treatment, you all wouldn't be wrapped up in this mess now. Speaking of which: what the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

There she was: Kaldri, standing there with hands on her hips and a snarl across her face. The clothes -- well, "clothes" was charitable for they looked more like rags -- she wore were dirty and full of holes. A hood was oddly pulled up over her head but did little to hide the misshapen helmet of clumpy hair situated wreathing her crown and face. A weapon had been drawn but the Kazon woman was not currently directing it at anyone. It was held loosely at her side as the woman looked over the team before her.

"Malik sent word that people were asking around about me," Kaldri named the bartender and power broker from the Gravity Well. "Said you wanted to help me but he couldn't be sure you were on the up and up. Wasn't until some of you got badly hurt while asking about me that he knew you could be trusted. Which is why," her snarl turned into a smirk, "you weren't immediately gang-shanked when you decided to come down here looking for me." Ah, so that explained why no one had stopped the Starfleeters from rooting around down in the Welds.

"You doing OK there, Jo? Heard you got beat up pretty bad," the Kazon asked, tossing a pointed chin Victoria's way -- only she didn't know the woman as Victoria, only "Jo," the name she'd given at the bar. "Captain Brimson's a friend of mine," Kaldri clarified. "Should have kept drinking with him. Might have avoided your little trip to the Hole."

"Maybe, but my luck doesn't usually work like that. Ms. Kaldri, my name is Lieutenant Victoria Cross of the USS Sojourner, where I'm the acting Chief Operations Officer. This is Ms. Mei, Mr. Parsons, and Mr. Axod. The reason we braved the Welds and all we've been through today is we need your help. We know you led Subrek away from the moon recently, but his ship is too much for us to take on without a plan, and a plan works best with information. You know about Subrek in ways we don't, and if we work together, we can understand how he came into the possession of such advanced technology."

"Ah," Kaldri's smirk became a snarl again. "So you're not here to try to help me. You're here to help you. And here I thought Wang's assertions of altruism just might be for real. You know," she actually tsk'd, "I could have flown around that moon at low altitude and then gone to warp on the other side. But I flew right past his ship so he'd be incensed enough to go after me instead of you." There was a hardness to her eyes now, visible even in the flickering flames from the fire barrel she stood near. "Malik said I probably shouldn't trust you. Maybe he was right."

"Maybe," Mei spoke up suddenly, "there there are advantages for both of us. This doesn't have to be a zero-sum game, with one side winning everything and the other losing everything. For whatever reason, Subrek wants both of us- you, and the lot of us from Starfleet. He's a lot stronger than we anticipated, but then, a lot of our information about the Kazon is out of date. You could help us figure him out, and in return, we can provide you with something you need. Medical care, maybe, or a new wardrobe, or a lifetime supply of popsicles. I don't know. But we have a common enemy and a lot we could gain from each other if we learned to trust each other. We might not all be as altruistic as Dr. Wang, but we do our best. And if, in a couple of weeks, you can't stand the sight of us anymore, you can tell us to bugger off and drop you off at the nearest port. Sound reasonable?"

"Pop...sicles?" Kaldri's brow furrowed in confusion, the Kazon unfamiliar with the term.

The question was let go, however, as the gears in her mind almost visibly worked on Mei's proposed thinking. Face cast in alternating flame and shadow, the woman's eyes narrowed as she regarded the Starfleeters, her thoughts dwelling on the offer. Truth told, she'd been rather cornered down in the Welds: Malik had exerted his influence to get her released her from the Hole -- possible because she failed to actually steal anything -- but the sensor-dead areas of the station -- perfect for hiding from Subrek's bounty hunters -- weren't exactly comfortable living. And without a working ship or money to book passage, she was rather trapped on Hukatuse. These people were offering her a way out.

The idea of a mutually beneficial exchange must have been appealing because, after several long and quiet moments, Kaldri's snarl once again de-escalated into a smirk. "Fine. I'll help you with your problem if you help me with mine. But," the Kazon holstered her weapon and held up a finger in warning, "good medical care, plentiful supplies, and a ship -- not a drop off -- would be just the first set of asks if I'm going to tell you what I know. If you people can make that happen, then you have a deal. But let's not dally, hmm? It's fucking cold down here and I haven't eaten properly in two days. Just one question," she said, eyebrows lifted. "How're you going to get me back to your ship? Can't exactly parade through the Exchange on the way to the Docks."

"No sensors down here means we could use the transporter," Parsons offered, speaking up from the back of the pack.

"Food, clothing, anything you could want is on the Sojourner. I wouldn't dream of asking your assistance without offering you some in turn. Starfleet reciprocates, you'll just have to talk to the Captain I'm sure he'll accommodate your need for a ship." She turned to Mr. Parsons. "That's right. Without them scanning for a transport signature, we could give 'em the slip." She's tap the combadge on her vacuum suit. "Sojourner, this is Lieutenant Cross, down in the lower levels. Can you get a fix on my combadge signal? We've found Kaldri, and we have five to beam out."

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Ensign Sheldon Parsons
Engineering Officer

Lieutenant Victoria Cross
Assistant Operations Chief

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant JG Leighton Romanowski
Operations Officer

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Science Officer]]>
Thu, 29 Feb 2024 22:41:05 +0000
Running and Gunning https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/412 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/412
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Apartment 1317, Habitation Sector
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2041

[Apartment 1317]
[Habitation Sector]
[MD 2: 1947 Hours]


As soon as Gorn-Kodak had ripped the apartment door free and thrown it aside, the shooting had begun.

Drol and the Chameloid — bereft of ranged weapons of their own — had ducked to either side of the large hole now opening the apartment to the Habitation Sector at large. And it was through that hole that a stream of viridian pulses was now flashing past their crouched heads to incinerate the sofa that had ultimately led to the pair’s freedom from their restraints.

“Wasn’t the most comfortable couch but it didn’t dessserve that,” the Gorn sissed with a growly-chuckle to Drol.

Pressed back against the bulkhead, hoping it was more solid than it looked, Drol glanced sidelong at the Gorn. "At least this way they can replace it with one that doesn't smell like human feet," she shot back.

Humor — always with the joking where Kodak was concerned. It calmed his anxieties and the Captain deeply appreciated Drol’s own penchant for the same, for whatever personal reason the quipping served the Cardassian as well.

Drol made an abortive attempt to glance out of the hole Kodak had torn in the wall, pressed back into cover by the barrage of energy weapon fire. Her nervous system was still buzzing from her last run-in with it; she had no desire to repeat the experience. "How many can there be?" she asked mostly rhetorically as the greenish blasts continued through the hole where the door used to be.

Leaning ever so slightly to his side, the Chameloid-turned-human-turned-Gorn peered through the hole as best he could without getting his face blasted off. Rather than slitted, reptilian eyes, Kodak's familiar gaze -- the downside of a Chameloid's imperfect shapeshifting abilities -- studied the walkway and greenery beyond the ground floor apartment. As another pair of pulses blazed past — eliciting an even deeper duck from Kodak — he finally got a sight of what they were up against.

“Two people. I do not see the Hirogen. These must be underlingsss,” the Gorn hissed. “I’m going to use this as a shield,” he said, reaching with his long arms and claws for the twisted door he’d tossed aside moments earlier. “I’ll run out towards them to draw their fire. Think you can sssneak out and around them?” he asked of Drol.

If the Cardassian could use the plentiful greenery out there to disguise her movements as she shifted from cover to cover, perhaps Drol could take at least one of the bounty hunters out while Gorn-Kodak was distracting them-- it wasn't a bad plan, except that it put the captain of the damn ship straight into harm's way.

Keeping her head low, Drol glanced out and was chased back again by the barrage of fire. Her brief glimpse did not present any better plans and she clenched her jaw in frustration. "I don't like not knowing where that Hirogen is," she said, while her brain furiously sorted through ideas and immediately discarded them. She came up with nothing better.

Well so be it. If a bad plan was their only plan, she would just have to make sure it went off without a hitch.

Right. Because that had gone so well so far.

Resettling her grip on her mallet, Drol set her features, reaching for that place of steel, the one that had gotten her to where she was today, the one that wouldn't bend despite the destruction of her home or the loss of her family or the crushing disappointment of her father. She reached for the steel and said finally, "Yes." With that, she made herself meet the Gorn's unsettling reptilian eyes, and finding Kodak's familiar golden gaze staring out from them, she gave a sharp nod.

"Then we go. And we go hard," Kodak said, returning the Cardassian's nod. Holding the door aloft like a tower shield, the lizard-like man gathered his legs and counterbalancing-tail underneath him, consolidating his strength over his center of gravity. The Gorn looked almost cat-like as he wriggled his hind end slightly in preparation to dart forward. And then it happened: explosively and with a great guttural roar as the the reptilian sprang through the hole, pushing against the energy blasts splashing against the door held in his claws.

Drol was a half-step behind, crouching low to make herself as small a target, and to take as much advantage of the dubious cover of the door as was possible. She made a quick visual sweep of the area, assuring herself that the disruptor-- or whatever it was they used here-- fire was indeed coming from only one direction. Indeed it was, but there was plenty of it; it lit up the corridor, splashing against the floorplates and the repurposed door in Kodak's claws, casting the entire scene in eerie, strobing light. Knowing that there was no way Kodak could hold the door against the underlings indefinitely, Drol chose her moment without delay, when Kodak leapt at the leftmost attacker.

Quick as a darting wompat Drol shot forward, low and to the right side of Kodak and his door, taking a few hunched running steps before diving forward to barge into the lower body/knee area on most humanoids. She was fortunate this one was built like most humanoids. She was not fortunate to be fast enough to avoid all of their fire; a searing flash of electric pain shot through her booted foot. Ignoring it as best she could, Drol bore the underling down, grappling for their weapon as she shot a vicious elbow to their face and took a knee to her own. Once again, she was fortunate: her own visage was protected by a considerable array of bony protrusions, while the underling's crunched like a wet melon beneath the sharp impact of her elbow. Dazed, they released the weapon and she immediately turned it on them, firing a quick series of pulses straight into their head without even a momentary pause for the expected Starfleet mercy.

The Captain might have arched a scaly eyebrow at Drol's use of lethal force -- had he been facing that direction and seen it -- but the Gorn-shifted Chameloid was too focused on his own prey to have noticed. The door had, thanks to the repeated energy blasts, become a bit molten on its outer surface. This made the door more malleable than it had been before, something which Kodak was using to his advantage. Strong arms had turned the door length-wise and were now bending the metal around the other bounty hunter. The man in question screamed in quite a lot of literal white-hot pain before the sheer overwhelm of sensation rendered him unconscious.

"That'ssss two," the Gorn hissed, having turned to Drol, spying her handiwork as she climbed laboriously to her feet. If he had a comment on the Cardassian taking a headshot -- several of them, really -- it went unvoiced. Instead, Kodak looked around wildly before spying what he'd been in search of: a sign across the courtyard denoting a path to The Exchange: the heart of Hukatuse's economy and probably the most public -- and thus safest -- place on the whole station. "I'm sure their friends will be coming. We should make our exit, hmm?" Had Kodak been in human form, his right hand would have reached up to gently stroke his bearded chin. Instead the sharp black talons of his hand scraped against scaly skin.

Testing her foot with her weight, Drol winced. Well goody. This was going to be fun. The appendage buzzed with the high-powered stun's after-effects and she found she couldn't trust it with her full weight. Gritting her teeth, she reminded herself that some weight-bearing was better than none and resolutely turned her attention to the signage Kodak had spied. "And fast," Drol agreed of beating a hasty retreat. Glancing quickly at the scraping noise, and then away-- Kodak's mannerisms in the Gorn's body was oddly unsettling, in a familiar sort of way-- Drol limped past the lightly roasted underling, scooping up his energy weapon and handing it to Kodak while she took a point position.

Kodak took the energy weapon and nodded. As the Cardassian led the way, the Captain noted Drol's favoring of her foot, which led his golden eyes to take in the damage that had been done there. It looked very painful but the security officer was powering forward without complaint. He admired that but also worried about the sustainability of that approach. If they'd had more time, he'd have tried to attend to the injury with the medical supplies back in the apartment. Unfortunately, Subrek's bounty hunters were absolutely not going to give them that chance. So Kodak, too, powered forward, ready to catch and carry the Cardassian if needed.

It was as well Drol was leading the way so she couldn't catch the captain's expression; if there was one thing she hated, it was being the weak link. So, fortunately ignorant of his attention, and heavily favoring her left foot so as to avoid the entire limb collapsing out from under her, Drol set a pace that was brisk if not as fast as it might have been. Numbing cream was great, but phaser wounds did not heal themselves and she had no desire to further injure either Kodak or herself. In any case, it gave her time to scan for hostiles. She knew they must be inbound; the underlings would have alerted their pals that an escape was in progress. At least, that's what she would have done. Her skin prickled, as they crossed the open space of the courtyard, keeping to cover as best they could. Glancing back over her shoulder at the reassuring bulk of Gorn-Kodak, she said, "I'm sure I can find the ship from here, sir. Tactically, you should grow some wings and return to the Sojourner with all possible haste." Her tone was oddly resigned; if he'd done what was tactically expedient from the beginning, they probably wouldn't even be here right now, and she had little hope that his policy would change.

To Drol's urging, the Captain shook his head. "It's taking most of my energy to hold this form right now. Given my injuries, I'm honestly not sure I could shift to something else right now. Besides, leaving you on your own wouldn't be polite. I'm a gentleman, after all," he smirked at Drol, the version of the half-smile on his face looking somewhat terrifying on a Gorn. What the Cardassian had said was true, though: if he'd been on his own from the outset, he could have ducked behind a gaming machine in the casino, become someone else, and walked away from the bounty hunters without them being the wiser. But he hadn't been about to leave Drol to their clutches then and he certainly wasn't going to now.

"Oh, my most sincere apologies," Drol said, half-turning from her scan ahead to drop him an exaggerated bow that was half old-earth curtsey, half respectful Cardassian genuflection, and owing to her injured foot, lopsided to boot, "sir, I certainly wouldn't want to intimate that you were anything but." She contained her expression to a smirk, dark eyes glittering, then sobering as eyed him carefully for a brief moment to assure herself he wasn't going to collapse. Not satisfied, but equally unsure she'd be able to tell if a Gorn was about to fall on his face, she gave up and continued forward, hardly missing a step.

And so they trudged forward, passing through the archway leading in the direction of The Exchange. The hallway -- well, really more of a tunnel -- spanned the vacuum between the main hulk of Hukatuse and the Habitation Sector, which had been welded on like an afterthought. On either side of Drol and Kodak, transparent windows looked out into space and across the landscape of the station's hull. Inside, however, various aliens in all manner of composition passed back and forth through this passage; any one of them could be working for Subrek's bounty hunters. All Kodak and Drol could do was keep their eyes open and pay as much attention to their surroundings as possible. This strategy served them well until, alas, it didn't.

A ringing disruptor blast -- shot overhead -- diverged the crowd ahead. As the people parted, running in fear, Korvas stood amongst the throng with a sneer across his mottled face. Small and thin for a Hirogen -- possibly a runt cast out from his nomadic pod -- the leader of the bounty hunters threw back his head in a throaty, growling kind of laugh. "Did you really think you'd rejoin your ship so easily?" he asked. "I admit, that apartment wasn't the best cell to keep you but sometimes, you just have to make do. But," he hissed, "I'm afraid I can't have you leaving the station. At least, not until Subrek arrives to take you himself."

"Why, with the talking?" Drol muttered to herself, having ducked to one side, taking what shelter she could against the curving side of the corridor. "Always with the talking."

Over Korvas' shoulder, The Exchange was visible in the distance. Its glowing lights and cacophony of sound beckoned like a beacon in the night. But the Hirogen and his Right and Left Hands -- the Haazari man and the Vaadwaur woman the Starfleeter's had seen previously -- stood like an impenetrable wall between Kodak, Drol, and freedom. "Subrek wants you alive but he said nothing of taking you healthy. Let's see what we can do about that, hmm?" At that, they all raised their weapons and began to fire.

Drol spit a Cardassian curse and plastered herself against the bulkhead, presenting as small a target as she could. The thinning press of people provided some cover, morally dubious though that was, and amidst the screaming and fleeing, she was able to press herself close to the windows, reasoning that Subrek's minions would avoid damaging the superstructure and subjecting them all to the decidedly unhealthy vacuum of space. As she skirted forward, she set to firing her own disruptor with skill, if not the precision she normally prided herself on, avoiding bystanders and windows, but unable to be particularly affective at hitting the trio in their way. Turned out flesh wounds affected your aim. Go figure.

Most of the hostile fire was concentrated on Kodak as both the easiest and most dangerous target. As Kodak's security detail, Drol was immediately certain that simply wouldn't do. Nevertheless, it did give her an opening as she stepped out from behind a towering, fishy-smelling alien to find herself within grabbing distance of the Vaadwaur. She'd occasionally heard her crewmates refer to them as 'knock off Cardassians' in casual conversation about who they might come across in the Delta Quadrant, and perhaps in calmer circumstances she could have seen the resembleace, but here, now, fighting for her freedom-- and perhaps her life-- she could only scoff at the comparison. If this was a knock off Cardassian, Drol hoped the Hirogen hadn't spent much on her.

"Hey," Drol growled, which while lacking in wit, had the advantage of being incredibly direct. It had the immediate effect of drawing the Vaadwaur's attention which meant less attention on Kodak which was good. But it meant a well aimed palm-strike at her face, which was bad. Drol weaved to the side, catchign the strike on the scaled, muscled edge of her neck, and using the momentum of the move to half spin, barging her shoulder into the Vaadwaur's center of mass to overbalance the woman backward. Anything to stop the Vaadwaur firing point-blank at her. It worked-- sort of. The woman did stumble, a shot going wide and splashing harmlessly against the metallic superstructure between two windows, but she also caught a hold of Drol's swinging braid-- such a good idea in her room aboard the Sojo, such a terrible idea how she was in a firefight-- and jerking viciously, dragged the Cardassian closer.

Drol stumbled on her half-stunned foot, wrenched forward by her hair, and managed to overbalance the both of them. Twisting desperately as they fell, she grappled with the Vaadwaur, each striking the other to either dislodge her, or stop her using her weapon, neither managing to claim the upper hand. Drol's injuries counted against her, but it seemed whatever else she was, she was a scrappy, dirty fighter, more vicious by a noticeable margin than the Vaadwaur.

Kodak, meanwhile, was engaged with both Korvas and his Haazari henchman. He'd made it past the initial burst of disruptor fire with a powerful leap but, even at close quarters now, the two were still trying to fire at him. Shots were going wide, however, thanks to the unexpected benefits of having a tail. It turned out they were great not just for keeping one's balance, but also for swatting at the second assailant while attacking the first with his claws. Kodak made a mental note to talk to Gar'rath about said tail benefits when next he saw the Operations officer...assuming, of course, he'd survive the scrap and make it back to do so.

As the Gorn continued to rake at Korvas, the Haazari tried to dodge backwards from the reptilian tail. He was successful — sort of — but while he’d avoided getting hit, the motion caused him to land on his ankle in an odd way, causing it to collapse underneath him, resulting in a fall. Unfortunately he’d also been in the process to trying to aim a shot at said Gorn but it ended up flying not at the Captain but, instead, past him. While the positive was that the bolt avoided hitting innocent bystanders, the negative was that it flashed against the transparent glass that formed one of the smaller causeway port holes. Even more negative was that said glass cracked loudly in response and collapsed in on itself.

As the resultant shards of glass were sucked out into space, so too was the surrounding air. With a growing roar, the rushing wind of inhaling vacuum pulled at those still trying to run away from the skirmish. While the opening into space wasn’t larger than, say, an Earthen basketball, the hole was still large enough for the force to tug at various items that -- until only moments prior -- had been carefully placed throughout the area. Signs from nearby stalls had come loose and flew across the causeway, impacting against the open portal and sticking in place until the force cracked and broke them, their pieces then flying outside as well.

The causeway's exposure to space set off local alarms, with various lights flashing their verdant warnings -- why green meant "danger" on Hukatuse was anyone's guess -- as klaxons began to blare. To seal the Exchange off from the danger in the corridor, a large metal doorway had then begun to lower. Kodak and Drol's window of escape was literally closing before their eyes and if they stayed embroiled with Korvas and his thugs, they'd be trapped behind with nowhere to go but back the way they'd come.

"Drol!" Kodak shouted, head butting the Hirogen and using the momentum to push him off his feet and into a prone position. "We have to GO!" the Chameloid-as-Gorn roared throatily, turning to bare his fangs at the Haazari. The act of intimidation had been effective enough to stall another blast, which gave the Captain a moment to spring forward and backhand the weapon away.

"No kidding!" Drol snarled back, though the snarl was for her Vaadwur clinger-on than for Kodak. The snake-headed woman had opted to wrap the Cardassian up in a tangle of limbs, trying to wrestle her down to the ground. But the security officer was having exactly none of that and decided a little foul play was in order. Sinking her teeth into the bared hand of her attacker, she bit down hard enough to draw blood...blood and a satisfying shriek of pain that resulted in the grip on her arms slackening.

With a well-timed half-spin, half-shoulder throw, Drol sent the Vaadwur careening onto her back. A quick heel-stomp of the woman's head ended the scuffle, though whether Korvas' goon was dead or just unconscious wasn't apparent. The Cardassian didn't particularly care either way. Running forward, she popped off two quick shots -- one at Korvas himself as he attempt to stand, the other at the Haazari who was trying to back away from a face full of Gorn -- and then yelled "You coming or not?" as she raced past the Captain, knowing he'd fall in line behind her.

Whatever reply Kodak made was lost to the roar of the wind but the Gorn was, indeed, following. With Drol taking point to keep the way clear, the Captain bounded forward, the pair of them clearing the lowering edge of the door in a sort of half-duck, half-side. Just as the portal was about to close off the corridor complete, they both skidded their weapons underneath and then stood, entering the crowds of the Exchange as if the battle they'd just escaped hadn't taken place. Looking behind them as they disappeared into the throngs, they could see Enforcers and repair personnel running for the door.

Several minutes later, having reached the Docks and the ramp leading up into the Sojourner, the pair stopped to catch their collective breath. The two security officers stationed at the bottom of the ramp provided more than enough coverage for a few moments of calm before striding up into the ship.

"Please relay to Commander t'Nai and Mr. Oliveria that we're safe and coming aboard," Kodak ordered one of the officers before turning to his Cardassian companion. As the officer did as bid, he quirked an eyebrow at Drol. "Had enough of this place?"

"I am so ready to get off this forsaken station," Drol answered, still trying to smooth down the lanks of hair the Vaadwur had taken pleasure in pulling. "You?"

"I do believe I am," Kodak nodded. "But drinks on the Sojo are on me," the Captain promised.

"Pretty sure Debbie doesn't charge you for the good stuff, sir," Drol replied drolly, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe not," Kodak smirked, "but I usually have to listen to her stories about being a floozie at the Academy in payment. That," he held up a staying hand, "is cost a'plenty."

With a shared laugh, the pair began up the gangway.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Kodak
Commanding Officer

Ensign Eekit Drol
Security Officer

Korvas and his goons (Brad)

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Thu, 29 Feb 2024 22:09:33 +0000
The Gov https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/410 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/410
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Just outside of The Governor's Office
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2030

[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[Governor's Office]
[MD 2 - approx 2030]
[Immediately following Needle in a Haystack]

It hadn't taken them long to sort out the location of the Governor's office. It had, however, taken some doing to navigate there. The location of the man, who they had learned was a Talaxian named Raxol Dendrak, was at the epicenter of the station's bustling marketplace. The marketplace, referred to as The Exchange, was situated near the middle of the station, numerous decks higher than the deep belly of the place where they'd encountered the two unusual aliens at The Gravity Well bar.

They'd taken the lifts -- Emni receiving a few check ins from teams as they went -- before finding themselves amidst the teeming press of bodies and noise that made up The Exchange. To Emni the place felt like walking into a wall of sound. The press of bodies was not so tight that they couldn't walk, but it was certainly true that they couldn't walk three abreast. Emni, Durand, and Bridgeport made up a sort of close linked chain with the security officer taking up the rear and Emni at the front. Her empathic sense was tamped down tightly so that the barrage of unfamiliar emotional fingerprints was more like a low murmur than a torrent of emotions. Even then, it was clear that everyone here was on edge and the Romulan woman found it difficult to separate the sensation from her own emotional state.

Of the several check ins along the way one had come from the Sojourner herself; a message letting her know that Lieutenant Margarar, who had been detained with an urgent engineering task after their transit through the nebula, had been dispatched and would meet them at their destination. They'd settled on lingering near a stand just to the right of the Governor's established home base and, in an attempt to blend in, each held a stick of some sort of grilled meat.

"Any sign of Lieutenant Margarar?" Emni asked, not exactly directing the question to either officer so much as filling the space while they waited.

Bridgeport -- who was mid-bite but held an answer -- chewed the rest of the meat morsel in his mouth at warp speed and then swallowed. "Petty Officer Jenkins is on his way with her," he said, gesturing up to his earpiece. He'd been communicating with the various security teams and officers with it, directing their movements and actions and keeping abreast of various goings-on. "Should be arriving any time now, I'd say. In fact," he pointed to the south, "there they are now."

Walking beside the Antican, the Petty Officer Bridgeport had mentioned -- a strapping human of no more than 22 by the looks of him -- strode up and nodded first to his immediate boss and then to t'Nai. "Sorry for the delay, sirs," Jenkins said. "There were a lot of crowds between the Sojourner and here. I thought about just trying to run right through it, but figured that might draw too much attention down on us. So, we took our time and pretended to shop a little to throw off anyone watching us."

"Good thinking," Bridgeport nodded, approving of the plan. "Head back to the Sojourner. Let me know when you've made it back safely," the security chief ordered.

"Aye sir," Jenkins nodded. With a parting glance to his charge and the others, the Petty Officer turned about and headed back the way he and Margarar had come.

The Antican had a scowl on her face and her eyes appeared to be a bit more weathered than the last time that anyone saw her. Whatever had detained her in Engineering took a toll on her, whether she was willing to admit it or not (and most likely, she would not admit it). The fact that the Petty Officer spoke before her and did not allow her to run through the crowd, despite his misgivings did not make her feel any better about the situation. "Young pup," she whispered in a disbelieving and slightly infuriated tone. If only they would get off her lawn. After all, peeing on it only made acid spots and yellowed perfectly good green grass.

"I apologize for the delay," Margarar explained to the others. "While I did not necessarily agree with the Petty Officer's strategy, it did give me the opportunity to get some fresh meat into my stomach." She smiled, showing her sharp canines, which had a bit of red stuck between them still on her left side. "Catch me up," she instructed the others.

Emni caught the instructing tone of the Lieutenant and raised an eyebrow, but opted to take it in stride. "So far two groups, ours included, report that the man who refers to himself as the Governor, is a solid lead for us. We're heading in to meet with him once you're briefed. He was seen with Kaldri in some sort of disagreement and our informant seems to believe this wasn't the first time that was the case. Ensign Balsam did track down the comm badge which seems to have changed hands in some sort of financial arrangement. It hasn't been recovered, but that's a consideration for later, after we find Kaldri."

Emni paused for a fraction of a second as if considering her next statement. "Some of our teams have found themselves in... unusual... circumstances," she continued. "We're hoping the Governor will be the key to sorting those out as well."

The Romulan lifted both eyebrows this time at the Antican woman. "Any questions?"

Margarar thought about the situation. "What do we know about this Governor or his relationship with Kaldri, other than the disagreement?"

"Very little," Emni confessed. "Their office is on the station map, so there's some official element to their title. And they are involved in at least some business dealings. Our contact saw the exchange because they were there to meet the Governor for a business conversation. Certainly this is a person with a great deal of influence throughout the station and we can draw some conclusions from that. Kaldri needed something and the Governor had the power to grant it. Perhaps she didn't have what he wanted or perhaps it was something he simply didn't want to grant. What, exactly, the nature of his relationship with Kaldri is remains unclear so we'll have to go find out."

"I'm afraid," Bridgeport spoke up, "we have another problem." He'd, of course, been with t'Nai as she spoke with Chief Oliveria via communicator en route to The Exchange. With Timmoz and his team imprisoned and the Captain and Drol now missing, they already had their share of difficulties to work through. He hated to add another but it couldn't be helped. "One of my security officers has ditched the team she was protecting. Petty Officer Mia," he clarified. "She was watching over Debbie and David. Debbie tells me Mia gave a sudden apology, tossed her combadge on the ground, and just took off. We've no way to reach her," he sighed, feeling as if the woman's dereliction of duty was somehow his fault. She was one of his officers, after all.

"Is there the possibility that Petty Officer Mia has a connection to the Governor?" Margarar asked considering an AWOL action to be unheard of. It simply was not in an Antican's nature to betray one's clan.

Emni's eyebrows knit in consternation. From what little she knew of the Orion woman this was a sudden and surprising departure from the usual. There'd been too many different factors in play and now.. She grimaced at the thought of tracking down a lone security officer on a station this size; particularly one who may or may not have the kind of skills that Emni had found Timmoz, whom she knew much better, to have.

"I don't know about a connection to the Governor," Emni said slowly, looking at Bridgeport expectantly, "but if there is then we need to get that sorted now. There's already too many of our crew in troubling situations to simply pause on this point." She paused, the look she was giving Bridgeport deepening to impatience before adding, "Your recommendation Lieutenant?"

"Let me try to track her down," Bridgeport offered. "I...sort of know her. I know how she thinks. I might be able to find her and get to the bottom of why she left." He gestured then to his earpiece, "I can still coordinate the teams while I do that and, besides," he offered frankly, "I don't think you need me to talk to this Governor or whatever he is. I'll have one of my officers join you though, just in case." He looked as if he wanted to break into a run to start the search but he waited for permission.

Emni looked Bridgeport over, curiosity at the sudden spike of urgency that came from the man flooding her even as she worked to keep her face neutral. "Of course," she nodded. "That does seem wise. We'll go ahead in. Ask your officer to announce themselves and be brought through if we're already with the Governor when they arrive."

To the others she nodded. "Let's get this over with then," she said, and tossing the little bit that was left of her food into a nearby disposal, led the way up the steps and into the building.

Margarar licked her chops, the piece of meat caught in her teeth starting to bother her. "Do any of you happen to have a bit of floss on hand?" she asked slightly irritated. "I would hate to meet a Governor when I am in this state."

[15 minutes later]

It had taken a moment to find something that would work for Margarar's teeth. Floss isn't exactly the same for Anticans as it is for other races with a less carnivorous bent. Nonetheless, 15 minutes later, they were back at the steps to the Governor's office, Emni once again leading the way past a set of double doors that opened into a sort of small foyer. Another set of double doors and the group found themselves in a lavishly appointed lounge-like room. The waiting room, for it could be nothing other than this, shone with the light of bright metallic gold. Golden scrollwork lined the crease where the floor met the ceiling and curved almost sensuously around the windows. A heavy looking wooden door--a marvel in its own right-- was closed behind a broad desk where yet another unfamiliar species of alien sat working busily at a terminal.

What the alien behind the desk was doing was unclear, but after they had entered, stood awkwardly just inside the door for a few moments... and then a few moments longer... they waved a long thin arm in the direction of the sumptuous chairs and couches along the walls. "Be with you in a moment," the creature said with the clipped business like tone of someone who was either bored or just used to so many visitors that even those whose races were significantly less common to the Delta Quadrant didn't even warrant a glance.

Emni glanced between Margarar and Durand before nodding in the direction of the seats, settling herself into one, though she only perched on the very edge of it. Another long minute passed with the almost held breath feeling of waiting with no real clear indication on the appropriate next steps. Even Emni found herself flummoxed as the emotional makeup of the unfamiliar species in the room proved difficult to understand, giving impressions that conflicted and shifted like vision swimming after looking too long at a bright light.

Finally, she stood and stepped up to the desk itself, waiting politely for a moment before clearing her throat. As she did her eye was drawn to a gold statuette seated on a pedestal next to the door--a near perfect representation of a bearded Talaxian man, round at the waist bordering on portly.

The creature at the desk looked up impatiently at Emni's vocalization. "Your appointment isn't for another 10 minutes," It quipped, irritation coating its voice.

Emni's expression shifted toward confusion. "I think you may have me confused with someone else," she commented. "We've not been here long enough to make an appointment."

More irritation from the long limbed alien who swiped at the console with unnaturally flexible fingers. "Starship in dock 12?" It asked, boredom creeping in alongside it's annoyance.

Emni nodded, brows knitting before adding, "Yes."

"The Governor doesn't miss much on this station," the alien said. Their tone suggested they were speaking to someone quite young, or perhaps someone with less social capacity than the XO--as if she was a rude child who needed to be corrected. "Your appointment is in 10 minutes." Then, seeming to remember themselves they added, "Can I get you something to drink?" in a voice that belied any kind of actual desire to do that very thing.

"No," Emni said, having smoothed her features toward doctor's neutrality. "Thank you."

The Antican answered as she sat down, "Water." There was no please or niceties; however, Margarar was not known for tact. I feel like prey. I do not like being hunted. She casusually started looking around the room trying to ascertain where she was being watched from.

"Water?" the being retorted, a scandalous look flitting over her aquarian features. "Surely you are being less than serious. Unless, of course, you have the metal to pay for such." She looked the Antican up and down before her eyes regarded t'Nai and the rest as well.

None of the party looked rich enough to afford such actual water and, thus, the secretary pointed to a communal drink cooler with small, paper-cube glasses stacked next to it. Inside the cooler was a deeply green liquid that seemed to have hairy bubbles glopping up from the bottom.

"You asked what you could get me. I answered," the Antican replied. "If you did not intend to get it for me, why offer?" She looked over at the green liquid with hairy bubbles and turned her nose up at it.

The creature behind the desk seemed to study Margarar for a long moment before turning their gaze back to Emni. Their eyes again slid back to the Antican and, with a puzzled and slightly affronted tone, said, "I offered to this one." And then with one many jointed finger, the alien pointed clearly at Emni before turning back do their work with a finality that suggested that they would say nothing more.

It was then that the Governor poked his head out out of what must have been the entrance to his office. Laureled in gold trimming around the door, the fat Talaxian looked at t'Nai and her people with something akin to deviousness. With a smile too slippery to be sincere, the man ushered forward with his hands. But when the whole party began to move his way, Dendrak shook his head and said a very definitive "No" while making a stopping gesture with his hands.

"I will see your group's leader. I believe that is you," the Governor inclined his head towards t'Nai. He gestured then to Durand, Margarar, and the two security officers who'd arrived to replace Bridgeport. "You may bring one of these others with you but that is all. I only have so many chairs, you see," he smirked, hooking his thumbs under the lapels of his incredibly expensive-looking (for Hukatuse) suit and tugging on them.

Unlike other Talaxian males -- who reveled in the length and fullness of their whiskers -- Dendrak oddly bore no facial hair and his sideburns were of short length indeed. Refusing the fluffy, mullet-esque hairstyles popular with his people, the Governor instead wore his hair completely slicked back with some kind of gel. This was obvious because despite his attempt to look well-coiffed, a clump of said gel had apparently been left un-massaged into his hair. The blue glob just sort of sat atop Dendrak's head, its bearer unaware.

"I've not got all day," the Governor snorted, having barely even given the Commander a chance to make her choice. "Decide quickly and then come inside." And with that, he ducked back into his office, leaving Emni and the others in his expectant wake.

A small guttural growl escaped from Margarar. She did not trust this Governor and definitely did not like that she was referred to as 'one of these others.' She also did not like that this Governor was purposely trying to separate them. Margarar was not the leader and that was more than satisfying for her. She was a follower by nature and so she would wait for her instructions. She gave a mournful gaze over at Commander t'Nai.

With a sigh Emni pointed to one of the two security officers. "Come on then," she said, pulling on a bit of stoicism that gave made her Vulcanoid heritage stand out... though toward the wrong branch of the very long ago shared heritage. To Durand, Margarar, and the remaining security officer, she added, "Hopefully this won't be long. Thank you each for your patience." And with that, the XO turned and disappeared through the gold embellished doorway.




For all the time that the meeting had taken – no more, perhaps, than 30 minutes – Emni couldn’t help feeling as if she’d just been through a mental gauntlet when she stepped back into the waiting area of the Governor’s offices. All three remaining officers had looked up at her arrival, trailed by the security officer who had gone with her and, without a great deal of fanfare, she’d advised them that they needed to return to the Sojourner with a not insignificant amount of haste.

On their way they’d rendezvoused with part of the team that had been led by Lieutenant Timmoz. The Orion flight chief was being rushed to the station’s medical facilities. It had been far from the kind of solution Emni had wanted. The prisoners had been freed before the state of them had been reported back to the Governor and so it was after the fact, when she had already pressed on the Talaxian man’s vanity and great sense in building a station in between two natal stars to get them released. His generosity, it seemed, only went so far and he lacked a willingness to arrange for immediate site to site transport.

It had been a long shot to begin with, but Emni was nonetheless in a dark mood as she filled Margarar, Durand, and the second security officer in on what had happened while they rushed to rendezvous with the others.

It was, after all of the effort they had made to look inconspicuous, the largest gathering of crew members in one place since they had disembarked even as half of them were still scattered about the station.

Hasty details had finally been exchanged like puzzle pieces settling into the last few open spots leaving only one obvious course.
Someone would have to go to the Welds in search of Kaldri.

A quick selection was made and sent on their way while the remaining crew made for the loading area and when the Sojourner’s dock finally came into view Emni wondered if she hadn’t managed a full deep breath the entire time.

With a sigh of relief she announced the arrival of her and the crew members with her and watched as each stepped onto the ramp. As she followed them at the rear she tapped her commbadge.

‘t’Nai to Olivera,” she said, relief and worry mingling slightly in her tone, “I’m on my way straight to you. I have news.”

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Margarar
Assistant Chief Engineer

With guest appearances written by Brad!
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Thu, 29 Feb 2024 22:01:56 +0000
Echoes of Adelphi https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/408 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/408
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - USS Sojourner, Bridge
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2000

[The Bridge]
[USS Sojourner]
[MD 2: 2000 Hours]

The immediate crisis had, it seemed, passed. Of course Timmoz and his little band of covert-ops investigators -- see: not exactly an expert, crack team of sleuths -- had gotten themselves in trouble. And of course they were now being held for arraignment in the space station's version of prison. And of course of course it was now up to Commander t'Nai to meet with The Governor and try to smooth the whole thing over and get them out.

Lieutenant Oliveria had, of course, done his part to help in coordinating the various communications around that effort but, thankfully, the rest of it was completely above his pay grade. At least the situation didn't sound that serious? It seemed like a bit of a misunderstanding had perhaps taken place -- hopefully t'Nai would straighten the whole thing out in very short order.

For now, all the Chief Engineer and de facto bridge commander had to concern himself with was keeping the Sojo secure while the away teams were still on the station. And so far at least, no one had been stupid enough to try breaking into the ship through the connected airlock. Timmoz and company aside, Oliveria's stint on the Bridge was turning out to be fairly uneventful, minus the bored chatter from officers who almost literally had nothing to do at the moment. With t'Nai taking over the effort to free their people, conversation had begun to pick up where it had left off.

"...which is why I said 'No' to begin with," came the smokey, haughty laughter of Ensign Mulhern, who was manning the Engineering console. "Who in their right mind would say yes to being dipped in a bunch of little insects like that?" She visibly shuddered at that particular mental image. "No thanks."

"Sheila," Ensign Davies spoke up drolly from the Science station, "you do realize the insects don't hurt you, right? They literally just eat dead skin off your body. It's like being exfoliated by millions of little helpers. You feed them, they make sure your skin is healthy: it's win, win for everyone."

Nico shuddered at the mention of insects. "I don't think I could handle that," he said to Ensign Davies. "I remember once, on Vega colony, I stumbled upon a nest of giant spiders. I was horrified! The spiders were as big as my hand, and their webs were everywhere. I couldn't get out of there fast enough." He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "But enough about that. How are the away teams doing? Who's due to check in?"

Davies had been about to comment on the spiders but, with the request for reporting, he went quiet. Any telepaths that might be picking up on his thoughts, though, might hear his internal monologue that large spiders were often the gentlest and most beneficial variety of arachnids, especially when it came to interacting with humanoids. A mental punctuation mark studded the end of the thought as Brian looked over at Ensign Nevek at Tactical to hear his report.

"Well, aside from the trouble with Lieutenant Timmoz' group," the Andorian spoke up, antennae waggling slowly as if to taste the air, "the other groups have all checked in. Debbie and David are supply shopping in the Exchange. Doctor Xex and his team are pursuing a lead in the station's Infirmary, where Kaldri was possibly treated for injuries. Lieutenant Irynya and her group are looking for Kaldri's ship in The Chop Yards, hoping to find clues onboard. And Commander t'Nai and her team are headed to speak with The Governor in his office both about Kaldri and getting our people released."

"And the Captain?" came the voice of Ensign Samla from the Operations console. "Last we heard from Commander t'Nai, someone was following him, right?" The Bajoran had a soft spot for the Chameloid and her worry shone through her eyes.

"Yes," Nevek nodded, "she did report that but the Captain indicated he had things well under control. Still, doesn't hurt to be safe," the Andorian said. "He's not due to check in for another half an hour but we could always check in early if you wanted, sir?" he asked of Oliveria.

Nico paused thoughtfully, the rhythmic click of his tongue a familiar sound as he considered Nevek's words. He leaned back in his chair, letting the steady thrum of the Sojourner's engines envelop him, a reassuring reminder of his connection to the ship.

"Nevek, let's hold off on checking in with the Captain for a bit longer," Nico said, his tone light but carrying an underlying current of concern, especially for Timmoz, his Ashka, who always seemed to find himself in the thick of things.

"You know, while we wait, how about we share some stories about the most unusual foods we've ever tried?" Nico suggested, a playful glint in his eyes, momentarily pushing his worry for Timmoz to the back of his mind.

"I'll kick things off," he continued, his smile widening. "Even though I grew up on Vega Colony, my parents were from Brazil, and I've always felt a strong connection to my Brazilian roots. The first time I actually visited Brazil was a bit of an adventure. I tried Mandioca worms there. Yeah, you heard that right – worms," he laughed. "They're these big, roasted grubs, a real delicacy in the Amazon. I was hesitant at first, but they weren't half bad. Kind of nutty, actually. Reminded me of Klingon Gagh, just without the squirming."

Nico looked around the bridge, inviting his crewmates to join in. "What about you folks? Ever come across something in your travels or home planets that took you by surprise?"

"Worms?!" Mulhern replied, a look of mixed disbelief and distaste on the engineer's face. "Roasted or not, you won''t find me eating anything like that," she asserted. "There's a reason I never frequented the Klingon joints at the Academy. Oof," she said with a visible shudder.

"On Andoria," Nevek spoke up, hoping to break up Sheila's yuck to Oliveria's yum, "ice spiders are considered a particular delicacy. But growing up, I was far too afraid of them to even consider eating one...even if it was dead," the Andorian laughed, remembering himself as a fearful child of six. "But my mother and the other members of her polycule kept encouraging me until, finally, I relented at the age of 13. And honestly?" he chuckled, his antennae shaking in conjunction, "it was one of the best things I'd ever eaten. Sweet with just the right amount of spicy. Of course," he admitted with a shrug, "we do prepare them with spices and such in the frying. Not sure how good they'd be raw."

Ensign Davies -- who, as the ship's entomologist, had no issues extracting helpful byproducts from insects, arachnids, etc. -- visibly paled. "You eat them?" he asked in disbelief. "But they're such helpful creatures. Their venom is a marvelous pain reliever in controlled micro-doses. I should know...I have one in transporter buffer storage," Brian admitted. "Stella is a common sight down in the bio lab. I often let her out of pattern buffer stasis to walk around my desk and hang out atop my lamp: she likes the heat, apparently. When she's nice and relaxed," Davies smiled excitedly, "she'll let me extract some venom for Doctor Wang."

"Well I know where I'm going for my next meal," Nevek smirked.

"So funny," Davies shot back, eyes narrowing.

As the group continued their chat, Nico listened with a mix of amusement and interest, occasionally chiming in with his own comments, but a part of his mind remained alert to their current situation.

Gradually, the conversation started to wind down, and Nico's attention subtly shifted back to his responsibilities as the de facto CO. He glanced at the chronometer, noting the time with a slight furrow of his brow, "Looks like the Captain has missed his check-in," Nico remarked, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

"Nevek, a channel, please?" He waited for the standard tone, continuing, "Lieutenant Oliveria to Captain Kodak, do you copy?" There was a brief moment of silence, the tension on the Bridge palpable as everyone awaited a response.

"Repeat, Sojourner to Captain Kodak, do you copy?" After a few more seconds of static silence, Nico exchanged a glance with the other officers, his expression turning more serious. He turned his attention to the tactical and communications system readouts from his chair controls, double-checking systems and ensuring everything was transmitting normally. Still, he looked back to the Andorian, "Nevek, confirm transmission and reception status. Can you get a lock on the Captain?"

"Confirmed: our messages are going through. And I'm getting the standard bounce ping back, just not a reply..." Antennae lifting in alarm, Nevek started plugging commands into his console but found the tactile response too slow given his extreme amount of concern. Toggling on the holographic interface, he started flicking, swiping, and grab-throwing the glowing yellow grid-lined objects that represented the functions of his console. Now he was left with a map of the station -- as it had been transmitted to them when pulling inside the station to dock -- and the Andorian was using his hands to sift through cut-away layers in search of Kodak and Drol.

"Found them. Section 20, level 36," Nevek reported. "They appear stationary and...wait, that can't be right," the Andorian shook his head. "According to my readings, they're stacked on top of one another. Unless the Captain and Drol are...well, a lot closer than any of us know, something is off here," the tactical officer said grimly. "If I had to guess, I'd say I'm just getting their combadges. But I'm pulling up that section of the station now to scan for lifesigns. It's heavily shielded and readings are sporadic, though. Going to need more umph to scan through that."

"Davies, bring the dorsal array up to full power," Nico ordered. "Fry every relay if you have to, but find the Captain. Mulhern, let's be ready to maneuver quickly; take us out of low-power mode. Nevek, take us to Yellow Alert, but don't raise the shields, and give me another channel, please, to the XO," The lights around the Bridge darkened as the yellow alert chime sounded throughout the ship, "Sojourner to t'Nai, I'm afraid we have a problem."

As orders were followed around the Bridge, t'Nai's voice filtered over the comm:

"This is t'Nai. Go ahead Lieutenant." The voice on the other end was crisp and with an extra briskness to it as if the XO were moving as she spoke. Or perhaps being jostled.

As the yellow alert chime echoed through the USS Sojourner, casting the Bridge in a dim, urgent glow, Nico tensed, ready to relay the situation to the XO. "Commander t'T—" Nico began, but he abruptly halted. The background noise filtering through the comm line caught his attention, concern flashed across his face, and he glanced at the other officers on the Bridge, his expression questioning.

Shaking off the momentary hesitation, he cleared his throat and continued, "Commander t'Nai, we've got a situation here. The Captain and his party are missing. It looks like their combadges have been removed, and we're currently trying to locate them."

He paused, ensuring he was clear and concise, "Their last known position was Section 20, Level 36 of the station, but we're getting some odd readings. We've tasked the dorsal array to boost our scans." Nico paused and glanced towards the science station to see if they had been located before continuing, "But so far, we have been unable to find them."

As Nico waited for the XO's response, he felt a twinge of guilt mixed with relief that at least Timmoz wasn't in danger.

The pause on the other end the line was uncomfortably long filled only with the sounds of foreign voices, the jumble of which seemed to give the universal translator some difficulty. Finally the XO's voice came back across the comm. "How long have they been missing?" There was an edge to the woman's voice now, tension added on top of crisp coolness.

As the XO's question filtered over the comm, Nico glanced over to Nevek, who forwarded the data to the console to Nico's left, which he palmed open, "Their communicators last moved about 10 minutes ago from the internal combadge telemetry when they were all stacked on top of each other."

Another pause and this time when t'Nai's voice filtered across the comms there was less of a brittle edge to it. "Ok." The reply was brief with only the shortest breath before, "Keep me posted. We're on our way to see The Governor now. Perhaps he will be able to help on this front. t'Nai out." And the line closed.

"So the Captain is missing," Nevek said quietly, "and the XO sounds liked an overworked Lorox." The Andorian shook his head. "Normally I'd suggest leading a security team myself to track the Captain down and get him back. But Lieutenant Bridgeport already took pretty much everyone else over there, save a few people to guard the airlock and myself to man the Bridge. Your orders supersede his though, Sir. With your permission, I'll grab who I can and go."

"No," Nico clipped in response. This felt all too much like a decision he had been forced to make on the Adelphi, which had resulted in the deaths of his subordinates... his friends. He turned to look at the bridge crew and tugged his uniform straight, sliding back into his seat. He hoped he appeared confident, "We can't afford to reduce the crew compliment further, and the Captain and XO know this. Continue your scans and keep the shields up." He continued settling in his chair as the crew returned to work looking for the Captain. Silently, the Chief Engineer brought up the prefix code system and set about resetting the passcode in case the Captain or XO were compromised. At least Timmoz and his group were safe.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Lieutenant Nico Oliveria
Chief Engineer

Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Sheila Mulhern
Engineering Officer

Other NPCs by Brad]]> Sun, 25 Feb 2024 21:52:18 +0000 Medic! https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/415 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/415
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Hukatuse Tugamik Infirmary
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2039

[Outside the Infirmary]
[Hukatuse Tugamik]
[MD 2: 2039, immediately following 'Butch and Sundance']


"...you are the surgeon, last I checked, " Xex snapped, his normally boundless patience strained by the dire straits in which he found his crewmate. "You can see as plain as I can what needs to be done; and last I checked, there isn't the first Starfleet medical board here. Infection is the least of Timmoz's worries right now."
Xex's hands flexed, as though he wanted to physically place Gwenwyn's on the grievous wounds in the Orion's torso, but he managed to control the impulse. "I don't want to hear another word, Gwenwyn," he continued, "Do it." Xex let the steel in his voice do the heavy lifting for him, forbearing to add aloud the final 'that's an order.'

Gwenwyn was brighter than a star, this was all he wanted, a last surgical operation. Xex was right, he knew exactly what was wrong and how to fix Timmoz. Taking his jacket and flinging it onto the end of the gravgurney. "Find a vain and hook in the nero invariance unit," He commanded while examining the wounds that were before him. "I can stabilise him long enough but I should be able to perform with minimal scaring and rehab."

“Good,” Xex said, though absolutely nothing about the situation was good. Timmoz remained unconscious-- thank the stars-- on the gravgurney, around which they were now clustered just outside the infirmary's well-labeled door. A small crowd was beginning to gather, drawn by the intense voices and of course, the sinister splash of dark blood. It never fails, Xex thought cynically, where there is injury, there is interest. Xex glanced uncomfortably at the growing press of people and then resolutely returned his attention to the running diagnostic his tricorder was giving him, from where they'd rigged it on the gurney. While Doctor Zamaya had managed to utilize some very concentrated stasis fields on Timmoz's injuries to stabilize him somewhat, those diagnostics told Xex that the Orion's own two-way heart was working against them, and what stasis they had achieved would not last long. Timmoz was already crashing again.

“Doctor,” Xex said to the Vidiian in a rush. “Your help will not be forgotten. Please,” he hesitated only a heartbeat to flick a glance over her grafted features, already regretting the lack of time he had to speak with her, a real live, in the flesh Vidiian doctor, and continued, “consider this a debt to be repaid.”

Zamaya's expression was difficult to read, but beneath the seriousness of a doctor concerned for a patient, Xex thought he could detect a certain wryness common to most medical professionals, as though to both dismiss the debt and tuck it away against further need. Regardless, she did not acknowledge it aloud. Instead, all she said was, “Good luck.” It sounded entirely genuine.

Not knowing how else to respond, Xex inclined his head in thanks. Activating his commbadge-- kept hidden away in a pocket until now-- he reflected that the idea of luck in the medical profession was both deeply offensive, and intricately entwined in everything they did. “We're ready,” was all he said into the comm, having already arranged for the emergency medical transport with the Sojourner's transporter tech. He once again sent silent thanks to all the unnamed stars there were that Commander t'Nai had managed to beg, extort, or otherwise wrangle transporter permission out of the station's Governor. They were going to make a big enough spectacle as it was; he didn't even want to imagine the attention they would have caught if they'd had to run headlong through the station with the gurney. Not to mention the effect it would have had on Timmoz's battle for his life. One last glance at his tricorder told Xex the battle wasn't going well even now and his hands tightened against the edge of the gurney. "Hold on," he murmured, and even he wasn't certain to whom he was speaking.

As a unit, he, Marwol, and the gravgurney with its guttering lifesign shimmered, and as their composite particles were taken apart, disappeared from Hukatuse Tugamik's corridors.

A post by:

Lieutenant Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant (JG) Gwenwyn Marwol
Assistant Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Flight Controller]]>
Sat, 17 Feb 2024 19:18:30 +0000
Kicking the Tires https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/413 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/413
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Chop Yards
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2030

[The Chop Yards]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 2030 Hours]


Torvis had led the way up to the shuttle in question, the Trade pointing out other hulks -- or rather, chopped up pieces of them -- along the way. There seemed to be all manner of ships in the bowels of Hukatuse but most were not from races the Starfleeters recognized or had working knowledge of. The temptation to stop and study each hulk was strong but Irynya had kept the group on mission and before too long, they'd arrived at their destination: the lone Kazon shuttle sitting in a line of other similarly sized craft, all waiting their turn to be gutted of useful parts and material before being subjected to the giant chop saws that gave this place its name.

Noah had felt the tug- this was a kid in a candy store situation- until his body's hyperactive tendencies made him want to stop and shake it out, jump a little. He suppressed it and tried to focus on his tricorder: eyes down and tunneled into its readings.

Upon reaching the shuttle, Irynya had volunteered to stand watch outside, eyes directed back towards Koloss, who was still watching their group from across the way. The Foreman seemed particularly interested in their little group, perhaps due to the obscene amounts of metal strips Noah had flashed about when buying the part he'd noticed earlier. That, or Koloss had traced them back to the Sojo itself, which sat in Hukatuse's humongous docking bay like a Thanksgiving turkey ready for carving. The Starfleet vessel was, no doubt, a prize desired and anyone associated with the Sojo was likely to be a point of interest. Thus Iry kept her eyes focused and maintained the grip of her right hand on the small phaser in her pocket.

Sava and Noah, meanwhile, had gone inside the shuttle proper with Torvis. After confirming that the ship was, indeed, the one they were looking for -- without, of course, revealing such to the Trabe trader -- the Kelpien security officer had swept the cockpit for trouble but found none. And so it was that Sava now kept a wary eye on Torvis and the shuttle's entry ramp -- ever vigilant for threats -- while Noah facilitated the exchange with the Chop Yard's representative. While the desire to buy the Kazon shuttle wasn't itself a ruse -- after all, they did want to study the vessel to understand Subrek's mysterious technological advancements -- the real reason for the prospective sale had been kept secret, at least thus far.

With Iry on guard duty outside and Sava watching from within, most of the responsibility for this particular exchange had now fallen on Noah's very young shoulders. While not inherently a test, the happenstance was, however, proving a crucible for the young engineer's inexperience. It also provided him an opportunity to prove his mettle as a newly-minted Ensign.

"So? Any thoughts?" Torvis spoke up, breaking the few moments of silence that'd stretched out after they entered the craft. He gestured expansively around them, his hands encompassing everything on display.

The shuttle was, of course, decidedly Kazon in design. But like Subrek's ship -- the Kordra-Lisrit -- the shuttle wasn't as run-of-the-mill as anyone who knew that race would expect from them. External scans had certainly indicated beefed up armor plating and shield and weapons technology. There'd been minimal scoring from energy weapons on the hull but the real damage had been done by a torpedo or missile of some kind impacting the starboard engine housing.

The damage had no doubt left the shuttle only capable of limping into the Starbirth Oasis. There Kaldri must have followed the timed trail of safety down into the gravity well, navigating the space between the Twin Fire stars to arrive at Hukatuse. The repairs needed to fix the shuttle would likely have cost way, way more than someone on the run like Kaldri could afford. And even if she could get the ship fixed, how would she escape and evade Subrek in a vessel so much slower than his own?

Inside the shuttle, there were various sections of damage from overloaded wall panels and consoles. The power had obviously been cut as nothing was currently alive: no lights, no glowing display panels, nothing. Torvis, Noah, and Sava could see only by the grace of the lighting units built into the shoulders of their suits.

The lanky Systems Specialist was pacing slowly. As they'd entered the shuttle's proximity, he'd activated the full array of his engineering peripherals. His cheeks were puffed, poised to exhale as he stared at the amber readouts floating in his line of sight. "I need access inside," he said to Torvis, his eyes swiveling to the Trabe for permission to enter. He smiled, a bit uncertain. "To-to make sure what, uh, I'd have to replace if we buy it." Internally Noah was struggling with having to be slightly duplicitous. What Starfleet wanted was to assess the ship's new technology.

When Torvis had led him inside, Noah immediately approached one of the panels and with some difficulty pulled from his suit a small device. He attached it with a squeak and a click to one of the panels. The control console flickered to life- a strange half-life of blinking and fluttering keys, most lit up in inoperable tones of gray or red. Nonetheless, Noah laid fingers on keys and deliberately turned his head down to look at the screen through his holographic interface. His eyes were searching through them, as the peripheral did its best to translate from Starfleet's known Kazon language database.

"Energy Heart.... offline. Heat veins... pragh... oh, alpha... beta... damaged..." Noah muttered to himself. Noah translated that as the system's coolant safeties were offline. Likely what he was looking at was a damage report. And as useful as his little auxiliary power device was, it could only show him something like an echo of the last readout it was giving.

Noah puffed his cheeks and breathed out again. "It's puh-pretty fragged, Mr. Torvis," He said, twisting back to look at the Trabe with a conflict of feelings that his benignness couldn't hide. He sidestepped to another console, taking his little power device with him and attaching it. Again the screen flickered into its ghost of a life and Noah peered at it. "Ship's Back Lungs... gol-ka-ger dargah... oh, thirty two percent. Ok. I probably didn't say that right..." He muttered to himself. "OK this... um..." he said more audibly, while he moved to scratch his nose only to be blocked by his suit. "Damn. This is Life Support."

"That's an interesting little device," Torvis remarked, having watched Noah move from panel to panel, recalling the ghost data back to life. "And damned useful, it would seem," he noted, an envious look flashing across his face underneath his clear face plate. "We hooked up power ourselves to assess whether the craft was salvageable or not. Problem was," the Trabe gestured to another bank of burned out panels, "we ended up doing more damage as a result. When we turned on the juice, half the panels in here exploded."

Noah smiled at the Trabe- almost slyly. "This is a a BIE." He looked up at the flickering console and squinted his eyes at the data. "It's m-more of a postmortem device than... m-much else. Backup Indexing Emulator." He laid his fingers on the ghostly keys, "It'll let me at least see the last thing their computer was trying to tell them." He looked back at the man, "Do you have anything like that?"

"I'm not an engineer," Torvis explained, "but I'm pretty sure whoever modified this shuttle changed its base power requirements. Our people couldn't figure out how to adjust the flow regulation to match and the charge capacitors just blew everything out. Or so I'm told," he noted. Curiously, for someone who wasn't an engineer, the Trabe seemed to know an awful lot about what had happened. "The shuttle was deemed a lost cause," the translator continued to parse his foreign words into Earth standard phrases, "and sent to the saws for carving up."

Noah puffed his cheeks out and nodded agreement. "They-they did more than that. I don't think it's even Kazon technology. Ah-at least not on it's own. This is l-like putting a HEMI in a Volkswagen." Noah pressed his hands on the console, his elbows limberly turning just back enough to reveal his hyper-mobility. "This system isn't meant for a shuttle. He was pausing, thinking, never a great judge of the intentions of others. But Noah almost felt like the man knew more than he was letting on. It was kind of like talking to a used shuttle salesman. Or most run of the mill Ferengi.

"Are-are the engineers who tried to reactivate it here? Tha-that I can talk to?" His brows raised, "Do you have what they tried to use to activate the system? Maybe?" He squatted down and started to look for the interface that the engineers must have used to try and power the device. But it sort of felt like someone had ham-fisted the shuttle. This wasn't battle damage to Noah's eyes- albeit inexperienced eyes.

"A...HEMI in a what?" Torvis replied instinctively, a chuckle escaping his lips. He could tell the young man was excited about the shuttle and its contents and was, perhaps, forgetting to use commonly understood analogies. He waved away his own question and instead focused on answering Noah's. "Those engineers are up in the repair berths, I'm afraid. When ships are deemed not fit for salvage, the engineers send them down here for the chopping," the Trabe said, making a chopping motion with his right hand. "We don't really interface with them much but I can pull the report they made on this ship. Seems only fair if you're thinking of purchasing it."

"Sorry," Noah grimaced with a guffaw. "A large engine meant for transport puh-put into a small people-carrier." he explained. His nod was slow and processing a moment later. "I-I understand. I'd appreciate it." He moved to scratch his cheek only to discover that yet again, he was impeded by the suit that kept him safe from all number of things.

Torbis reached into the satchel slung across his chest and withdrew the Hukatuse version of a PADD. He quickly keyed up the report in question and, side-stepping fallen ceiling debris, moved over to hand it to Noah. Approaching the lanky one earned him a look from his shockingly tall companion, who still stood watch nearby. The Trabe held up his left hand in a I'm no threat gesture but stopped shorter of Noah than he'd originally intended, instead holding out the device for him to approach and take on his own. This seemed to ameliorate the Kelpien's concerns.

Noah accepted the PADD with a quick and disarmed smile as if he either felt no threat if there were one, or perhaps he didn't even consider it. In Noah's mind, this was an engineering "geek out." At least he was doing the geeking and Torvis was the unfortunate second party. Noah dropped eyes to the PADD and once again flicked his holographics into play to translate.

The PADD contained a short report detailing the engineers' initial examination of the shuttle. When the shuttle had been impounded and turned over to the engineers' care, they'd noted the battle damage on the starboard engine -- rendering it in need of a complete rebuild -- but also recorded that the shuttle was otherwise mostly functional...at least until the power modulation issue Torvis had mentioned occurred. The accident had fried several of the craft's systems and the engineer responsible had, apparently, been fired for his incompetence. But beyond that, there was no additional data to be reviewed.

"Th-thank you," Noah said. "That actually, um, says a lot. I-I appreciate it." With that assessment underway, Noah went into diagnostic mode. This ship was... to say unusual would be lacking. It had Kazon skin. It had Kazon muscles. But the rest of it was anything but Kazon. The youth returned the PADd to Torvis with another amiable albeit shy smile and ventured back to the console he'd been eyeing. "I-I think I should probably talk to my ship. To-to, um," he looke dback at the Trabe, "Arrange pur-" He stopped.

His eyes dropped. "Sorry, to arrange umm purchase." But his fingers fell onto the controls. "Interesting," he muttered. "Index." And from the small BIE appears an androgynous and bald being. "Run a forensics d-diagnostic and identify junction alpha, 41-wakka-cano...pluntar-21."

The pale hologram turned to the boy, "This system is offline."

"S-sorry. Mr. Torvis. Meet Index. They are a photonic engineering assistant subroutine. I-I brought her to my ship from Ishikawa Station." The boy turned again to the console and muttered what the words translated to in Linguacode. Lattice shell.. Noah double-checked. These were the defenses. His eyes searched the panel further. This was in a special subroutine that the BIE had brought up- possibly the last subroutine that either Kaldri or the engineers had tried to access. "Index, identify subroutine Delta-Delta-Quarang-21-Primary."

"This activates the vessel's deflector shield grid." Index said. His eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth and thought better of it. Then why is lattice shell a separate defensive system?

"Ah." Noah nodded. He straightened. "M-may I contact my vessel to arrange purchase?" He asked.

"Astonishing," Torvis had said when laying eyes on Index for the first time. He started to approach Noah again -- to get a closer look at the holographic figure being projected from the small device -- but a withering look from Sava again brought him up short. He'd been about to inquire into the possibility of purchasing an Index of his own when the engineer started going back and forth with the subroutine-made-solid. The look on the Trabe's face gave away that he did not entirely understand the discussion taking place but as it came to a close and Noah asked permission to contact his vessel, Torvis nodded and smiled amiably.

"Of course! Please do. I'll wait in the rear compartment to give you some privacy," the trader said, motioning back the way they'd come to indicate where he'd park himself, hopefully out of earshot. In his line of work, stepping aside so that private decisions could be made over comms was nothing new to him, after all. "Take all the time you need," Torvis said before slipping away, glancing one last time at the hologram before disappearing into the back of the shuttle.

Noah nodded his thanks with a grimacey-smile crossing too broadly over his face. It was weird, bargaining for pay. And to pay for something that... it wasn't just junk. There was something here. He stepped as deeply into the cockpit as he could to ensure privacy and then managed to touch- or more aptly, squeeze- his commbadge in the pocket of his suede jacket under all his protective gear. "Balsam to Sojourner. Priority one." He said in a soft mutter, looking at Sava to include her the conversation and knowing that Iry would already be listening in. "We-we have a problem." He added with a hush. "Repeat, Balsam to Sojourner."

"Sojourner here," came a potentially unfamiliar voice over the commline. "This is Lieutenant Nevek. Lieutenant Oliveria is busy speaking with Commander t'Nai. What's the issue, Mr. Balsam?" Ah, the voice belonged to the Andorian Tactical officer currently manning the Bridge.

The young systems specialist stayed furtive, his glance flicking to the ghostly console and then to the stoic face of Index. "We have located Kaldri's shuttle. I'm trying to secure resources to purchase it," he said. "But we have a-another issue. I was doing a f-forensics diagnostic and I found something. They-they appear to have a piece of technology that we need to investigate further." Noah paced up to the console and flipped his holographic opticals down into place. "It looks like some kind of advanced ablative armor system. Over."

"Ablative armor? On a shuttle?" The Andorian sounded instantly more interested than he had been moments before. "That's definitely peculiar. Not exactly standard issue for Kazon tech," Nevek noted. It wasn't hard to imagine his antennae slowly waggling with curiosity. "If you're able to purchase the ship, we could arrange to have it loaded onto the Sojo for further examination. Do you need more metal than Lieutenant Sava has on hand?" He sounded almost disbelieving as he asked this.

"Sava? came Iry's voice, her tone full of questions. Being outside the shuttle, she couldn't train her arched eyebrow at the Kelpien.

"Almost forgot," Sava said, sheepish for perhaps the first time ever in front of Noah. She was glad Irynya was outside and could not see the look on her face. The Kelpien unslung her backpack and crouched, setting it on the ground so she could open the pack's main zipper.

Revealed inside were several solid bars of dense, chrome-like metal -- the color and texture denoted the bars as the highest form of currency sought on Hukatuse. Each party member had been given a few strips of that particular denomination to barter with but the bars Sava had been carrying were worth an incredible amount: they'd make pretty much anyone on the station quite wealthy.

Noah's eyebrows rose sharply. "That's... a lot." His nose wrinkled, "I think."

"Bridgeport ordered us to keep these secret and only use them in case of emergency," Sava explained. "Every security officer has some. Figured we were best suited to protect them. Didn't want to make any of you targets," the Kelpien noted. "He figured we might need to buy our way out of sticky situations. Strips weren't going to be enough to cut it. Enough to buy a ship, though, you think?"

"I-I hope so. I'm not really... uhh. Lets say I'd make a bad Ferengi. But we'll manage. If we need more, I-I'll comm back. Balsam out." He squeezed his badge again and then looked to the impassive face of Index. "Th-thanks Index. You can close." The hologram dis-apparated without a trace of emotion. Noah then went to the console and pressed his fingers against his BIE. With a squelchy click, it came free and with it, the data on the console flickered back into dull reflection. He pocketed his device and tried to wipe the look of trepidation off his face.

"We-we should move," he said to the swaying Kelpien female. It felt weird to him to give instructions like that. But Balsam emerged from the shuttle to meet Torvis, halting before the Trabe. He smiled. "Um, hi." He awkwardly waved. "I can m-make payment now. And-and we'd like to have it transferred to our ship's shuttlebay immediately. Which we might be able to help with."

Sava had nodded in agreement and followed the lanky engineer out of the shuttle. Torvis, it seemed, had left the craft entirely and was standing with Irynya, chatting politely as the Risian kept her gaze trained on Koloss. The foreman had gone back to his business, it seemed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't potentially cause trouble if he felt there was a reason to. Handing the heavy backpack over to Noah -- weighed down with the three metal bars as it was -- the Kelpien took up station nearby to help Iry keep an eye on things. That included Torvis, whom she still didn't entirely trust.

"You can?" Torvis said, looking at Noah with a very interested look. "But I've not told you the price yet, young man. What if you can't afford it? As you know, this shuttle has some advanced technology integrated into it. Even in the state it's in," the Trabe gestured to the ship in all it's wrecked glory, "it's still worth quite a bit. Not many who pass through Hukatuse possess that kind of wealth. I'd say the shuttle is worth at least...three klekkit bars," the trader named the chrome-like metal, the number of bars said experimentally, as if to test Noah's real interest in the purchase.

Noah smiled in an accidentally disarming way, shrugging, "I-I mean, um..." He silenced himself. He looked down at the satchel now firmly in his hands. He hated bartering. He wasn't good at haggling. "A-advanced technology. That's sort of a re-relative statement. But..." Noah blinked. "Three klekkit bars. OK. Deal?" He extended his slim and bony hand.

Torvis' eyes widened under his faceplate. Clearly, he'd expected some back and forth to settle on the price, especially since the denizens of and visitors to Hukatuse were rarely so flush with valuable metals. That Noah and his people could afford three klekkit bars was something of an astonishing revelation. The fact that the young man seemed to have said bars on his person, no less, even more so. But that sparked an idea...

The Trabe would have settled for just one klekkit bar: that much would have made Koloss very happy with him. But now the question was -- with the bars presumably in the satchel without need to send for them -- should he pass all three bars to the foreman and thus elevate his own standing by facilitating such a prosperous trade? Or pocket the other two bars to drastically upscale his own wealth? Either option was extremely gratifying but Torvis settled on keeping one extra bar for himself and giving Koloss the other two: that seemed the most equitable...as long as Koloss didn't find out, of course.

To Noah, the Trabe summoned his own disarming smile and offered the engineer a nod. "We do, I believe, have a deal, yes," Torvis' eyes twinkled -- not that such might be seen underneath his protective face shield. He looked at the outstretched hand with curiosity, tilting his head to regard the appendage like a q'zaathik hound might listen for a strange, sudden sound. Confusion clouded the trader's features as he looked at both Sava and Irynya, hoping maybe there might be clarification in their gazes. There wasn't so Torvis turned back to Noah and outstretched his own arm, hand erected like a karate chop to try to mirror the engineer's own hand. He didn't understand that he needed to step forward and grasp it, however. What a strange custom, the Trabe thought.

Noah grasped his hand once he figured out that the Trabe was probably unconfused by this outdated Human custom.

After giving it a few moments of awkward hand-hanging in the air, Torvis then said, "Once I have the bars, I will facilitate getting the shuttle back to your ship. We having towing tugs that can fly down here through there," he gestured upward and away, toward the giant hole in the cavernous ceiling, which was cut off from the vacuum outside by a series of interlocking airlock doors. "They will come to collect the shuttle and carry it to your ship in the Docks. Can you people load it in from there?"

"We have transporter, tuh-technology. If you can lower your transporter inhibitors, I-I can just have it beamed to our ship. And save your team the, um, trouble." Noah suggested. Then he turned back to Sava and dropped his gaze down to the satchel he had in his hands. He reached inside and produced the three chrome klekkit bars that the two of them had settled on. It seemed strange to Noah, to use something so... easily reproduced. In the Alpha Quadrant it tended to come down to either Latinum- or useful substances that were hard to replicate, like warp plasma and dilithium.

Noah handed the satchel back to Sava and turned to the Trabe. "Three-three bars," he said, ready to slap them into Torvis' hand.

"Transporter technology?" Torvis said, stars in his eyes for a moment. The twinkle of starlight -- as well as the excitement in his tone -- dissipated as the trader got over his initial surprise. "Wealthy and technologically advanced? That's quite the combination. Unfortunately," he adopted the tone of one who had to deliver terrible news in a gentle way, "Hukatuse does not allow such technology to be used here. It's for our own security, you see. If people can transport things they buy away, then they could also transport things they have not bought. Such permission "

Noah was quick to nod acquiescence. "Oh."

"Fear not, though," Torvis' winning tone returned, "it is no imposition. In fact, the costs of labor, time, and equipment have already been factored into the purchase price." This time, the man did step forward but the Kelpien made no ocular complaints at such. Taking the bars quite gingerly, he stashed them away into his own satchel and then adopted the biggest, most shit-eating grin personal. "Congratulations, young man. You've just purchased yourself this shuttle. I hope it brings you much satisfaction but remember..." he arched an eyebrow, "all sales are final, hmm?"

Again the lanky one nodded agreement.

Gesturing back down the way the group had come -- back down to the Chop Yard floor and out -- the Trabe said, "Thank you for your patronage. Should you need anything else during your time here, simply ask for me: I'll be quite happy to assist you again." Given that the Starfleeters had just made him much richer, Torvis couldn't look any happier. "It was truly a pleasure, my friends. Take care," he said with a dip of his head.

"I'll-I'll supervise the transfer. I'm-I'm interested how you do this," Noah pressed. "It's also my job. It was a pleasure, s-sir. Thank you for helping us." He nodded again again and smiled at the Trabe.

A Post By

Captain Björn Kodak
as Torvis and Sava

Lieutenant JG Irynya
Assistant Chief Helmsman

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist]]>
Fri, 16 Feb 2024 16:30:47 +0000
Butch and Sundance https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/407 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/407
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1941

[Corridorr]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[1941 Hours, immediately following 'Well Drinks']


As Sheldon had indicated, Hukatuse Tagumik's infirmary was not far from the Gravity Well bar. Whether that was accidental or by design, Xex could not say. The whole station had a haphazard feel to it, like it had been cobbled together without rhyme or reason, and yet, it seemed to function perfectly well. Certainly a place like the Gravity Well seemed ripe for producing injuries, and those injured parties would not have a long or convoluted trip to the infirmary. Once clear of the bar, it had taken the group only a few minutes to traverse a fairly straightforward path that had brought them to door slightly larger and more well-lit than the others along the corridor. What truly drew the eye though, was that the door was emblazoned in high-viz markings with a wide variety of symbols Xex assumed were synonymous with medical care. Certainly the only one he recognized was the medical cross; the others were as foreign as the station itself. Nevertheless, they left no doubt as to the facility's function.

Nearing the door, Xex slowed, motioning for his companions to do the same. "Alright gents, before we go in, a word of caution. We don't know anything about medical practice here-- it might be difficult to get this Doctor Zamayah to divulge any information about their patients. I know I would be pretty dubious about a large group of unknown people asking about someone I only just patched up. We'll need to take it easy," he warned. Gray eyes roaming the group, he tapped the blunt ends of his fingers against his upper lip before coming to a decision. "Leighton, Doctor Qo, perhaps you'd best take the lead-- you two seem disarming enough," he flashed a grin at them, although it didn't entirely lighten the concern that had settled over him since learning of Kaldri's injury. "Sheldon and I can hang back. Perhaps see what some covert scans can get us?" Xex lifted his brows at the engineer in question, patting his own thigh pocket wherein his tricorder had remained thus far.

"Of-of course, Doctor," Sheldon said, looking relieved at the idea of hanging back. He was, after all, an engineer and not at all skilled in the realms of talking to people or convincing them to divulge protected information. His specialties lied in scanning and working with tech, so he let the People-people do people while he, instead, did as the Doctor had suggested. The tricorder in his pocket -- set for passive scanning even while closed -- softly trilled via vibration against his leg instead of audible warbles, indicating scans were in progress. The results of said scans were fed to Shelly's PADD, which was innocuous enough to be looking at while wandering around without drawing too much suspicion. I'm getting better at subterfuge, he thought to himself as he reviewed the data.

Qo nodded his understanding. "Sounds good boss." He took couple calming breaths, centring his thought on the task at hand. The Doosodarian looked over to Romanowski, hoping that they would suddenly develop the ability to communicate with each other telepathically. No avail. He relented, and lowered his voice directing it towards Leighton, "So what's the play? Good cop bad cop? or..." He smiled to himself at his use of an old Human trope.

Leighton looked towards the façade of the infirmary, before looking back over at Qo. "Well, since your the doctor between the two of us, perhaps you should be the one asking all the questions," he said before giving a slight smile, "Which would make you the good cop."

Axod nodded. He always knew he could rely on charm, and hoped that the 'good cop' routine would be enough to get the information they needed.

Leighton followed the Doosodarian across the short walk before they crossed the threshold into the infirmary. There were two things readily apparent when they entered: the first being the stark contrast from the outside station. The inside closely matched the outside station environment. The amalgamation of equipment that was jammed into the area was impressive. The air smelled of disinfectants, and the interior was obviously cleaner than the rest of the station, but large bundles of cables could be seen in various locations. The second was the sheer number of people in the waiting area. Various species with injuries to varying degrees sat waiting in a line to get scene by the medical staff who wore identical white uniforms.

Leighton looked over at Qo, "Perhaps there is a 'physicians only' line we can use?"

Chuckling, Axod stepped up to one of the white clad staffers. "Sorry to bother you when you're clearly very busy," He began, the medical worker moved away from him as he spoke, attending to another patient "I wondered if you might point us in the direction of Doctor Zamaya." The Doosodarian man put on his most charming smile and pushed his red hair back with his left hand. His loose top hung lazily from his shoulders as he leaned down slightly to speak to her.

With a light hand on Parsons' back, Xex steered them into the well-marked door behind the good-cop-bad-cop pair, letting Sheldon focus on his PADD while he took in the infirmary's atmosphere which was considerably busier than he had been hoping for. In fact, they had to step hastily out of the way of an amphibian-looking alien whose neck pulsed quickly-- too quickly to Xex's untutored eye-- and whose color could only generously be described as 'gray.' He wondered what ailed the poor being and only with some difficulty managed to jerk his attention back to the infirmary itself. Although fairly well-appointed, it definitely shared the cobbled-together look of the greater station, as though that biobed and this diagnostic suite had been scavenged from separate lives before their installation here. Hell, they probably had been.

A quick once-over of the waiting patients assured him Kaldri was not among them-- although Xex had thought it unlikely she would still be at the infirmary, and knowing what he did of her, even less likely she had returned for follow-up treatment, he could not help but look for her. "Hope forever blooms," he muttered under his breath, sounding as thought he were quoting something. His visual scan did not turn up the Kazon woman, but it did snag on an unusual bit of equipment and, like a moth to flame, he found himself drawn toward it, as his curious mind began making and rejecting theories about its use.

Leighton had watched the nurse, if that's what she was, walk away to another patient ignoring Axod's question before giving him a glance and wry smile. "Perhaps she didn't hear you," he offerd before he scanned the room and spotted someone who seemed to have nurses coming to him the most. "Perhaps that's him," Leighton asked as he pointed to the man.

Axod crossed towards the man Leighton indicated. "Excuse me, my partner and I were hoping to find Doctor Zamaya, he may have treated a friend of our recently, who we've lost track of." The Doosodarian man was sure to keep his voice even and his face friendly. "That wouldn't happen to be you would it?"

"That is negative/not correct/flawed," the alien in question responded. Like many on Hukatuse, this particular person was from an aquatic species of some kind; large gills waved like palm fronds on his neck, collecting the hydrogen from the air it needed to breathe. Holding a display device -- and furiously entering information into it -- the alien didn't even look up at Axod as it replied. "Doctor Zamaya is currently in a procedure. It is doubtful/unclear/dubious that she can help with your lost friend. You'll have to wait for her to..."

"Oh, no waiting needed," came another voice, this one somehow both playfully husky and world-weary all at the same time. "Just finished up, Ponjo. They're cleaning up Bay 2 now if you want to triage the next patient in." The owner of the voice was a woman dressed in what passed for surgical scrubs on Hukatuse. Unlike the various nurses working in the small facility, though, her scrubs were royal purple in color. She wore a matching cap to restrain her hair and a large surgical mask in cool-blue covered a good portion of her face. The woman's eyes, though, were perfectly visible: they looked upon the Starfleeters with interest as her triage nurse moved off to re-fill Bay 2 with a new patient.

"I'm Doctor Zamaya," the woman said, dipping her head in greeting. "Did I hear something about a lost friend?" Reaching up -- keen to take advantage of a little downtime between patients -- the doctor removed her cap. Revealed was a mostly-bald head that almost looked as if it'd been badly burned. Various shades of pink, red, and pallid white blotted her marred and melty skin. Here and there patches of wispy hair grew and cascaded down to rest on the doctor's shoulders. And when Zamaya reached up to pull down her mask, the full truth of her race became immediately apparent. The doctor stared back at Axod and the others from behind a face that had been grafted over her own. The nightmarish realities of the Phage savaged the doctor's visage as she regarded Leighton and Qo with interest.

"V-Vidiian," Parsons stammered, suddenly stepping backwards at the sight of the Doctor. Unlike the advance team, he was still hanging back, surreptitiously scanning. But Xex was close to where he was standing and likely would have heard Shelly swearing under his breath.

Judging by the speed with which Xex's head jerked up from the odd-looking equipment, he certainly had heard Parsons' hushed exclamation. He put out an absent hand to touch Parsons' back, stopping the engineer from backing straight into a processing cubby that was currently spinning at high speed. Most of his attention however, was on the Vidiian in question. His expression was not one of fear or disgust though, but rather of rapt fascination. "So it is," he agreed with the engineer, his quiet voice suffused with excitement, "what luck, no?" Only a desire not to distract Zamaya's attention from their crewmates kept Xex from rushing forward to meet her himself. Sternly, he forced himself to glance at Sheldon's PADD screen. They were, after all, here for Kaldri. "Anything of note?" he asked, with a nod toward the PADD, more to distract himself than to distract the distraught ensign.

Parsons -- with some difficulty -- pulled his attention away from The Vidiian and focused it on his PADD instead. The readings were feeding into it, information scrolling across the screen as he and Xex watched: The analysis of the DNA scan he'd been running had, sadly, turned up no signs of Kazon DNA. But also of note was the absence of any DNA older than 16 hours, meaning the staff there probably worked hard to sterilize the Infirmary at regular intervals.

"No dice," Shelly said with a slight sigh, letting the Doctor peruse the analysis on his own. "But that doesn't mean she wasn't here. Just that no traces of her DNA are currently present," the engineer appended.

Xex hummed deep in his throat, agreeing. "Believe it or not that is actually a good sign," he said, flicking through a few more of the datapoints before nodding and dismissing the PADD. "Speaks to the professionalism of the sterilization in here," he explained absently, "C'mon, it looks like they've got her attention." With that, he jerked his head toward the other two and began to sidle closer.

Leighton had noted Doctor Zamaya’s features and recognized her as Vidiian. He hid his reaction, remembering the briefing on the species he had received. “We’ got separated from our friend down in the market, and we heard that she may have been past here,” Leighton offered as he gave a slight smile. He hoped the story might seem plausible given the huge amount of people on the station.

Qo nodded as if to silently confirm his companion's story and eagerly watched the Vidiian doctor while awaiting her response. Ax had read all the required texts about the Vidiians, their culture, details of the Phage. It was a fascinating subject, one that he was very interested in.Still, he couldn't pretend not to suspect that Doctor Zamaya may have harvested organs from Kaldri while 'treating' her.

"It's a big station. Easy to get separated, certainly," Zamaya nodded. "It sounded like you thought I might have treated her recently?" A grafted eyebrow rose in curiosity as the Vidiian studied the features of Leighton and Qo. Something seemed off but she couldn't quite put her -- well, someone else's -- finger on it. "Perhaps you could tell me when she might have come through. I see lots of patients each day but I might remember her, if she had reason to stand out. Otherwise," she pointed to a nearby computer terminal, "we can check the records and see what we have. But I should warn you," her eyes turned serious, "friend or no, I respect my patients' privacy. I won't be able to give you sensitive information about tests or treatment plans..."

Axod nodded, he of course understood that confidentiality was a foundation of the medical field. "She probably would've been in in the last few days, a Kazon woman, we think she may have had some ummm... knife wounds." He tried not to sound as though they were the perpetrators of the violence against her, though he was sure that thought would cross the Doctor's mind.

"At least that's what we heard," Leighton added trying to assuage the Vidiian's thoughts. "She's a close friend of ours. We've been looking for her since we got seperated, then we started hearing these rumors and," he said before trailing off and giving a smile towards the doctor. "We wont ask about sensitive information, we just want to find her and make sure she is ok."

"I did see her, yes," Zamaya nodded, needing no time to review her recollections or use the computer. "I remember her well because she's the first Kazon I've seen in here in quite some time. That," she shrugged, "and because she's only the fifth person Corzo's knifed up this week. But listen, if you're close friends," the doctor's eyes narrowed slightly, that "something's off" feeling intensifying, "are you not in contact via communication devices? Seems a little strange that you'd need a Doctor she saw to help track her down." Folding her arms over her chest, her entire face seemed to lift in expectancy as she waited for an answer: an honest answer. Clearly, she wasn't some dimwitted patron in a bar: Zamaya knew something was fishy here, and it wasn't the aquiline aliens who inhabited much of Hukatuse.

Parsons gulped again, witnessing the exchange with Xex by his side. They'd approached closer but weren't near enough to engage in the conversation directly, though they could certainly hear just fine. Whispering to the silver-skinned man, Shelly said, "She sees right through them. Butch and Sundance are doing their best but..." he trailed off in worry.

Xex made a shushing gesture with his hands, palm down. "Give it a minute..." he advised the anxious ensign, but had rocked forward on the balls of his feet anyway, clearly ready to step in should the situation need to go from 'concerned friends' to a 'doctor to doctor' chat.

"We would be, if she had her comm device with her." Axod answered cooly, barely missing a beat. He shook his head feigning disappointment. "Typical that she would forget it, and then end up in some kind of trouble. Believe me we wouldn't have bothered you if we had any way to reach her otherwise." He kept his eyes neutral, but trained on the doctor.

Leighton nodded in agreement before offering a slight smile. Axod's explanation had been good, but he could tell by the doctor's expression she wasn't fully buying their story. He just hoped that maybe Parsons could find something on his tricorder while they waited, otherwise if the doctor refused to give them any information they would be stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Zamaya considered Axod's explanation for a moment. Through the skin grafted atop her Phage-ravaged face, it was somewhat difficult to decipher what the Doctor might be thinking from her facial expressions alone. "I see," was all she said, the gears her in mind turning over and over as they chewed over the answer given. The explanation must have been enough to mollify Zamaya's concerns because, suddenly, the Doctor nodded and then moved over to the work station she'd previously gestured to.

Xex, who had been focused intently on the doctor's face as though intense scrutiny would allow him to decipher the foreign movements of her grafted features, relaxed when she moved, easing his weight back on his heels. He lifted his brows at Parsons but was too distracted for a full 'I toldja so.' Everything about the woman's body language now screamed 'helpful' so Xex motioned Parsons to stay put and began to ease toward the back for the infirmary. Too many of them grouped around the Vidiian and her terminal would be suspicious, and he certainly did not intend to leave without satisfying his gnawing curiosity at the rest of the medical gear she had amassed on this hidden station.

"Alright then," Zamaya said, offering Qo and Leighton a slight smile, "let's see what I've got on your friend. While I do remember her coming in for treatment, I've seen a lot of patients over the last few days. Helps to refresh myself on the details."

The workstation Zamaya used was situated atop a wheeled stand meant to move the computer wherever needed within the confines of the room. The Doctor adjusted the stand's height down from the previous user's so that she could better tap the controls and read the display. It took several long moments for her to pull the records from Kaldri's visit and, as she reviewed them, Zamaya suddenly tensed.

"I think I know why you haven't heard from your friend," the Doctor said, her crestfallen look unmistakeable even behind the face grafted atop her own. "I did treat her for several lacerations from the knife fight with Corzo. Patched her up well myself but another patient came in who was in much worse shape. I handed your friend over to one of the techs to finish up and scrubbed in with my other patient. I'd assumed," Zamaya went on, "that Kaldri had simply gone about her business afterward. But according to the tech's notes...that was not the case."

"It seems," the Doctor said somberly, "your friend was wanted by the station authorities. I don't know what she did or why they wanted her," Zamaya explained, "but the Enforcers apparently caught up to her here. They led her outside to discuss whatever it was and, at that point, my tech logged it and moved on. I'm afraid I don't have much more information to offer. Except," her eyes narrowed as an idea struck, "maybe this. Hold on," the Doctor instructed, again tap-tap-tapping at the controls of the terminal. "Ah," she said, nodding and then gesturing Qo and Leighton closer to the screen. On it was video playback of the area in front of the Infirmary, with various people coming and going.

"We've had some issues with break-ins around here after hours. Hence," Zamaya explained, "we installed some security monitors outside awhile back. They're visual only -- sorry," she frowned, "but if I dialed this up correctly, we should see your friend coming out with the Enforcers any moment now."

After a few seconds of additional footage, it happened: the clumpy, crusted hair of a Kazon female came into view as Kaldri herself was led out of the Infirmary by two Enforcers. They held her at the elbows near the bottom of the screen before dragging her further into the camera's viewing angle. Standing almost dead center now, the footage showed the woman arguing with the Enforcers before they forcibly grabbed her wrists, pulled them behind her, and slapped on restraint cuffs. The Enforcers then led Kaldri -- who seemed not at all willing to go peaceably -- out of the camera frame.

The carefully composed calm that Axod had been skillfully plastering on his face since arriving on the station slowly fell and he shot a look of concern to Leighton. This was a more complication, to an already hectic situation. He returned his gaze to the Doctor. "Do you happen to know where the Enforcers usually take people they arrest?" He asked earnestly.

Leighton also held a look of concern as he waited for the doctor's response. But they now had proof that they were on the right trail as he looked again to the monitor at the frozen image on the screen. He wondered why the Enforcers had arrested her, but given her reaction it was possible that those Enforcers were not really officers. It' wouldn't be too hard to fake being a member of station security.

“Oh,” Zamaya said off-handedly, but not unkindly, “she would have been taken to the Ho--”

Anything else the doctor had been about to say was lost in a confusion of voices from the small infirmary's entrance. “--can't just barge in here, you know that, Mo!” one of Zamaya's techs was protesting. “Just because you're--” the tech cut off with a softly sighed, “Oh.”

Qo looked away from the doctor and towards the hullabaloo at the entrance. He couldn't be certain what was going on in the chaos, but it held his focus nonetheless.

Leighton had heard the increasing volume just a bit earlier that had started near the entrance. As those new individuals had pushed their way through, Leighton had taken a step back to make way while surreptitiously placing his hands in his jacket pockets to grip the small phaser he had. He gave a concerned glance towards Zamaya as her attention had been pulled away. He glanced back towards the crowd and spotted Xex through the gaggle of people.

Xex paused, his fingers dangerously close to an esoteric piece of machinery cleverly fit into the bulkhead near the back of the infirmary. He craned his neck, just able to catch a glimpse of an intimidating group of beings, well armored compared to the rest of the station's inhabitants and patrons, clearly organized into some sort of formation, clogging the entrance to the infirmary-- beings outfitted uncannily like the Enforcers in Zayama's video. Intrigued, he began to edge back closer to the entrance and as he stepped up to Parsons murmured, “Be ready.”

Ready for what? Xex did not expand, possibly because he did not know. All he did know was that they were now trapped in the infirmary by a group of well-armored individuals, and he did not like it. Nor did he like the tension in the armored group; it spoke of plans gone awry and nerves strung tight.

Sheldon had looked up from his tricorder display as the commotion began, eyes then meeting Xex's as the doctor stepped up to him. Be ready? he questioned wildly, his eyes going wide. Against those giant hulking people armed to the teeth while he only had a knife and a small hand phaser? He visibly gulped down his fear and then nodded to Xex. "I'll do my best," the engineer promise.

“Yeah,” came the dry voice from one of the armored beings near the front of the group, “Oh. He gonna live or what?”

The tech huffed in frustration. “Gimme a sec,” he said, and the entire group rippled and parted as he elbowed his way closer to whatever it was they held in their center.

Closer now, Xex pushed onto tip-toe to see what it was they were talking about, catching sight of a gravgurney, a figure strapped to its surface.

A wash of cold dropped Xex back flat-footed. Verdant Orion skin was hard to miss, and it had also not been much in evidence on the station so far. Xex swallowed and steeled himself before pushing past Parsons and toward the group of Enforcers. If he was wrong, no harm done. If he was right...

“This one too,” the woman at the front of the Enforcers said, jerking her head to her squad who brought forward another figure, this one at least mobile. Xex almost missed a stride, recognizing the well-battered but unmistakable features of one Lieutenant Cross.

“Seriously Mo,” the tech said as he began unstrapping the still form on the gurney, maneuvering the surface so that he could pull down some equipment and start it up. Xex's quick glance confirmed it was a diagnostic, “Your timing sucks.”

Mo, the woman apparently in charge of the Enforcers, shot the tech a grin. “We'll keep that in mind next time,” she said, her voice still dry. “In the meantime, make sure he doesn't cack it? The Gov wants them all alive enough to leave.”

Turning back to her squad, she gave a nod, and then raised her voice, “You're all free to go,” she said, “Just make sure I don't see you again.” As the Enforcers began to step back out into the corridor, it was clear she was speaking to yet more Sojourners: Ratthi and Marwol were left like flotsam in the Enforcers' wake.

Xex was barely able to register their presence; his eyes had been drawn inexorably to the diagnostic the tech had pulled down and set over the still figure on the gurney; unmistakably Timmoz, now he had a clear view of the Orion. While many of the infirmary's features were difficult to understand, lost amongst their cobbled-together nature, the diagnostic display was actually fairly straightforward, and it painted a stark picture of the Orion's injuries.

Drawn as inexorably as he himself had been, Zamaya stepped up to the diagnostic gently shifting Xex out of the way as though she didn't even register him as a living being, frowning in that odd doubled way necessitated by her grafted features. Clearing his throat, Xex said, “I am a physician, and this man is from my ship. I can help,” he added.

Zamaya did not immediately answer, listening to the report her tech was giving her, her eyes scanning over the diagnostic data. Finally, she turned to Xex and said, her tone flat, “How fortuitous that you are here.” Xex was hard put not to wince at the censure in that flat tone. She continued, “That is hardly an explanation for your snooping, but I shall not spit on Chance, if that is what has brought you here. He may well have need of your help, if he is to return to your ship as the Governor wants.”

“Phaelen,” Zamaya said, nodding to the tech who had originally received the Enforcers, “See to the rest of them. Especially her.” With a nod at Cross, and a sidelong glance at Xex, Zamaya returned her attention to the gurney.

“It's time to get to work.”


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Ensign Sheldon Parsons
Engineering Officer

Doctor Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant JG Leighton Romanowski
Operations Officer

Doctor Zamaya
Hukatuse Head Physician]]>
Wed, 14 Feb 2024 01:31:47 +0000
Remember When https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/403 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/403
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Junior Officer Quarters - Deck 5
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 2200

[An hour or so after Comfort and Food]

"I'm fairly confident that if I eat another bite of anything I might explode."

The complaint belonged to Irynya, but a glance at Noah gave the impression that he, too, might agree with her assessment. They'd eaten enough unfamiliar food that Irynya had lost track of whose turn it was to suggest something several rounds back. "And I still say that the Sluggo Cola was the worst of the whole lot," she added, nose wrinkling at the all too recent memory of the drink's taste.

They'd been sitting like this now for easily 30 minutes, eyeing the decimated remains of food that was strewn across the table in front of them, evidence of their feast. Somewhere along the way Iry had excused herself, donning her own pajamas, and now was curled up against Noah's side, head on his shoulder. He was warm and she was full and the comfort of spending the evening doing fun things with him had relaxed any tension that might have come in the door with her from her shift a few hours earlier. That and it was getting late.

Still, she was loathe to leave the comfort of her friend's side and, with a contented quiet yet thoughtful voice, asked, "Do you ever think about what you'd tell yourself if you could go back to your first day at the Academy and describe all of the experiences we've had?"

For some time now, Noah had been in quiet mode, staring into nothing and feeling little more than Irynya's warm body against his, the so-so firm cushion under his butt, and the hum of the deckplates. His mind had circled around tomorrow- his first day as Lead in the computer core. He knew he needed to get some sleep- and his body was tired. But his mind was not. It was active, pulsing, searching, planning with its internal monologue.

When Irynya asked him a question, he turned his head. His cheek brushed her hair. "Um? Hmm?" He shifted his thoughts to process what she'd asked him. "Oh." His chin inclined some, his eyebrows popped. "W-well it hasn't been that long for me. Well five years. W-wait since when does five years not really feel like a lot of time?" He asked out loud. "Ok. W-weird."

Noah scratched his sideburn, expecting to find his curls to twirl with anxiety and forgetting again that he'd had a haircut. "I'm not sure. Uh. What I'd tell them. Maybe to watch out for a Klingon mining drone that tried to circumcise me." Noah shivered at that memory. "Or maybe n-not to rush that one time when the ship was taken over by photonic lifeforms. And I almost gave the computer core a stroke." He smiled a smile that didn't quite seem amused. Noah was still processing that failure, that inexperience. It had turned out alright. But it still lingered. "I might warn myself about Margarar. And-and I'd tell myself the whole thing with Infolife rights starts to loosen up." He turned his chin and bumped her forehead, "Wuh-wuh about you?"

The familiarity of the moment warmed the Risian and she couldn't help the well of affection she felt for the stickbug ensign she was curled up against. Still, she should have actually been prepared to answer her own question and, to her own wry amusement, she was not. "I might have to go back further than the first day," she said thoughtfully. "I almost didn't make it off Risa."

"Sh-sure, that's OK too." Noah encouraged.

She shifted her head, ducking her chin a bit so that her face was more against Noah's chest, a sort of self protective movement. When she next spoke the sound was slightly muffled. "Have I ever told you about that?" she asked. "About how I ended up at the Academy even though Risians are one of the most uncommon Federation races in Starfleet?" She knew the answer of course, but didn't want to launch into a story if Noah wasn't feeling it. It was, after all, getting late and she suspected he was at least moving toward as tired as she was. Even then, bed just didn't seem that enticing yet.

Noah's heart, under that bony chest turned pillow, was soft but fast. Noah shook his head, the move brushing at Irynya. "No. I-I don't know why. I mean. I know Risa is part of the Federation. But Risians in Starfleet are um, pretty rare. That part I knew. At least outside the diplomatic corps... First Contact... those jobs. Counselors? Are there any Risian counselors in Starfleet?" Noah nibbled his lip. "Dumb to ask I know. Anyway. You-you were saying." Noah shifted, pulling Irynya down with him so they were laying on the couch.

“Not dumb,” Irynya commented back, her voice soft and appreciative rather than reproachful. “I’m sure there’s at least a small handful of Risian counselors. It fits better culturally, at least, than piloting.”

Shimmying a little she readjusted to make herself more comfortable in their new position. Beneath her ear Irynya could hear the soft rhythmic beat of Noah’s heart, a comforting sound that made her burrow a bit closer if just to hear it a bit more closely.

“Ok…” she said, a sort of nostalgic far away sound to her voice. “All of my life everyone had assumed I’d get married, have babies, and take over my parents’ business.”

----

[Risa, Delphi]
[6 years ago]

“Get up, get up.” The singsong sound of Marteli’s voice near her ear made Irynya grin and twist, rolling to face the lithe body of her best friend next to her in the bed. Hair a tousled mess with the sheets wound around her otherwise nude form and face warm and playful, Marteli was a picture of decadence. Irynya wanted to memorize every bit of her. Maybe get lost in that thought.

“Get up, get up yourself,” Irynya quipped back, a bit of grumpiness in her tone, though she leaned forward, pulling the other woman toward her and kissing her. It was a passionate kiss, the kind that did an excellent job distracting when one party didn’t want to get out of the bed.

Marteli accepted the kiss willingly, but, when Irynya shifted to go further, pulled back. “Iry…” she said with a soft gentleness.

Hazel eyes darkened, and the desire in Irynya snuffed out like a candle in a breeze. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know.”

She slid out from beneath the covers, wearing as little clothing as Marteli, which was to say none at all, and moved toward the chest of drawers. The top right was hers. It had been since they were little. Just in case. For sleepovers or if she was visiting and needed something last minute. For the last two weeks it had been hers as a live-in-lover. Marteli had offered her home… her bed… the upper right drawer… without even a thought when Irynya had appeared on her doorstep, tears tracking down her cheeks.

Rami, the man she was supposed to be ready to pledge herself to… the man who had proposed in the light of her news in a desperate bid to keep her there… had gone from her closest and most intimate partner to cold and distant in a matter of seconds. Too hurt by her news to even consider a joyful response. Too married to the vision of a future that would not be to consider re-evaluating now that the woman he had planned to spend that future with had enrolled in Starfleet Academy.

When he turned away, no words left to speak, and walked out of the courtyard of their apartment building, Irynya could think only of Marteli–the only person she knew would tell her to go no matter how much she might want to beg her to stay.

She opened the drawer, pulling out the last items left within. Toiletries mostly. That and a comfortable traveling outfit. Long tunic over leggings. Soft boots. She had a PADD too, filled with books and music and other entertainment. But most everything else she might need had already been packed away in the trunk-like suitcase that stood at the ready next to the dresser.

Toothbrush in hand she disappeared into the bathroom, taking a moment to refresh herself, wash her face, and check that her ja’risia was still fresh before returning to the bedroom.

Marteli remained on the bed, but was sitting up now, legs crossed in a lotus and hands resting on her knees, back straight. It was a meditative position, but her friend was not meditating. Instead, she was watching Irynya closely, expression thoughtful, emotional, even regretful.

“Tell me not to go, Marti,” Irynya said quietly, a sad homesickness for the place in which she was still standing, gripping her and twisting at her stomach. “Tell me not to go and I’ll stay here with you forever.”

Marteli snorted, a sound that would have seemed inappropriate on anyone else. Instead of answering she opened her arms. “Come here,” Marteli said softly. “We have a few minutes still.”

When the two of them appeared at the shuttle terminal, Marteli with Irynya’s smaller sling bag over her shoulder while Iry pulled the trunk along behind, the others had already arrived.

They were all there. Her parents. Marteli’s as well. Elwe, Tal, and Wrena; friends she’d known her whole life. They’d once shared childish fantasies of growing up, having children, and growing old together, swearing they’d all live on one big cul-de-sac and no one would really know whose child was whose.

He was there too; stoic and tall, the usual gleaming warmth that Rami held for her missing from his eyes. She had hoped, but hadn’t expected him to come. That would have hurt, but been understandable. This, though, was much harder. The guarded hurt in his eyes was unmistakeable and she wondered for a moment why he’d come at all when seeing her was so clearly painful to him.

“Thank you,” she said to them all when she’d gotten close enough. The shuttle was beginning to board its passengers and she would need to be quick. “Thank you for coming. I am going to miss you each more than I can even begin to express.”

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and as if on cue Marteli’s fingers wound between hers, holding her firm. She glanced at her best friend with a smile of gratitude. Squeezing back quickly she unwound her hand and met each of them in turn with deep warm hugs and kisses to their cheeks. She lingered on each as if to fill up on these last moments with them.

There was more she could have said she was sure, but she’d also said her goodbyes to nearly all of them before now. So their words were few. Reminders to take care of themselves. Admonishments that she write them immediately. Wishes for luck and good travels.

And when she reached the end of the line there was Rami; the only one of the group to whom a goodbye before this simply hadn’t been possible.

“I’m sorry,” she began, hesitating awkwardly before him. She was close enough to feel intimate and yet a chasm seemed to gape between them.

“Me too,” he said, his voice low and tired.

The moment stretched long and taut; awkward. Just as she thought she’d have to turn away without hugging him goodbye he broke, pulling her to him and cradling her against his chest. She fit perfectly in arms whose embrace had been the most familiar of any other for the last 6 years of her life. He clung to her and then, all at once, he let go, stepping back and holding only her hands.

“Irynya,” he said, and the emotion in his voice was unmistakable, “you don’t have to.”

Her expression must have warned him to stop because he hurried on before she could protest, “My offer still stands.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Irynya pulled her hands free of his and wrapped her arms around her chest. “No, Rami,” she said quietly. “I do have to.” And before he could say more she turned and moved toward the shuttle, with only Marteli trailing to help make sure her bag made it on with her.

Later, when she would transfer from the shuttle to the Starfleet ship that would be her temporary home on her voyage to Earth, she would cry. She’d wonder if she should have stopped the shuttle mid-launch, run from the hatch, and begged Rami to take her back.

But no matter how much she might wonder, the thrill of the flight there always drowned it out. The thrill of the flight and Marteli’s final words to her.

“Go see the stars Iry,” her friend had said. “Fly laps around them and then come home and tell me all about it.”

----

"I think," Iry concluded thoughtfully, "I would go back and tell myself that I would meet more beautiful people... more people that would be like family to me... than I ever dreamed possible. I'd tell her that if she doesn't get on that shuttle, she would miss more beauty and wonder than the whole planet of Risa could ever hold. I'd tell her about Timmoz, and Sheldon, and you." She'd been absently drawing circles on one of Noah's biceps, not really thinking too much about the movement, though now her hand stilled and she rested it in place.

"That tickles," Noah admitted. But he made no move away.

She tilted her head up and found herself staring at Noah's chin even though she was trying to draw his eyes. "If I hadn't left I'd have missed too much." And then, overly aware that her particular story was more emotional than anything else, she added. "Just think... I could have gone my whole life without saag paneer or marshmallows or..." her expression shifted to mischief, "Slugg-o Cola."

Noah chuckled at that. His nose had wrinkled- as Irynya was tickling his arm just enough to make response but not so much that it was uncomfortable. He blinked slowly, his quirky-wide smile, smiling. "C-could've lived without the Sluggo-cola. Myself," Noah murmured in a voice that was thickening with sleep. He blinked again, consciously pressing his lids open. He'd woven his skinny legs in a tangle around hers. He wiggled his toes with his slight tendency for restless legs.

"Sounds like you were... um... kind of moving away from what your family expected..." Noah said. "I was s-sort of the opposite. My brother, uh, Simon." Noah frowned a little, troubled. "Was always sort of... um... angry. He left home. Sort of a um. If I say black sheep, do you know what tha-that means?" He asked.

Burrowed into Noah's chest as she was, Irynya's nod of confirmation would be felt more than seen. A yawn was threatening to pull at her mouth and she bit it back, turning her nose inward towards Noah's chest to stifle it. For a moment her brain absently tried to nail down what he smelled like; other than just Noah. "I don't know it exactly, but I think I have an idea of what it means. Sort of the one who doesn't do what they’re expected... Or who stands out as different. Yes?"

"Yeah," Noah said in a breath. It was almost... lamenting. "That was Simon. S-sorry, is Simon."

This was said in a warm murmur, enunciated enough to be understood, though the warmth of Noah beneath her and the safety of their tangled limbs was starting to tempt her towards sleep. A small content smile settled on her lips as his calves tensed and released ever so slightly with the wiggling of his toes. "Tell me more?" She coaxed softly.

Noah smiled down at the head on his bony chest. And though she'd managed a stifled yawn, Noah somehow picked up on it- or else had to on his own. He yawned, muttering the first of his words through it. "Umm, well. He..." Noah closed his lips and put one hand and arm behind his head. What little scent the center of his chest had, with his arm lifted he was essentially Human in scent. Not the fresh of a sonic shower from the morning. And of one that worked in a hot environment with machinery that demanded coolant. There was something of a mechanic's scent to him.

"Simon's, uh, my oldest brother. He lives on Rigil Kentauros now. I-I think. The last I heard he was trying to get a job on Proxima but... with Simon it's hard to tell if it's be-because he's restless or, does really want it. He was dating an Acamarian woman last I heard... but then he said in a message to Mum that he wanted to move." Noah shrugged under Irynya's light body. "Anyway. Uh. My Mum worked, uh, with Starfleet. As a lecturer on theoretical material engineering. And she helped design new habitats and new materials for the Federation. My Granddad, Noah Sr? He did medical positronics until the ban. He lives on Toliman now..."

Noah adjusted with a soft grunt, "S-sorry I'm so bony," he lamented. "Anyway. My Mum and my Granddad hoped Simon would go into engineering for... you know... bettering the world. Building things for people. Or engineering for medicine. But Simon went to Rigil Kentauros. It's... sort of the angry child of the Alpha Centauri Colonies. He wanted to fight Federation interests there... the Kentaurans feel like victims of the Federation. And they mostly build weapons and power systems there."

Though she was sleepy, the Risian listened intently as Noah explained, describing family members she'd only heard him mention in passing or, perhaps, not at all. Her only interruption was a vocalized sound of dismissal at Noah's apology. He was bony, sure, but she'd become so used to companionable touch with him that her body seemed to naturally seek out and mold into the most comfortable positions against him.

At the pause in his telling she finally asked the question that niggled at the back of her mind as if some piece remained to click in her picture of Noah's family. "Why is Simon angry?" She asked. Sleepiness added a slight rasp to her tone, but there was no judgment to be heard; merely open curiosity.

Noah shrugged a shoulder under her. He blinked slowly, processing if he wanted to delve into tense family politics this close to sleep, and when snuggled close to a Risian friend. "I don't know. He's always been. I remember he got more angry after my accident. My-my Mum says its because he felt powerless... about it all." Noah cleared his throat in a soft high rumble. "And I-I sometimes wonder if he is angry that our parents separated."

Silence stretched for a moment as Iry considered Noah's words. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, nor was there any tension. Silence here felt merely like the pause between breaths, a natural rhythm. Iry didn't know firsthand what it was like for parents to separate. Or at least not in the way that Noah meant. So many elements of relationships were fluid on Risa and marriage was no different. Still, her parents were still together and she couldn't imagine them any other way.

"How do you feel about that?" She finally asked, letting curiosity continue to lead her prompting.

Noah tilted his head, the action brushing his chin against Iry's hair-apart. "They're happy. They-they told me once they preferred to be friends. And they still are. I mean... they talk on subspace. My father knows about my mother's new partner. My Mum lives on Bajor. Um. Recently. And my father moved to Titan when I was a second year cadet. They've been apart since after my accident. Not l-like right-right after but a couple of years later. But they stayed on Enceladus."

Noah nibbled his lip. He blinked. He blinked again. The quiet he was OK with, except it kind of lulled him to sleep. When he felt his eyelids close, he made himself talk just to stay awake. "They still love each other just... its as friends." The youth yawned. "Do you miss home?" he asked, this time brushing his chin more intently on Irynya's head. He scratched, reached between them and adjusted. "S-sorry. Friction... it's..." He shrugged, blushing.

Irynya's answering chuckle rippled through her, low and warm, sleep tugging at its edges. "Sorry," she murmured, realizing the additional movement from her laugh probably wasn't helping things. It wasn't as if she minded, but she knew Noah was more conscious of things like this than she was. She held still, more so than usual, to give him a moment and turned to his question.

"I miss it all the time," she said, and the nostalgia of her tone was unmissable, "but never enough to leave this." She sighed softly, eyes slitted like a cat's. "What about you?"

“I miss it,” Noah uttered with a detached look. His head tilted. “I miss it a lot…” He nodded slowly. His caution tickled the back of his mind, this unvoiced barely-acknowledged truth. He loved home. But home has always been… a little different… since his accident. It marked the end of a childhood golden age from the eventual separation of his family… its diaspora across the stars.

Did he miss Enceladus today, or the Enceladus of the comfortable yesterday? His thoughts fell into what he always marked the divide with. Cendo Prae. Catulla. "It... sort of started on Catulla. Before then... I-I just wanted to be a musician." His nose wrinkled. "Um. Then my voice changed. Too."

----

"Code Blue Delta. Incoming casualties." It sounded far off, and strained through a membrane of tin.

“Federation Linguacode…” A voice said in the static. It sort of sounded familiar… kind of wooden?

"Code Blue Delta. Incoming casualties." Farther away. Blackness. Surreal. Swimming feeling.

“Pediatric Ward, Code Blue Delta. Incoming casualties. Doctor Fassbinder H… … Ssstation Alpha-Fiiiive. … Al-Rasheed, M. Report to Muster Ssssss……..”

Noah’s eyes flickered open. He breathed in with a harsh gasp. Then a wall of spinning vertigo hit him. Panic. He was confused. The ceiling was… strange. Not his bedroom. Not his family’s domicile. The air was… warm? Very dry. He almost felt like he could guess how warm. It was on the tip of his tongue. His lips moved in silence. 27.3 degrees Celsius.

Yet the feeling subsided uneasily, like a craving going unsated and forgotten with the next-most shiny thing. Noah realized, in his gasp, he’d risen up on his elbows and arched his back. When he relaxed his muscles, the feeling of skin-to-mattress was oddly raw. It tingled. But Noah’s ears were craning to hear the alert again. It was hard to focus. It was like everything was dialed up.

Too bright, too colorful, too loud, too tingly, too dry, too scratchy. Even the medical anesthetic had a harsh medicinal taste when he breathed in. Pain. Pain in… behind his ear? The alert still hadn’t repeated. Had it been real, or just dreamed? “Code Blue Delta?” He muttered to himself, his eyebrows knitting his confusion onto his round face. Noah shakily reached behind his ear and felt some kind of device. Not part of him. But attached. He felt along the edge to find a seam to his skin but it had none.

“Don’t pull that off,” a voice announced. It was unexpected, it was disembodied and ambient and at first it felt like it came from inside his head. Defiant Noah winced and he tried to twist. More pain- and a weird swimming feeling. “Noah, don’t touch it.”

“It hurts,” Noah complained back to the voice then he froze. He sounded funny.

“It’s a positronic sensory regulator-relay, young man,” a voice with a strange accent… sort of like Grandma’s… said. Like he was supposed to know what that meant? “Your neural pathways are still reknitting themselves. We should be able to remove the nodes in a few days.”

“My what?” Noah mumbled, confused. He squinted his eyes. “Days?” He frowned. “Nodes?” Anxiety made him twist again at the thing- this thing that was intruding on his person. It had the same result. The world swam and he felt his legs jelly. His heart raced.

“Lay down and rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal young man.” This was a new voice, as disembodied as the rest but this one… Noah could swear was whispering in his ear. So much that he jerked to see the person that was obviously standing there only to see no one.

“Who are you?” Noah said with a breaking voice.

“You may give me a name. I am Aya Cortical Interface Assistant Ephbo-opet. I was designed by the Zhivu Aya Medical Positronics Combine of the Orym Coda Diskyt.” The voice whispered again- Noah instinctively leaned away from it. Noah’s language translators took the meaning of Aya: nurse… nursing. Ephbo-opet was Catullan for 201.

The reluctant boy stuttered his footsteps back to the bed where he sat and slumped. “I-I’ve never been good at names.” Noah said. “I had a uh c-cat once… I just called her Cat.”

“Would you prefer to refer to me as Cat?” The voice asked to which Noah screwed up his voice like someone had just put a bad smell under his nose.

“N-no… not unless you’re a cat.” Noah said. “I’ll just call you… um… Aya.”

“Very well. I am Aya.”

----

Noah blinked, grimaced and looked down at his twiddling fingers. "Um. But Catulla's a long-long story. And it's getting really late. Maybe um. A rain check?" He suggested, his sleepy eyes turning to Irynya with a smile.

The stillness of Irynya’s body against Noah’s wasn’t that of someone uncomfortable, but that of someone so supremely comfortable that she felt no need to adjust. She’d listened with cat-slitted eyes to the beginning of the story, concern welling in her for a younger version of her friend even though she knew that the story had to end well. Or… at the least… end with the man sprawled on the couch with her letting her use his chest as a pillow.

When she looked up this time she met his sleepy eyes with her own. She looked. Studied. Memorized. For a moment she was as content right there with Noah as she had ever been with Marteli – a comfortable confidence in the sharing of mutual affection that went beyond the simple comforts of touch.

“Rain check,” she murmured, her voice pitching upward into a question. She understood the context of the phrase, but didn’t entirely know the history of the ism itself.

“Rain check,” she said again, this time with a certainty–confirming her understanding of his request. Then, “But you’re so comfortable.” Her voice took on a playful whine. “If it wouldn’t get us peppered with questions I’d suggest you just come to bed with me and we can continue the warm cuddliness there.” She could imagine, though, the look they’d get from Sheldon, or the derision from Margarar. Something about the change from couch to bed drew deeper conclusions for people even when the activities were as innocent as shared comfort.

Noah grinned sheepishly, "You-you must like a bony pillow," he mumbled back whilst rubbing the corner of his eye.

Despite the sleep that tugged at every ounce of her, weighing her down, she shimmed upward, twisting so that she could climb over Noah without making him get up first. It was a near acrobatic act–something only someone practiced in the sharing of intimate spaces might pull off without accidentally putting a knee or elbow in the wrong place.

To the Risian's acrobatics, Noah chuckled. He was oddly long and difficult to navigate around, and yet oddly narrow and petite as well.

When she was halfway off the couch, one foot on the floor, and the rest of her body tucked across him she paused, meeting Noah’s eyes. Her own were full of warmth and appreciation and instinctively she leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly.

At first, Noah blinked. It wasn't every day that a pretty girl kissed him. But when he realized it was happening, he closed his eyes and maneuvered his own lips to return the gesture. Risians. Then he smiled his too wide smile. He wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... Irynya. It's how she did things. And he was getting very comfortable with that. The Enceladan turned his goofy smile to the side and moved enough that his beakish nose touched hers. "Night," he said with his eyes on hers. "Buh-big day tomorrow. So sleep well. I hope Shelly isn't too-too noisy."

She chuckled softly, a warm low rolling sort of sound. “It takes a lot for Shelly to wake me," she quipped back with a touch of playfulness to her tone. “Night Noah. Sweet dreams.” And then she finished the acrobatic detangling she had begun, gracefully getting to her feet.

She stood there a moment, yawning and stretching catlike so that her t-shirt rode up her waist revealing a honey tanned midriff for a moment before she absently wrestled it back into place and turned towards her room.

Noah, his benign features flexing into impishness for but a moment, swung his overlong leg out and tapped his foot against Irynya's butt. His smile blossomed extra-wide and toothy, his eyes squinted in cheek. "Goodnight Iry."

A Post By

Lieutenant Irynya
Assistant Chief Helmsman

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist
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Sat, 10 Feb 2024 14:14:51 +0000
Games, Gangs, and Greed https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/404 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/404
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Hole, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2000

[The Hole]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 2000 Hours]


Gwenwyn Marwol had been trying to help an elderly alien up a flight of stairs in The Gravity Well. Unfortunately, said alien thought he was being robbed, tried to get away, and ended up falling down said stairs. Bar security believed the man's story that he'd been pushed and summoned the station's Enforcers, who'd quickly rounded up Marwol and his companions and carted them off to Hukatuse's version of a brig. Turns out the brig -- aptly named The Hole for its circular entry portal -- was actually quite large, with at least thirty stacked holding cells with glass-windowed views overlooking the exercise yard below. And that yard was the same place that, after a brief introduction to their cell, the Starfleeters were now being escorted to while awaiting word of their arraignment hearing scheduling.

A promise of "60 kelliks" of exercise time had been given by the guards, who now stood around the area with stun batons drawn in case of trouble. And filling the yard -- which was really just a large open area of the station's floor littered with exercise equipment in unfamiliar shapes to Timmoz and Company -- was a variety of other aliens being held within the prison. Some were actually exercising, using the various pieces of equipment to strengthen their bodies...or at least cut the boredom of confinement with some kind of physical activity. Others simply stood around in clumps, looking around with disdain as they chatted in their confinement cliques.

When the Starfleet officers -- relieved and quite bereft of their gadgets and weapons -- were led onto the yard, all eyes seemed to turn their way. Most looked them over and dismissed the foreign group as unworthy of attention but a few gave sharp, prolonged side-eyes. It was easy to formulate an impression that, despite the guards watching over the yard, this place and its occupants might actually present an element of danger to Timmoz and his people. Time -- and the Starfleeters' own behavior here -- would most certainly tell, but how much trouble could they possibly get up to in "60 kelliks," whatever those were?

Victoria turned to the others, crossing her arms, her expression somewhat bristled by the new circumstance. Taking a breath, she spoke. "I'm from Australia, on Earth. My dad was a Captain, he's on the memorial on Bajor. I think he would be puzzled in how we got into this situation, honestly, but come to think of it, we may be able to find kindred spirits here in similarly ambiguously guilty parties. But what about you lot, mates? Where are you from?"

"Botchok," Timmoz murmured to Cross' question. He gave her a glance during his survey glance of their surroundings. He folded his arms, bemused, as he locked eyes on a pair of tucked, almost Orkish aliens spotting an immense being lifting weights.

"Oh, we might have wanted to wait to engage them," Mei said under her breath. "At least until we'd had a chance to observe whatever hierarchy they've developed here. Figure out the social structures. That kind of thing." She did her best to keep her expression blank, and her body language neutral, though that was a big ask, given that everyone else in the yard seemed to be a lot bigger- or at least more aggressive-looking- than she was.

"Authoritarian," Timmoz murmured to Mei. "A corrupt one. Based on wealth." He shrugged, "We smell our own. I'm afraid." He said of his own people. "My guess would be very little in the way of a safety net. Libertarian. Sink or swim." Timmoz scratched his chin, "I've heard a few people out here muttering about something called The Governor. I think we need to uncover what that is. Is it what they call a warden, or is it a higher form of," Timmoz's eyebrows popped and he ended sardonically with, "Justice."

"We have our orders." Gwewyn reiterated, still suggesting their target might have landed herself here too. If had gotten a promotion instead of a medal when he was knocked off the playing field then the team wouldn't be debating what to do next. "Gather intelligence, at least we have some experience now." He said referring to the event that landed them in The Hole. "Pair up in twos and look like hungry cannibals." Trying to use comedy that could have been mistaken for a serious remark to lighten the team's morale.

Victoria nodded and slunk away into the crowd with her partner Timmoz. She took care to mentally note prominent figures in the crowd, ducking around throngs of aliens as she and her partner searched for the elusive Kazon. What would her father do in this situation, she asked herself, coming to a stop after a while to lean against a pillar.

Though difficult to hear amongst the noise of the yard, a scratching, scittering noise presaged movement up the pillar in question. If one were to glance at the pillar, one might even see movement, a hand-sized dark figure with too many legs. And then, all at once, the scratching stopped and the too many legs stepped across onto Victoria's shoulder. "Psst," a paper-dry voice rasped into her ear from its spot on her shoulder, "You look like you could use some help." It was hard to make out the alien's features, they were so close to Victoria's face, but the impression was of an insectoid body, with so many legs in constant motion it was difficult to count them, the entire body covered in what looked to be fine hairs. Its head-- or in any case, the part of its body from which the voice originated-- was vaguely triangular, with its apex pointing down and two huge, faceted eyes staring out from the top two corners. Smaller faceted orbs filled the rest of the triangular space of its head, and there was movement as it spoke, but the mouthparts were hard to see amongst the hair and eyeballs.

Victoria glanced at the alien with her periphery, crossing her arms. Though she was unsure of the alien's race, she knew it was communicating, and spoke softly in return. "Maybe I do. Who's asking, mate? Don't believe we're acquainted." She slipped a hand through her hair and raised a brow, trying to avoid too much attention - despite the fact she was talking to a rat-sized insectoid.

The alien shifted on her shoulder in an unsettling wiggle of legs, two such appendages reaching out to touch the pillar, as though to assure itself of its escape route. "I wouldn't try it if I were you," it said, "You're obviously new around here, so you get one pass. I won't even tell Uazhak you mentioned mating." The dry voice was infused with magnanimous goodwill, a thin veneer over the spike of anxiety Victoria's words had given the little beast.

"Looking for a Kazon woman," the Orion said casually rumbling from the corner of his mouth. He only then looked at the alien. Timmoz had to swallow down a visceral disgust toward the alien. Orions, despite their debauched reputation, tended toward xenophobia. And this alien was too alien for his tastes. Botchok was replete with megafauna insectoids. But he had not the time to consider the origin of his stomach flip and the itch behind his knuckles.

He did have time to at least check his reaction out of the Orion version of an amygdala. "Have you seen one in here the last few days, friend?" Timmoz asked.

The little insectoid crouched at Timmoz's voice, then sprung upright again, as though his words had somehow had physical weight to them. In a flurry of legs, it skittered behind Victoria's neck to her other shoulder, observed Timmoz closer-to, and then immediately scurried back, closer to the pillar. There, it did something complicated with its legs, like it were beating out some sort of complex tattoo on her shoulder. When it spoke again, its dry voice held actual mirth. "Oh no, no no. You've got it wrong. Uazhak doesn't find people. Uazhak helps you forget people. Like I say, you're new, but trust me. You're gonna wanna forget most things about bein' in here. Taking Serenity is the only way-- and it is most affordable. Especially for--" it did a similar dance to the one earlier, its body waving in a circular motion that seemed somehow to encompass both Victoria and Timmoz, "beings such as yourselves." Although it still sounded amused, there was something faintly sinister about this proclamation.

Finally, it skittered off Victoria's shoulder and onto the pillar, where it paused, waving three legs in the air as though to get a sense for the air currents around it. "Coming?"

"Not interested," Timmoz muttered, making a smooth motion of dismissal with his hands. He pushed off of where he'd leaned, saying the name with a pointed tone. "We're interested in a Kazon. Not Serenity. If you know where she is, we'll talk. To you, or Uazhak. Or both."

Victoria scoffed, shoving off of the column to turn towards the shady insectoid. "I'm with my compatriot here, mate. The last thing I want is taking 'Serenity' to forget anything." She matched Timmoz's tone, and crossed her arms over her breasts. She shook her head disapprovingly. "The Kazon, mate. Humanoid, wild hair, crested forehead."

Timmoz added, "Chip on her shoulder. Thinks she could win a Tsunkatse match with a Hirogen, with one hand tied behind her back. Seen her, or are we going?"

The insectoid stiffened, the thousands of hairs on its leggy body standing on end, which made them look particularly spiky. Hopefully they weren't an offensive weapon. With a hiss, it gestured incomprehensibly at the pair and skittered around the other side of the pillar, and down. The last glimpse they caught of its scuttling form it was disappearing along the curve of a cell wall, its many-legged body lost to the gloom at the edge of the exercise yard.

Almost as soon as the scuttler had disappeared, a smoky voice seemed to wreathe Victoria and Timmoz in invisible sound, the tones of the voice much richer and fuller than your average humanoid's. "That, dear ones, may not have been your wisest decision," said the voice, accompanied a moment later by a figure clothed head to toe in a deep midnight-blue robe that left only the eyes exposed, a pair of golden, slit-pupiled orbs that shone not like a feline's, but like actual polished metal. "Uazhak has a thin skin, and fancies himself something of a... " the figure paused, eyes flitting back and forth as though searching the air for the appropriate descriptor, "people person. You should perhaps have at least spoken to him."

"Uazhak can come say hello anytime he wishes," Timmoz pointed out with a gesture of raking through his frizzy mop. His smile widened, "The ones who play hard to get are more interesting." His eyes narrowed, bemused. He folded his arms, "Every good crime boss knows that." Timmoz edged his smile up and then down again. "But while we are on the subject. Just what is an Uazhak?"

"My associate is right. Putting someone like Uazhak on the back foot compelled him to act. We are.. not from this area of space, but we are seasoned travelers," Victoria attempted to explain, turning her head to the Orion, before back to the woman. "So if you have any information that can help us you're willing to part with, we would appreciate it. Apart from our would be greeting service having thin skin."

"Ah, but Uazhak did already come say hello," the robed figure said cryptically, a movement at the side of the robes that seemed to give the impression of a limb raising beneath the fabric. Still, nothing but the eyes showed past the garment, however. The head jerked, a thrust out of the chin that directed their attention back over their shoulders in the direction the scuttler had gone. "I do not think it will be long before you find out what an Uazhak is. Anyway, for ones such as you," the golden eyes flicked from one Sojourner to the other, "the Serenity would not be so expensive." This seemed to be a common refrain.

Sure enough, there was a stir happening some dozens of meters away, where a group of people were surrounding a single figure. That figure made an exclamation that reverberated throughout the entire exercise yard, causing a brief moment of silence to descend, like a ripple radiating out from a stone dropped in a pond. The surrounding beings began to move, a nervous shuffling that seemed to presage the lone figure's movement.

The golden-eyed being, their smoky voice threaded with some kind of private amusement, finally returned their attention to Victoria and Timmoz. To the latter, they inclined their head, "But perhaps your strategy had merit." With a shrug of their shoulders beneath the robe, they breathed, "Information? What sort of information could you be seeking..." they gestured with a berobed limb, the garment rustling as they encompassed the grim entirety of the Hole, "...here?"

Timmoz seemed unfazed by the unusual being's veiled threats and cryptic words. The station's imperfect at best language translators were little assistance to his fellow V'draysh translators. And his own, being somewhat less available to simply pluck off a chest, had been no better at the strange nuances of this being. Timmoz just continued on. A single corner of his mouth was notched up in seeming bemusement. "We're looking for a Kazon woman. She would've arrived a few days ago in a Kazon-built shuttle. Have you seen her?"

"Kazon are humanoid like us, with wild hair, and ridged, large foreheads. It's important that we find her, my colleague and I. We.. we are scientists, on a voyage from another sector of space, and she has information that's important to our mission. We need to find her and get out of here. I understand you may have your own motivations and things you may want from us, but I'm sure we can reach a compromise."

Victoria's words were frank. Her stoic, tough exterior relented, and she relaxed her shoulders with a breath.

The commotion that had started with the exclamation seemed to have calmed somewhat, but there was a ripple of movement making its way across the open space toward Victoria, Timmoz, and their robed acquaintance. Beings between the movement and the Starfleeters melted out of the way, easing aside like water before a swimmer.

"Oh, the saboteur?" the golden-eyed person said, the pervasive smoke in their voice giving way to a near-chuckle of amusement. "What possible need could scientists," and here, the being's entire posture radiated skepticism as their golden eyes slid over first Victoria, and then Timmoz, neither of which apparently fit the person's image of scientist, "want with a saboteur-- and a bad one at that? Then again," the amusement was back, "it seems you aren't very good scientists yourselves, if you managed to find yourselves here." Again, a berobed hand gestured around the prison yard. "The question is, are you better traders than you are scientists?"

"Saboteur, hmm?" Timmoz's own voice curled with its own version of a smoky amusement. "Interesting. Say more. What did she sabotage?" The Orion riposted. Now they were getting somewhere, perhaps. "Who accused her?"

"Obviously not," the golden-eyed figure said dryly, their question about the Starfleeters trading abilities answered. "What is there to sabotage around here but the station?" they asked rhetorically. "Exercise in suicide, of course. But some sentients are...." there was another whisper of motion beneath the robe, a limb twisting as though to search for a word. "Well. You know." Amusement wreathed the smoky tone at this declaration.

Victoria bristled, and her eyes flashed with irritation. "Good scientists? I'll have you know I wrote a doctorate-level thesis on ship operations in my schooling, the quality I perform at my career has nothing to do with why we're locked up! Crikey, one nebulous accusation and four people are locked up in this pit with no representation or due process. Anyone with eyes can see this place is a slave yard. We wouldn't be here unless we had to be, and the 'saboteur' is probably in the same bind we all are. So please."

"Please what?" the robed figure snapped, "Pity your unfortunate circumstances when mine are the same? Respect you for a thesis in a subject that has no bearing on my life? Pretend outrage at the lack of a 'due process' whatever that is?" Snorting, the golden eyes rolled and a sigh of exaggerated boredom escaped the figure who continued, "Blondie, I don't know where you people are from," the golden eyes looked Victoria up and down once again, "but you'd best forget whatever it was they taught you there. And quickly."

With that cryptic comment, the figure spun in a whirl of their garment and disappeared into a loose knot of chatting Imhotep.

Their meaning became unpleasantly obvious as the ripple of movement that had been making its way across the exercise yard finally shoved aside all of the beings anywhere near Timmoz and Victoria, creating a little bubble of space into which stepped a large, powerfully-built figure. The head was smallish, and flat, with seven orbs blinking in a decidedly eye-like manner. Spike-haired mandibles made up the entire bottom part of the head, giving the impression that the whole thing could open up and shove prey down its throat. The rest of the being was vaguely humanoid shaped, if the humanoid was half again as large as most humans, with bulking muscles or fat to match. Its clothing was haphazard, but what really drew the eye was the creature's chest, on which was a peculiarly spider-like three-dimensional mandala. In fact, the mandala looked disturbingly like the arachnid scuttler who had recently taken up residence on Victoria's shoulder.

When the being spoke, it was like a larger, deeper, but no less raspy version of the scuttler's tone from earlier. The sound didn't seem to come from his mouth, but from lower, like it was echoing out from his chest. "You are new," he stated. Behind him, the array of sentients who had followed him across the yard now began to spread out, slowly encircling the pair of Starfleeters. "So I can choose to ignore your rudeness. If," he held up a hand which consisted most prominently of a set of rather wicked looking claws-- it was difficult to tell whether or not they were adornment or a part of his body, "you make amends. And quickly."

"And what do amends look like," Timmoz asked. He began to tie back his hair with the elastic loop he had around his wrist. "To you." And Timmoz began to walk toward the being- boldly, brazenly, his arms seemingly open. "Fealty? Is that what you want?" He asked. "I have a Captain."

"Already have a Captain, already have a wife. Not really in the market for another boss in my life, unfortunately." Victoria rolled her neck and took a step forward to stand beside Timmoz, straightening her back. She tried to quickly analyze the alien. He had eyes, he had a shoulder. Seemed to be humanoid, and most humanoids had similar weaknesses. Hopefully Timmoz was having similar thoughts.

The large creature waved a limb, seeming to indicate the vast array of people now closing a circle around Timmoz and Victoria. "I have minions," he rasped, as a pair of beings that seemed like an awful amalgamation of a centaur and a spider, if the spider was the animal portion and the human portion was covered in spiky body hair, stepped forward to intercept the pair of Starfleeters before they could get within arms reach of Uazhak, "I do not need more. And I have no wish to start an argument with your..." he paused, as though tasting the word in his mouth before saying, "Captain. Although, it does not seem they are here, no?" A raspy burble emanated from his chest, and judging by the sycophantic sounds of laughter around them, it was a chuckle.

"But no, I do not, nor have ever, needed your fealty. But do you know what I also do not need?" His many eyes did not have visible irises, but they nevertheless seemed to scan up and down first Victoria, and then Timmoz. "Competition. You see, I thought at first you were ignorant, or perhaps afraid, and this is why you did not want Serenity. I sense now though," and he paused, his spike-haired mandibles opening and closing, quivering in the air as though testing it, "that you have no need for Serenity. You have your own." His mouthparts snapped shut, creating an impenetrable spiky grill across the lower part of his face. Uazhak took a step forward and every one of his aforementioned minions did as well, closing the circle tighter around Victoria and Timmoz. "Give me your supply, and perhaps I will consider your apology."

"We're not going to be here long enough for competition." Timmoz shrugged, "I know all about eliminating the competition before it can get too big. That's rule one of being a good," Timmoz pondered for a moment, "Leader." He meant despot. "Again." Timmoz made a curosry glance to size up the number of minions that were working around he and Cross. He stayed casual, and casually scratched his eyebrow, "We don't have serenity. We don't even know what serenity is. You've got a translation problem here. Is that what we're fighting over?"

"We don't have serenity. I go to therapy every week, mate. If you mean some narcotic, we haven't got any. We've got the shirts on our backs." She placed her hands on her hips, and turned to Timmoz. "Never a dull moment, though, isn't it?" She took a breath and sighed it out, before turning to the polyocular brute of an alien. "We're not interested in your territory or anything like that. We just want to find the 'saboteur."

Uazhak again made the unpleasant rasping noise that served him for a laugh. "Saboteur? You mean that Kazon scavenging stealth tech? The Governor has too high an opinion of the worth of this station," he huffed, "charging her with sabotage. She's just a scared one running for her life-- which is probably wise, if Subrek really is coming for her." He rolled his head which somehow gave the impression that he was shrugging. "Nevertheless, you won't find her here," he finished, and it sounded very, very sinister. He took a menacing step forward, the spider mandala on his chest shifting in a vaguely nauseating way. One of his limbs gestured and the circle closed further, a scaled, fishy-smelling being reaching for Timmoz, obviously hoping to pin his arms. "That you think you will soon leave would be endearing, if you weren't also disrupting my place of business," he rasped, and another fishy alien moved closer to Victoria, placing themselves between the woman and Timmoz.

Victoria swung for a punch on the fishlike alien, whiffing his head as he ducked. The alien punched her himself with a hard blow to the eye, causing her to reel back. Her arm was twisted around her back, and soon she found herself scrambling in a vicious fight with the fish, before a grab to a cluster of nerves in his neck sent him into a catatonic state. Victoria stepped back to catch her breath, and looked around for an improvised weapon.

The fish-smelling being found Timmoz was faster than his lankiness would suspect. With Victoria's move, Timmoz seized them by the wrist, twisted until he heard a pop and then pivoted in. He threw the being down in front of Uazhak and stomped on the being's throat. "Back off, or I start pulling this one's limbs off," Timmoz growled. He eyed Victoria who was searching for a weapon, a silent request for her to watch his back to make sure he wasn't shivved by somebody wanting his pheromones. Or whatever else they were on about.

He stared at Uazhak and twisted the arm and wrist in his grasp for emphasis. "Believe me, nothing would make me happier. I'm starving." He smiled menacingly, popping his eyebrows.

The swift, obviously unexpected violence from the pair sent a ripple through the circle of toughs who pulled back from the two of their number now incapacitated on the ground: one completely unresponsive and the other with a bad case of Orion-Boot-to-the-Neck. Then, like an elastic substance, they surged forward but were stopped from overwhelming the pair of Starfleeters by Uazhak's upraised limb. The entire rabble fell silent, the only noise a wet slapping sound that served the being under Timmoz's foot as a whimper.

Uazhak's mouthparts rippled as he let the silence hold for several tense seconds. The spider mandala on his chest shifted in time with his mouthparts; it was hard to tell if he was making a facial expression or tasting the air. Finally, he said, "You assume much about my attachment to that one." The fishy being in question twitched, but the pressure of Timmoz's boot ensured it stayed silent. "Actually," he continued, and if anything the air of malicious intent around him got thicker, "You assume much about your situation." With that, he waved a hairy digit in the air and the entire score of thugs and toughs closed in on Timmoz and Victoria, their arrested surge forward allowed release, and their intent anything but peaceable.

Victoria ran to Timmoz to back him up, empty handed from her search for a weapon. With the two viciously outnumbered, Victoria fought dirty. A thumb in the eye. A bite to the face. Elbows thrown to shatter noses. Still, there were too many incoming blows, and Victoria got separated from her crewmate in the fracas. A clubbing blow to the back of the head dazed her, and another punch to the face sent her sprawling.

The world was a stinging, foggy blur. Everything hurt. She couldn't see out of her swollen eye. C'mon, Sojourner, part of her hoped, last minute rescue any time now..

The melee engaged, Timmoz's green lean body disappeared under a mass of thugs even as he'd leapt for Uazhak and had had hands around the creatures strangely chitinous yet furry throat. While he brought the head down he felt at least two sharp piercing pains shock through his system- one in his back and one in his side.

Uazhak roared, rearing back against Timmoz's grip, spiky fur coming free in Timmoz's hands as the big alien surged backward. Not fast enough though; Timmoz's fingers hooked on the raised surface of the spider mandala and it peeled away from Uazhak's chest, coming loose and alive in the Orion's grip as the mass of minions closed onto them.

[To be continued below...]

----

"Hungry cannibals?" Mei raised an eyebrow, tugged her scarf back down over her hair, and tucked it in so the ends wouldn't flop around. "I don't think I'll be very good at that. Hungry, maybe, but cannibalism isn't exactly in my purview," she added under her breath. "But I am good at meeting people, so shall we?" She resisted making an 'after you' sort of gesture lest it be misunderstood by their fellow prisoners.

The Doctor shrugged as he walked with the badest attempt of "I'm tough don't mess with me" walk you had ever seen. "I was trying to be helpful." He said with his best smile, trying to ease her, make her feel better. "Now let us find a cheerful person."

"Oh yes please, we shall," a deeply feminine voice all but purred, its owner stepping into Mei's path and reaching out a many-fingered, scarlet-red hand to touch Marwol's hair, just at the nape of his neck. The being was just slightly taller than average humanoid height, her skin a brilliant crimson softened by a pelt of very fine hair, or perhaps feathers. Her torso was clothed to her knees in a garment of a deeper red, that bled into a rich indigo and seemed to be composed entirely of overlapping fronds that seemed like a prehistoric version of feathers: too large to be analogous with the earthen bird covering, but reminiscent of the shape. These almost chimed as she moved, as though made of soft reed instruments. Turning startlingly red eyes on Mei, she asked, "Is he for sale? I promise I don't intend to eat him." Her lips parted in what might have been a grin, but was rather spoiled by a mouth filled with several rows of needle-sharp teeth.

Gwenwyn's eyes quickly bulged but he kept his mouth shut until their new fond friend? Finished talking. They were on a fact-finding mission, she was willing to trade and the Doctor hadn't had a romantic partner for a while. He quickly shot Mei a look and hoped that the alien took it for fear or something other than a message. "A trade for information... For the time being anyways." That was the look. Question was, did Mei receive correctly?

Mei took Marwol's arm and patted his shoulder with her free hand, glancing up at him with a fond smile. Judging by the crinkling around her eyes, she was holding back laughter. It seemed an incongruous reaction in a place like this; one might have thought she'd be afraid of the odd-looking people imprisoned in a backwater station like this. But she merely gave the red-eyed being a confident look and said brightly, "I think I'll keep him for now. I kind of like him. But we might be able to come to some other arrangement that could benefit all three of us. Everyone could use a new friend now and then, right?"

Something about Mei's statement clearly tickled the red woman for she laughed, showing more of her needle-teeth, the sound a pleasant burble of merriment. "Oh indeed," she said, shifting her eyes to Gwenwyn once again, gaze moving slowly up and down his form. "Friends are not always easy to come by," she continued. With clear reluctance, she returned her attention to Mei, the fronds of her garment shifting to lay on the other diagonal, almost as though it had a life of its own. But that couldn't be. Could it? "An arrangement, you say?" Her scarlet optics glanced down to where Mei's hand rested proprietarily on Gwenwyn's arm, then back to Mei herself. "I am certainly interested in certain benefits. What are your terms?" Question asked, her attention skewed back to Gwenwyn like an iron to lodestone. One hand lifted and she held it just outside the curve of his shoulder, shifting it down his arm, never quite touching him with her too-many fingers, but tracing his outline nonetheless.

Though never good at acting despite his career path needing it from time to time, The man in all denim stood like a gentleman, posture straight with his arms folded behind his back as if he was a well-trained servant? Slave? Servant-slave? The alien's outfit started to pique his interest, how it transported itself when the only movement was a gross motor skill. A hand movement.

"I'm a curious sort. I like knowing things," Mei said, slowly straightening her back and lifting her chin, careful to look the red woman in the eye-- but not for too long. "Information's a valuable currency where I'm from, and even in a place like this," she tilted her head to indicate the sweep of the enclosure, "It's all about what you know. Or who you know."

Mei's words caused the red woman to pause her touchless inspection of Gwenwyn, canting her head to the side with curiosity. Her garment rustled, the fronds resettling themselves more comfortably about her. "Indeed," she agreed, "such a currency also holds value here, you are correct." Straightening, she stepped around behind Gwenwyn to inspect his entire posterior chain, peering behind his ears and measuring the width of his stance. Over his shoulder, she said to Mei, "I certainly know many." She did not elaborate what many she knew-- beings? Things? Events? "This seems a good trade. I think perhaps one cycle will be long enough with this one," she mused as she continued her slow revolution, stepping with a dancer's precision around him.

"Oh?" Mei raised an eyebrow and kept an amused expression on her face as, catching up to the red woman's steps, she all but twirled Marwol about so he was between Mei and the other woman. "Refer back to when I said I'd keep him for now, hmm? Information is the currency we're discussing right now. Aren't you curious about what's going on in the wider world?" Slowly, she straightened to make herself as tall as her bones allowed for and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, though whether she was preparing for bargaining, fighting, or flighting, even Mei didn't know for sure.

Mei's change of posture did not go unnoticed. The woman stepped back slightly from Gwenwyn, her garment shifting with another arpeggio of chimes. This time, when it settled, it seemed somehow... spikier, as though the fronds were not lying flat. She said, voice harder than it had been, "Oh little white one, there is no 'wider world.' The world is where one is, and we are here. This is what I tried to tell the Kazon-- she did not listen, but perhaps you are not so stubborn? Now," her voice softened back to its pleasant, haggling tones again, "it is clear you need information. I am desirous of a companion. Shall we move on with the specifics?"

"Why are you so intent on this one?" Mei asked. She'd noted the change in the red woman's chiming but didn't let her expression change outwardly. Instead, she changed the timbre of her voice, raising it a step or so and lightening her tone, letting her syllables dance a bit like she was a carnival barker. She tilted her head to one side- a puppyish look that had gotten her the answers she'd wanted from professors and parents who hadn't really wanted to give them away. "What does he have that the Kazon didn't? Why did you give up on them so easily?"

"Why are you?" the red woman snapped back. With a flick of her too-many-fingered hand, she affected disinterest. "The Kazon is not him and he is not the Kazon. She wanted only to escape. There is no escape," she said, and while it could have sounded sinister, it instead came off as merely a boring fact of life. "You, I think," she continued, "will not be here long, so I must take my chance while I can. I prefer my playthings with external parts," she said and then, as though realizing something, she narrowed her eyes at Gwenwyn. "He does have external parts, correct?"

"His parts aren't going anywhere, thank you," Mei said firmly. "And if there's no getting out of here, then where did the Kazon go? We all came from somewhere, and apparently some of us go somewhere else. Where is that? You're not talking like she's dead, so she must have gone somewhere else. You might find the idea of elsewhere boring, but I don't. So answer me that, and then we can talk about him." She nodded up toward Gwenwyn, silently hoping he'd play along the way he'd been doing all along.

The red woman waved an airy hand of dismissal. "Who knows where they go after they leave? No one helped her escape-- if we could do that, would we still be in here? Anyway, she didn't have time to cause trouble for long. The Enforcers took her in the morning." She shrugged her shoulders, her garment chiming as it resettled more smoothly against her. "It is a shame-- she had fire. Perhaps if she had known to go to the Welds like Zdzisław said... But it is too late now." She flicked her thin fingers, as though dismissing the woman from her mind.

She looked about to reopen negotiations about Gwenwyn when a ripple of motion as though a large number of people were moving caused a shift in conversations and stances, the rest of the beings in the exercise yard also shifting to accommodate the movement. The red woman was no exception. She glanced up and something complicated happened to her face, a strange amalgamation of wariness and annoyance that accompanied a sidestep and a chiming re-shuffle of her garment as she made room for an increase of bodies near them. If anything, the garment seemed even spikier now. Something was definitely happening nearby, but apparently that something was not concerning enough to completely derail her transaction. After her glance at at the commotion she returned her attention to Mei. "Enough of the Kazon," a flicker of her eyes back at Gwenwyn, a featherlight touch to the nape of his neck. "She is not here. You," she said, finally to Gwenwyn, "are. And our time," she didn't so much glance at the influx of beings that now shielded their view of Timmoz and Victoria, as she vaguely turned her body that direction so as to indicate them, "seems to be short. I need only a few minutes with him." The full force of her red-eyed stare fell upon Mei.

"The Welds," Mei breathed, committing the name to memory. She did the same with 'Zdzisław', on the off chance that name, too, would be important. She glanced toward the commotion, but wasn't tall enough to see over the crowd. "What do you want him for, that's not going to take very long, anyway? You don't plan to eat him, do you? Because I'm not meant to let someone chew his bits off, you know."

The Human stood still like an obedient and well-trained slave, observing and taking all important pieces of information. Something had upset the locals, they had to hurry. He leaned into Mei's ear and whispered. "I'll go with her mistress," unsure how good the red woman's hearing was "A deal is a deal." So many thoughts were rushing like a river of water through his head.

A ripple of laughter sounded from the commotion, and then quieted with a suddenness that left an ominous silence behind. The red woman's spiked garment shifted again, the chimes loud in the sudden hush. She glanced over her shoulder at the group, but apparently decided they were not an immediate threat, for she turned back to Mei and Gwenwyn, her expression both pleased and vaguely predatory. "What I want him for is my business," she said, not taking her eyes off Gwenwyn for a long moment before finally smiling disarmingly and shifting her attention back to Mei. "I can assure you, he will be perfectly intact and functional when I am done with him. If anything, he shall be safer with me" she added with another glance over her shoulder, and then as Gwenwyn spoke, her expression brightened with delight. "You see? Even he," and here, her tone spiked with derision, as though speaking of a particularly dim child, "understands. A deal is a deal," she repeated and stepped to the side, slipping her arm into Gwenwyn's as though to escort him to a ball. Her garment smoothed where it touched him, a susurrus of musical tones.

"A deal is a deal," Mei said under her breath as she watched them go. "Have fun, then." She tried not to let her doubts show through in that little comment, but wasn't sure she quite succeeded. So. Now what? No one around her seemed keen on chatting; all their attention was focused on whatever commotion had risen and died just then. She tugged her hood down over her forehead, spared a glance in the direction Gwenwyn and the Red Woman had disappeared to, and went to see what was going on, all the while sending silent prayers up to deities she'd only ever heard of that her crewmates weren't in the middle of it all.

Before Mei could get far, her path was blocked by a stout limb... literally. It seemed to have bark, and ended in dexterous-looking digits of a fluorescent blue foliage. It was attached to a tall, spindly being made also of bark, its face a kindly whorl. "I wouldn't," it said, its voice a deep resonant rumble that managed to make the warning helpful rather than sinister. "I know you cannot see," it added, "But nothing good is happening over there." It indicated the knot of people that had constricted around Timmoz and Victoria. After a pause, it offered two of its many limbs. "Perhaps though, I could help you observe from here?" Nothing was threatening about the being's manner; of all the strange people in the Hole, this one seemed genuinely concerned for Mei's wellbeing.

She rolled to her tiptoes anyway, as though the extra couple of centimeters would help her see over the crowd. They didn't help. "Perhaps you could describe it? I have friends over there. They might be in trouble. One of them's green all over. Another's very tall with whitish hair. Are they alright? Can you see them?" Mei tried not to let the thrum of worry sound in her voice, but she could hear it shake anyway. She took a deep breath to calm herself and nervously tucked her disobedient hair back under its scarf. "What's going on?"

"Ah," the tree-like being said, a long breath that held both concern and awkward knowledge, like it wasn't quite sure Mei really did want this information. "The green one and the tall one have..." it paused, the whorls of its face scrunching together in a frown, "... angered Uazhak somehow. Usually, this can be remedied with simple humiliation but things have... deteriorated, it seems. Your friends are not weaklings and their show of strength is not serving them well. Uazhak has many. This will not end well." This last was said not unkindly. The being bent slightly, its limbs waving closer, hesitant. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Mei bit her lip, glancing back and forth between the tree-like being and the heads of the crowd in front of her, wishing- not for the first time- that her Betazoid heritage had blessed her with more than the tiniest smidgen of empathic powers, if only to have a better idea if the tree-person truly was kindly or not. She felt like she should see what was going on, if only to report back what had happened whenever they got out of here; but if the worst happened, she didn't want to see another crewmate die. "I should," she said, giving the tree-person a nervous smile. "But be careful. I'm a bit breakable."

The tree being's fluorescent foliage shook, as though in a sudden breeze, its face scrunching with merriment this time. "Yes, little one," it said kindly, "Your kind all are." And with that oddly ominous statement, its limbs wrapped around Mei, supporting her beneath her upper thighs and her back, like a living bench, and lifted her high. The bark was rough in the way of all bark, but smoother than many, the kind of bark you could lay your cheek on. It was also warm, like it had been sitting in a sunbeam for some time. The limbs were gentle, taking due care with the woman's fragile frame, and raised her up until she could see over the heads of the mass of people who had constricted in a ring around two figures. One stood out in his green skin, his posture defiant as he stood with his foot on a prone creature's throat, facing off against a large being with a many-eyed face and spider-like mandibles, his huge chest notable for the spike-furred spidery mandala that covered it, and rippled in a rather sickening way. The other familiar figure of Victoria looked no less fierce than Timmoz stood just to one side of him, another creature at her feet.

As they watched, the huge spidery being lifted a digit and whatever reprieve Timmoz and Victoria had won for themselves disintegrated. The entire crowd gave an enormous roar and surged forward, and both Starfleeters were lost to view beneath the press of bodies. The tree made a humming noise deep within itself, that vibrated outward into its bark, an uncomfortable sound. While the gang's attention was on doing whatever it was they intended to do with Timmoz and Victoria, bystanders began to flee outward, buffeting the tree who also began to retreat, Mei still in its grasp, at a more sedate pace.

"Wait, what's happening to them?" Mei called out to the tree-being, though her voice was lost beneath that of the crowd and the humming noise that was beginning to rattle her teeth. Straining as much as she could without risking falling or being dropped, she did her best to find out what was befalling her crewmates, but could see nothing from her perch which was steadily moving away.

------------------------------------


The red woman steered Gwenwyn away from Mei, subtly putting herself between her new prize and his 'guardian.' Though she moved without apparent haste, she was nonetheless quick to take them further and further from the commotion which had constricted, getting tense and electric, like a place just before lightning strikes. Once a few bodies separated her and Gwenwyn from Mei, and they were out of immediate shoving range of whatever that electric disturbance was, she seemed to relax, a chime sliding off her dress as it once again readjusted itself. A few more moments and they reached the edge of the exercise yard, and a little corner that sported a surface that could have been a low table or a high bed, its surface strewn with various colored squares that could have been paper or foodstuffs, it was hard to tell. "Here," she said, reclaiming her hand from Gwenwyn's arm and delicately beginning to slide his denim jacket from his shoulders, "Allow me. Let's get you comfortable, shall we?"

The Doctor just smiled and accepted her movements, per Starfleet protocols giving aliens a show was allowed or was just pushing the boat out. He did owe her a favour and he was about to find out what this favour was. But being away from Mei broke his own rules of safety he imposed on the group and he was worried and fearful simply because he didn't know what was going to happen.

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, or perhaps simply following her nature, the red woman moved slowly, removing the jacket and placing it on the edge of the table/bed while keeping tactile contact with him, careful to make sure Gwenwyn saw all of her movements, as though to assure him that she wasn't just stealing his clothing. Her own clothing continued to make pleasant noises as she moved, a soothing accompaniment so at odds with the general din of the exercise yard. Jacket removed, she led him to one side of the surface and knelt smoothly, the movement both practiced and graceful. Her many-fingered hand shifted from Gwenwyn's shoulder down his arm to clasp his hand, tugging gently in an invitation to join her on the floor beside the table/bed. "Please," she said, "make yourself comfortable."

"S-sure," He said stumbling over his words like an old drunk, he took a big breath similar to the one he took before his exams to qualify as a doctor. He grasped her hand, didn't squeeze it and it wasn't too tight either until he was down, though instead of kneeling he crossed his legs as he sat on the floor.

The red woman's smile when he did as bid was radiant, transforming her already-pleasing features into something almost otherworldly. Once he was settled, the smile shifted subtly into something enigmatic, while her garment slid into a hypnotic wave of movement. She stood as smoothly as she had knelt and moved to the other side of the table/bed before kneeling again, her expression eager. "Now," she said, indicating the colorful squares on the table's surface. Now that they were closer, it was clear the squares were arranged in some sort of pattern depending upon their color. Likewise, some kind of pattern made of triangles had been etched laboriously into the table/bed's top. "Your pieces are blue and yellow. Mine, red and green. You may move like this, and thus," she said, beginning to explain the rules of what was turning out to be a... board game? The rules were simple enough, and swiftly outlined and when she was finished, the red woman took a red square and slid it a few spaces across the board. "To you then," she purred over the background chime of her dress.

Gwenwyn's body shifted towards the bed/table though he was paying attention he was hoping that beginner luck was with him, it seemed to resemble chess? though the pieces could only move to their respective colours. Gwenwyn picked up a yellow piece and moved it slightly to the left. So many thoughts were rushing to his mind right now!

"Another one?" The Doctor from Newport asked out of curiosity and stratigery "How many has he killed since you've been here?" While he asked he took his time to make a move, picking up a blue piece and quickly moved it towards his yellow piece hoping she was more focused on the chess talk rather than the chess

Red digits flicked in dismissal as she answered, "Who knows? These 'crime lords' have extraordinarily thin skin. I can only assume someone pricked it and now must be made an example of." Rolling her eyes at the vagaries of these creatures, she stood, disappointment weighing on her scarlet limbs. "I thought perhaps we had more time," she said morosely, holding out her hand for Gwewyn's to help him to his feet. "Come, it will not be safe here. And I have not forgotten; you must be returned intact." Indeed, the surge of motion had shoved the entire large group that had gathered closer to their little alcove of peaceful gameplay, and bystanders were starting to scatter. One of these bystanders which looked like nothing so much as a tree with vivid, bright blue-green leaves, was not so much scattering as slowly backing away. Cradled carefully in its limbs was a figure that looked suspiciously like Mei Ratthi.

Gwenwyn was just amazed at this person, he didn't know anything about her but all it seemed she wanted was a friend but he had a medical theory in his mind. He took her arm and just smiled at her in understanding like he understood why she wanted a friend to be with, to talk with. When he was reunited with Mei, it was clear he was different than he went in. "I'm okay," He said to ease Mei's worries

"Oh, good," she said, her shoulders relaxing. She looked up at the tree-being and smiled. "Thank you, friend, for letting me see what was going on over there, as least as much as you could. I'm sure they'll be fine." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as the tree, who gave her a kindly smile as he started to gently lower her to the ground. "You probably haven't seen the commotion over there, but our compatriots have gotten themselves into trouble. I couldn't really tell what was going on, but there's a fight."

Gwenwyn came out glowing as if a miracle had happened or he accepted a marriage proposal. "Well it was only a matter of time," Gwenwyn said implying all Orions are brawlers, spoiling for a good fight, "Come on, as much as I would love to witness whatever qualifies for a Doctor around healing a Human and an Orion I doubt our crewmembers would have the same expression I have for foreign medicine."

Mei opened her mouth like she was about to say something- perhaps something unwise, given the expression that flitted across her face- and then closed it again. She shook her head slightly, one wily curl slipping out from under her scarf, and with a glance and a slight smile up at the tree-being, she followed Gwenwyn into the crowd.

--------------------

[Continued from above...]

Even as the melee closed upon Victoria and Timmoz, a strident voice broke through the chaos, a voice used to both being heard, and being obeyed. "Alright, alright, break it up, BREAK IT UP," came the bellow, its owner difficult to see through the press of bodies-- until an entire squad of Enforcers began to wade into the scrum, laying about themselves with their pulse-electrified truncheons, apparently uncaring with whom they connected. "Uazhak!" the leader of the squad barked, "Back off, if you know what's good for you. And the rest of your," her lip curled with distaste, "compatriots too."

Victoria struggled to her knees, coughing and wheezing for air. "Tim- Timmoz, are you alive? I think I'm pretty messed up." She rolled to sit on the floor and took stock of her injuries. Her lip was busted, her eye was swollen shut, and she was reasonably sure she had broken ribs.

She slowly made her way to her feet, and was backed up against a wall by an Enforcer. Victoria looked for Timmoz, hoping he was alright.

The Orion was laying motionless and bleeding on the deckplates, two stab wounds issuing with dark green blood, inky in its consistency. He was unconscious.

A furtive scurry of motion could be seen fleeing from the small space that had opened up around the pair of injured Starfleeters, a spider-like form disappearing amongst the confusion of bodies as the Enforcers separated and beat at Uazhak's minions.

Uazhak's expression shifted from undeniable rage to disarming ingenuity, a feat of metamorphosis on his arachnid face. His hairy limbs raised in the universal sign for 'I mean you no harm' and he took a deliberate step back, breathing heavily from his brief scrap with Timmoz, the center of his chest a strange, naked gray color without the spider mandala on it. Spiky hair was missing from places around his neck from where it'd been lost to Timmoz's fingers, and one mandible didn't seem to be sitting right.
Still, he managed to speak clearly enough. "You know I do, Mo," he said with exaggerated innocence. "You should know that they started this one."

The lead Enforcer rolled her eyes. "They always do," she said. "You gonna do this this easy way today, Uazhak?"

Uazhak hesitated, then executed an exaggerated bow. A series of clicking whistles emitted from him, audible even over the din of the fight between the Enforcers, his minions and the pair of Starfleeters.

It was unclear whether it was the whistles or the Enforcers' batons that had the greatest effect in separating the combatants, but it did not take long before the small space around Timmoz and Victoria had opened enough for a half dozen Enforcers to move in. Victoria was roughly cuffed again, the Enforcer taking her into custody simultaneously ignoring any protestations of injury, and avoiding adding new. The Enforcer tasked with Timmoz however... he toed the Orion lightly in the side, then dropped to his haunches to examine the leaking ooze of dark blood. "Uh, boss?" he said, glancing up at Mo.

"What?" Mo snapped, her expression distracted until she glanced down at the Enforcer and his unconscious charge. A series of unfamiliar words-- expletives, by their cadence-- issued forth and she made a few sharp commands. "He'd better not be dead," she finished, glaring at Uazhak, "or it's coming out of your hide." A widening area of space opened around them, created by Enforcers scattering minions and bystanders alike. Into this free space came a pair of Enforcers with a gravgurney, which they directed to Timmoz's side. With cool efficiency, the Orion was loaded onto the gurney and it was lifted, preparatory to leaving.

Mo watched dispassionately, then frowned. "There are supposed to be four of them," she said, narrowing her eyes at Uazhak, "What did you do with the other two?"

"We are here!" Gwenwyn shouted from within the crowd, and when he did it parted like Moses and the sea. "I am a Doctor, healer, boilerfixer." Rattling on different words for doctor as all cultures had different words for them. "I know their races, it'd be best if I attended to them." The Doctor stated staring up, his encounter with the Red Woman really did something to him.

As Uazhak did not look inclined to answer-- in fact, he was looking particularly smug, if a mussed aracnoid being could be said to look smug-- it was as well Gwenwyn spoke up. Mo was not looking particularly patient. Shooting one last gared at Uazhak, she glanced down at the small display in the forearm piece of her armor. Apparently whatever she saw there matched with Gwenwyn's announcement, for she nodded to another pair of Enforcers who stepped forward, taking both Gwenwyn and Mei by the arm. Once again, they were cuffed. "Maybe it would," Mo agreed with the doctor, "but it isn't happening in here. Your time is up. C'mon."

With a jerk of her head, the lead Enforcer directed the entire squad to move out of the prison yard, Starfleeters-- including Timmoz on his gurney, to which he had been thoroughly secured-- in tow.

Behind them, the yard's activity returned to normal with surprising speed, as though they had never come.

A Post By:

Lieutenant Victoria Cross
Assistant Chief of Operations

Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Helmsman

Lieutenant Gwenwyn Marwol
Assistant Chief Medical Officer

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Alien Anthropologist

&

Captain Björn Kodak (as various baddies and ne'er-do-wells)
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Xex Wang (as various baddies and ne'er-do-wells)
Chief Medical Officer]]>
Wed, 07 Feb 2024 23:39:28 +0000
The Chop Yards https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/406 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/406
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Chop Yards, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 2015

[The Chop Yards]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 2015 hours]


Malik had told the Starfleet trio that Kaldri's stolen Kazon shuttle had been confiscated by The Governor and sent to a section of the station known as "The Chop Yards" for processing. And by "processing," Malik had meant the shuttle was to be carved up for spare parts and hull plating to reinforce the station's exterior and keep its innards running smoothly. Thus Irynya, Noah, and Sava had left The Gravity Well in search of the ship-slicing facility.

It'd been a lengthily walk, the small group passing various tent vendors, brick and mortar shops, and eateries along the way. They'd even snaked their way through various dark and not-entirely-safe-looking hallways, but Sava had seen to the safety of the group. But the closer Irynya and her brood came to The Chop Yards themselves, the more and more sparse things became until, finally, they'd arrived on the periphery of their intended destination. From their position overlooking a gantry leading down into the central work area, the Starfleeters could see exactly why this place had been given its name.

"The Chop Yards” were actually the hollowed out remnants of a single, enormous vessel. Its interior had the appearance of a gigantic and singular corridor, tall and wide enough to accommodate small to medium vessels. One wall was open in sections to the vacuum of space, protected only by force fields through which ship hulks could enter and leave. Within was a chaotic mass of conveyor belts, cranes and hoists, massive chop saws, and mechanical welding arms, all of which were in motion at all times, creating a deafening drone as hundreds of workers milled about. The crewers carefully scurried about between dwarfing machinery that cared little for whether they were in the way of the saws or not.

The Chop Yards were also positively filthy. Piles of scrap were heaped into designated areas and workers were covered in grime and grease or other various machine fluids. A perpetual hail of sparks illuminated what would otherwise be a space too massive for the dim luminescence that the few lights present could provide, which only served to reveal the dust that hung in the air at all times, threatening to clog the already overworked air ventilation systems.

These conditions necessitated the presence of protective equipment: heavy burn-resistant overalls, hard hats, goggles, gloves, and respirators were all employed here. Of course, not all workers were lucky enough to afforded such luxuries and reluctantly worked to the detriment of their own health to pay for their food and lodging aboard Hukatuse.

For those with the metal to spend, however, there was a vendor down at the end of the gantry with protective equipment available to buy. The alien stationed there even sold short range communications devices -- an earpiece with a snaking microphone that fit into the respirators he peddled -- in case the workers needed to talk to each other while carrying scavenged equipment and hull plating pieces back and forth amidst the deafening noise of the chop saws.

If The Exchange was the beating heart of the station, The Chop Yards were its stomach. It was through there that the nutrients needed to keep it alive passed through, were digested, and the waste was ultimately expunged. Old ships were broken down, new ones were made, or pieces were harvested to add to the station itself in its ever-growing amalgam. And above it all, watching the workers with intense interest, were the same black-clad Enforcers seen enforcing The Governor's will throughout the station. And somewhere -- amongst all this -- might be Kaldri's ship, possibly awaiting its own turn at being carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

The Chop's gear reminded Noah of some kind of bunny suit. He'd paid the "metal" for a protective jumpsuit- one meant for someone more girthy than he. Searching the plasticized fabric for signs of it being a smart material, he found none and was relegated to looking like someone had deflated an elephant. It was a cool gray color that bunched into sags and wrinkles. The gas mask on the other hand reminded him of the masks they donned in the computer core- albeit much more primitive.

When he was clothed up, the slight engineer took a second place of the place. This was a combination of an engineer's hell and an engineer's paradise. It was hoarding on a megascale- though Noah was willing to bet one station's junk was another's mass recycle. It seemed little was meant to go to waste here.

The area itself was, to Noah's eyes, obviously a gargantuan vessel- larger than even some Federation ships. And like its contents it had been recycled. Noah could trace where power conduits, data transfer nodes and computer interfaces had likely been mounted. This was like walking around inside a skeleton.

The things on display, however, Noah could more easily guess at. He approached a conveyor, careful to stoop and look with his eyes rather than risk using hands and being accused of taking. "Some kind of duotronic data relay," he said toward his earpiece. "Something we'd see..." he stuck out his bottom lip with a vague headshake, "On a Daedalus-class. Maybe. Or a Ganges-class." It's prongs for data transfer was all but a confirmation for the young one. He'd seen similar things in the Fleet museum and in the odd hobby shops of engineer enthusiasts who befriended his Father. "Strange to encase it in a reactive alloy like lapretanium duride though," he noted of the metal.

Noah straightened and paced a few more steps up the conveyor. "M-most of this is at least a hundred years behind our tech. And a lot of jury-rigging of things into things." He pointed- and then being cognizant of his body again withdrew- "That's a plasma coil someone's turned into a dynamic mode converter."

"I need you to focus, Ensign." Sava stated crisply as she walked one step behind him and his pretty female friend. She didn't know either of the two well at all - perhaps this young boy called Noah was a helmsman or at least a spacecraft enthusiast. Or both at once, from the looks of it. Evidently it was impossible to keep one with starships on the brain from geeking out over a bunch of old scrap they'd only ever read about in books or seen in museums, but right now they had a mission to do, and something to find here.

Noah straightened, "Y-yes ma'am," he acquiesced. He stepped back from the running track of junk and occasional antique on the conveyor.

"Now. I'll need you to help me spot if your Kazon friend's ship is here. As we discussed on the way here - we must not attract too much attention if we wish to come away from this ordeal safe and sound. Once someone suspects that there is something we want here, I sense that it will not be as easy leaving as it was coming in." Sava added. "Can you do that?"

Noah produced his tricorder from the strange and cumbersome gray protective clothing. He opened it. "I have the s-schematics here. I-I'd suggest we narrow down our search with pinging a material that her ship had, that they probably don't have around here." His eyes dropped to his tricorder and his thumb began to work. "At least not much of. Something like duratanium or duranium."

Perhaps it was the tone or maybe the fact that nothing Noah had been doing seemed wrong to Irynya, but she shot a look at the tall Kelpien security officer at her admonition of the engineer. This might have been a more effective silent communication were she not also clad in one of the safety get ups that they'd procured. Like Noah's hers was oversized, though unlike Noah's it seemed to be meant for someone more stick figured. The suit was tight in all of the wrong places and awkwardly loose in others, giving the impression that she was a bit of an accordion. She couldn't imagine that anything about this was safe except, perhaps, that the suit's material might protect their skin. That it might get caught on anything they walked past seemed like an acceptable risk.

"Which is newer?" she asked Noah, more to show that she was contributing than anything else. "You said the tech here all looks about 100 years behind ours, but Subrek's ship certainly isn't. My guess is the newest will be the least common."

"Duranium, by-by about a hundred and fifty years. More or less," Noah appraised. "M-maybe I should scan for Tritanium or tritanium composites." Noah followed that line of thought, only briefly looking at the ultra-lanky Kelpien and the Risian. He smiled into one cheek: they really did look ridiculous. And Noah wondered if they'd not offered enough "metal" for a more appropriate cut. His fingers had been working his device, huddled discreetly as he could against his thigh. "I have a tritanium ping... bearing 233 carom 0 from our position." He pointed vaguely between true left and true forward, at around ten o'clock.

"Or you could skip the tricorder entirely and search with your eyes instead, Ensign - constantly looking down at your leg will only serve to draw unwanted eyes. Speaking of using our eyes-" Sava turned to look at a much shinier, seemingly newer chunk of metal poking out from way behind the pile. How it'd wound up there was anyone's guess - and honestly so was how they were going to get to it. "Could that be it?"

Noah nibbled his lip and then closed his mouth- his teeth clenched behind them until he felt a pang of pressure in his molars. He swayed gently. She's not Margarar, she's not Margarar. Sava probably had a point. Noah, though, was an engineer. He didn't skulk very well. There had never been a, "Inconspicuous Engineering" class. His eyes blinked. He tucked his lips together and followed the two again.

He looked at what Sava had noted. "That's a polyduridium composite. Sorry Ma'am. Sorry." He said softly, not finding his big voice. Noah rubbed the flat of his nose. "The-the only group known to Starfleet Engineering to use that are the Caatati." He squinted an eye, "I-I think. It's either Caatati or the Brunali." Noah chewed his lip, "In oxygenated environments, tritanium will s-sometimes take on an aqua patina if its not, um, not cared for. It's the tri-cobalt fusion finishing p-process. But in space, it'll look like that," and he gestured again to the newish metal.

"Definitely not our ship then," Iry commented, this time staring at Sava with a look that was meant to speak volumes. Noah could fight his own battles, but she outranked the tall Kelpien here and didn't particularly love the way the security officer had seemingly jumped the line.

To be fair, she reminded herself, she was also salty about not only Margarar's treatment of her friend, but the fact that he was still subjected to sharing quarters with her. The chances of Sava falling into the same pattern were quite low, but still...

"Lieutenant, perhaps we could let Mr. Balsam do what he is best at and trust he knows the materials here better than either of us," she said tone clipped and level.

Sava was silent for a good few seconds. Perhaps she had overstepped. As much as Noah had been a little excitable coming in here he was far more qualified than both of them combined (or her, at least) to find what they were after - which she would not have debated. Perhaps she hadn't quite gotten out of her Academy instructors' mindset yet - most of her charges then had been cadets who didn't really know any better and needed to be taught what to do. Balsam was long beyond that point now, and she should've kept that in mind.

"Indeed. I'm sorry, ensign." Sava said to Noah, apologetically, at last. "Please, do carry on."

Catching the Kelpien's eyes Iry offered her a small smile, acknowledgement of the other woman's willingness to adjust her approach and admit she might have been too hard on Noah. She hoped the look conveyed that she appreciated the shift rather than adding any confusion into the communication.

"Ok," she said, regrouping and tugging absently at her ill-fitted safety suit. She squirmed a bit, frustrated at the places where the material awkwardly restricted her movement. "You said the ping for the tritanium was that way?" she asked, gesturing in the general direction that Noah had indicated previously. Getting Noah's quick ascent she nodded her understanding and then moved. "We might as well get ourselves over there then."

"And what, exactly, is over that way?" A new voice had suffused the local communication channel between the Starfleeters' ear pieces. Set for proximity, the devices automatically added anyone who was considered to be in "ear shot." And the alien who was now approaching the trio certainly qualified as he walked within proximity. Though unlike many of the other exotics Iry and the like had seen since setting foot aboard Hukatuse, this man wasn't resembling of a fish, shrimp, or any other type of aquatic species. He was, in fact, very much a Trabe: one of the races Starfleet's Delta Quadrant primer for new duty assignments covered in great detail.

"I am Torbis," he introduced himself, placing a hand on his chest in a gesture of respect. "Maybe I can help you find whatever it is you're looking for? You look a little out of place," the man stated the obvious. No one else on the floor of the Chop Yards was walking around taking in the sights like Noah and his ilk were. "I'd hate for Foreman Koloss to notice you just wandering about with nothing to do..."

Through his mask, the Trabe certainly looked friendly enough; there was a slight smile on his face. And his eyes were, perhaps, a bit knowing: Torbis didn't seem to think Sava and the rest were here to work like he was.

Noah had fixated on his tricorder, which he was trying less to disguise. His body had returned slightly toward an unusual signal. He got a bead on its possible, relative location and then smiled an awkward smile at the first sort of Human-like humanoid they'd seen thus far. "Oh uh. We-we are..." he looked at Sava and Irynya. "Buyers?" He didn't mean to lilt his words up like a question. But his uncertainty of how to cover their presence betrayed him. Utterly. He dropped his eyes. "S-sorry. Uh. Well, um." Noah gestured at himself at least, "Noah. Uh." He hesitated but extended his hand in a greeting.

Where Noah's response gave away his uncertainty, Irynya's doubled down on friendliness. The all too familiar mask of Risian training slid into place and she smiled warmly at the newcomer. Repeating Torbis's gesture, she moved her hand to rest on her chest, holding it there for for nearly exactly the same amount of time the Trabe had. "I'm Irynya," she remarked, the warmth of her smile seeping into the tenor of her voice. "This is Noah and Sava," she continued, gesturing to each in turn. "We're in search of some very specific parts and hoping we can barter for them. We do have some currency, but..." she shrugged and somehow managed to make the gesture appear natural despite her ill-fitting suit.

Taking a risk she added, "The owner of the Gravity Well suggested that we start here."

Sava, for her part, hung back, regarding the newcomer with a weary eye. Standing at the extreme height of her species, the Kelpien peered down at Torbis, assessing whether this man could be trusted. He certainly didn't seem threatening and, from what the security officer could tell as she looked around, no one else was looking their way or keeping an eye on the Trabe. That probably meant Torbis was safe enough to interact with, at least for the moment. "Malik," she stressed the name, trusting in the power it seemed to have around these parts.

"Oh," Torbis' eyes lit brightly as he shook Noah's gloved hand and regarded Iry and Sava. "Well if Malik sent you, he must think what you're after is here. Which is pretty curious," the Trabe commented, cocking his head to the side like a dog who'd heard a strange sound. "You said you're in the market for parts? There's all kinds here for sure but most of the useful stuff gets purloined for the station itself or sent to the Exchange for sale. If Malik sent you here instead of there, though," the man said slowly, "I'm guessing you're not in the market for the normal stuff people come to Hukatuse looking for?" It was Torbis' turn to up-lilt a statement into a question. "I admit, I'm very curious what that might be..."

Sava left the talking to Balsam and Irynya. While she was technically part of search team, her primary function was to provide for the security of the other two. Instead of involving herself directly in the conversation, the Kelpien kept her eyes moving in search of potential threats. The Trabe had mentioned an overseer who might come down on them if he deduced they weren't on hand to work or shop, but where was he? Scanning the ramparts above -- that's where Sava herself would stand to oversee the happenings here -- the security officer's large eyes finally found the being she assumed was this "Foreman Koloss." If the various aliens coming over to report to him weren't a giveaway, his protection suit most certainly was.

A Malon of thinner-than-normal stature, Koloss' protective gear made him a clear standout in the crowds. Unlike the rundown and -- frankly -- falling apart suits of the Chop Yards' working class, the Foreman's suit was immaculately clean, owing no doubt to his role as a supervisor rather than a laborer. His suit and all its armor plates and tech was also clearly expensive, no doubt considered top-of-the-line by Hukatuse standards. Its sleek design and polished surfaces no doubt reflected the success and prosperity that Koloss had achieved in his position as Foreman. As he watched the happenings below, his facial features were sharp, accentuating a pair of intense, calculating eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

Sava made a note to keep the Foreman in her awareness at all times and then tapped Irynya's elbow, surreptitiously nodding up to Koloss once she had the Risian's attention.

Following the line of the taller woman's sight, Irynya spied the well appointed--if a fancy work suit could be considered well appointed--man up on the gangway. She gave the other woman a mute nod, agreement at what seemed to be an unspoken assertion that this was the Foreman. Before she could say anything, though, Torbis's voice broke into the silent exchange.

"Yes, that's Koloss," Torbis said, making a point not to look up at the man. He'd obviously noticed Sava and Irynya's recognition of the Foreman. "Best not to let him catch you looking his way, hmm?"

What is ours is yours. What is ours is yours. The mantra flowed through Irynya's head like a chant helping her to keep from screwing up her face in mild annoyance.

"Thank you," she said quietly, acknowledging Torbis's advice.

After shaking the Trabe's hand, Noah had stepped back, deferring to his senior officers- and as surreptitiously as he could, to his curiosity. He sidled closer to his mark and set eyes on the conveyor. He raised his tricorder closer to his line of sight- and raised an eyebrow. He felt a tingle chill down his spine. Tricarbon-Duranium bio-alloy... accuracy 74.31%." Noah only knew of one species that used that.

Noah turned it over in his gloved hand, its shape vaguely disc-like with a variety of connection points. Its metal was dark- probably down to the high tricarbon content- with a black, round readout screen. It was a hub- of some sort. Possibly a processor but Noah wouldn't know for sure until he opened it. He turned back to the Trabe and waited his turn, the piece in hand.

"Lucky for you," the universal translator used a common Earth phrase, "I'm in a position to help you." Torvis offered his most pleasant smile through the faceplate of his helmet. "I'm authorized to help potential buyers find what they need here. It's not often The Exchange comes up short on desired parts, but it does happen from time to time. Perhaps you could tell me what you're looking for?" This was to Noah, who -- in contrast to the other two -- seemed to be the one keyed into the tech passing by on conveyor belts or available for stripping off various hulks parked on the grimy work floor.

"Ah," the Trabe spied the part in the young man's hands. "Those are pretty curious, aren't they? We've had a few pieces like that come through, though we're not entirely sure from where they come," Torvis admitted. "The tri-carbon is useful but there also seems to be some kind of an organic component? I'm sure it's a proprietary technology from whatever ship these parts come from but it's useless to us. Which is why we've been stripping those down to base materials only. Does it interest you, though? There are more if so," the seller explained.

Noah nodded in cautious agreement. "I-I have seen things like this in my textbooks." He turned it over in his slender hand. "How much?" Noah asked. He looked at the Trabe with a head flick to dislodge his bangs from his beakish nose, and set his eyes on the man. He tried not to act eager. "I like to tinker. With old junk."

Torvis considered the young man's facial features -- what he could see of them through their respective faceplates, of course -- and made a mental assessment of the ask. While Noah seemed to know more than he was letting on, the trader wasn't picking up on any nefarious motives: just a genuine curiosity, perhaps being kept under a lid so as not to give away too much excitement over something fun to study. That reaction garnered a better offer than he would have otherwise presented. "16 strips," the trader said with a smile.

Noah plunged his hand- awkwardly- into his strange containment suit and rummaged in his jacket pocket. He produced the strips, too naive of money to consider hiding the full amount he carried. Instead he counted out the requisite sixteen and handed them over. "Thanks," he said with a flash of a too-wide, geeky smile. He was chuffed. He looked chuffed. This was not a boy who would excel at Poker.

A small smile danced across Irynya's lips. She didn't know if the piece of tech in Noah's hands was, in fact, old junk. It seemed more likely to be something they might want to look at in relation to Kaldri's missing ship. But she wasn't going to stop the freshly minted Ensign from doing what he was best at--geeking out over interesting technology.

"Do you get anything else with that material?" she asked, pumping as much innocent curiosity into her tone as she could. "Or, for that matter, any of the other parts from the ships it comes in on?"

Noah tried to look at Irynya with a one-part knowing and one-part innocent look, with just a nod of acknowledgment. "I-I think I have an idea. But I need to check. It doesn't have power right now. And the biomechanical parts are-are probably pretty... um... shot." He perked his brows. Noah looked to Torvis. "Anyway. Um. We-we are looking for Kazon technology. We-we heard there might've been some, uh, re-recently?"

"As I mentioned to your young friend," Torvis looked to Irynya, a polite smile flashing under his faceplate, "we do get other parts like that one from time to time. If you're really that interested in them, I'd be happy to show you another. But I don't think they're Kazon technology," he said, shaking his head. "If that's what you're really after, I'm afraid you're looking entirely in the wrong place." Gesturing to the piles of parts and conveyors of stripped machinery around them, the trader said, "We had a Kazon shuttle come through, but haven't had time to break it down for parts and spare materials yet. If you're looking to buy the ship wholesale, I could show it to you. But if you only need a part or two, you should come back in a few days. We'll have it dissected by then, I'd say," he nodded.

With an effort Irynya kept her face at least semi-neutral at that news, but a swirl of excitement built in her stomach making her itch to head off in search of the aforementioned shuttle. How many Kazon shuttles could the realistically get here? Surely not that many. The odds of this being Kaldri's shuttle were high. Still, she forced herself into stillness and looked between Noah and Sava. "Would it be alright to see it intact first? I think we're still trying to decide how much we need. The whole shuttle may be easier for us, but we won't know that until we get a look at it."

"I-I agree," Noah said, still coddling the part of his interest. He looked between Torbis, Sava and Irynya, "It's-it's not Kazon. It's just personal curiosity. Can we, uh, see the shuttle you do have?" And again he looked at Irynya and Sava with an Ensign's uncertainty- especially when it came to the idea of bartering and money. "If we do-do, um, buy it whole, I would need to be able to examine it." Noah added. It only then occurred to Noah of the potential faux pas here. And following that logic in his naivete, he asked. "Is... are... you OK with a Kazon shuttle being here?"

Torvis' face had been a carefully crafted mask -- the practiced look of someone who routinely withheld his personal feelings to tow the company line -- but at the young man's unexpectedly empathetic question, the trader's mask slipped for a moment. "I have no hatred for the Kazon as a whole. Both sides did terrible things," Torvis somberly admitted, "and there's no easy answer to hate. But I do wish it wasn't so hard to see past grievances." Did he mean see beyond the grievances? Or not see them at all? Such questions went unanswered as something above drew Torvis' attention away.

The trader looked up and offered Koloss -- who'd noticed the group and moved to questioningly look down from the ledge above -- a nod. With the gesturing of his hands, Torvis communicated to the Chop Yard's foreman that he was going to show this particular group around the floor. Then, to the Starfleet trio, Torvis said, "Come with me. If you are wealthy enough to buy such a vessel intact," he smiled politely, his voice warm, "then I am only too happy to show you what you'd be buying. But I must advise you...all sales are final." And with that, he began to lead the way deeper into the massive machine shop.

Sava, too, looked up at Koloss but then quickly turned to follow in Torvis' wake. As she and the others moved away, the Kelpien could practically feel the foreman's gaze boring a hole into the back of their skulls. Even without her threat ganglia -- which she'd shed during her vahar'ai -- Sava could sense the danger they were potentially in from the floor boss and his minions. She squared her shoulders and kept her eyes especially alert as they walked, giving Bridgeport a short report over the "squad comms" earpiece she'd been issued for the mission.

Noah had meanwhile fallen into line with his superiors, following this new being- Koloss. His curiosity itched for the computer lab and its interfacing research station, brought there by the thing he now theoretically "owned." He looked briefly at Irynya- or at least her back- and wondered if he should confide in her about this potential prize. He decided later- when this was all done and they were happily back on the Sojourner.

Noah kept eyes forward- and less than surreptitiously on his tricorder as the large tritanium signature made itself known.

A post by:

Lieutenant Sava
Security Officer

Lieutenant JG Irynya
Assistant Chief Helmsman

Ensign Noah Balsam
System Specialist]]>
Wed, 07 Feb 2024 22:37:57 +0000
Exchange Rates https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/386 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/386
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Exchange, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1830

[The Exchange]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 1830]


Dismissed by Captain Kodak and Commander t'Nai, Debbie had led the way from the Docks, following the map on the mini-PADD she carried. The station had been kind enough to send an information packet about Hukatuse over prior to docking, so the matron was able to easily lead David and their security escort -- Petty Officer Mia -- in the direction of The Exchange. And newly arriving, she could see that the station's central market place was simply huge.

Booths and vendors of all varieties dotted the massive square that had been hollowed out amidst the various buildings that edged its sides. Situated on the edges of the marketplace were various hotels and what appeared to be a constabulary of some kind. Looking around, Debbie also spotted the entrance to the station's infirmary as well as a sign indicating that the Governor's office was high above them, situated so as to look down on all that was below. Aliens of all shapes, sizes, and bi-, tri-, and more-pedal makeup were walking in various directions, all going about whatever business brought them to The Exchange.

"Well, this certainly puts Pathfinder's promenade to shame. At least in terms of size and offerings," Debbie commented. "Federation space stations are certainly a damn sight cleaner, though. And maybe a bit safer?" she directed to Mia, who was responsible for their safety while shopping.

David looked over the area, it was large but it had that lived in look, and he was also keeping an eye out on the crowd, "It should be fine, we stick together and we've got our guardian to protect us. "

Observe and report was the order of the day. Mia would observe the movement’s of the two people she was responsible for. Report anything that she thought was prudent and keep her senses sharp and aware of her surroundings. She would also be ready in case there was a need to take any action of any kind in the performance of her duties. But mainly, she would remain as inconspicuous as possible.

Just as she shared that thought with herself, a pic-pocket moved in from the corner of her right periphery. She took two steps in his direction and he quickly realised the mistake his was about to make and changed his mind. Mia took that moment to exhale and kept on being diligent and on point.

Oblivious to the woman's chasing away of the pick-pocket, Debbie continued on, nodding to David. "You're right. Nothing to be nervous about," she said with a big, brassy tone. It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than a true acceptance of the bartender's assertion. "Well, we have quite the list of things to procure," the diner-matron said then, holding up her PADD. "Foodstuffs, of course. And more alcohol -- we made a pretty big dent in my stock the other night," Deb referred to Noah and Booth's party. "How about yours?" she asked of David.

Meanwhile, another figure lurked behind the trio, moving silently through the crowd of people they'd waded into. As the pick-pocket changed directions and moved away, this figure fell quietly behind Mia, keeping a consistent distance of three people away. The alien was clothed in a nondescript way, a hood drawn -- a not uncommon look amongst the gathered crowds -- as it shadow-traced the path Mia and the others were making, taking no other actions...for now.

All at once, the fine hair on the back of her neck stood on end. There was something amiss here and Mia could not phantom what it was. The Orion instinctively began to release pheromones into the area, then she thought better of it. She moved in closer to her principles as to give them better cover, and she failed her senses up to the highest setting in order to get a better read on the situation. Whatever happened now, she would be ready.

He could sense the tension in the air and it moved him unconsciously to a higher alert. so he kept an eye out, trusting the Orion with their safety. "Not too big a dent, I made sure I was well stocked before I left, I figure we'd need it."

"Plan ahead then, maybe?" Debbie asked, eyes peering around at the various vendors lining the lane they were walking. "May not have depleted your stores this time, but when's the next time we might be able to stock up like this?" Oblivious to the scene unfolding behind her, the matron let her feet carry her to a stall with an array of vivid outfits on display. There were brilliant pinks, blues, greens, and violets -- a bit like an Easter basket exploded everywhere -- but Debbie preferred to express herself with outlandish color. "Look at these," she half-whispered, delighted to stumble upon such an array.

The figure tailing the trio came to a halt at another vendor, this one a couple of stalls behind the group. They nonchalantly picked up an item on offer and asked the vendor about it, though furtive eyes kept Mia and her charges in sight at all times. The alien seemed intent on following the Starfleeters, though did not move to engage. This very much begged the question "Why?"

David looked at the outfits, "Lovely" He examined them, "Very vivid." His normal attire was a bit more drab, he had kept a more utilitarian look for most of his long life. Maybe it might be time for a change.

"That's what I love about them," Debbie almost-whispered, her eyes positively full of stars as she regarded the vibrant outfits on display. She reached instinctively into the breast pocket inside her jacket, ready to produce a handful of metal strips with which to buy a blouse that was particularly colorful and busy-patterned. She stopped, though, realizing two things: one, the metal-money wasn't meant to go shopping for items for herself and two, their security guard was looking around, though for what, Debbie was unsure.

Figuring Mia would do whatever it was that she needed to, Debbie moved forward to the next stall. This one was full of various plants on display. Some looked positively aquatic -- like seaweed that could somehow grow and thrive out of the water but still longed for it. Others involved intricate flowering patterns or vibrant, leafy formations that spread wide to catch the light. But one plant in particular caught the matron's eye: an alien tree in miniature -- a bonsai, by Earther standards -- and Debbie knew just who would love such a thing. Making a decision, she got the vendor's attention and pointed to the tiny tree.

"How much for that?" she asked, fishing metal strips out of her only slightly-age spotted cleavage. Apparently Debbie was going full-bore on the Biker Mama persona.

The alien vendor eyed the boob sweat-spotted strips with a bit of disdain at first but, seeing the interest in the woman's eyes, decided he was up for trade, dirty money or no. "Ten strips. Very hard to grow, very valuable," the stall owner emphasized, perhaps hoping to stave away any questions as to why the price was so high.

"Hmm," Debbie hawkishly intoned, her eyes narrowing. "That's a lot more than I'd hoped to spend. Besides, if it's difficult enough to to grow that the price must be so high, it'll be difficult to sell, I would think," she replied shrewdly, eyeing the plant up and down. Shrugging, she started to put her metal money away. "Ah well. I wish you luck with it, then. Thanks anyway," the matron said and began to move away.

"Wa-wait," the alien replied, his tone changing a bit to be more friendly. "Y-you make a good point: this plant is not for a novice grower. I am...protective about who I will sell it to," it explained. "I would rather it go to someone who can properly care for it," he stressed. "This little tree is very much a curiosity. Found on Dilloptrix VI, only one of its kind I saw there. Would hate for it to perish under incorrect care. If you are...experienced in plant care," the vendor sounded hopeful, "I could be convinced to lower the price some."

"Well," Debbie shrugged, "I'm not. Couldn't grow a plant to save my life. I actually killed grass once, of all things. But," she held up a staying finger to assuage the vendor's reluctance, "I want to buy this for someone who is talented in such things." She tap-tap-tapped at the screen of her PADD and then turned it towards the alien. "This is his collection of bonsai trees. He spends many hours caring for them. Some he's been growing for over 20 years."

The vendor bent forward, his tiny, coal-black eyes narrowing at the screen. "An impressive collection indeed. Alright," he nodded with confidence now. "I will lower the price to...8 strips," he said, standing back up and waving the PADD away.

Debbie smirked: the haggling had begun. "I'm afraid I'm here shopping for needed supplies for our ship, so I'm on a bit of a budget, sweety," she replied, infusing her tone with motherly smarm. "Would you take 5 strips?" the matron asked, tucking the PADD under an arm so she could start counting her money, putting on a show of seeing if she had enough. Truth told, she could get a strip refill from the Sojo very easily. The metals used on Tagumik for money were easy for the replicators to produce. Debbie just enjoyed the haggling, it seemed.

The alien stared at the strips of money Debbie was counting out on his counter, then looked at the aging woman's face. She was smarter than he'd taken her for initially. "I will take 7 strips, miss. But I will go no lower. I was serious about that tree's uniqueness. I've not found its equal anywhere else."

Debbie considered the alien's words, eyes again tracing over the Delta Quadrant bonsai. "Deal. But only," she locked eyes with the vendor, "if you have the tree safely delivered to my ship, free of charge."

"Done," the stall owner nodded, happy with the deal they'd reached.

Debbie handed the money over and began arranging for the delivery of Björn's gift.

Meanwhile, it was time for Mia to find out what this feeling was that she was feeling. As Mia scanned the area, she caught a tell. Two stalls away, they were being watched. And it was time to find out who it was that has taken such a deep interest in her crew. Mia moved off as if uninterested. Then she doubled back in behind the on looker. As she stepped in close, she whispered. “I’d be very careful if I were you.” Leaving her comm signal open so the others on the away team security detail could hear her.

“Bridgeport here, Mia do you require assistance?” he asked.

“Negative, standby.” As Mia asked the stranger. “You want to tell me why you’re following us?” She asked

The alien in question did not seem surprised at Mia's sudden appearance behind him, nor at her not-so-subtle threat. Putting down the bauble he'd been pretending to look at, the hooded man regarded the security officer with steely, piercing purple eyes. "You walk like an Enforcer and you are very keenly observant. You are for hire, yes?" His eyes flicked to Debbie and David, the pair whom the security specialist had clearly been tailing and protecting. "Have a great job for you, if interested," he said, his face a study in neutrality.

Mia knew she had to keep their origin secret so she played the game. “That’s very observant of you. Yes, I’m for hire. But at present as you have gleaned I’m on my assignment and I need to know your intentions.” Replied Mia not flinching

"Am Brokesh," the alien named itself, placing a scaly hand on its chest. "Need protection from Thrashers. Must get home/central/safety, will be attacked," Brokesh explained, his voice suddenly sullen. "Partner/spouse/companion needs medicine. Came here to buy but it will be stolen on my way back. Thrashers nasty and vile," he commented, a bit of fear in his cerulean eyes. The medicine in question was held up then -- a long vial of acid-green liquid stoppered with a gunmetal gray cork. "Cost all my ingot slips," Brokesh said with a sigh. "Have ingots to give for service at home, though."

"Thrashers?" spoke up Debbie, who'd followed Mia over and now regarded Brokesh. "If they'd steal medicine of all things, that makes them monsters in my book. Should we help?" she asked the security officer, her eyes bright with concern for this alien and his partner.

David paused, thinking for a minute then he looked at Mia, "it's up to you lass, but I think we should."

Mia was contemplating something. “You obviously know more about this place than we do. Maybe there’s a way we can help each other?” She asked. “We’re looking for someone. If you can help us, we may be willing to help you get your medicine home where it’s needed.” Said Mia, with Bridgeport listening on comms.

Brokesh brightened as the group seemed to settle on helping him. "Brokesh will do what Brokesh can do to help you find your friend. Cannot guarantee we will find them but will help as can be helped." The alien looked around the Exchange, perhaps sensing other eyes were on him, and then stepped closer to the group, making it very visually clear that they were a team up: safety in numbers and all that. "How can Brokesh help?" he asked.

Mia reached into the folds of her garment and retrieved a small tricorder. She tapped it one time and it began to glow. The image of the person they sought was taken from the shuttle she was treated on. “This is our friend. We need to find her. Will you see what you can do to help us?” She asked.

Debbie's eyes narrowed at the tricorder. She wasn't sure so openly asking someone about Kaldri was the best of ideas. The other groups were going undercover and, she hoped, being very sly about how they asked for information. Plus, they'd been tasked with their own mission while the others looked for the Kazon. A detour to help Brokesh was one thing, but turning their mission into another attempt to find Kaldri was another. The matron held her tongue, however, given that Brokesh was intently studying the image on the tricorder. It was too late to intercede even if she wanted to.

"Not have seen this person," the alien shook his head slowly. "But the young adults who loiter near my home are ignored by most. They see many things: many people that way," Brokesh explained hopefully. "You show this person to them. See what they say?" he asked with a verbal up-tilt. His suggestion accomplished two things, it would seem: getting himself home safely and perhaps getting the security operative the information she wanted.

David nodded, it made sense some people were just 'part of the scenery' he'd seen it for centuries. But the information the ignored people could provide had helped him out many times, "Capital idea, See what we can find out." He had helped escort people home a time or two in his past as well, bodyguard type work might not have been the most glamourous line of work, but it had bought him food and lodgings a time or two. Also he felt an odd sympathy for the poor guy who just wanted to get home and not deal with the local thugs.

Mia listened intently. “I think it’s a good idea. But I’ll have to clear it with my boss. One moment." She stepped away momentarily, speaking into her earpiece while pretending to look at wares on offer: all to make it less obvious she was communicating with someone externally. Then, shaking her head as if disinterested in said wares, Mia stepped back towards the group. "We're good," the Orion said with a nod. "Brokesh, where are we headed?"

The alien spent a few moments explaining, borrowing Debbie's PADD with the map to indicate the route they should take. After all, as a resident of Hukatuse, he knew better than the covert Starfleeters how to more safely get around. Drinking in the details, Mia nodded at the proposed route and said, "Let's get going then." She gestured Brokesh forward and slipped behind him, David, and Debbie to keep an eye on all three as they went.

Debbie walked with purpose, glad they'd decided to help the alien: that certainly seemed more important than buying supplies -- at least, for the moment. They could return to that when done. And perhaps David was right: maybe they could help the Sojo's mission while escorting Brokesh home. It wasn't their mandate but if they could do it anyway, why not? To David, she said, "You been on many stations like this one before? Non...um...regulated, I mean?" She'd been about to say "non-Starfleet" but had caught herself.

David chuckled, "I've been to a few non-regulated ports, THis is much different from the Tortuga port in the Caribbean around the 19th century," Then he smiled, "Before you ask I wasn't a pirate, I was crew on a merchantman tobacco, sugar and rum were our three cargos. Captain made a good living off that. "

"Can't imagine using sailing ships to run cargo," Debbie replied, shaking her head. "Good thing I hadn't been born back then. Probably would have died of boredom," she half-guffawed. "Honey, you doing ok?" the matron then asked, noticing that Brokesh looked more than a little nervous as they walked. The alien was constantly looking this way and that, as if expecting an attack to come from anywhere at anytime. It was a reminder for Debbie to squeeze the small hand phaser in her biker jacket, reassured by its presence there.

"Brokesh very afraid. Not nice people on Hukatuse. Company not included/grouped/delineated," the alien explained. He took a turn off the main thoroughfare and led them down a quiet alley, along the backside of a row of vendor stalls. Those who weren't out front doing the selling sat out back, some smoking on their breaks while others ate and chatted. The group received a few looks as Mia and her charges made their way along Brokesh's suggested route.

"We'll do what we can to protect you," the security officer spoke up from the rear. "I definitely get the feeling, though, this isn't exactly a great place to live," Mia commented dryly, her verdant skin almost chartreuse in the yellow lights of the alley.

"Reminds me of York the seedier parts that is." David looked around, "Wasn't a great place there either. The only difference is, no workhouse." The smells and sounds of the area really brought back memories, to the point he let his hand cover where he kept his currency. It was something he picked up to protect his currency from the pickpockets that ran around the old cities when he was in the world.

"Workhouse?" Debbie asked, the fusion of two common words into one an anathema to her. The running commentary from David was a bit of a welcome break from the worries before them but she still kept her eyes sharp and focused. Beside her, Brokesh had gone quiet to listen to the bartender's thoughts, though continued navigating them ahead. Debbie looked then back to Mia -- the sight of the security officer a sustaining comfort on this trek -- but the matron suddenly stopped cold in her tracks. Mia wasn't right behind them. She was, in fact, a stall-length behind, back the way they'd come.

"I'm very sorry," Mia called out. "I'm sure you'll be fine, though." It sounded as if the woman had decided to leave the group to their own devices. With her right hand, she withdrew an item from her jacket pocket. It was her combadge. She tossed it onto the ground and then tore off at a sprint, weaving between two stalls to disappear into the pervading darkness.

"M-Mia!" Debbie called out after the woman. "What are you doing?!" But it was too late: the Orion had very much left the party.

David saw Mia dissapear, and paused a brief second, this was not good, he felt a small pit of fear, like when he was in the square and saw those curiaseers charge forward with their swords drawn. Outwardly he looked calm then he spoke, "Bollocks." as he looked for anything that could be used as a weapon if needed.

Brokesh looked up at the calls after Mia, his aquiline eye-stalks swiveling around in wild fashion. "Where did your security escort/bruiser/Enforcer go?" The alien looked positively terrified. Mia had clearly been the one keeping the other two safe: he'd counted on her abilities to keep him safe, too. "Without your companion, we are not capable of reaching safety/home/hearth," he said in lament, lowering his head in dismay. Webbed hands came up to cradle either side of his skull as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Debbie shared a look with David. "'Bollocks' indeed Listen," she said, hoopy gold earrings swaying quickly as her head turned to include the kind-of-freaking-out Brokesh in her look as well, "I don't know what's going on with our escort but um...we should probably make our other trading associates aware. Brokesh," she offered the alien a stout look and a confident nod, "We will get you home safely if at all possible. But David," the matron -- formerly a Starfleet Chief Engineer -- took charge, "I want you to stay with Mr. Brokesh. I'm just going to step away a bit and make a call. I'll be right there," she pointed to a very lit area underneath an overhead path light down the way some.

Keep him calm, Debbie mouthed silently, hoping centuries of interactions with so many people had taught David to lipread. And with that, the woman nodded once more and then moved off to the area she'd indicated. There she pulled out her communicator -- away from eavesdropping ears -- and initiated a call to Bridgeport. They were going to need a replacement escort but, more importantly, the security chief needed to know his officer was running around the station off leash.

David nodded and took a deep breath, "Mr Brokesh, you don't worry about a thing, I've been around the block a few times and Debbie is quite capable. What do you say we wait over here and you can help me pick out some new spirits for the bar, I'm not too familiar with lhe local beverages."

Brokesh simply nodded -- too stunned and afraid in the wake of Mia's abandonment to speak. Instead, he walked forward in David's wake, following the bartender as he moved from stall to stall. After a couple of minutes, the power to communicate seemed to return just in time to wave David away from one particular display he'd been perusing. Speaking quietly, the fish-like alien said, "Those are for unsuspecting/gullible/stupid. Come," he said, bulgy-eyes opening wider as the led the bartender to another vendor. This one had wooden crates packed with all manner of dusty bottles. They looked old and unadorned with colorful labels or even much in the way of descriptive words. "Real/true/genuine stock here," Brokesh nodded.

That got a nod from David, sometimes the best finds are hidden. plus, if he kept Brokesh's mind off what happened, the poor man wouldn't panic; he wasn't sure why Mia disappeared suddenly; she was very capable, even though he'd seen better-trained soldiers suddenly run in battle, even if they were old soldiers. He hoped Debbie had a plan to find out what's going on.

After a few more minutes of trading, Debbie stepped up to David and Brokesh and then pulled them away from their shopping. "Alright. Mia isn't our problem. Bridgeport is going to try to figure out what happened there but for now, our focus is on getting you home, Mr. Brokesh," the matron offered to their alien charge. "David and I are not as skilled at keeping you safe as Mia would have been. Our commander is sending some well-trained people to take our place and see you home. They should be here shortly. As for us," the woman crooked her neck at David, "we'll be returning to the ship with whatever we've bought so far. We're spread a bit thin and it's been decided that supplies can wait. Bridgeport's sending someone to see us back safely."

With a nod of finality, Debbie and the rest settled in to wait for the security officers to arrive. When they did, two of the officers gathered up Brokesh and led him deeper into the station, setting a course for the Habitation Sector. The third -- a Tellarite with a particularly grumpy disposition, even for one of his race -- fell into line behind David and the diner proprietor as they headed back for the Sojourner. The things the Bartender and the Matron had purchased would be sent there as well and though the trip had been cut short, at least they'd recouped the alcohol losses from Balsam's promotion party and Booth's wake.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Debbie Gless
Diner Matron

David Mccolugh
Bartender

Petty Officer Mia (formerly Roy, now Brad)
Security Officer

Brokesh (Brad)
Hapless Alien]]>
Wed, 31 Jan 2024 17:48:40 +0000
Burns and Bonds https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/405 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/405
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Undisclosed
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1930

[Undisclosed Location]
[The Habitation Sector]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 1930 Hours]


The view of wherever the hell he was swam before the Chameloid's vision. Eyes blinking slowly, trying to clear the still half-stunned haze, Kodak could sort of make out a few details of his surroundings from his prone position on the floor. They -- for Drol was visible to his right, limp and seemingly still unconscious -- seemed to be in a home of some kind. While the details of the shapes escaped him for the moment -- his visual acuity still adjusting after being phasered into unconsciousness -- the Captain thought he recognized the universal shapes of something resembling a couch and a coffee table. Were they in a living room of some kind? Was this someone's apartment?

Kodak tried to prop himself up on one arm, intending to use it to stabilize himself as he rose to his feet, but the signal from his brain did not translate into the movement he expected. It took him a long, pregnant second to register that his arms were restrained behind his back. Using his fingers to blindly feel around at his restraints, the Chameloid decided they were zip ties of some kind rather than metal cuffs or something else of that sort. Björn attempted to pull against his ties, hoping to break them apart, but they held firm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a sarcastic thought about being the one who usually does the tying on others. It was a role reversal he definitely did not like.

"Drol," the Captain rasped urgently. His voice was more hoarse than usual, the soreness pervading his throat -- and every other part of his body -- a side effect of being stunned, it seemed. Whatever passed for phasers on Hukatuse were a lot meaner than the Starfleet variety, apparently. "Ensign," Kodak stressed, louder this time and more forcefully. Moving his head, he was (albeit barely) able to bang it against the side of her right thigh a couple of times. "I need you to wake up," he said.

The contact elicited a twitch from the unconscious Cardassian, but that was all. It seemed whatever they'd been hit with had been especially harsh to the lighter-framed Drol.

Kodak lay there, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he tried to inch his body closer to the security officer's. He needed more proximity if he was going to more fully nudge the woman into wakefulness. Wriggling like a worm, he inched his way sideways until, finally, his shoulders could touch Drol. Gathering his strength, the Captain rocked back and then forward, the transferred momentum momentarily pushing the Cardassian's body with a harder prod. "Ensign," came his most commanding tone in the motion's wake. "Get. Up. Now."

Finally, some combination of physical contact and Kodak's insistent words managed to draw a reaction; Drol stirred just slightly. Although she was partially face down on some kind of rug, her groan-- pained and muffled-- was still audible. The side of her ridged face shifted slightly, as though she were perhaps grimacing and with another groan-- swiftly swallowed lest she show weakness-- she managed to shift one shoulder under her, turning her face until she could see the Chameloid.

As Kodak came into focus, Drol frowned. Why was he sideways? Hot on the heels of this question came the aches and pains of her own body and she swiftly came to the realization that they were lying down. Further stock-taking informed her of both her restraint and the captain's. There was a throbbing pain along her neck that was just subtly different to the burning sensation along her scalp. And she couldn't feel her hands which meant either a) they were gone or b) she'd lost circulation. Given that she was unlikely to be conscious if they were gone and there was nothing she could do about that in any case, she began operating on the assumption that the restraints had cut off circulation. If these, and the coruscating, painful buzz up and down her nervous system were the only damage they'd been dealt, she'd count them lucky.

Nevertheless, they were restrained and-- her dark eyes roamed swiftly around the space-- apparently in someone's... home? This, by contrast, did not feel lucky. Actually, it felt singularly humiliating. She had one job. Scowling fiercely, she began to wiggle, trying to right herself. "Sir," she said, not meeting Kodak's eyes as she tried to force her protesting body to work, "I don't mean to alarm you, but my keen powers of tactical awareness are telling me that we have been kidnapped. And your face is burnt." The lighthearted quip was at considerable odds with her set expression, hiding the deeper self-blame for their current worrisome situation. With a grunt, Drol managed to squirm to her knees. The movement cost her though, her head bent forward as she breathed shallowly, the long, mussed black tresses of her hair hiding her face. They were split by the angry edges of, indeed, a phaser burn across her scalp.

Kodak sighed with relief. Not only was Drol awake and relatively OK, it seemed, but the Cardassian woman was also cracking jokes: a good sign indeed. "Deduced aptly, Ensign," the Captain rasped in response, an edge of humor in his voice as well. "And that explains why my face feels like a Tarcassian razor beast licked it raw." Golden eyes searched Drol's form and, with a sideways-laying sigh, he said, "You're burned, too. On your torso," he nodded to the woman's right side. Or at least, he tried to: the gesture looked more like he was stroking out for a moment. "Superficial, I think, but how do you feel? Are you alright?"

As Drol took mental stock of her injuries, the Chameloid suddenly remembered that he could easily break his bonds. All it would take was a quick shift to something much larger than a human. Gorn were his typical go-to choice when he needed size and strength, so that was an option. Or he could become much smaller, perhaps child-sized so the restraints simply fell off? Muriel had taught him much about his shapeshifting abilities during her stay aboard the Sojourner: he might as well use them.

"Alright being relative," Drol answered, finally managing to bring her head up. She glanced down at her right side where, in fact, a nasty burn glistened with fluid, not fully cauterized by the stun, "I'll keep. Now what can we--" She broke off as Kodak took action.

With a grunt, Kodak locked a chosen form in his mind and initiated the shift. Skin rippled and his mass trembled, the transition from human to Bynar in progress. But as the bulk of the change began, the Captain suddenly cried out in pain. Like putting a hand in a blazing bonfire, it'd taken a moment for the pain signals to reach his brain. Clearly, he'd been burned more than just on his face. The brunt of his injuries sabotaged the shift, reverting him back to his normal human appearance. Kodak gasped, taking a breath and trying to reorient himself.

"Captain!" Drol cried, hard put to keep her voice down. Although she had seen the man shift clothing before, she'd never seen it pain him. "What happened?" she asked as she knee-shuffled closer to him. She had exactly zero idea what she would be able to do to help, restrained as she was, but inaction was not in her nature and Kodak's distress was obvious. Glancing toward the door, she bared her teeth in a savage glare. "What did they do?" she demanded through her clenched teeth.

"Right," Kodak grimaced, "that...was not pleasant." The attempt had aggravated a medium-sized phaser burn just north of his stomach, sitting low beneath his chest. While coming to, he'd not felt the injury for some reason but the Captain certainly did so now.

Not reassured in the least, Drol watched him carefully as he recovered from whatever it was that had pained him during the shift, silent for the moment while he regrouped.

Settling back down, the Chameloid's thoughts returned to Emni's insistence on taking a security escort along. If only he'd been alone in that gaming area... He could have ducked out of sight, become someone else, and easily slipped away from whoever this Korvas and his people were. But with Drol in tow, slipping away on his own would left her behind and put her at risk. Plus, she'd been the one to notice their tail in the first place. If she hadn't been there, they probably have gotten the jump on Kodak anyway. The whole situation stunk, plain and simple, and no amount of mental bargaining was going to change their circumstances. All they could do was face the situation head on at this point.

"Bounty hunters, I gather," Kodak's voice came in a hard-edged rasp. "I think I heard the Hirogen say something about Subrek? Must be working for him." Repositioning himself with great effort, the Chameloid was able worm himself onto his back and then into an upright sitting position. "I haven't seen anyone else here but we have to assume they're probably listening in and watching. The um...thing I tried to do? Can probably give it another go in a minute or two." He held off on outright mentioning his shapeshifting capabilities but knew Drol would take his meaning. "After I've gotten my breath back," Kodak clarified.

Drol looked doubtful. "Is that such a good idea, sir?" she asked, "Not that it wouldn't be handy as all hell, but you'll not be helping anyone by injuring yourself more..." Tearing her eyes off him, she began to take better stock of their surroundings, the comfortable-- if shabby-- living area of someone's home. This was hardly the holding area she might have expected out of a Hirogen. Blinking hard in an attempt to get her eyes to focus-- the lingering buzz from the phaser stun had her vision shifting in and out of contrast-- she bent her mind to finding something, anything, that might be of use to them. Unfortunately, it seemed their captors were not so hasty as to leave convenient cutting devices laying around. They were going to have to get creative. While her gaze roamed, she spoke, if only to order her own thoughts, "If they are reporting to Subrek, we certainly don't want to give them another shot at you. They clearly need you alive, and I don't like the options that gives them," she said, her thoughts treading the dark paths that were her Cardassian birthright.

Inching sideways along on her knees, Drol made her way to the wall nearest the door, a scratched, curved specimen that nevertheless allowed her to brace her shoulder and shove to her feet. Once there, she swayed as her heart raced to catch up with this change in circulatory demands and she gritted her teeth until the dizziness and pain eased. Hopping a little closer to the door, she began to examine its seals, noting the locked control panel and reinforced durasteel. It might have been someone's home, but it was someone who took their security seriously. In other circumstances, she would have approved.

"We um...we need to do something," Kodak replied, watching Drol impressively maneuver herself up into a standing position. He attempted to replicate the motion, butt-hopping himself in his sitting position to lean against a wall and push his shoulder into it. The Captain found this gave him a bit of leverage to hoist himself up by his core muscles -- muscles he really should have been working out a lot more before now, Kodak noted to himself. It was difficult and he almost slipped but the Chameloid eventually found himself steady on his own two feet, tied together as they were.

"Agreed," Drol said scowling as she turned away from the door. They'd find no joy there without tools. Her gaze returned to roaming the living space.

"So am I the only one wondering why we're in someone's apartment rather than some seedy warehouse or something?" the Chameloid asked, golden eyes narrowing as he looked around the place. "Or even on this Korvas' ship, heading to meet Subrek directly? I mean, I appreciate a comfy couch as much as anyone," Kodak snarked, looking at the decidedly un-comfy couch in the living area, "but I guess I expected chains and concrete?"

Drol grunted in agreement. "The only thing I can figure," she said, leaning against the wall so she didn't wobble so badly on her tightly-bound feet, "is some kind of time constraint. Perhaps this was the nearest place?" Her frown deepened as she wondered aloud, "But if so, why are we still alone?" Shaking her head at the impossibility of answering that question, she turned her attention to Kodak, considering. Her eyes flicked to the couch in question. "Reckon they lose as much in their couch cushions as I do in mine?" she asked, considering the distance between the wall and the couch.

Deciding, much as Kodak had, that doing something was better than doing nothing she hopped over to sofa in a maneuver that could only generously be called successful. Her momentum mostly overcame her ability to hop on her bound feet and she half fell the last meter, landing partially sprawled on the couch. Struggling once again to her knees, she began an attempt to shoulder the couch cushions aside. "It's too bad you can't shift just some seriously sharp teeth or forearm blades or something," she mused, as she worked, "I like our chances a lot better if we can at least stand upright without wobbling about like some sort of drunken Ferengi."

"That certainly would be handy," Kodak conceded, half-hopping, half-bobbing over to join Drol on the couch, "but maybe we should retire that talk for now?" His tone sounded almost as if he were saying "Hint, hint, Drol." Still mindful that their captors probably had an audio feed set up to listen in, the Chameloid refrained from commenting further on his shapeshifting abilities, hoping to keep them a surprise for later...if he could push past the pain to actually use them, of course. Becoming a surprise Gorn in a pivotal moment could be useful.

Kodak let himself fall onto his back on the leftmost cushion, turning his body so that his hands could slide into the recess between the wall of the couch and the cushion itself. His fingers flailed there in the hollow, looking about without sight for anything that might help: a forgotten eating utensil, a dropped pocketknife (did people use pocketknives in the Delta Quadrant?), something. But this effort ultimately came up short and Kodak just shook his head. "All I'm feeling in there are wood seams and what seem to be sunk screws. You got anything?" he wondered in a rasp.

Drol had fallen silent, whether from Kodak's hint or from concentration was difficult to say. Her expression was the curiously blank one of someone trying to see with their fingers, her teeth sunk savagely into the gray skin of her lip. She didn't answer right away, her concentration freezing her ridged features into a fearsome grimace. And then, all at once, the expression melted into one of childish delight, a grin flashing teeth across at Kodak. "I certainly hope so," she said, slumping to her knees on the floor and shuffling so that her bound hands were facing Kodak. "Is this what I think it is?"

Cradled carefully in her palm was a small, ubiquitous household device, usually used for resealing packaging. The handle was smooth metal, while the 'blade,' a dull piece of conductive metal, sat at right angles to the handle. When activated, it heated up, the increased temperature reacting with the packaging to reseal.

Kodak's golden eyes opened very wide at the discovered device. At first, he thought perhaps it was a small hand phaser or something equally useful given Drol's reaction. But then the Chameloid figured out the device's true purpose: it was a Delta Quadrant spin on the design, sure, but clearly it was a package resealer. "You're over the moon," the Captain rasped questionably, "about that?" He'd have pointed to the device if he could; instead, he jutted his chin towards it. "Those only get so hot..." he trailed off.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never hacked the safety and used this to heat--" Drol cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder at the Chameloid and with a nervous smile ended with, "Nevermind. Suffice to say it can be done. Trust me, these babies put out some heat. Should get through the plascuffs in no time." With that, her fingers closed around the housing, and she began to worry at its seams with her nails, the pink tip of her tongue protruding from her lips with concentration.

'No time' turned out to be 'some time,' when you were working behind your back with bound hands that periodically lost circulation. Although the housing had come free relatively easily, working the correct contacts together was proving more difficult, even with Kodak's helpful direction. Attempting to keep her cool amidst the frustration, Drol tried again for the umpteenth time. "Anything?" she asked, hoping he could see the blade heat up.

At first, Kodak didn't see anything different from the last several attempts. The blade remained its base color, stubbornly refusing to heat. But as Drol continued to make some minor adjustments, he suddenly stopped her. "There," the Chameloid's voice rumbled, "I can see the metal heating beyond the thermal limits we're used to on those things. I'll be damned," Kodak admired the Cardassian's handiwork. "It's slow, though, Drol. It's going to take forever at this rate and who knows when our captors might be back. Can you do anything to speed it up?"

Gritting her teeth, one eye squinched shut and the other rolled upward with concentration, Drol shifted the position of her fingers and applied more inward pressure on the contacts. "How's that?" she asked, the words forced through clenched teeth.

"Yes, that's much better," the Chameloid nodded. "Heating up fast now." Anticipating that the security officer would cut his bonds first -- and then he, in turn, would free her -- Kodak wriggled and inched his way into a position where, back turned to Drol, she could use the resealer to burn through his restraints. The smell of melting plastic was, perhaps, the best thing he'd smelled in quite some time. It took several long moments but, finally, the tension holding his wrists together suddenly vanished. His arms came apart and around, the Captain rubbing blood flow back into his extremities.

"Alright, now you," Kodak said, reaching for the resealer. Freeing Drol proved much easier than removing his own restraints. He had the luxury of being able to work with his unrestrained hands out front, without need for blind manipulation. Again, several long moments accompanied by the smell of burning plastic passed until, finally, Drol's wrists had become free as well.

"Remind me never to grouse about losing things in my couch again," the Captain half-chuckled. "You alright?" he asked Drol. Instead of looking at the Cardassian, however, his eyes were firmly fixed on the door to the apartment. He expected one or more of the bounty hunters to come crashing in at any minute.

With her hands free, Drol shook better circulationnto them and took back the device to made quick work of both of their leg bonds. She then eyed the little device, tossing it up and catching it, then wincing as the motion pulled at her ribs. With a hiss, she said, "Fine. I'll be much better when we get you out of here." She rose unsteadily to her feet, shaking her legs as the pins and needles of returned circulation prickled across her feet. At least they hadn't been stripped. She didn't fancy traversing a station like Hukatuse Tugamik barefoot. Then, as though realizing she should probably be asking the same question of the captain she paused, bent over, and eyed him critically, "How's..." she rolled her wrist to indicate his condition-- shapeshifting and all-- without speaking. "Anything we can get out of the door with? And why the hell doesn't this place have a comm of any kind?" she added as she began to stalk the small living area.

Legs thankfully now free, Kodak did a bit of stretching to limber them up. "So much better," he offered to the Cardassian in thanks. To her question about his shapeshifting, the Chameloid reached up to gingerly feel the wound on his side. He winced hard at the contact and his hand came away not with blood, but bits of charred, cauterized flesh clinging to his hand. It was like little flakes of black snow had fallen on his skin -- little flakes that he hoped would grow back.

"Well, wound's still pretty painful. So," Kodak sighed, "same issue. But maybe there's something around here that could help? There's got to be a medkit or something, right? If we could find some pain killers or numbing gel, that would help quite a bit with the...uh, thing," he gestured up and down himself, knowing Drol would catch his meaning. "Keep an eye on that door," he rasped heavily. "Get ready to pummel anyone who comes through. While you do that, I'm going to take a look around, alright?"

Drol looked up from where she had paused in the tiny kitchenette, something that looked suspiciously like a mallet in her hand. The grin she shot at Kodak was wolfish, and held too many teeth. Hefting the mallet to test its weight, she stalked over to the door saying, "With pleasure."

Nodding to the security officer, Kodak turned and strode into what passed for the apartment's kitchen. Cabinet after cabinet was opened, though all of the cupboards were bare. The lack of foodstuffs seemed to be an indicator that no one was presently staying in the apartment, which was probably why the bounty hunters were using it as a secret holding area for their prisoners. Shaking his head, the Chameloid then searched all the drawers. He came across various eating and cooking utensils but there was no medkit to be found. He moved then back into the living room, quickly rifling through cubbies and cabinets but came up short there, too.

The Captain slipped deeper into the apartment from there, going room by room and conducting a search of each. The bedroom was pretty bare, save a curious dark brown bottle with a push-style applicator lid. Sitting on a bedside table, words were emblazoned on the bottle's label but, without a tricorder, Kodak couldn't get a sense of their meaning. He suddenly missed the mixed-reality contacts he used to wear to disguise his eyes and access helpful information when he worked for Starfleet Intelligence. They'd have translated the label in a second. Ah well, he thought, settling for picking up the bottle and sniffing the applicator, hoping to detect hints of something vaguely medicinal. Instead, it smelled like something from a machine shop. Is this what I think it is? he thought to himself, a nugget of potential recognition forming.

To test his theory, the Chameloid depressed the push-style topper, a thin trickle of liquid spurting into his other waiting hand. Testing the feel of the solution between his fingers, Kodak actually laughed out loud. Given the bottle's proximity to the bed and the liquid's slippery feel, two and two suddenly equaled four. "Yep, I thought so," he said to himself with disbelief, shaking his head with more than a little amusement. "Guessing you guys slip away in here to entertain yourselves on break?" he wondered, the visual more than enough to give him a shudder. The Captain placed the bottle back down and wiped the solution from his fingers using the dirty bedspread, then headed back out.

Next Kodak entered what must be the apartment's bathroom. Really, it was a tiny little closet with a fold-down, toilet-esque contraption built into the wall. But it was the cabinet above the device that caught his eye most. Touching the button to open its door, the Captain almost whooped with delight when he spied what could only be the medical kit he'd anticipated finding somewhere. Reaching up to grab it -- and doing his best to ignore the searing pain along the side of his abdomen in response -- the Chameloid made his way back out into the main living area, where Drol still stood watching the door.

"I think I might have found what we need," he said, moving to open the kit on the dining table nearby. "Or at least, I hope," Kodak said, rummaging through the items in the box. Like the bottle in the bedroom, everything was labeled, but it was in a script the Captain couldn't read. However, the smell coming from a tube of cream he'd just opened was like Christmas morning, his birthday, and Easter morning all rolled into one. Rubbing a small pearl of the cream between this right thumb and forefinger, he immediately felt a cooling effect paired with a growing loss of sensation in his skin.

Drol had placed herself up against the wall next to the door so that she would not be immediately obvious to anyone attempting entry. At Kodak's return, she glanced away from her vigil, eyes flicking to the medkit he'd plopped on the table. She eyed the cream suspiciously as he smelled the tube and she was just opening her mouth to caution the captain when he rubbed some of the stuff between his fingers and spoke.

"Jackpot," the Captain said. "It's definitely a pain reliever. Would you mind, Ensign?" he asked, holding out the tube towards Drol. Kodak pointed down into the kit, where a pair of sterile-looking-but-probably-not gloves sat. "Dunno how clean those are but hopefully they'll keep your hands from going numb, hmm? I'll keep watch on the door," he promised with a nod, looking forward to monitor the entry while the Cardassian went to work on both their wounds. "Once we're feeling a little better, I think we might have...better luck," he stressed non-specifically. Meaning, of course, he might be able to shapeshift into something useful without the agony of his wound short-circuiting the process.

Forcing her shoulders to relax-- watching Kodak sample weird alien creams was doing nothing for her heightened uneasiness in the strange apartment-- Drol spared one last glance toward the door and then crossed to the table. She handed Kodak the mallet and shoved her hands into the gloves which... vaguely fit, but were made for someone with both larger hands and more digits than she had. Tying off the excess material she took the tube and started to carefully smear the cream onto the ugly, burnt flesh of Kodak's torso wound. She applied the cream generously, trying to ignore the burnt bits of flesh that stuck to her makeshift gloves, well aware that numbing Kodak's injuries was far more essential than her own. She then moved on to the burn across his face with which she was oddly tender, in a careful way. "How's it feel?" she asked.

As the medicinal-smelling cream was slathered on and into his rather large disruptor wound, Kodak visibly shivered. A little moan escaped him as well, full of raspy elation and relief as the Captain sagged into a metaphorical puddle. The mallet was still in hand and Kodak's golden eyes were still focused on the door but his body had gone slack and the Chameloid no longer appeared poised to attack anyone who might come into the apartment: the relief was that great. As the security officer then tended to the cut on his forehead, he said, "Feels good, Drol. Better than expected, even," Kodak breathed with a smile. Though the space between them was slight and the moment tender, the Captain maintained a respectful demeanor despite the extreme gratitude he felt towards Drol.

Concentrating as she was on not getting the cream in his eyes, Drol hardly noticed the lack of personal space, and managed a small smile in return. She swiped a finger along the bottom of his forehead wound, making sure the cream wouldn't migrate down his face, and then eyed the tube dubiously before twisting to apply the remaining supply to herself.

As she began to tend to her own wounds, Kodak noticed the disturbing lack of cream left in the tube. So little was left, in fact, that the tube of medicine had to be squeezed fairly hard to produce any more of the numbing agent. "Drol," the Chameloid said, eyes full of concern, "you didn't leave much for your own injuries. Is there enough there? It wouldn't be pretty or maybe even sanitary," he gestured to his own wound, glistening with the coating of almost-clear cream, "but we could scrape some of the extra off. You need it too," the Captain stressed. "If we aren't both at our best, I don't fancy our chances, Ensign."

"Hmm?" she said in response to her name, without looking up. It was difficult to see her expression with her head bent to tend the burn across her ribs, and she didn't look up as Kodak continued. Finally, as he made his suggestion, she did glance up at his wound, and grimaced. It looked especially fearsome on her ridged features. "I'm fine, sir." she assured him neutrally, even as she worked to get the last few drops of cream out of the tube. This, she smeared across her neck-- it barely made a sheen on her gray skin. "You are our ticket out of this," she reminded him as she squeezed the tube in vain for another moment before setting it aside, "I will be fine. My father always said 'pain is life and life is pain.' I thought he was being heavy-handed, but maybe he was actually on to something." She paused then, smirking, "Don't tell him I said that."

With that, Drol held out her hand for the mallet. "What do you think?" her eyes flicked to the mess of burned flesh and cream on Kodak's side, and then back up to the door.

"Your secret is safe with me, Ensign," Kodak said, offering a half-grimace, half-smile. Given that his own stress responses tended towards humor as a release valve, he appreciated Drol's penchant for the same, especially in uncertain moments such as this one. To her question, the Captain looked down at his slathered wound and then experimentally twisted his torso from left to right. His expression made it clear he expect this to hurt exceptionally but a smile of relief spread from ear to ear as the Chameloid again regarded the Cardassian and nodded.

"We're doing this. You ready for whatever's on the other side of that door?" Kodak asked.

Despite his assurance, Drol eyed him for several more moments, as if to satisfy herself he wasn't going to keel over. Still looking mildly dubious, she readjusted her grip on the mallet and stepped to the side, angling herself near the door, but giving him room to change his shape. At least, she hoped he was going to need room. The bigger the better in her book. Glancing at the door and imagining any number of scenarios on the outside of it, her expression ranged briefly through confidence into apprehension before finally settling in a grim mien of resignation. "Ready as I'm likely to get with this," she said with a half-snarl directed at her mallet. Though better than nothing, it clearly didn't tick all of her 'weapon-of-choice' boxes. Nevertheless, she nodded and shifted her attention to the door.

"Alright then," the Captain nodded. Narrowing his eyes, Kodak initiated the shift, picking the form he wanted and firmly fixing it in his mind. Skin, muscles, and bone quivered at first, his own body unsure if the change was possible given the injuries. But the cream was doing its job and this time, there was no searing fire blast of pain to short circuit the process. That was all the confirmation the Chameloid needed to proceed with all due gusto.

In the hushed confines of the room, an eerie transformation unfolded. The man's features twisted and contorted, his skin -- once soft and warm -- beginning to ripple and warp. The surface writhed with an unseen energy as the Captain's very cells underwent a profound metamorphosis.

Limbs elongated with a sickening crunch, his very bones reshaping themselves. Muscles bulged and twisted, expanding his stature into a larger, more ominous silhouette. Kodak's peachy flesh turned first a dull green in hue, then began to convulse with the emergence of dark, reptilian scales that flowed across the visible parts of his body. Each scale, like a puzzle piece, fitted into place, transforming the Captain's exterior into a formidable armor beneath the same clothes he'd been wearing prior.

Though she had resolved to keep her eyes on the door, ready for the inevitable arrival of their captors at an inopportune time-- with the bonus side-effect of giving Kodak what modicum of privacy she could-- the eerie pop and crunch of bones growing and realigning, even the dry hiss of newly-formed scales sliding one over another drew Drol's gaze as surely as a moth to flame. The process was fascinating enough that she found she couldn't look away.

As the change progressed, a sinuous tail snaked its way into existence, its scaly coils writhing with a deadly grace. Claws erupted from Kodak's fingertips, sharp and lethal, the tools of a predator honed by nature's cruel design. Teeth, once ordinary for a human, elongated into razor-sharp daggers, promising a ferocity that matched the dangerous predator he'd become. His eyes narrowed into the slitted orbs of a reptile as a Gorn looked back at Drol from where the human had previously stood.

Though she'd interacted with Gorn before-- their own ops chief was one such-- the implacably flat reptilian gaze never failed to make her feel small. Still, Drol knew better than to show fear in the face of such a predator, even if he was supposedly Kodak. She schooled her features into ferocity and returned his gaze solidly and gave a single nod.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Gorn-Kodak growled, the sound guttural and ragged. Approaching the door with the thumping of his now much heavier footfalls, he stopped to intelligently try the door's controls. As expected, nothing happened: they'd been disabled of course. But that was the permission he needed to ferally rip into the edges of the door with his clawed hands. The razor-tips of his huge claws punctured the low quality metal of the door and with a mighty tear, the door was pulled from its hinges and thrown aside.

That's when the shooting began...



A joint post by:

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer

Ensign Eekit Drol
Security Officer
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Fri, 26 Jan 2024 17:22:28 +0000
Standard Procedure https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/398 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/398
Mission - On the Road Again
Location - Emni's Quarters
Timeline - Mission Day 1 at 0000

Stepping out of the shuttle, Axod took in the scenery of the Sojourner's shuttle bay, thinking about the new adventures he was about to embark on. It wasn’t as though he expected much difference from his past experiences, but he was eager to get into things. “Top of the morning.” He said to the duty Ops officer who was greeting new arrivals. “Can you find out where my cabin is? Lieutenant Qo.” He smiled widely.

“Deck Three.” Said the spritely woman, handing him a PADD with specifics. “Would you like someone to escort you?”

“No that will be fine.” Ax said, slinging his worn ruck over his shoulder. “But if you could see that the storage bin on the shuttle make their way up, I’d be forever in your debt.”

The woman nodded and watched the Doosodarian head towards the shuttlebay exit.

Axod wasn’t a natural born navigator, but he could find his way around a ship. Usually. Making his way to Deck Three was the easy part, finding the proper cabin was another story. He went round and round the deck searching for his assigned cabin, before finally discovering it, directly adjacent to the lift he had used to come up.

To say the cabin was lacking in personality would be an understatement, they were positively spartan. A shared living space, two separate bedrooms and a shared head. Ax dropped his ruck near the door and then left to find the ship's XO.

Although Emni knew that it was normal procedure to have the quartermaster sort folks coming off of a shuttle, she wondered if she might have accomplished more by being in the shuttle bay when this particular one had arrived. There had been an on and off stream (ok, just a small handful in truth) of new team members coming to report in to her. And so it was that the sound of the chime sounding in the middle of this exact train of thought made her chuckle and shake her head calling out, "Come in," as she did.

She'd been sitting at the desk, terminal open to the shuttle's list of passengers, reviewing dossier's, but as the doors hissed open she quickly closed it and rose. "Welcome," she said smiling. "You must be our new counselor."

Ax entered the room and took in the image of his Romulan superior. He had never served with a Romulan before, in fact he had only ever seen one Romulan in person. He felt a curiosity that made him want to ask a number of personal questions of the woman. He stopped himself and responded to her. "Yes ma'am. Lieutenant Axod Qo." It was less formal than he knew he should have been, but still he extended a hand to her in greeting.

A low chuckle emanated from the XO's chest as she took the proffered hand and clasped it. The wave of curiosity that had followed Qo in the door was refreshing and reminded her, in an odd way, of a few exchanges she'd had with Karim over the months. A small part of her mind chewed on the thought that he might not ever return to counseling at the current pace of his recovery. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she commented warmly. "And please, no need to stand on too terrible much ceremony here. I was the CMO on this ship before I was the XO. You could say I have a particular appreciation for the work done by the medical team. How was your trip? Can I get you anything to drink?" The last two were asked in rapid succession not giving Axod time to answer the first before the second was uttered.

Axod was surprised by the revelation. "I'm fine, thank you." He said to her offer of refreshments. "I'll say this, I certainly caught up on my sleep en route." He had a smile that stretched widely. "I also had lots of time to catch up on some reading, and get to know some of the other transfers. All in all, it was good to have the downtime." There was a glimmer in his eye. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to wander around the office. You can tell a lot about a person by their personal space and the things they surround themselves with. His eyes still looking around, he asked. "Can you tell me about my predecessors in this role ma'am?"

Inclining her head in acknowledgement, Emni indicated the couch and two chairs by the wall. "Please make yourself comfortable," she said, the warmth of her smile shifting to match Axod's own. She watched as he surveyed the room, curious to see where his eyes lit. In general it was a reasonably spartan room. The kal-toh game she kept on hand for Karim was set up on a table and several of the elements she used for meditation sat within a small shrine-like space in the corner. Decor, however, was fairly pedestrian. She'd been meaning to personalize more, but always seemed to hesitate, as if uncertain how those coming to her quarters for meetings might respond to those glimpses into their executive officer's personality.

Qo made his way to the couch, still taking in the space. His eyes fell on the corner of the room, which to him looked as though it was set up for meditation or prayer. He made a mental note to ask Emni later whether she might be interested in some alternative relaxation techniques he often taught to groups on his ships.

"There's really only been one or two of note," she commented before realizing that a claim such as that might seem odd for such a new ship. She moved to take the open seat, angling herself so that she was facing Axod. "Dr. Bracco, who is still aboard until the next transfer to assist with the transition, has held the position for the larger part of the time here. She's been on loan to us, though, a temporary option after the we lost our counselor during our first mission."

She caught the look on Axod's face and hurried to amend. "They're fine, but were injured and we had barely been out of drydock, so Starfleet was scrambling a bit to help us out. There was a range of experiences in our crew and a core group which had been transferred all together from the USS Adelphi which has since been mothballed. Those from the Adelphi had... some traumatic final experiences on her in our return home and a good counselor was needed." She paused, frowining slightly. "That may not actually have been an answer to your question."

"I've spoken with Dr. Bracco at length. She reached out while I was en route, and she's been very helpful in starting to get me up to speed." Axod said, his eyes now trained on the XO. He crossed his legs. Part of him wanted to gently prod for more information about his permanent predecessor. But based on how she spoke about it, he didn't want her to think he was therapizing her. "What are your overall impressions of the crew, from your standpoint as a medical professional?" He wanted to show that he respected her opinion and her past.

For the briefest of moments she expected he might inquire about Karim. Not a former counselor of the Sojourner, but a former counselor on board and under her care nonetheless, he wasn't exactly a secret and she would have been surprised to learn that Bracco hadn't mentioned him. Perhaps there were no questions to ask there.

Instead of dwelling on this for very long she shifted her thoughts toward his question. "Overall they're a competent group," she commented thoughtfully. "A bit fractured with a such a large change over in the senior crew, but that strikes me as something that can only be sorted with time serving together. The second string," She stopped herself here giving Axod an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, we've come to think of the officers who fill in when the senior crew is incapable with this... affectionate... moniker. Really I'm referring to the assistant department heads and several ensigns."

Ax raised an eyebrow as the nickname. One could understand the affection behind the classification, thought the counsellor in him hoped this wasn't in frequent usage, and certainly not to their faces.

"The Second Stringers are fairly solid as a group. They work well together and have a fairly well established off duty community." Her features neutralized slightly then, shifting toward something less positive, perhaps. "Overall several of our crew have experienced some not insignificant traumas. I think you can expect to uncover those along the way, but it's something that I have always kept an eye on... alongside those overseeing the medical care on this ship of course."

Axod made a mental note of the traumas indicated. Bracco had mentioned similar issues in her notes to him. There was something comforting in knowing that the First Officer of the ship was sympathetic to the Medical department, though her use of the 'Second Stringer' moniker wasn't as comforting. "It's always nice to hear that officers have created a community amongst themselves. I've always been a keen supporter of off duty activities to bring people together." He thought back to his previous assignments, where he spent a lot of time putting together extracurricular activities for the crew to enjoy. Everything from movie nights, to holiday celebrations from different cultures, and even sporting events. Just about anything could bring some fun and excitement to a life of duty.

"Is everything ok Counselor?" Emni asked, her tone gentle, but probing. It was, admittedly, a break in her usual careful control to react to an emotional spike, but if she was going to be able to support Qo well she thought perhaps she ought to have all of her cards on the table as she had once done with Karim.

The Doosodarian smiled, "I'm good." He nodded. "What about you? It feels as though there's something you want to say." He allowed his dark blue eyes to meet her brown gaze. There was something hanging between them, Axod just wasn't sure if it had to do with him or Emni. For a brief moment, he shifted in his seat.

In a distinctly Vulcanesque quirk one of Emni's eyebrows raised, an unspoken sort of curiosity conveyed in the motion. "Not so much something I want to say," she commented before pausing and rethinking. "Or more a matter of disclosure, I suppose. One of the perks," this last word was said with a sort of wry humor, as if calling this thing a perk was amusing and not necessarily in an entirely mirthful way, "of being of mixed races, is that you inherit from both sides. In my case, the part of my DNA that is Betazoid left me with some latent and very low level empathic sense."

Before there was any chance of Axod commenting either in surprise or in confirmation that he knew this already from her medical file she plowed ahead. "We can certainly discuss the ins and outs of that particular skill on another day, but the salient thing here is to point out that I have a sense of people's emotional states and have offered this skill as a support to the counselor of the Adelphi, my last assignment, should it be of any use to you. Commander Karim, the counselor in question, is in fact aboard at the moment, but will be departing with Lieutenant Bracco. So you'll not have to worry about either counselor being in your hair, so to speak."

"But it seems only fair as the caretaker of the ship's mental health that you ought to know I have a unique insight into our crew and, should it be helpful to you, it is at your disposal."

Axod nodded enthusiastically. "I'm very thankful for that offer ma'am. I'm sure it'll will prove invaluable." He smiled warmly. "I must say, I'm really looking forward to my time here." The Doosodarian was getting eager to find his cabin and settle in, not to mention continuing to pour through the mountains of files he still had to get through. "I had wondered what kind of shift rotation the crew currently observes?"

Emni nodded at the question, lacing her fingers together and bracing them on one knee. "We have a three shift rotation here. Small ship and small officer complement means we don't have the right numbers for a four shift rotation." She smiled and gave a small shrug. "Is there anything else you need or other questions you have? Otherwise I hate to keep you from getting settled in."

Qo shook his head as he searched his mind for any further questions he might have. "I think that was all Commander." He shifted in his seat and then pulled himself to a standing position. "I am looking forward to serving together." He extended his hand to her once again, "It was a pleasure meeting you ma'am." He started making a mental list of questions to ask the Commander if they ever spoke again socially, he was vastly curious about her Romulan heritage.

Taking the counselor's hand Emni shook it firmly, a warm smile gracing her features as she did. "The pleasure is mine," she said. "Welcome to the Sojourner."

=/\= A meeting of colleagues by =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Ship's Counselor]]>
Tue, 23 Jan 2024 22:04:57 +0000
[Backpost] All Apologies https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/409 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/409
Mission - On the Road Again
Location - Counselor's Office
Timeline - Mission Day 0 at 0000

[Counselor's Office]
[Following 'What's a Little Towel between Friends?']
[0920 the next morning]


The door to the counselor's office slid quietly open, letting in the burble of conversation from the hallway without. Deck two was always busy both with on- and off-duty personnel transiting to and from work and leisure centers. A louder voice stuck out of the crowd, calling, “--in a moment!” and was the only distinct words to be made from the general humm of conversation. The owner of the voice resolved into a teal-clad silvery figure who was striding through the door, a PADD in his hand.

The Sojourner's CMO looked criminally healthy after his night on the Romulan Ale, seeming to suffer no ill effects from either the intoxicant or the sleepless night that followed. Then again, he did have access to all the best drugs. Xex was in the process of turning his head back to see where he was going-- his earlier message delivered-- when he stepped into the office's pleasant lighting. “Doctor Qo!” he greeted enthusiastically, “If you have a moment?” Xex gave less than zero indication that he even remembered the night before.

Axod hadn't slept well, he had spent much of the night laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. So many thoughts had been rushing through his head. Chief among them, he was expecting some kind of dressing down of disciplinary action. All the while being keenly aware of the sounds of his roommate moving about in their shared spacees. He hadn't looked up at the sound of the door opening, but the familiar voice caused Ax to raise his eyes to meet Xex. The Doosodarian turned a shade of bright red as their eyes met. "I...Ummm.. What can I do for you sir?" He only allowed allowed his gaze to stay for a moment before he began to avoid looking at Xex completely. Ax began sort of fidget with anything within reach.

If Xex noticed the counselor's discomfort, he made no comment about it. Instead, he stepped around the comfortable seating area in the office's entrance. "Love what you've done with the place," Xex said, gaze meandering around the space, his entire posture radiating genuine appreciation. "I'm sure your patients will too." Fetching up against the desk, Xex dropped gracelessly into a seat and slid the PADD across the desk's surface to Axod. "Oh, hopefully nothing significant," he said, "just thought I'd best check in and make sure you're settling in okay." Leaning back in the chair and gesturing expansively to the office, he shot Axod a grin, "Looks like the answer is a resounding yes, but appearances can be deceiving." Was that a subtle dig? If the CMO's disarmingly pleasant countenance was anything to go by, no. But... "Have you been able to get in contact with your patients? Anything I can do to help you settle in?" Xex was the absolute picture of a solicitous CO, actual helpful interest stamped on his silvery features.

The Doctor's word were allowed to hang in the air for a moment. Axod found himself sitting uncomfortably near the edge of his seat. "I have begun reaching out to patients sir, but there are still a lot of files to get through." He answered, formally. His mind was reeling by how casual the doctor was behaving. For the first time since Doctor Wang's arrival Axod began to think that perhaps his inebriated state the previous night had left the doctor without memory of their awkward encounter. "How are you feeling this morning?" His mind quickly recalling the extent of Xex's s intoxication when they'd last spoken.

Xex groaned in sympathy, "An entire shipful of files, yes. I will admit, while the new cases are extremely interesting, the files themselves leave something to be desired." With a heavy sigh, he gestured toward the PADD. "I'm afraid I have a couple more for you-- a few of the nurses flagged these files as potential new patients for you, and I wanted to make sure they made it into your queue before you thought you had too good a handle on your workload," he said, wry humor worming its way into his words. "And also checking in," he continued with a brief grimace, pinching the bridge of his nose in the first indication that he was not, perhaps, feeling quite as chipper as he appeared, "seemed easier than any of the other tasks I had on for this morning. Stars, but I swear this headache will not quit. I don't think I can safely dial the hypo any higher and stay on duty."

Canting his head to the side, Xex's pained expression bled slightly into concern, "I'm fairly certain I was up all night-- I hope I didn't wake you?"

The Counselor nodded along as Xex talked through the issue of patients, and then as the topic changed back to the previous night's events Ax's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. "So you ...uhh...really don't remember?" He asked cautiously. "Like when you got back to our cabin." He added. Again, Axod's face was full of colour brought on by his embarrassment.

Xex's concern took full hold of his features and he dropped his hand from the bridge of his nose. "Oh, I did wake you," he said, chagrined, eyebrows peaking with worry, "I do apologize for interrupting your rest. I'm afraid I get to my hobbies when I've had a little too much. Honestly watch out for that XO. Romulan Ale will sneak up on a soul. Please, if you need sleep, do not hesitate to throw me into bed." Seemingly oblivious to this poor choice of words, he smile self-deprecatingly, but it faded somewhat as he eyed Axod, taking in his discomfited swallow and the fresh bloom of color on his cheeks, flushing up his neck. "Are you quite alright, Counselor?" he asked with every appearance of actual worry.

Lieutenant Qo shook his head. "I was awake when you came home," He started to recount the night's events for his roommate. "I was coming out of the shower and met you in the doorway. We spoke for a bit, thought I can't for the life of me remember anything we said really." So far the story was tame, but Axod needed to rip off the bandaid and say what had been hanging over him, just as he had been hanging over Xex the night previous. " I need to apologize for exposing myself to you. It was not intentional." He blurted.

Xex sat back, listening to the story with every appearance of interest, as though he were listening to a patient's health complaint. When finally Axod came to the crux of the matter, he was met with a blank look on Xex's bland features. The blankness continued as Xex stared at him for a long moment. At long last, with obvious concern, he leaned forward, his expression earnest, laying his hand atop Qo's on the desk's surface and meeting the other man's eyes. "Axod," he said, dropping all hint of formality, "you need not apologize. It is I who should apologize that I cannot remember it-- I had not previously realized how great a gap I had in my memory of the night." Consternation wreathed his silvery features at this, truly uncomfortable at his lack of recall. Still earnest, he continued, "I hope you always feel free to speak your mind; our living quarters should be a comfortable space for you, and me, to speak of the things that matter most to us. Please don't feel that is something for which to apologize."

Some relief washed over Ax, he looked visably more relaxed. "I just wouldn't want you to think I'd taken advantage of your state." His words were earnest. "When I heard you up an about for most of the night, I wasn't sure whether you were contemplating how best to approach the situation or hyping yourself up to confront me." This admission left Ax feeling guilty at his conclusions.

"Oh not at all," Xex said, removing his hand from Axod's and waving it dismissively in the air as he settled back in his chair. "If unburdening yourself-- intentional or not-- is taking advantage of me, I hope you feel free to do so whenever the mood strikes. Like I said, our quarters should be a space where you feel comfortable laying bare anything you need." A look of confusion crossed Xex's silvery features, then. Feeling as though he were possibly missing a part of the puzzle-- and knowing both that he had only himself and the Romulan ale to blame-- he massaged gently at a temple in an effort to kickstart his sluggardly thought processes past the headache. "Oh, no. I am often up and about most of the night-- I just don't usually make that much noise. I really must beg your forgiveness-- for that and my missing memories. What..." he paused delicately, knowing he should leave well enough alone, and equally unable to ignore his curiosity, "would I have needed to confront you about?"

Axod felt much more at ease now, his shoulders released and he looked as though he was sitting rather comfortably now. "Some former colleagues were less comfortable with their own bodies, and seeing another can make them lash out irrationally." The counselor spoke very matter of fact, almost as if he had learned from experience. "Not all species have such liberal views on nudity, their insecurities run deep."

Ask and ye shall receive. Was that not the saying? Well, Xex had asked, Axod was expounding, and now the blurted I need to apologize for exposing myself to you took on a different cast. A little piece of Xex relaxed; he had not missed some heartfelt admission, or deep conversation between them. If anything, accidental nudity was something of a relief. Still annoyed at his missing piece of memory-- when would they invent a hypo to fix that?-- he firmly turned his attention to Axod's explanation. "I have always found such behavior baffling-- and I am very sorry you have had to deal with it in the past," he said sympathetically, "I suppose you also deal with slightly less nudity in your daily practice than I." A pause, and then a grin, "At least, I hope so." Waving an airy hand, he added, "Parade around naked at your leisure, my good counselor. I can't imagine your physiology will cause me distress."

Looking at the Doctor, Axod felt the warmth of blush on his cheeks again. Not from embarrassment like before, he was flattered. He was comfortably silent for a moment, and then moved to continue filling in the blanks for Xex. "You did ask me to join in prayer with you last night as well, but we never really got to it. " He said with a grin. "I would be interested in continuing that conversation, and to learn more about your religion."

Xex's skin didn't lend itself to blushing, but its tone did shift subtly, becoming duller and less eye-catching. His expression seesawed from blank confusion to horror before settling on abashed embarrassment. Though it was certainly too little too late, he dropped his head into one hand, hiding his expression. His fingers pressed into his forehead and temple, as though massaging his headache would somehow also alleviate his embarrassment. "Stars above," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before finally looking up again. "I'm afraid I shall have to disappoint on that score. I am not actually, by nature, a religious person. In my defense though," he raised a finger, "enough Romulan ale and just about anyone can find religion." Flashing Axod a cheeky smile more at home on a much younger person, he added, "Ask me how I know."

Sobering, Xex took a deep breath. "I do hope we have the chance to converse upon a wide range of subjects though-- I shall endeavor to avoid drinking with Romulans in an effort to keep my memory intact. Seriously," he leaned confidentially across the table, "watch out for that XO. She looks so dignified and sober."

"I've only really have a couple conversations with her."Axod started, "I'm hoping I can talk with her about some Romulan cultural practices, for my own curiosity of course. I'm a bit of an amateur anthropologist." The Doosodarian smirked. "I've read just about every declassified report on the Romulan people, and I find it all really fascinating."

Xex's brows arched-- interested and surprised both. "Oh?" he asked, and then grimaced, his silvery features folding in on themselves for a moment. "Where were you last night to warn me off drinking with a Romulan?" As if to emphasize the point, he pinched the bridge of his nose again; his headache, it appeared, had abated not at all. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself for the subjectively monumental task of standing. He waved his hand, dismissing anything Axod was about to say as he pushed to his feet. "No, no, I know. You were sensibly in the quarters. This is all my doing. And I still want to make it up to you for interrupting your rest. Perhaps we can share a meal and a conversation I might have a hope of remembering?"

Axod looked excited at the prospect of getting to know his roommate. "Have you ever had Cardassian sushi?" He asked grasping his hands together. "The things I can do with Regova eggs and yamok sauce you would not believe. Not to mention how well it pairs with Romulan ale." He winked playfully. "Sound good?"

Without warning, Xex slapped both hands flat on the desk and leaned forward, his expression deadly serious. "How, by all the suns, have I never had Cardassian sushi?" he demanded, his face melting easily from seriousness into a grin. "That sounds delightful," he said, straightening and holding up one finger, "Minus the Romulan ale. Fool me once..." He returned Axod's wink and turned to leave the office, one palm pressing into a temple.

Ax straightened in his seat. "I'll search for a more forgiving pairing." He stood as Xex started for the door. "What about later, after shift change, I'll get everything together and we can make dinner together. I'll teach you the ins and outs of Cardassian eel." He couldn't help but smile.

Xex turned, continuing to walk backwards in order to catch Axod's suggestion, his habitual smile widening into a grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time," he said, "You've got yourself a date!" Then, as though the exclamation pained him, he winced, pinched the bridge of his nose again, and beat a hasty retreat, leaving Axod once again alone in his office.

A joint post by:

Lieutenant Xex Wang, MD
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo, MD
Ships Counselor]]>
Thu, 11 Jan 2024 02:17:43 +0000
Needle in a Haystack https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/389 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/389
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Gravity Well Bar, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1900

The Gravity Well. Emni couldn't help a touch of amusement at the name choice for the bar that she, Durand, and Bridgeport were just now entering. They were the very last of the groups having waited for the cargo bay to clear of the other Sojourner crew members before they disembarked.

It was a creative name. And a nice play not only on their location between the pair of stars that made up the Twinfire, but they were at the very bottom of the station poised at the center. Were she not here to look for an errant Kazon who'd made off with a combadge and info that they needed, the Romulan might have even enjoyed exploring the area. Dark seedy places weren't necessarily her specialty, but the people watching in them could be extraordinary.

"You'd think a place like this would invest in better sound equipment," Emni commented directing her thoughts to Durand and Bridgeport as a cacophonous alien music bombarded her ears. It had been loud before the doors to the bar opened, but now the almost tinny static of archaic speakers interspersed with the sound of the music made her want to twitch.

Arianna winced. It was taking some effort to mentally push the noise aside so that she could focus on the task at hand. "I guess they don't have to worry about the customers going elsewhere." Her gaze caught a tall figure with an elongated head and semi-translucent skin but as fascinating as that was, she made her eyes continue the sweep around the space. It didn't seem like the kind of place where staring at someone would go down well.

Emni chuckled dryly. "Or there's something else here that has enough draw to overcome the," this time a muscle in her jaw did twitch, "sound." She ushered them all inside, taking things in. The decor. The people. With another twitch she pulled her emotional defenses tight. Having even a vague impression of Kaldri's emotional fingerprint would have been helpful if there were fewer people, but in a space this size the cacophony was just another layer of noise. At least with the emotional input she could turn down the sound so to speak.

"Alright, we need to avoid the other teams," she reminded the two. "But I'd bet the bar is a great place to gather information. Maybe one of the regulars or a bar tender can point us in a direction." She studied the bar from where they'd entered. "Looks like an open spot the three of us can sit over there. Shall we... get a drink?" she asked.

Bridgeport lead the way to the table. He positioned himself so that his back was toward the nearest wall and took a seat. From here he could take the temperature of the room. From here he could better observe what was going on around them.

On the way over to the table Arianna felt a pair of eyes on her. It wouldn’t be unusual for a group of strangers to attract attention, but this man’s gaze seemed to linger on her in particular.

Just beyond the bar, a slightly elevated row of booths lined the opposite wall, affording what she expected to be a decent view of the goings on in the place. The man sat alone, in the last booth, the poor lighting concealing his presence somewhat. Despite his skin tone, his appearance wasn't too far removed from that of a human and she suspected that in such mixed company, it may be the reason his attention was focused on her.

“Excuse me for a few moments,” Arianna said to Emni. “I think I see someone who might be willing to talk.”

Bridgeport watched as she moved off to make contact. He had her six if need be.

Emni nodded to Durand as she went, eyes tracking the woman as she made her way to a poorly lit booth near the back. When she was certain the science chief wasn't going to be immediately attacked she turned her eyes back to Bridgeport.

"Well Lieutenant," she commented with a thoughtful frown. "In your experience what's our next move?"

Dark eyes scanned the space as she spoke, not looking directly at Bridgeport. It occurred to Emni that this might not be the sort of establishment to have servers, but then she couldn't really be sure. Her eyes lit on someone who seemed to be clearing tables and wiping things down with a stained sort of rag. With a wave she got their attention only to be met with a glare and a turned back as the person moved away.

“In my opinion, we keep trying to establish contact with someone who can give us the information we seek.” Said Bridgeport keeping an eye on the stranger.

"Yes," Emni said wryly. "I concur." She was quiet for a brief moment before continuing. "And is there a method for doing that which you might recommend? Where would you suggest we start?"

“I suggest we stay on our present course. Get a round of drinks and hopefully we will meet someone who is as curious about us as we are about them. We need someone who is a regular here.” Offered Bridgeport “In my experiences, a hustler selling information will frequent this type of establishment. We just need to be patient and observant.” Said Bridgeport as he summoned a waitress.

As if on cue a small plump woman who reminded Emni ever so slightly of a Tellarite, all but materialized next to their table. Her expression, demeanor, even her clothing somehow managed to look bored and irritated at the same time. "Whatcanigetcha?" she asked. Or at least Emni understood the rush of syllables with no break between them to be a question. "I'm sorry?" she said.

With an eyeroll the woman repeated herself more slowly. "What can I getcha?"

“I’ll have a Romulan ale.” Said Bridgeport.

Emni's eyebrows crept up, but she didn't make any move to assert her rank. Bridgeport had plenty of experience and she knew it, even if it did feel odd to be referred to in a way that suggested he was leading their group.

"Romulan ale?" the waitress responded with a twist of her facial features that suggested she was amused. "Don't even know what that is," she said with a touch of disdain. "You're not from around here are you?"

“Ok then, give me what passes for a beer.” Said Bridgeport realising that now, at least the waitress knew they were outsiders and here was a chance to maybe make a bit of money! He was playing the short con and if it paid off, they might acquire valuable information.

Another look from the waitress, this one more disdainful than the last, gave the Romulan pause. "What's your house specialty?" Emni asked, hoping it might derail the storm of pent up anger that was building like a storm cloud in the waitress. Had they not needed to do other things she might have marveled at how quickly the woman's emotional state shifted away from mere annoyance. Clearly one too many customers had crossed her.

Rather than answer Emni's question the waitress fixed her eyes squarely on Bridgeport, putting both hands on what passed for hips despite the boxy-ness of her frame. "Don't teach you manners where you come from eh? Think that a question from a server isn't worth a bit of a response?" She sneered as she said it, her face turning a darker shade.

Almost as if he hadn't heard her, Bridgeport turned his head to the side and spoke quietly toward his lapel. “Mia, be careful. There’s a lot we don’t know about this place and I don’t want to lose people in the process,” said Bridgeport.

Emni's eyebrows twitched, but beyond that she remained neutral, stepping in to dispel the rising wrath of the waitress. "Please forgive my friend," she said with an appeasing tone to her voice. "He's never been good with manners." She shot a glance at the security officer whose attention was clearly elsewhere, head turned to look at a booth in the direction Durand had gone.

She felt the rise of focus and concern in the man next to her and, before the waitress could say anything in response, added "I think we'll just vacate the table. Again. My apologies."

And without waiting to see if the waitress would give them grief or not she stood, nudging Bridgeport's foot with her own, and turned in the direction he was looking.

"Shall we?" she asked congenially as if they were about to go for a leisurely walk.

-------

If the gaze that got Durand's attention was the brush of a shoulder, the sharpened attention as she broke off from her group was like the sharp jab of an elbow. In a myriad small ways-- a shift in posture, a tilt of the head, a narrowing of the eyes, perhaps-- the man in the shadowy booth concentrated his focus on Durand as she neared. By the time she reached the booth itself, near enough to make out more than a vague outline in the shadows, he had shifted position so that he was lounging indolently against the cushions of the seat, arms stretched out along the top of the booth. Before him was a half-finished drink, some kind of vapor roiling off its surface and cascading down the sides of the frosted glass to disperse against the table's surface.

Closer up, it was clear why he had been difficult to make out. He seemed a man in shades of darkness, with skin an almost blue-black, and a simple sleeveless garment of dark gray. His only adornment were rings all up and down his arms of some dark material that gleamed dully as he moved. His expression was bored, dark eyes hooded as he watched Durand approach.

Arianna consciously kept a casual smile on her face as she drew close to the man. It was obvious that he was suspicious of her, but she couldn't get a read on whether he found her interesting or bothersome. Chances were that he'd been sat there for some time, watching over everything that transpired, so it seemed worth the risk to make contact.

"You seem to have a good view of what's happening in here," she remarked and gestured towards the empty seat opposite him. "Do you mind if I join you?"

The man rolled his wrist, and nodded toward the indicated seat, but didn't move from his seemingly relaxed position, preferring to watch Durand as she slid into the booth.

Arianna kept her eyes on the man as she manoeuvred herself into a seated position. The fixed seating was a little close for comfort but it was necessary to slip into the booth in order to avoid drawing any further attention since she was sure that would not be appreciated.

Only once she was settled did he finally move, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table and interlace his fingers in front of his face. His dark gaze remained intent over the top of his knuckles. "You are more interested than is generally healthy," he observed. It should have been a sinister warning delivered-- certainly the choice of words were not welcoming-- and yet the man's voice registered several octaves above the expected range, squeaking in a most un-sinister fashion. He appeared not to notice the incongruity as he continued to stare at Durand.

A momentary widening of her eyes was the only indication of her surprise at the pitch of his voice. She felt more relaxed but the rational part of her mind fought to remind her that there was no correlation between vocal pitch and the level of danger posed by the man. Arianna leaned back in her chair, trying to cast an impression of relaxed confidence, but the move also served to maximize the distance between them.

"I get the impression that few activities in this place are generally healthy," she acknowledged. Rather than keeping him guessing at her intentions, she figured a direct approach was best. "I'm looking for someone."

The man's shoulders shook, as though he were laughing, but no audible sound reached across the table. In one smooth motion, he reached for his drink and leaned back, mirroring Durand's position. He took a sip as she made her statement. What was visible of his expression in the poor lighting was further hidden by the vapor trailing off of his glass. He seemed to linger a long time over the sip, letting the silence in their booth linger, punctuated only by the loud music of the larger bar. Finally, when it seemed he was simply going to continue staring at her, he moved, sliding his glass back onto the table. The expression the movement revealed was nothing short of a chesire cat's smile, a slash of white teeth in his dark face. "Aren't we all?" he asked, voice squeaking into a register even higher than Durand's own.

Rolling his wrist in a lazy gesture that seemed to indicate his own person, the man said, "It seems to me you've found someone."

Arianna shifted in her seat, trying not to show her discomfort. She wished she had stopped by the bar on her way over, it would have felt less awkward and would have given her hands something natural to do in this setting. The staring was making her feel analyzed and the slow pace of the conversation was starting to feel like he was keeping her there for something. At least she hadn't come alone.

"I have," she acknowledged, with a cautious smile. "But my friends and I were looking for someone in particular, a Kazon woman."

In the shadowy confines of the booth and the dark oval of the man's face, it was difficult to tell, but some shift of features made it seem as though he'd lifted his eyebrows. His eyes, the whites of which were a startling contrast in the stygian backdrop of his face, shifted to where t'Nai and Bridgeport were apparently ordering drinks. He then returned his gaze with great deliberation back to Durand. "That is a very particular taste," he noted, his tone carefully flat so that no judgement could be detected in his helium-esque voice.

Taste. From Arianna's perspective it was an odd choice of word. Could it be a mistranslation or did he think she was searching for the woman for more intimate purposes? She tucked her hair behind her right ear as she leaned forward slightly. It didn't matter really, and there was little point in clarifying the issue. "I have a little unfinished business with her."

Taking up his drink, the man sipped, then let the vapor-filled glass dangle indolently from his fingers while leaning his elbows back against the booth's cushion's again. "I fear you are going to be disappointed," he said, unable to keep a tinge of the same from his own high voice. He turned his profile toward her, staring out over the greater bar as though searching for the next entertainment. "I haven't seen a Kazon around in weeks."

"I see." Arianna sighed, the deflation of her lungs mirroring that of her mood. They weren't any further forward and she didn't relish the prospect of repeating the experience with another patron. She began to slide herself towards the outer edge of the seat. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Before she could slip free of the booth, an eye-like appendage on a long, yellow-tinged stalk, snaked over the dark man's shoulder from the adjoining booth. Just loud enough to be heard over the Gravity Well's considerable ambient noise, a watery voice from that booth asked, "Did you say Kazon?"

Tsking his tongue against his top teeth in irritation, the dark man brushed the eye stalk away and slid slightly further down the booth's cushion muttering something ominous, his intonation too low for the translator to pick up.

The owner of the eye stalk seemed not to notice, the appendage swaying slightly with the man's brusque handling, then settling back into place, starting intently at Durand. The rest of the being's body was in motion, just visible in the next booth. It soon emerged as a somewhat gelatinous mass of the same stalk-like appendages, all intwined together like a nest of snakes, while those apparently having sensory organs emerged at odd angles. The entire mass was supported by a grav device which now floated over to their booth, its controls not apparent to the outside observer.

"I did." It was not so much the appearance of the newcomer that put Arianna on edge, more that it was so utterly alien that she had no idea what its intentions or emotional state may be. Even if she could whip out her tricorder, she would have no frame of reference to interpret the readings. "Have you seen one?"

A shiver ran through the mass of tendrils-- some sort of emotional response to Durand's reply? Or a simple precursor to motion?-- and the eye-stalk was joined by another stalk-like appendage, the end of which appeared be some kind of mouthpart. Certainly, that as where the beings gurgly voice was emanating from.

Pressed into the corner of the booth, the dark man had affected an air of complete disinterest-- and yet there was a glint beneath his hooded eyelids that betokened at least some measure of attention.

"Kazon come through here often/scheduled/regularly," the watery-sounding mouthpart said, then widened in what could, to a humanoid, be interpreted a smile, "What do you need/require/desire with a Kazon?" The translator seemed to struggle somewhat with the wording, giving Durand a few options for several words. While the creature spoke, their gravsled slid closer to the booth, giving the impression that they had joined Durand and the dark man, rather than that they were simply hovering at the table.

Trying not to appear as nervous as she felt, Arianna swallowed her unease and said, "One has some property of ours we are trying to recover. Female, about yea high." She put out her hand to indicate Kaldri's approximate height, watching the alien carefully. She didn't know how she would interpret their body language, but any data was better than no data.

The eye-stalk shifted to glance at the dark man, considered him for a moment, and then returned to Durand. “I may have seen/noticed/heard of such a person/individual/being. My memory is not excellent, however. Sometimes it needs stimulation/encouragement/motivation.” The constant motion of the alien's seething tendrils separated somewhat, and a tentacle-like appendage snaked out toward Durand, lifting a lock of her hair and twining itself in it. Definitely interested now, the dark man leaned forward slightly, as though to get a better view of the action. The tentacle alien gave a gentle tug, and a shiver of motion ran through all of its tendrils.

“This,” they said, “would do nicely/perfectly/ideally.”

"Arianna!" Emni's voice was a happy sounding greeting as if she were coming upon a long lost friend and not responding to the growing unease that seemed to flow from the booth in waves of discomfort. "There you are!"

Several eye stalks appeared from the mass of the alien's body, popping up like spring blooms to stare at the newcomers. Although pointed-eared woman had spoken, the alien's attention was actually drawn toward Bridgeport with a spike of suspicion. Staring at the security man, with some eyeballs, and at Emni with one eyeball, while keeping an eye on Durand with the first eyeball, the alien said, its gurgly voice flat with displeasure, "Excuse us, we are in the middle of a business trade/negotiation/transaction."

Still hard to see from the depths of the booth, the dark man's own interest had sharpened noticeably at t'Nai and Bridgeport's arrival. He kept silent for the moment, but his eyes glittered as they shifted among the figures, clearly enjoying himself.

Still holding her almost saccharine tone of voice, Emni fixed the single eye looking at her with a look of bemused confusion. "I see. Then you surely won't mind if we join you? Surely you understand that I had a prior claim on my friend's time." Though her tone remained up beat and positive, the Romulan's eyes held a sharper more calculating look, one that came from well practiced and careful stratagem.

"The better question, it seems," came the high-pitched voice from deep in the booth, "is whether them minding would prevent you from doing so." The dark man leaned forward slightly, a smirk on his nearly black features.

A couple of the stalk eyeballs swiveled to the man and although they did not have eyelids like most humanoids, they did somehow deform slightly, giving a similar impression of narrowed eyes. The alien seemed to have no problem splitting its attention amongst the figures at the booth and continued to speak to Emni while keeping an eye on the dark man and-- with clear reluctance-- allowing its tentacle to drop from Durand's hair. "You intend to join the business trade/negotiation/transaction?" it clarified.

Durand, who had frozen when the alien grabbed her hair, now leaned over to whisper urgently to Emni, casting an anxious look at the mass of tendrils that made up the alien.

Eyes never leaving the many-stalked creature across from her science chief, Emni listened carefully to the urgently delivered summary of what had transpired. Her features remained cheerful, almost jovial, as Durand explained as if she were hearing a story of interesting exploits and not tense negotiations. When Durand reached the most recent piece of information--the request for a lock of hair by way of bargain--the Romulan woman loosed a low chuckle, eyes dancing with something darker than amusement.

"Have we walked into an old Earth fairytale?" Emni inquired of Durand even as she kept her eyes pinned on the be-tentacled creature across form her. "A lock of hair in exchange for information. You haven't given him your true name now have you, Arianna?" Like the rest this was delivered with a measured relaxed air of amusement, but the undercurrent to it would be unmissable to any who'd met Emni before. She didn't like to see her officers messed with.

"Come now," she said, sliding into the booth next to Durand. "What is the price for the information under discussion?"

"The price is now additional/more," the creature said in its watery voice, clearly not appreciating the addition of not one, but two more beings. It shifted its gravcart slightly, so as to account for Emni in the booth and Bridgeport looming to one side. "I will take one piece of her head fur/pelt/coat, and one piece of yours in exchange," it said, its mass of tendrils writhing again but this time in a pleased sort of ripple, "Yellow and black will do/suit nicely."

"You want... locks of both of our hair..." Emni repeated, eyes narrowing. "What will you do with it?" She asked, the tiniest bit of curiosity mixed into the caution of her tone. "You must understand... You are asking for our genetics. That is a very high price indeed."

The tendrils shifted and the watery voice held a shrug. "That is none of your concern. I said the price would be additional/more, and so it is." Lifting a pair of tendrils, the alien gestured around the chaotic activity of the bar. "If you were worried/distrubed/troubled by leaving your genetic material, perhaps you should not have come to a bar/drinking place/oasis." Another eye stalk popped out to join the one that had been studying Emni steadily. A film covered both at the same time, and then opened again. Blink. "Do you want my information/facts/data or not?"

The dark man leaned forward then and mentioned as casually as his high voice would allow, "If it helps, they're more likely to preserve than replicate your genetics. Their people are great collectors."

This elicited a hissing noise from the mass of tendrils but the alien on the gravcart did not dispute the dark man's knowledge.

Lips pursed tightly, Emni looked from Durand to Bridgeport and then back to the tentacled alien before her. Her eyes darted once to the dark man, a small nod of appreciation following, and then she met the two eye stalks with a look of her own. "You may have a lock of my hair," she commented, one hand raising just below the line of the table at the swell of disapproval that arose from Bridgeport's direction. Blessedly he held his ground. "But, of course, I cannot require Arianna to do the same. She will have to answer for herself and, of course, we will abide with whatever she decides."

It was a gamble and Emni knew it. Still she couldn't bring herself to compel the science chief to act. If she was willing then so be it and if not... well they would find another way to get information.

Durand hesitated only a moment; the tentacled alien had a point. If it wanted to do something nefarious with her genetic material, there were probably easier ways to get it. And she could certainly appreciate the collection of specimens, even if she was not used to being a specimen herself. Curiosity was, after all, at the heart of science. "Mine as well," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Excellent," the watery-voiced alien said, the word a pounce hot on the heels of Durand's agreement. Still more tendrils unwound from the mass of its body, and almost too quickly to follow, something sharp took a finger's length of hair from first Emni, and then Arianna. It had sharpened-edged tentacles in there the whole time? A most unsettling thought. It deftly wound the two locks of hair in a third tendril and the entire lot again disappeared into the ever-moving mass of its body.

"My memory is much healthier/better/improved. A Kazon woman/female has been on the station, yes. I/this being/we saw her in the Exchange. In fact, I/this being/we had some business/commerce/dealing with the Governor, but their business/commerce/dealing seemed very intense/heated/uncomfortable so I/this being/we did not approach. Eventually, the Kazon left, seemed very upset/angry/frustrated." The alien settled back the energetic writhing of its tentacles easing somewhat as though satisfied. "I/this being/we do not think this was their first contact/meeting/encounter."

"I see," Emni said, filing the details away to discuss with Durand and Bridgeport as soon as they were reasonably alone. Absently one hand strayed to the shorter hank of hair where the creature had removed her payment. Her fingers found the sliced edges and pressed them gently, feeling the new shorter strands with her fingertips. Realizing what she was doing she frowned and lowered her hand before adding, "If we wanted to speak to the Governor where might we find them?" She asked, hoping at least his request might come without a price tag.

All of the visible eye-stalks blinked in unison, their milky films dropping across them and opening once again. "In the Governor's office," the alien said without embellishment, speaking slowly, but matter-of-factly as though Emni had asked where to get a drink when in a bar, or how to get to space when standing next to an airlock. It didn't even seem to consider taking further payment for this information.

There was, for just a moment, an awkward pause in which Emni stared at the eye-stalks and the eye-stalks stared, blinking back at her. And then she shrugged. "Fair enough," she commented, returning to the geniality she'd put on for this encounter to begin with. "I suppose we should go find the Governor's office then."

Without a second thought to that she stood, nodding once to Bridgeport and then to Durand before leaving behind the table and the two aliens, assuming that both officers would follow her lead. Once they were each clear of the bar and out into the corridor the Romulan woman turned to look at the other two. "Well," she said with one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Shall we?"

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Arianna Durand
Chief Science Officer

Lieutenant Charles Bridgeport
Chief of Security

Various and Sundry Delightful Gravity Well Denizens
(brought to life by Heather)

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Mon, 11 Dec 2023 02:18:04 +0000
Well Drinks https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/390 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/390
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1835

[Gravity Well Bar]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[1835 Hours]


Standing half enshrouded by a stand of potted plants, Ensign Parsons watched TImmoz, Marwol, Ratthi, and Cross enter The Gravity Well. The foursome had stood in the doorway for some time before finally splitting up and heading inside in different directions. "Let's give it a couple of minutes before we go in?" he asked, turning to Doctor Wang -- the senior officer of his group -- for confirmation. "Just so we, um...don't look too suspicious coming in right after?" If Sheldon was so concerned about not standing out, he picked the wrong copse of potted trees. They really didn't conceal his form much at all and, if anything, only made it all the more apparent that he was trying to hide.

The senior officer in question had drifted past the stand of potted plants, irrestistibly drawn by a merchant who's trailing gravsled of goods included piles of vibrant-hued fabrics. He was reaching out to pinch the cloth between his hands, in fact, when Parsons spoke. "Hm?" he asked, distracted as the merchant continued, his assistant trotting to catch up and shooting Xex a suspicious glare. Xex turned back to the array of plants, looking mildly disappointed. "An excellent suggestion," he said, gaze drifting over Parson's shoulder and into the smoke-wreathed interior of the bar and then back to the poorly-concealed engineer. "But perhaps," Xex fought hard to keep his lips from twitching into a smile, "We can lurk somewhere less... obvious? I daresay Doctor Qo will be able to find us wherever we lurk.," he added, referring to the ship's counselor who had been held up by a mental health emergency on board, and hadn't made his way through the station with them. "Look!" Xex's attention was snagged by what appeared to be a fur-clad being, human child-sized, with a large apparatus around their form that seemed to be chilling something inside. As they watched, the being was approached and proceeded to draw out a conical thing from which wisps of cold wafted. This thing was exchanged for something they couldn't see, and the purchaser then began to eat it. "Comestibles!"

Leighton had watched Sheldon standing behind the plants with a slight smile on his face. When Sheldon gave Leighton a slightly wide eyed look, Leighton coughed into his hand to hide his laughter. "He does have a point, the three of us look more suspiciuos standing around here than if we mingle with the crowd," he said before he turned to follow Xex over to the vendor. When they drew nearer, he could tell that the being was wearing a small refrigeration device that protruded from his chest. Leighton looked between the three of them before saying, "So, who wants to go first?"

"Not me," Sheldon replied matter-of-factly, having come up behind Leighton and Wang and assumed a resistant expression. "With respect, sirs," the Ensign spoke up, "how are you both so nonchalant about all this?" His nostrils tightened as he voiced the question, resulting in a tone more nasal than normal. This was asked quietly, of course, so as not to be overheard by the vendor, who was busy helping another customer ahead of their trio in line. "I'm kind of...terrified to be here," Sheldon clarified the intent behind his question and perhaps posing another unspoken one: namely, why weren't they scared, too?

"Sensible," Xex replied without looking up from where he was staring intently at the vendor's wares. "I'm just not one to be terrified on an empty stomach," he added, with just a touch too much flippancy. Flashing Sheldon a smile which then turned on Leighton, he said, "Unequivocally, I want to go first. " Suiting words to actions, he stepped unevenly up to the vendor as the patrons in front of them moved away, glanced back over his shoulder at the pair behind him, and then held up three fingers. With an economy of motion born from long repetition, the vendor drew out three oblongs, each about the length of Xex's outstretched hand. The doctor didn't even bother to haggle, handing over the asked-for fee and receiving the oblongs in exchange. Although he just about vibrated with the need to shower the vendor with questions, he managed to hold his tongue. Kodak's warning was fortunately still forefront in his mind. Mustn't stand out. Mustn't make a scene. At least if he wasn't on-task, he could manage to not make a scene.

Turning away from the vendor, Xex shared out the treats , sniffing cautiously at his, which was held on a fragile-feeling stick. Red in color, it appeared to be some sort of frozen water, but it had obviously been dipped in something grainy after the freezing. It was just as obviously extremely cold: waves of sublimating water vapor rolled off it like a holovid prop. "I find, given a terrifying scenario over which you have little control," he continued his explanation to Sheldon, as though it hadn't been interrupted, "It's best to lean in. What is this but another space station? Surely you have plenty of experience with those. And if your'e anything like the ensign I was, you'll have even more experience with drinking establishments." Having apparently completed his inspection, Xex took a bold bite of the oblong and rolled it contemplatively around in his mouth, sucking gently. Abruptly, his eyes widened and with a series of complicated gurgling noises, he just about managed to swallow the bite without choking. Rather than distress, his face melted into a grin quite irregardless of his streaming eyes and the light sweat that had beaded at his temples. "It's spicy!" he exclaimed with delight.

Leighton had watched the doctor take a bite of his with an upraised eyebrow before he stared down at his own....stick...before he gingerly took a bite. He covered his mouth with his free hand to keep from coughing as he tried to swallow the food. He got a sour look on his face before glancing back up at Xex, "Mine isn't, Its sour," he offered before glancing over at Sheldon who watched them both wide eyed. "Sheldon, you do realize that by staring at us with that look your drawing more attention to us," he whispered as he discreetly threw the rest of his food into the nearest waste receptacle.

"Well, th-that's true about space stations," Sheldon nodded, accepting the offered treat-on-a-stick from the Doctor. "Spent a lot of time on Pathfinder before we came all the way out here. An-and Deep Space Nine," he offered up. "Wanted to see the wormhole that started a war," the engineer explained, lifting the comestible to take a ginger bite. Where Xex's was spicy and Leighton's sour, his own was intensely sweet. So much so that the experience melted the look of abject terror on Shelly's face and replaced with with one of sublime bliss. "Mine is sweet and amazing," he said through a mouthful, excited to discuss why their treats -- which all looked the same -- would hit each of their palettes different. But then Leighton was chiding him and a crestfallen look settled over the young man's features.

"I-I'm sorry," Sheldon stammered in a whisper back. "It's not on purpose, sir. I'm trying, I promise," he assured.

Boldly crunching down another bite of his treat, Xex grinned at the crestfallen ensign, clapping him on the back in a most comradely fashion. Best of buddies, these three-- or such was the impression he hoped they were radiating. "You're doing fine," Xex assured him after another contortion of swallowing the spicy confection, a bit of sugar coating for Leighton's rebuke. He wiped his streaming eyes with his free hand while steering Sheldon toward the Gravity Well's doorway with the other. With a jerk of his head toward the established, he cleared his throat and observed of the group ahead of them, "They seem well established now-- shall we? Doct--" he broke off, correcting himself, "Mister Qo will be looking for us inside anyway."

Leighton took a moment to casually glance around before he followed the two towards the doorway. It was very brightly illuminated, and he could hear some type of music pulsating from inside. The sounds were not unpleasant, infact it sounded somewhat familiar to him. "This must be the main nightlife attraction," Leighton said after they crossed the threshold into the buzz of activity within. He'd had to shout so that his colleagues could hear him, the soundproofing giving way once they entered. "Reminds me of Mamma Rita's Tavern on Starbase 32," he said again as he tried to look at all the various faces in the flashing lights.

"You know what, it does!" Xex agreed, glancing back over his shoulder at Leighton. "Let's just hope the drinks aren't as strong, eh?" Flashing the young man a grin, he dropped his hand off Sheldon's back and craned his neck around, taking in the ambiance. Glancing over the ensign's shoulder he saw Sheldon had his PADD out and ready. Raising his voice close to Sheldon's ear to be heard, he asked, "What have you got there?"

PADD in hand and directly in front of his face, Sheldon half-shouted, "According to the map, this is the rear entrance! Near where the performers play! That must be why it's so loud," he grumbled. "Today it's some group called The Skallot Shellers?" he reported from the details about the bar on his PADD. The last was said as if a question, though: what the heck was a Skallot?

As the trio entered, they faced a sea of mostly-occupied tables, with aliens of all manner talking (well, half-yelling) to each other as they watched the live band play their strange instruments up on the main stage. Intricate lighting had been set up, with beams and lasers of various color moving across the performers and crisscrossing in the air above them. At the opposite end of the room from the stage was a smaller bar than those in the main section of the Gravity Well: clearly, this bar was specifically meant to server the patrons enjoying the live entertainment.

"Well if nothing else," Xex shouted, "The Skallot Shellers are loud! Let's get drinks, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, the silvery-skinned man led the group with his slightly uneven gait through the miasma of light and smoke-- trying not to think about what exactly he was inhaling-- to the smaller bar. It was busy, but he inserted himself between two groups and deftly twisted his body to carve out a little place for their own trio. Then, in the manner of bar patrons everywhere, he set about catching the real, live bartender's eye.

Leighton followed the group as he struggled to hear over the noise. Once at the bar, he tried to press himself close while keeping his head on a swivel. He could hear those around him shouting and laughing as the bartender worked furiously to fill all the drink orders. There was something else in the air, some aroma that was hard to ignore. He sniffed the air again, the smell becoming more powerful before he leaned to shout at the group. "Do you guys smell that? It....well what ever it is....it's strong," he said. before smiling slightly, "But not unpleasant."

"I smell it, too," Sheldon half-yelled over the noise. The smell was, indeed, strong -- earthy, a little sweet, but also maybe a bit...acrid? Sniffing the air, the engineer attempted to discern where the scent was coming from. Was it the swaths of smoke swirling around their heads, byproducts of various aliens inhaling and exhaling their mysterious vapors? Or was the smell coming from the bar itself...maybe the strange little creature who bandied up to the bar to take their order? Shelly was unsure but whatever the source, he hoped he wouldn't have to breathe it in for much longer. Unlike Leighton, he found the smell a bit off-putting.

"What will you be having?" the alien squeaked at extreme volume over the din. He was very short and decidedly mouse-like, barely coming up to chest level for the Starfleeters and their varying heights. The bartender looked up at the trio with bright, brown eyes limned in black, a set of impressive whiskers flaring from either side of his pointed nose and thin-jawed muzzle.

Though it seemed impossible that he couldn't notice the cloying smoke, Xex made no comment on it-- his attention had turned squarely upon the bartender whose eye they had finally caught. Leaning casually on the bar to both get closer to the alien's eye level and to bring him close enough that he wouldn't have to shout quite so loud, Xex said, "It's our young friend's first time on station--" he jerked his head back at Sheldon who certainly looked nervous enough for the part, "--and we were hoping to show him the real Gravity Well experience."

The bartender looked from Xex to Parsons and back again. "Your friend looks like a scared phratna," was squeaked out, the universal translator having no translation for the word. "You sure he should be here? This place can be a bit...rough for the uninitiated," he said. His eyes flicked to a large, imposing alien standing against the wall. Perhaps female, though it was hard to tell, this woman was clearly hired muscle for the bar. "Would have for him to run afoul of Guhteska there," the mouse commented, ears twitching with concern. "For your friend, I pour our specialty -- the Tagumik Tornado. But watch out, it may turn his pinky face green," the bartender chuckled in squeaks. "What you and him want?" he asked, pointing to Xex and then Romanowski.

"We'll have the same," Xex shouted, hoping his own constitution was strong enough to keep his silvery face from turning green. "Make that four!" He held up the requisite number of fingers, in case he couldn't be heard.

As the bartender scurried off to prepare the drinks, Xex turned his attention back to his compatriots. "When he comes back, it should be the perfect time to ask after the 'friend' we're meeting," he said, gaze drifting out over the other two's shoulders, scanning the crowd that shifted and swirled behind them. "With any luck, payment for our drinks will be the perfect time to loosen his tongue."

While Xex had been talking with the bartender, Parsons had palmed the tricorder in his pocket and pulled it free of the jacket he wore. Surreptitiously opening the device, his eyes traced across its glowing display, drinking in the details the sensors were feeding to him. The tricorder had been set for continuous scanning ever since they left the Docks, so there were a lot of readings to sift through. One in particular, however, caught the engineer's eye.

"Picking up traces of Kazon DNA here," Parsons reported. "On that table," he gestured, the table in question currently occupied by two rather imposing-looking fish-people. What's with all the aquatic species on this station? he wondered to himself, having now seen at least seven different varieties of fish-like humanoids on Tagumik. Studying the readings again, Shelly shook his head. "Can't tell if it's Kaldri's DNA until we get closer, though," he lamented.

Leighton also looked over at the table as he waited for his drinks. The two individuals where rather large, and one turned to look back at him. Leighton turned back to his group, his gaze averting at the last second to not draw attentino. "We Just ordered our drinks. Hopefully by the time we talk to the bartender, those two at the table will be gone. then we can sit over there," he said quietly as the bartender returned.

Xex, who had turned around to lean his elbows on the bar, the better to survey the rest of the establishment, allowed his gaze to slide casually across the table in question. "Or," he put in, gray eyes seeming black as they twinkled in the pulsating light, "You could go over there and chat to them while I wait on our drinks." The suggestion was framed as a genuine suggestion, without the undercurrent of 'I am your ranking officer and I'm ordering you to do this without actually ordering you to do it' that sometimes ran beneath the surface of ranking officer suggestions. He lifted his brows in inquiry, wondering if the pair would take the suggestion. Before they could however, the familiar tones of Federation Standard interrupted them.

"Ah, here they are," came a voice; it was at a half-yell to be heard over the music. A young Andorian woman in non-descript clothing approached, her bearing confident but deferential to the trio at the bar. "Mr. Qo got held up getting off the ship," she said, gesturing to the man at her side. "He couldn't make the deployment time so t'Nai," she used names rather than rank to keep their cover, "asked me to escort him over to you. This is where I leave you," the security officer said, smiling to the head counselor before nodding to Xex and the rest. "Good luck," the Andorian offered before disappearing back into the crowd.

Axod winked and silently thanked the Andorian woman who had escorted him as she left the group. "Howdy fellas," he said to the trio he was joining. The Doosodarian man leaned on the bar and pushed his red hair out of his face. His loose, flowing top fell open at the chest as he looked around, taking in the details of the room. After a few moments, he turned and asked, "So what are we drinking?" He flashed a winning smile and clapped Sheldon on the shoulder.

Sheldon looked at the Counselor with eyes wide in surprise. In their last session, Bracco had mentioned that Qo would be taking over as Head Counselor, freeing her up to return to Pathfinder at the next crew exchange. This had understandably thrown the engineer for a loop given that he'd only just gotten comfortable sharing his private thoughts with the woman. Feeling the hand on his shoulder and looking Qo up and down, however, Shelly couldn't help but wonder if this was really the counselor replacing Bracco?

"Um, hello," he intoned nervously, offering Qo a nod. Sheldon was way too uptight and anxious right now to flash any kind of smile, warm, vacant, or otherwise. "I'm uh, Parsons," he said to the Counselor. "Parsons Sheldon. Er, Shelsons Pardon," the engineer cleared his throat, getting it wrong again. The touch from a stranger, it seemed, was throwing him off. "Sheldon Par-Parsons," he finally stammered out, mostly successfully. "Nice to meet you."

Xex, who had greeted the new arrival with a smile, now widened the expression into a full grin. "We're drinking Tugamik Tornados," he answered the man's question, amusement wreathing his shouted voice for Sheldon's flubbed greeting. Shoving himself off the Bar, Xex leaned forward so that he could shout slightly less loudly and still be heard, "It's the house specialty for our young friend's," he also clapped Parsons on the shoulder, but dropped his hand almost immediately afterward, "first time on-station," he explained, to make sure Qo was on the same page as far as their explanation for being in the Gravity Well went.

Qo smiled at Sheldon tripping over his words. While he hadn't had a chance to go over Branco's patient files, he had received a list of regular patients and recognized the Ensign's name from the roster. He leaned on the bar and gestured to the barkeeper. "I'll take a Tugamik Tornado as well." He turned to face his crewmates and added, "When in Rome, right?"

The Doosodarian took a quick but observant look around the room. He was trying to take in as many details as he could. He made a mental note of the groups that peppered the establishment, the exit, the employees that were sprinkled about the room.

Leighton had had to look away briefly as Parsons had stumbled over his words before he'd offered a greeting to the counselor by lifting his own drink in acknowledgement. Leighton had met Axod on their shuttle ride over from Pathfinder station, and they got along well. "Have any trouble finding us," he asked shouting to be heard before taking another sip from his drink. Leighton had to admit that the more he drank, the more he could feel his tongue loosening.

Axod nodded. "I did. But the lovely woman, wherever she went, was extremely helpful." The counselor, continued to look around the room, trying to look nonchalant. He turned back to the group and lowered his voice. "What have you guys found since being here?"

"Kazon DNA trace," Parsons said, his stutter gone in the face of focusing on the work. "Coming from that table over there," the engineer said, again nodding to the table in question. "We need to get closer for a more detailed scan, though. Can't tell if it's Kaldri's from here. Unfortunately," he sighed, the sound inaudible in the blare of music, "that table is rather occupied at the moment."

"Or fortunatel--" Xex began, a positively wicked gleam in his eye, but he cut himself off at movement around the table in question.

As if some greater power in the universe were watching over the Starfleeters and machinating events for their benefit, the aliens sitting at that table suddenly began to rise out of their chairs, tossing a strip of metal down as a tip before moving off towards the exit. Across the way, another group -- also standing in wait of a place to sit -- spotted the open table and began to move in its direction.

"Quick," Shelly hissed, already in motion. Despite never having played American football in his life, the engineer somehow was like Running Back possessed. Slipping between and pivoting around various people between himself and the table, Parsons suddenly slid his butt down into a chair just as the other group arrived. "S-sorry," he stammered, not courageous enough to look any of them in the eye. "Th-this one's taken." And with that, he crossed his arms and stayed planted like a root until the other group sighed and headed back for the bar. As his comrades made their way over to join him, Parsons pulled out his tricorder and began what he hoped was a covert scan.

Xex blinked after the young ensign with a mixture of disbelief and surprised respect. He honestly wouldn't have thought the timid engineer had it in him, but he certainly had to hand it to Parsons-- he'd made the play when it counted. The other group of-- were those feathers?-- aliens whose table hopes had been dashed had not yet dispersed, and the silver-skinned doctor decided strength in numbers would be their best play. He glanced across the bar to where the bartender was just gathering up what Xex sincerely hoped were their drinks. Catching the wee being's eye, he gestured vaguely toward the table. Then, jerking his head at Qo and Romanowski, he set off in Parsons' wake.

Not a moment too soon, either. The jilted aliens were beginning to puff up what, upon closer examination, definitely were feathers, crests rising on their heads. "Taken?" the boldest of them asked, her voice whistling melodically beneath the pumping beat of the 'music.' "We'll see about that," she began, just as Xex, having taken point with Leighton behind him, arrived at the table.

"Great choice!" he exclaimed loudly, clapping Parsons on the shoulder as he moved past the ensign and slid into a seat on the opposite side of the table. This put his back to the feathered beings, which meant he either trusted violence not to erupt, or was confident enough that he need not fear such violence. Xex wiped his palms surreptitiously on the fabric of his trousers, thankful the air was too smoky and dim for nuances of nervous sweat to be obvious.

Qo joined them as well, hands in his pockets. "Looks like we got the best seat in the house." He feigned an excited smile to his comrades, ignoring the feathered groups approach. Clapping Sheldon on the shoulder, Ax took a seat next him. "Pretty good for your first visit. Really getting the whole experience of the place."

As all four of them settled into their seats, the glowering aliens apparently did not find a fight over the table worth their while, and, feathers still ruffled, began to disperse, whistle-muttering to each other as they sought out other, easier territory. Keeping half an eye on them lest they change their mind, Xex craned his neck as though he would be able to see Parsons' covert tricorder. At least he managed to resist whipping out his own in some semblance of discretion. "Any match on the DNA?"

"It's Kaldri alright," Sheldon nodded to Xex and the others. "Her blood, actually. Right there," he gestured with his left index finger. Where he pointed was a light smear which had been mostly wiped away with a dirty rag at some point. But there was enough genetic material left behind to complete the trace. "Why was she bleeding in a bar of all places?" he wondered above the din.

Xex found his gaze drawn inexorably to the smear, despite its dubious provenance. It was not as though he could discern anything from a poorly-wiped splash of bodily fluids and yet, he found he could not tear his eyes away. So she had been here. Something about that was comforting-- or at least, it would have been if she hadn't been bleeding. Parsons' question finally drew Xex's attention and he lifted an eyebrow across the table at the young man. "In a place like this? I would be very surprised if that is the only blood this table has seen," he said dryly.

"Especially when a band's playing to a big crowd," came a familiar voice. It was the bartender, who'd personally come over carrying a tray laden with drinks. He set the Tagumik Tornadoes down in front of each of the Starfleeters in turn. "Had a knife fight in here just a couple days ago. The security here's usually pretty quick to respond but big crowds are hard to thread through," he said with a shrug. "Want me to grab a rag? Don't mind wiping it down...but it'll just get dirty again," he loudly lamented over the music. Reaching down, he picked up the empty glasses left behind by the previous group and pocketed their tip metal.

Axod picked up one of the drinks and took a healthy swig. He couldn't quite place the flavour, but he was sure it was familiar. "That type of thing happen a lot in here?" He asked the Bartender. "Knife fights I mean?" He was curious, as the answer could pertain to the group's immediate safety and Ax liked to be prepared in case a situation went sideways.

Xex flashed the bartender a grin, lifting his Tornado in a thankful salute. "Don't worry about it," he declared, "we were merely speculating as to its provenance." Flicking a glance at Axod, he settled back to sip his drink, letting the Doosodarian ask the questions for the moment. His would keep, and in any case, he was interested in the bartender's answer-- if Kaldri was involved in the knife fight, they might be able to find more from this tack than any other.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how often," the bartender replied, shaking his head. "This station caters to smugglers and people who want to remain hidden from outside law enforcement. People get pretty insistent about protecting their own agendas here," he said, looking back at the bar to ensure his coworker had things under control for the moment.

"Take the fight the other day. Kazon woman, very gruff," the bartender explained. "Sounded like she was trying to call in a favor from someone based on what I overheard. They said no. She didn't like that and pushed him. So he goes and pulls a knife and then stabbed her plain as rain. An Enforcer took him for processing but pretty sure he'll end up out here again soon," he said, shaking his head once again.

Xex felt himself jerk at this description, and he forcibly bent his head to his drink, hiding his expression.

Parsons had been staring at the blood smear while the bartender told the story. Upon its completion, though, his eyes drifted back to the group of avians whom he'd beat to secure this particular table. Were they going to come stab him? He visibly gulped before turning back to the drink bringer and asking, "Why don't you just outlaw weapons in here? Make it a safe environment for everyone?"

"Kid," the bartender rolled his eyes, "do you know how long it would take to strip everyone of their weapons when they walk through the door? And the manpower it would take to do that with three entrances to this place?" It was as if Sheldon had suggested changing the orbit of a moon or something. "Besides, a weapon gives most folks a sense of security around here. Having one keeps them from freaking out: makes them feel safer. I think hand to hand violence would be much more prevalent here if people weren't able to carry something small but effective."

"Ah," Parsons responded, having no counter argument to that.

Having apparently gotten himself under control, Xex chimed in with, "I know I feel safer for it." He patted the cargo pocket on his thigh which actually carried a roll of self-sealing wound gauze, but hopefully the motion was enough like checking for a weapon that it would lend them the right kind of dangerous mien. Right.

"Tell me," he said, before the bartender could take his leave, "Did you see what happened to the Kazon woman after she bled all over your table? You said the Enforcer only took the one of them for processing..."

Axod listened to the bartender's words. He could understand of course, even though he didn't grow up in a place where weapons were a common sight, he knew a lot of people who had. So he could sympathize withnthe bartender, a man who simply didn't want any extra hassle in his life.

"Needed medical attention, didn't she? Bleeding all over the place like that," the alien shrugged, placing the now empty tray in his arm pit, held in place against his body by his arm. "She paid her tab and said she was going to see Doc Zamaya for a patch up job. That was the last I saw of her," the bartender said, a suspicious gleam in his triple eyes. They were asking a lot of questions about the Kazon woman...

"Listen, if she owes you money or something, I don't think you're going to have much luck," the alien added. "She seemed pretty desperate for metal for some reason, so I doubt she can pay you back. But uh...try not to get yourself thrown in the Hole for trying to collect? You seem like nice people," he said. With a parting nod, the bartender drifted back to his station as the band blared on, leaving the Starfleeters to themselves.

"According to this," Sheldon held aloft his PADD indicatively, having already run a search of Hukatuse's database, "this 'Doctor Zamaya' runs the local Infirmary. It's not far from here if we want to check it out. Maybe they'll know what happened to Kaldri after the fight? Besides," he visibly gulped again, "I think those bird people really want this table." The engineer's eyes shifted to indicate the group, which had obtained drinks and were now loitering about 30 feet away, directing intense stares at Xex's group.

Bleeding all over the place like that, echoed ominously in Xex's mind as he struggled to keep a pleasant expression on his face. Whatever taste the Tornado had before, it seemed to have soured; the good doctor appeared to be having serious trouble swallowing his most recent sip. Even once he managed that, he struggled to force what he hoped was a carefree grin. "Oh no, nothing so serious," he said, and despite his best efforts, looked as though he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him. "Thanks for your help!" he called after the bartender, and then immediately turned back to the table and lowered his voice as much as he could in the blaring music.

"This station does not seems like the sort of place that offers free medical care," he observed, "If she was low on funds and seriously injured, she might be in real trouble. We definitely should see what this Doctor Zamaya has to say." Xex spoke intently, his expression set as he caught each of his fellows' eyes around the table. "I don't know about you gents," he said, pushing his glass away from him, "but I've lost my appetite for drink. And it sounds like time is even more of the essence. Let's go," he added with the first hint of command he had thus far shown on the station. Planting his hands on the table, Xex pushed to his feet, studiously ignoring the group of feathered aliens still staring keenly at the table.

Leighton had listened quietly as the bartender had divulged the information. At the doctor's order, Leighton downed his last bit of drink before standing to follow behind the other two men. Before stepping away, he pulled out a few strips of metal from his coat pocket and tossed them onto the table. He then looked over at Axod and motioned to the others. "We'd better hurry before they leave us behind."

The Counselor nodded in agreement. He took a last long swig of his drink and then left the glass on the table. Axod pushed his chair back and stood up with a bit of a jump. Without pushing his seat back in, the Doosodarian sped up to meet his comrades as they headed to the exit. He pushed his red hair out of his face and waved to the bartender before joining his friends.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Lieutenant Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant (JG) Leighton Romanowski
Operations Officer

Ensign Sheldon Parsons
Engineering Officer]]>
Fri, 24 Nov 2023 18:06:55 +0000
Once Again, With Vigor https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/394 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/394
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Gravity Well Bar, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1930

Previously...

"Fascinating/enlightening/unusual," Moritana replied. "I have seen such things but the way you led," Moritana looked at Noah with fascination, "No-ohah... I thought... and bartender/drinkmaker/hardshell said they would send over an interested to help person." The alien flicked her tongue out and curled it back. "I flush/scalepop. Please go. Much humiliation/embarrassed/wish to hide." And with that, the slim and flexible alien rose, shouldered her garment and jogged into the room she'd retreated to.

It seemed as if, with Moritana's retreat, all of the air left the room, following on her heels. She was up and out before Irynya could protest or make some further attempt to fix the mistake she'd so clearly made. Instead she turned darkened chastened eyes on Noah. "Should... we should go... right?"

Noah looked very uncertain himself. "I-I guess. We still have to find Kaldri." Noah frowned, "Did that bartender, um, pa-pawn us off on this lady just to get rid of us?"

Irynya's eyebrows knit, creasing her forehead in a way that made her usually soft features look more severe. "I don't know," she said. "But you're right. We need to find Kaldri. And... I... I guess we should at least try the information she gave?" She moved toward the door as she spoke, stepping out into the dimly lit corridor with a sense of relief so immense that she immediately felt bad for it.

And now...

The walk from Moritana's living space back to The Gravity Well seemed to take infinitely longer than the first time they'd traversed the path. On several occasions one or the other of the two had paused, opening mouths to speak, and then, seemingly unsure what to say, had simply stayed silent, moving as quickly as possible without actually seeming to flee as they could.

Irynya found herself picking back through the whole encounter, looking for where she might have realized things sooner. As they passed a familiar bordello, it's four breasted woman still practically pasted to the window and leering at them as they kept walking, she finally got up the nerve to speak. "Are... are you ok?" she asked first, realizing that as much as she was feeling badly about things, it was Noah whose body had nearly been sacrificed for the incubation of reptilian babies.

Noah pushed his hands into his jacket. "I'm fine. Just..." his brows knitted, his nearly-black eyes darkened. "Still trying to figure out where the, uh, buh-babies were supposed to go. I-I only have so many holes."

The statement, so frank and simply... Noah-like... caught Irynya off guard and, despite the seriousness of the circumstance, she snorted a laugh. "Oh my goodness," she said, covering her mouth as she walked to try to stifle the slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to break loose. "I mean, right? She must have had some kind of plan?"

Noah's eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, "I-I hope so. But..." He shook his head, "I'm still trying to figure out why the bartender sent us to her. Just s-sort seemed mean. She just needed a..." Noah shrugged, "Well I guess an incubator." His wide mouth frowned and the engineer started to walk again.

Irynya's giggles quickly quelled and she shifted back to silence, walking quietly for a few moments as she thought. "I suppose she did match the description of what we were looking for. I asked for a regular who might have seen Kaldri... and Moritana did see Kaldri... or at least a hostile female Kazon. That's a lead if nothing else. Maybe the bartender really was just doing what I asked?"

They'd come back to the bar's entrance and as they did, Iry drew to a halt. "I feel like we need a plan," she said with an apologetic shrug. "We go in, find Malik, see if we can get him to talk to us, and then get out?" she rattled off, ending the list in a question rather than assuming Noah agreed. "Does that sound right?"

"Y-you're right. I think something about this place... sc-scares me a little. I feel like we've been tossed in-into the deep end." He pushed his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "It sounds like a good plan. Hopefully this, um, M-malik is still there. He looked huge." Noah peered inside. "When are we supposed to check in?"

"Yeah," Iry agreed, eyeing the entrance with a bit more trepidation than the last time they'd entered the bar. "But we're Starfleet and if Commander t'Nai thinks we're suited to this then..." she shrugged, the air of confidence only halfway effective in its display. She glanced at a chrono affixed to her arm and twisted her lips to the left, calculating quickly. "Another hour," she said. "Enough time to try to get information and then maybe check it out a bit... assuming this guy will talk to us."

"OK," Noah said breathily. His lips tightened into a line and he seemed to shrug to himself. "I'll-I'll go first again. I guess." he started to walk inside and then backtracked, "Wish me luck," he said. Then Noah started walking inside again. And then back out, "But, you know. Cuh-come with." He tightened his smile again with a nod and popped his neck with a hand under his chin. He ventured within, past a pair of aliens who seemed to be smoking some kind of overly sweet and pungent aroma. It had no exact Human analog.

"Hi. Uh, hi," Noah said with a raise of his hand at the bartender. "We're back."

Unlike before where Iry had left Noah to lead, she was right on his heals, so much so that when he came to a halt at the bar she had to sidestep quickly, her hand accidentally brushing against his own before she resituated herself to a normal proximity.

The coralline bartender from earlier seemed to eye them with some suspicion. "Already told you. We get Kazon," it commented, with a touch of irritation. What passed for its head looked back and forth between them and, Iry could have sworn that if the creature had eyebrows and eyes in the sense that they were used to they would have been narrowed.

"We know," Iry chimed in. "We're looking for someone else now."

A call from across the bar drew the coral alien's attention and somehow his whole personage seemed to vibrate with annoyance. "We get Kazon. Talk to Moritana," it emphasized making as if it was going to turn away again.

"Uh, hold up. N-no. I already talked to her, and I a-almost got pregnant be-because... well... because of that advice," Noah said. He blinked and looked back at Irynya, "S-sorry was that passive aggressive sounding? I didn't mean it to be." Noah frowned and pushed his hair behind his ear, "I'm still processing that." He redirected and tried again at the coral-being, "We want to talk to Malik." Noah said. He was trying but his voice held no authority, truly.

The name Malik seemed to have an effect of the alien and it paused in its movement to look at Irynya and Noah face on. Had Iry not already found the creature's mannerisms hard to pin down she might have thought it was glaring. "You have an appointment?" it asked?

Irynya frowned, squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes. She may not have been sure of the body language she was seeing, but somehow projecting confidence seemed important here. "Malik will want to speak with us," she said firmly.

Noah's looked on at his companion with an eyebrow pop. He would have just said no, they didn't have one. Irynya was cleverer in these situations.

For a long, tense, moment the three seemed to be at an impasse. The bartender was unmoving, what passed for eyes seeming to size them up as if seeing them fully for the first time. Just as the Risian felt sure that it was about to call her bluff the creature seemed to relax, turning away again, but this time adding, "Wait here," as it did.

"How did you do that?" Noah asked with one eye squinted.

Goodness gracious, did the patrons of the bar make her look normal by comparison. Sava could've sworn she'd seen at least fifteen different species on her journey from the ship to the Gravity Well itself. Dressed in a black tank top that left her midriff open, jeans and a grangy brown jacket, Sava searched the crowd for the two she'd been told to find - which wasn't hard, mind, seeing as they were probably the only two people without any form of facial ridge or ridiculous hairstyle or things growing out of their chins or any of the myriad of physical features she'd seen on people so far. "Hello. I'm lieutenant junior grade Sava. Assistant head of security. I was told you two might need some backup," She quipped with a smile as she came up behind the two. Sava towered over them both, which probably made her look a little more imposing than she might've liked - but then again that was her to practically everyone else, including the crowd here, so far from home.

"I take it you two were discussing next steps before I found you?" She asked, glancing between the two junior officers.

The Risian welcoming demeanor fell back into place just about as quickly as one dons a comfortable pair of worn shoes. "Ah," Irynya commented, tilting her head to look up at Sava. The Kelpien woman was easily a foot taller than she was. She had to tilt slightly to look at Noah as it was, but this one might mean a crick in her neck. "You came onboard with the relief crew a few weeks back, right?" she asked. "I don't think we've had a chance to meet yet. I'm Lieutenant Junior Grade Irynya, assistant chief flight controller." She held out her hand for the other woman to grasp.

Noah looked on at the two senior-to-him officers. He didn't know this person and he'd only heard of her species. "Um. Noah Balsam. Systems Engineer. Hi." He tinkled his fingers in a shy way and then tentatively held it out in greeting. Noah almost retracted it, questioning if Kelpiens shook hands.

Sava shook both their hands firmly. For someone who looked like she might fall over and break if you pushed her too hard, her grip was surprisingly firm. Kelpiens had always been deceptively strong.

Introductions made Iry gave the security officer a quick run down on their efforts so far, leaving out the more... unusual... details of their interaction with Moritana by simply saying she'd eventually told them to look for Malik. It was... true... although it allowed her to skip an explanation about how she had nearly gotten Noah pregnant with alien reptile babies.

"And now we're just waiting for the bartender to come back," she finished, looking to Noah to fill in any gaps she may have missed.

"Yeah," Noah puffed up his cheeks and put his hands on his hips. He breathed out, longing for the simplicity of the holo-lab and writing code. "It's b-been an evening. A weird one." It was then that Noah acknowledged to himself that he was quite hungry- but after he and Irynya's voyage into deeply alien food, he felt gunshy about trying anything in here.

The faint snail-like flavor of Sluggo Cola wafted past his nose as a memory.

While the under-cover-Starfleeters chatted, the coral-covered alien had moved far down the wraparound bar. It synced up with a huge, hulking figure who had been standing a silent sentinel’s watch over The Gravity Well, his glowing red eyes not missing a single happening within his establishment. As the coral alien exchanged a quick, terse flurry of words with the man, it became apparent that the massive watcher was not a bouncer but was, in fact, Malik himself.

Looking from his bartender to the Starfleeters, Malik gave the coral alien a grumpy-looking nod before tracing the path he’d taken back to Irynya, Noah, and Sava. As he walked towards the trio, the light played across his bulbous form, a good 500 pounds of towering, solid muscle. For as tall as Sava was, Malik was a good foot taller even: a height that caused all others to look up fearfully as he passed them.

“I am told,” Malik’s voice emanated as a deep, icy rasp, “that you’ve reason to believe I’d wish to speak with you.” He folded his massive arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter behind him, his bulk causing the tabletop to sag slightly. “Speak then,” he commanded coolly.

Noah's bedroom eyes blinked wide. Jesus. This thing was huge. Bigger than Nausicaan huge.

Stepping back from the bar slightly, Iry tilted her head up to look at Malik. "We've been told that you spoke with a Kazon woman a few days ago. A woman named Kaldri. She may have come in looking for someone or... something... she's... we're trying to reach her."

A twinge in the small muscles across the top of her back and into her neck made Irynya wince ever so slightly and she made a show of looking to Noah and Sava, using their slightly lower height as an excuse to alleviate the crick that was rapidly forming in her neck. "My... partners and I need to find her, urgently," She added.

"We-we're not looking for trouble. We just want to-to help her," Noah added, still a little wrapped the size of this being. He wished he was someone more like Timmoz, who seemed to just drift through situation like this with ease.

"No one ever is," Malik grumbled back, his glowing eyes darkening into a smolder. "I do not know this 'Kaldri,'" he said, putting even more of his bulk on the back counter. It sagged even further, though gave no sign of giving way...yet. "Many people come and go here, however. Including some of the Kazon variety. I have not seen one in many days, however."

"Perhaps this friend who needs your help has already left the station?" Malik offered, glowering at the trio of Starfleeters. Sava in particular received his focused gaze, the proprietor's glowing eyes tracing her up and down. She was clearly the muscle in this group -- she was the one to potentially worry about. The waify lank of a boy and his lithe female companion were of little to no concern.

At that moment, a warbling alert from Noah's pocketed tricorder began to sound. It was the chirruping confirmation that signaled that the combadge they'd been tracking had finally been found. And apparently, the combadge in question was on Malik's person...

Sava stared down the proprietor coolly. Malik was a giant, yes, and most certainly much stronger than she - but agility was likely something he lacked. If need be, she was confident that she could probably outmaneuver him till he tired - or lost. "Well, have the Kazon you've met before ever given you anything interesting?" She asked. "Exotic artifacts, perhaps, or technology they claim is entirely alien in origin?"

Noah raised his device- more conspicuously than might've been desired. He frowned. "Well, um. You have her commbadge," Noah said to the hulking man with the glowing eyes. "Are-are you sure you haven't seen her?" He asked, tapping at his tricorder to triangulate and confirm its position.

With two of the three officers confirming what was now painfully obvious, Irynya stayed silent, though she crossed her arms, hip popping slightly with attitude as she stared down the hulking figure before her. She had no doubt the commbadge was on this man's considerably large person, though she'd hate to think about where. Hopefully just a simple front pocket. Eyebrows raised in expectation, she waited.

If Sava's question had been a backdoor insinuation, Noah's seemed like a full blown accusation, especially with Irynya's penetrating glare focused on Malik like a spotlight. The proprietor had been about to respond when the young man manipulated the controls on his sensing device. The tricorder instantly began to trill at a more urgent pace and tone. Malik eyed the device with contempt and knew the jig was, at least partially, up. Unfolding his arms from across his chest, the towering alien stood to his full height and rolled his considerable shoulders as if loosening up for a fight.

He raised an arm then, reaching not for a concealed weapon -- as one might have thought -- but for a compartment he opened on the outer shell of his partially-armored chest vestments. From it, Malik withdrew the familiar chevron the trio'd come in search of. The combadge was a bit scratched and scuffed -- perhaps indicating Kaldri had run into some trouble since Xex had tossed it to her -- but otherwise seemed completely intact.

"Had I known," Malik rumbled deeply, "that this device was being tracked, I never would have bought it from your Kazon 'friend,'" he used the term doubtfully, questioning if these people really were here to help the Kazon in question. "Obfuscating further serves little purpose. So yes," the behemoth of a man nodded his giant head, "I did see your Kazon. She came here trying to raise money to get her ship released from impound. I deal in certain...commodities," Malik explained, "and often put potential buyers in touch with motivated sellers. But this, I wanted for myself," he said, tumbling the combadge over and over in the enormity that was his right hand.

Noah lowered his tricorder a little, having sunk his teeth with thinking into his lip. "We-we just want to help her," he said, pocketing his device. "She's running from someone. Other Kazon. We tried to help her but, um, her shutte warped away in the chaos." That was the limit of Noah's knowledge of the situation. In memory of the event, the boy rubbed the shell of his ear, which had been torn and split on his time on that moon. "We don't want to hurt her or anything." He felt safe supposing that and looked to the two women he was under. "So, uh, anything you can tell us." He looked at Irynya and Sava again, "To-to help us. Would be appreciated. We're friendly, I-I swear. We're all friendly so let's just uh... be-be friendly."

Lesser men than Noah would've wet their pants by now. Sava had seen it happen. Literally. And the person they'd been talking to then was an Orion man about half Malik's size. Everything about Noah's body language suggested that he was deathly terrified of the mountain of muscle that was Malik - and yet here he was, doing his best to get what they wanted. She would've hugged him there and then, but something told her his pretty female friend might've thrown her for six if she tried. She admired him.

Now, though, there was another emergency. She could hear murmuring around them - the perks of having hearing meant to allow you time to run miles away from danger before it found you - and not of the idle kind. The four were beginning to draw attention, which was the last thing they all needed. Sava quickly maneuvred her rangy body between the crowd and her companions while keeping Noah in sight. "Would you happen to know where she went, or what she took with her?" She ventured. "Or if she was alone? Anything is helpful."

While her two colleagues had spoken, Irynya had remained quiet, laser focused stare still on Malik even though he had revealed the commbadge and admitted to knowing Kaldri. The bit of information about the impound was useful, but only if it was recent. A bit of pride swelled in her chest for Noah and Sava both knowing that none of them were likely feeling well matched against the hulk of a man before them. "And when," she added after Sava finished. "When did you see her? And have you seen her again since?"

"So many questions," came Malik's deep, rumbling voice. Even through the din of clinking glasses, music, and conversation -- not to mention the bings and whistles from the gaming floor upstairs -- the proprietor had no trouble making himself heard. Under the onslaught of said questions, however, the alien's thoughts turned inward and it was clear from his face that he was working to make a decision. Having finally stepped through whatever mental door he'd decided to open, however, Malik continued turning the combadge over and over between his fingers -- rather like a poker chip -- and said, "This stays mine. I paid for it. But," he held up his left index finger in a staying motion, "I will tell you what I can."

Gaze gathering up the three figures before him, the bar owner said, "She was here two days ago. Her ship had been badly damaged and she was on the run from someone. She chose to hide here," Malik explained, gesturing all around him -- clearly meaning Hukatuse as a whole rather than the bar itself. "Unfortunately, she only had enough money to pay for one night of docking fees. Someone here apparently owed her metal and she was confident she'd get enough to stay a few days more and pay for the repairs of her ship. Unfortunately," the alien slowly shook his massive head, "the individual in question had turned up dead some weeks back. Some kind of bad business deal, I believe."

"Unable to get the money she needed, your friend," Malik again used the term questionably, "came to me yesterday with this." He held the combadge up then, tilting it slowly side-to-side in order to catch the light. "I scanned this thoroughly and the metals it's made of could fund my operation for three months, easy." The proprietor tossed the combadge a foot into the air and then caught it before slipping it back into the compartment on his vestments. Mine, his body language reinforced. "I offered her only a sixth of its worth -- I have to make a profit, you see," Malik explained earnestly, "and she took the deal. But before she could return to the Docks to pay her overdue fees, two Enforcers showed up."

"They took her to The Hole. The Governor," the title was said with a bit of derision, "doesn't like it when payment for Hukatuse's services is late. Especially when it isn't the first time," Malik underscored with a light shrug. "From my understanding, her money was confiscated as interest on the overdue docking fees and her ship was sent to the Chop Yards. Apparently it, too," his eyes narrowed at the trio, "was made of valuable metals. Something of yours, perhaps? I saw your little device there," he gestured with a hammy finger at Noah's pocket, where the afore-beeping tricorder had been stowed. "Let me guess," he leaned in with a frown, "she stole your ship and you want it back? Wouldn't be the first time," Malik grumbled.

"N-no," Noah said. He looked again at his companions, "At least I don't think so. We're really just trying to help her. It um," Noah folded his tricorder and put it in his uniform. "Sounds like she's in deep. With some people here. The Governor, you said." Noah hesitated and rocked on the heels of his shoes. "Is the Governor a-a person we could talk to?"

A frown tugged at Iry's lips creasing the ja'risia on her forehead with it. She didn't think it likely the Governor would talk to them. Captain Kodak maybe. Or Commander t'Nai. But the three of them... all second string, if that? Thoughtful, she pulled her cheek in between her teeth and pursed her lips to the side. An idea was very very slowly percolating, but she wasn't sure it would help anything. Still, if she understood correctly the whole point of finding Kaldri was to get a better understanding of Subrek and his advanced technology. Maybe... if Kaldri was already gone... a look at her shuttle would do the trick. "Or do you think her ship might still be around?" she appended onto Noah's question, trying to seem laid back about it as if the idea of examining an alien vessel filled with advanced tech didn't fill her with a well of excitement.

Their person of interest was in some kind of prison god knows where. Lovely. Sava felt a little bit of irritation tug at her. They couldn't afford to keep chasing one Kazon round the Delta Quadrant - not when they had other things to do, more important things. Her feelings swiftly dissipated, though, as the sound of murmuring reached her ears - and not all of it was pleasant. From what she could gather the crowd were astounded at what they could overhear from their conversation. A few even sounded scared, whispering The Governor's name in hushed tones along with indecipherable mutterings her commbadge could not adequately pick up. "Or anything else that she's been using. Anything you hsve will be helpful, and I promise we'll be on our way after." Sava added. Once again they were attracting too much attention. If they didn't go soon she sensed that there'd be much more questioning from the crowd ' or worse, more hostilities waiting for them afterward. Time was running out.

To Noah, Malik rolled his eyes. "Governor Dendrak has been known to meet with the commanders of visiting vessels. He likes to forge relationships with the smugglers who come here. It helps him gets the things he wants and needs. Those people are potentially very valuable to him. But a little thing like you?" The proprietor actually snorted at the idea of Noah being so important a person as to be a ship's captain. "You'd have better luck stumbling upon a stable wormhole than getting the Governor's attention, small one." This was said with a droll, patronizing tone before the bar owner's eyes slid away from Noah and onto Irynya and Sava.

To their questions, Malik waved a dismissive -- and decidedly massive -- hand. "I've already told you. The Governor had her shuttle sent to the Chop Yards. My guess is it's going to be sliced into metals and spare parts for trading. Or perhaps its metal plating will be used to reinforce weak spots on the station's hull, I don't know," he said. "If you want to take a look at it, I suppose it's possible they haven't begun the process yet. Koloss -- the foreman there -- has been backed up for a week or more." At this, the proprietor shrugged his thick shoulders. "There's nothing more I can tell you here, though."

Here. The word choice was, perhaps, interesting. Said innocuously, Malik might mean he had nothing more to say in general. Or that particular word could indicate he couldn't be more forthcoming in such a public area. With so many people watching and listening, though, Malik seemed unwilling to divulge any more than he already had. "I've things to do. Why don't you go pester someone else with all your questions." And with that, the large alien turned and made his way back down the line of the bar, no longer amenable to interacting with the covert trio.

Noah had drifted to the back of the pair as Malik's ire- and limited assistance- had grown. Using the pair and an extra pair of patrons clamoring for a drink, Noah opened his tricorder at thigh level. It's lights blinked, pulsing, while he used an agile thumb to poke at the controls. He paused and worried teeth across his lower lip. On the screen, words read, "Wang, Xex," listed his service number and the EM band of the badge on Malik's chest.

Noah glanced up at a serpentine patron he was using as cover and double-took at their unusual yellow eyes. Their tongue flicked out, tasting the air around the little Human. Then they shifted as sinuously as their heritage would seem , shuffling again in the queue to get a drink. Noah swept his fingers against the controls- and he manually boosted its signal to maximum. Then he reached under his brown suede jacket and tapped his own badge. "Sojourner. Balsam. Lock on to the cuh-coordinates of the signal four meters behind me b-bearing 213 carom 0. P-please track it. If it leaves this area, let us know. I'm activating its transporter enhancer, um, also. Balsam out."

Sava made a hissing sound through her teeth. And to think that they'd at least be able to get him to return the commbadge with diplomacy. Evidently here in the Delta Quadrant, tens of thousands of light years from home, the locals were far less reasonable than in Federation space. Something something harsh climate, she guessed.

On the other hand, though, she could still hear people around them murmuring. Sooner or later someone was going to ask them questions, or accuse them of being some kind of hostile presence, or something like that, surely, and then they'd never leave - dead or alive. This team's safety was her responsibility, making it her job to get them out of here and back to the Sojourner alive and with all their limbs attached. "Come. Our business here is concluded. For now." She stated in a whisper. With a quick glance back at Malik she looked to the exit of the bar. "We should leave. Walk naturally. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," replied Noah. He fell in line with his two superior officers. It was best that Malik feel he'd won. And they had come away with a fragment of information. Once they'd reached the door, Noah cleared his throat. "Should we-we check in with the Captain and Commander?" Noah was smiling broadly. Too broadly.

Irynya's responding grin was impossible to miss. Noah's enthusiasm, after all, was contagious. She glanced between the Kelpien and the Enceladan and nodded her agreement. "Want to do the honors... Ensign?"

Noah nodded once and again, he reached under his jacket. There was a high pitched click. "Balsam to Commander t'Nai." He double-tapped his commbadge to put it on auto-scramble.

There was a pause, a bit longer than the standard reply, and then the voice of the Sojourner's XO could be heard by the three lower deckers. The Romulan's tone was business-like and clipped, and not a little bit muffled by the fabric between Noah's badge and the open air.

"t'Nai here. Another pause and then, "Go ahead Ensign. was added.

"M-Ma'am we found Xex's stolen badge. A man named Malik... sort of a uh crime boss feel... bought it from her. He said our Kazon, um," Noah closed his eyes to try and remember everything chronologically, "Came to the station a few days ago. Something called The Governor seized her ship and-and is having it chopped. Kaldri, it sounds like, had unpaid debts. She's in some version of jail."

Another pause and the XO's voice came across again. "I see."

Irynya's eyebrows knit with curiosity, unsure if it was the muffle of the fabric, the tone of voice, or some combination of the two that was making it hard for her to guess what Commander t'Nai was thinking. The voice continued, though.

"Good work Ensign. We have a lead on the Governor," Emni's voice advised. "See what else you can learn. t'Nai out." And with that the line went quiet.

Noah double-tapped his commbadge to deactivate it. "OK. They-they have a lead on who the Governor is. They want us to find this Chop... place?"

"Chop Yards," Iry confirmed, as much for her own need for assurance that she'd remembered correctly, as anything else. She looked between Noah and Sava quickly and then, with a shrug, took the lead.

"Might as well get going," she said, and then turned about in a circle as if that would inform her of the way. "I mean... as soon as we figure out wehre they are."

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Junior Grade Irynya
Assistant Flight Controller

Lieutenant Junior Grade Sava
Assistant Security Chief

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

Guest Starring... Malik (written by Brad)]]>
Tue, 21 Nov 2023 22:31:43 +0000
[Backpost] What's a Little Towel between Friends? https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/400 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/400
Mission - On the Road Again
Location - CMO's Quarters
Timeline - Mission Day 0 at 0000

[CMO's Quarters]
[Deck 2]
[Following 'A Camping We Will Go: Cerulean Blue']
[2220]


The door to the quarters slid smoothly, silently open to let in a square of light from the hallway beyond. Little noise drifted into the suite to accompany the light; in accordance with normal human circadian rhythms, the Sojourner was quiet at this time of night, with few comings and goings to sickbay, the science labs, or any of the other facilities available on Deck Two. Likewise, there seemed to be no comings or goings into the suite, which was damned odd, considering someone must have caused the door to open.

Unless it was malfunctioning...

Just as it seemed it would close again, a figure swayed into the doorway, pausing to lean against the frame. His head tipped to the side, resting on the frame. He paused for so long, it seemed almost as if the figure planned to sleep there in the doorway when the head jerked abruptly upright and he stagger-stepped finally into the room proper.

Speaking of malfunctioning...

As the door closed behind him, Xex paused again, swaying gently back and forth now he had no supporting doorframe, happy enough to let his eyes adjust before he chanced any further locomotion. His expression in the suite's dimmer light was happy, a dreamy smile on his face, his eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused.

The low hum of the sonic shower filled the cabin's shared head. Ax stood, head hung, allowing the sonic vibrations to strip the days dirt and grime from his body. Sonic showers were not his favourite by any stretch. He would prefer to have running water, but the logistics on such a small ship were too next to impossible. So he endured it, quickly.

Stepping from the device, Axod wrapped a white towel, embroidered with Starfleet insignia and the ship's name, around his waist. He took a quick look at his reflection in the mirror, inspecting the state of the ginger beard he was beginning to grow. Happy with his progress he turned and exited into the common area of his shared quarters. The image of a shadowed figure leaning at the door, illuminated by the light from the now open door of the shared washroom, caused Ax to take a step back and gasp as he struggled to understand the situation.

"You okay?" Ax asked, as his eyes focused and revealed the figure as his comrade and roommate.

The words seemed to snap the silver-limned figure into some semblance of alertness: his head jerked and his eyes blinked, focusing on the speaker. Slowly, like a wind-up toy coming to life, animation returned to his features which lit with pleasure once his bleary eyes landed on Ax. "You. Oh. Kay," he echoed, rolling the words around in his mouth. His expression turned even more delighted as he moved further into the small main room of their suite, stumbling a bit on the edge of the couch and falling gracelessly onto it. "Such an economy of letters to ask such a fundamental question!" he exclaimed happily, half-reclined on the couch.

With an apparent herculean effort, Xex managed to struggle halfway upright enough to blink carefully at Ax again. "You are not dressed," he observed with cutting insight.

"I've just been in the shower." He checked that his towel was still securely tied at his waist. From the sound of Xex's voice, he was drunk. Shaking his head, Axod crossed to the replicator on the wall and ordered one of his preprogrammed selections via the control panel. In a moment, a relatively large glass shimmered into existence. He retrieved it and handed it to the Doctor. "Drink this. Why don't you tell me where you were?"

Xex's face took on a puzzled expression, as though he were working a particularly complex mathematical problem. Before he could come to a soluation, however, a large glass appeared before him and his face cleared into sheer delight. With more grunting and squirming he managed to swivel himself more or less upright and, eyes fixed on the glass, reached out and took it with both hands. Without another word, he put the glass to his lips and proceeded to drink, his throat moving rhythmically as he took great gulps of the liquid. Thanks to his single-mindedness, not a single drop slid down his chin. When he finally finished, he looked up from the glass to lock eyes with Axod, his gaze adoring. "Oh, you absolute shining star in my heavens," he said, and put the glass back to his lips, only to find that it was empty.

Looking supremely disappointed, he lowered it again with a dramatic sigh, and looked back at Axod, who seemed to be waiting for something. Blinking owlishly, Xex glanced behind himself, as if to ascertain what the other man was staring at and, finding only the suite's wall, frowned and turned back to him.

A look of concern washed over Axon's face. "So, did you want to explain where you were?" He asked crossing his arms across his lightly haired chest. He thought for a moment about the many nights out he shared with his friends at the Academy, sneaking off campus to go on a pub crawl on Valencia street in San Francisco, or taking the transporters to the clubs in Tokyo. The fond memories were typically peppered with flashes of the aftermath. The inevitable hangover, provided they imbibed in something besides synthahol. The memories pulled a slight smile onto his face and then he returned his attention to Xex, and hoped the Doctor might finally explain what happened.

The slow, ale-sludged processes of Xex's brain did eventually fire and his expression cleared. "Oh! You've simply got to go. This El-Aurian--I know, there's an El-Aurian on board, isn't it delightful?" he gushed, "Anyway, he's shet up-- shet--" He blinked, apparently displeased with himself, and very carefully tried one more time, "Set up this very cozy pub Earth-style!" Leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, his expression intent, his cup tipped entirely to the side, he said confidentially, "He even stocks Romulan Ale."

Axod's nodded along until Xex said those last two fateful words. Then his eyes went wide. "Is that what you were getting into?" He asked, but he didn't really need an answer. It was as though he couldn't help his mouth falling open. Ax's concern grew. He began wondering where he shouldn't contact the duty doctor in Sickbay. "How much Romulan Ale did you drink Xex?"

"Indeed!" Xex replied to the first question, utterly delighted with the prospect. The second question seemed much more difficult for the silvery-skinned doctor to parse. His brows knitted as he delved deep into the neural pathways of counting. His fingers tapped against the glass, and then finally, with a very serious expression on his face, he looked up at Axod and said definitively, "Some. But I'm sure Danny-- no... David! David has more. There's only the one part-Romulan on crew and she's already drunk her fill tonight."

With that, Xex rotated part way on the couch and flopped backward, bringing the glass to his lips again. This would have resulted in an enormous spill of liquid across his face and neck, save that the glass was empty. Looking extremely disappointed-- favorite puppy crushed beneath something heavy levels of disappointment-- Xex heaved out a sigh and set about the rather monumental task of mustering himself to trek the few steps to the replicator for more liquid refreshment.

His arms still crossed, Ax let out a sigh. "Do you need to go to Sickbay to get checked?" He asked, hoping that Xex was in a state where he would be capable of making that sort of self assessment. He walked over to where Xex was trying to stand. "Let me get you some more." He said, taking the glass and making his way to the replicator. He placed the empty glass in the receptacle and once again ordered from his preprogrammed selections. In a moment, the empty glass disappeared and was replaced by another, filled with clear liquid.

Something about Axod's words seemed to still Xex's struggle. He stopped attempting to stand, and sat back against the couch's dubious cushioning. In a more sober moment, he might even have taken the time to make a mental note to replace the couch. His expression smoothed into a meditative look.

"Here." Ax crouched down and placed the glass into his roommate's hand.

"No," Xex finally answered the other man's question, meeting his gaze as he crouched down and passed over the liquid. He accepted it with the exaggerated care of the very drunk, but his eyes were intent and had lost some of their glazed vagueness. "Thank you, but no. I think we can leave Doctor Marwol alone for the evening." Xex lifted the glass to his lips, gulped dutifully, and when he put it down again, a smile spread across his face. "I need to room with a counselor more often. Normally I have to take care of myshelf." Frowning, he tried again, "Myshelf." The frown deepened. "My. Self." Having managed to banish the slur, the frown cleared and the grin returned. "What, besides a shhhhhower have I interrupted for your night?"

Despite the fairly lucid question, Xex's balance seemed no better, his entire upper body tilting on the couch until his shoulder reached the corner between arm and back and he stopped, leaned on a diagonal.

"Nothing much to be honest." Ax pushed his red hair back out of his face. "Just some relaxing me time really after a very long day." He leaned again the bulkhead, watching the Doctor lean. "Nothing too important, it was likely going to be an early night." his hand instinctively checked the security of his towel once again. "Hopefully your plans involve going to bed and sleeping off the Romulan Ale. Hope and pray you can stand upright by tomorrow morning."

Xex frowned, and because it felt like his veins were more Romulan ale than they were blood, he made the stupid statement, "I imagine running through an entire ship of new patients is exhausting." He seemed not to notice that a) obviously Axod was not going to discuss his patients and b) Xex also had an entire ship of new patients through which to run.

Axod's second pointed comment caused Xex, who had been squirming his hips under his shoulders to bring himself to a more-or-less upright posture, to pause, an unaccustomed scowl scrunching his face. "Sleep I fear, will be a long time coming. Not that that should shtop you!" This time, he didn't seem to notice his slur. "Come," he said almost immediately, as though he hadn't just given the other man leave to find his bed. He patted the couch next to him, "Pray with me." Xex's grin was positively wicked.

Axod was perplexed by both Xex's words and the gesture that followed. He cocked an eyebrow and unfolded his arms. "I can't promise you I'll know the words." He said, half serious. With tentative steps, Ax moved to be at his roommate's side. He lowered himself into the spot next to Xex. He wasn't sure whether to bow his head or simply close his eyes. He didn't know whether or not this prayer had words or whether it involved silent reflection. He slowly turned to look at Xex. "So, what do we do?"

Xex's eyes had tracked the Doosodarian carefully until he settled himself on the couch, as though to ensure he did it right. Once seated however, Xex immediately moved, swinging his legs up over the arm of the couch and swiveling his body so that his torso fit between Axod and the couch arm, and his head flopped comfortably into the other man's lap, entirely unselfconscious of the contact. Xex grinned goofily up from this position and said, "I guessh I shouldn't be surprised a counselor doesn't have a lot of practice in prayer," he said flippantly, "but it's okay. I'm sure I'll be able to stand by tomorrow." At least one of them was sure...

Axod furrowed his brow slightly. He began to speak to Xex's assertion that he was clueless about religion and prayer. "As it happens, I've studied a decent amount of religions spanning different cultures. A few of my last postings gave me the opportunity to connect with crew members over their faith." With the man's head resting on his lap, and only a towel separating him from Ax's manhood, the Doosodarian grew slightly nervous. He didn't know where to look, or what to do with his hands. He was trapped.

Xex was either ignorant of or did not care about the proximity of his cranium to Axod's tender bits; he certainly seemed oblivious to the position he'd put his roommate in. "A-ha!" he crowed, his feet kicking with delight as he lifted one blunt silver finger. "But studying religions and practicing them are two different things, I have found. Nevertheless," Xex's head, which had oriented his face straight up toward the ceiling, now rocked back-- again, heedless of what this might do to Axod's bits-- so that his face was tipped up more toward Doosodarian's, "it is entirely commendable to shhhh--" he broke off, and frowning with effort tried again, "study your patients' faith. I fear too many of us," he gestured at the pair of them, perhaps to indicate their medical professions, "do not take the time to do sho." This last slur, he let slide.

"I've found it rewarding in understanding the patients." Looking into the eyes of the intoxicated man, Axod allowed himself to get lost in the pools of grey. He realized he had never really seen such a colour in any eyes he'd ever gazed into. He suddenly felt awkward and cleared his throat dramatically. "So...ummm, are you going to lead the prayer or not?" He looked nervous at the intimacy of the moment.

Reminded of the reason they were on the couch in the first place, Xex cried, "Oh yes! Of course. Here." He reached out, groping for Axod's placeless hands. In this, at least, the counselor was lucky that Xex's head was in his lap. It spared him the doctor's grasping fingers as he reached across the Doosodarian's body for his right hand, seizing the near hand with more ease. "Give me your--"

Xex broke off abruptly as his fingers closed around Axod's. "Stars above!" he exclaimed, and in a flurry of movement that seemed not to actually include much motion, the Sojourner's CMO squirmed in an energetic attempt to right himself without losing hold of Axod's digits. It wasn't long before he gave up and released Axod's hands, but in so doing, upset his own balance and tipped himself entirely off the couch and onto the floor with a soft, "oommph."

"Suns in the sky," Xex continued as though he hadn't just fallen off the sofa, popping up like a jack-in-the-box to his knees directly in front of Axod and seizing one of his hands in both his own. "You're freezing!" And then, blinking at the man, he continued, perplexed, "...and you aren't wearing any clothes. No wonder you're freezing! Computer!" The last was shouted entirely too loudly for the small space, "increase temperature!"

The computer chimed its acquiescence and asked, "Temperature parameters?"

Xex frowned. "Hotter than it is now," was all he could manage. At the dull tone indicating this response was not valid, he scowled as he began to chafe Axod's hand between his own. "Shtart with five degrees," he snapped, uncharacteristically impatient. Turning his eyes back up to meet Axod's, he asked with genuine concern, "Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" Apparently along with balance, the ale had stolen his short term memory. In the morning, this would likely be a blessing.

Axod found himself entirely aware of his level of undress once again. "I was uhh...in the shower before you got here." The Doosodarian, after pulling his hand free from Xex's grip, instinctively reached for where his towel was tied on his side only to just then realize that it had come undone and that the Doctors movement had exposed him entirely without him noticing. Ax turned bright red and stood from his position quickly, without realizing he was leaving his towel behind. His standing position left Xex at eye level with an area Ax was certain he would've preferred not to see. "I uhhh...I should be getting to bed," Axod sounded both embarrassed and awkward. He didn't even retrieve his towel as he headed quickly towards the door of his bedroom.

As Axod stood, Xex rocked back on his heels so as not to be actively whapped across the face, but simultaneously seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that he was now eye-level with the man's genitalia. Certainly he wasn't looking at the Doosodarian's naughty bits; he'd craned his neck in an attempt to keep eye contact with the poor man. "Oh," Xex said vaguely as Axod pushed passed him, and was left on his knees, blinking at the couch. Something there caught his attention. "Oh!" he exclaimed more loudly as he made an attempt to scramble to his feet, leaning precariously forward at the same time. This only succeeded in upsetting his balance again, and he lunge-stumbled into a half-lean, half-sit on the couch, turning back toward Axod, his prize in hand: the abandoned towel. He waved it triumphantly as he called helpfully, "You forgot your--"

But Axod's door was already closed.

"Towel."

A Joint Post by:

Lieutenant Xex Wang, MD
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo, MD
Ships Counselor]]>
Fri, 17 Nov 2023 19:23:19 +0000
The Hole Story https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/397 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/397
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Hole, Hukatuse Tagumik
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1915

[The Hole]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 1915 Hours]



The Enforcers had made quick work of processing their Starfleet prisoners. All weapons, tricorders, PADDs, and other personal items had been confiscated, though Timmoz and team were allowed to remain in the clothing they'd set foot on the station in. Biometric scans were conducted, the results of which were entered into the station's criminal database, and a call was placed to the Sojourner to inform Lieutenant Oliveria -- who was serving in Kodak's stead -- of the arrest and impending hearing with one of the Governor's judges. Absolutely zero consideration was given to the prisoners' side of the story and, in fact, talking at all was rewarded with a bit of rough handling. The Starfleeters were informed that they would have plenty of opportunities to share their side of things at the upcoming hearing.

While awaiting that, the away team was led to an upper level cell with a clear view of the grounds below. Peering through the orange-colored glass -- which was at least a foot thick and heavily reinforced -- one could see other prisoners being led onto the floor for daily exercise and meals at a smattering of central tables. Other cells, too, were visible, the occupants inside either having accepted the reality of their "stay" or raging against detainment. Prisoners of that ilk could be seen being beaten into silence through the various windows cordoning off their cells.

As Timmoz, Ratthi, Cross, and Marwol crossed the threshold of their own cell, the central chain training them together was removed, as were the wrist restraints, allowing blood to more freely course back into the prisoners' arms and hands. The Enforcers stepped back and activated the heavy, gunmetal doors that would seal the Starfleeters in: their window the only portal to observe what was happening beyond their cell. A promise had been made by the Enforcers to return when the hearing was set, though when that would be was anyone's guess.

Rubbing her wrists, Victoria turned to the door, then to her fellow crewmates. "Is everyone alright?" She asked, hands finding her pockets. "I have a feeling we aren't going to be given a fair judicial process, my friends. Prison this large on a station this remote may have ulterior purposes."

"Oh believe me," Timmoz said, already observing his surroundings and beginning to mentally map its contents, "The greater bulk of the galaxy's judicial systems assume guilt." His brows popped, "And a hearing is a show to the masses assuring them that order is maintained. Have you ever been to Canamar prison? Now that's oppressive autocracy. This." Timmoz shook his head and stuck out his lip, his mouth turned to mockery. "This is somebody's make believing they have power."

The Doctor's scaring was causing a bit of a bother to him but nothing to impair his ability to work. "Fine," He replied to Miss Cross, turning to the Orion with fluffy duffy black hair. "Perhaps Kaldri has been incarcerated here?" Trying to make it out as if this was his team's plan all along.

"I think the server I was talking to knew where she was. There was something in his body language. Whether or not we'll ever be able to talk to him again, though . . . " Mei trailed off and stuck her face next to the glass, trying to get as good of a view as possible to observe whatever scenes she could. "I wonder how much of this is all for show, and how much is fully part of the structure? Both sociologically and architecturally speaking. If it's all a facade, that'll make it easier for the others to get us out. Assuming they figure out what's happened to us."

It was, at that moment, that a slight whirring sound could be heard. In the middle of the cell, a circular shape on the floor began to rise, revealing a hollowed-out column that settled into a stop motion at near-chest level for Cross. Within the column, situated on a shelf, was a dirty jug of even dirtier looking liquid inside. It wasn't water -- water was far too valuable in this part of space to waste on prisoners -- but instead seemed to be some kind of verdant, organic suspension that wasn't far off from the color of Timmoz' skin. Brown chunks of something floated at the top of the liquid, with smaller granules slowly settling to the jug's bottom. This was, it seemed, some kind of bio-nutrient solution designed to provide the most basic of sustenance.

"You have 12 kelliks to refresh yourselves," came a gruff, disembodied voice from above. How long a "kellik" constituted was, at this point, an unknown, however. "You will not be fed again until tomorrow. Drink accordingly," the voice trailed off.

"Don't drink it. There's no telling what's inside it, everyone. I would rather be hungry and crass in a day than drink the swill that's in that filthy jar. We'll be out if here before the day, anyhow." She made her way over to the front door and took off her coat, wrapping it around her fist. She made her way back to the others after thinking.

She searched the corners for cameras and took a breath, before speaking quietly. "Okay. Any ideas, everyone? Maybe jostle the drink thing free of it's placeholder with force, use it to battering ram the front door?"

Timmoz looked at the door and then to the nutrition dispensing... thing. He doubted they'd be able to force of dispenser down in time before guards barreled in and "corrected them." He too had been looking for likely receptacles that would house sensors or cameras. This was a low-tech prison, as far as Rango and Canamar went.

Instead, Timmoz started to look up at the connection of the nutrition provider apparatus, into the ceiling. If it came out in something long enough to reach them, then it had some kind of bay above. "I had grease chunks for Lunch," Timmoz said to the disembodied voice. "Thanks anyway."

Marwol clearly wasn't in distress like his other comrades, it looked as if he was enjoying himself. "I vote we do nothing for now," Gwenwyn said with his back literally against the wall. "Intelligence gathering takes months and we know nothing." Moving closer towards the jug of fluid he peered in and continued. "And for this. Interesting subject, the tests I can run are to check the taste and to boil it using the lightbulb." He said calmly with no signs of distress in his voice.

"If I were Vulcan," Timmoz said, approaching the dispenser again. His eyes gazed up again to the apparatus' connection. "I would say logic dictates that using this to knock down the door, assuming it was strong enough, would have guards down on us immediately. And they'd probably separate us to reduce our collective threat." He put his hand on one of the telescoping poles, "If I were Vulcan," he said with a smile and eyebrow raise. He gave the old dispenser a good tug. "No, that'd really on there. Very connected. Sturdy. Good..." He pat it, "Vole-hole craftsmanship." He looked at the Doctor, "Anyway. Yes. We might as well wait to see what our captors want from us."

"Agreed," Mei said, her gaze still roving around the boundaries of their space. "Besides. Doorways are usually the most reinforced parts of a structure. They take a lot of stress, what with all the opening and closing. Weak points tend to be at the mid-points of walls or ceilings. And floors." She tapped on the wall behind her as though to make a point. Then she noticed the looks her comments garnered, and shrugged. "My mom's an architect and my sister is a structural engineer. They'd ramble, and I'd listen."

Walking towards the toilet or what appeared to be a toilet in the Doctor's eyes, he took 3 pieces of starch-discoloured toilet paper that hung above. "While we'll wait. We can play a game," Marwol said. "We're stuck on a desert island. Take as much paper as you believe you will need." He finished with a soothing smile, he knew very little about these officers and this game would change that.

With a quiet and cryptic smile, Timmoz walked to the toilet paper and took only two small sheets. He folded them over each other, turned, and walked back to the shelf he'd original been sitting on.

Victoria sighed, and took a seat by Timmoz. She stretched her legs and rolled her elbow, staring ahead at the large glass door. "Okay. Let's play a game. What did you have in mind, Timmoz? It would be great to get to know the rest of you better. I'm Victoria, the new secondary Ops chief. I'm from Brisb'n and married to a Vulcan. What about you lot?"

She took stock of Mei and Marwol, and somewhat dropped her guard, giving them a smile.

Folding the paper in his hands, it wasn't the best fold in the galaxy but it was still a fold. "Fold your paper," Gwenwyn stated, awaiting everyone to fold theirs before speaking up. "Rip each square into 2." Gwenwyn did that, demonstrating what to do. Now his 3 had doubled into 6.

"Throw a piece onto the floor with a fact about yourself, like this. I'm Gwenwyn Marwol." After a finish, he threw a piece of paper onto the floor. "I'm a Doctor." Another paper was thrown onto the floor. "I was a surgeon, now I'm a physician." Another paper flew through the air and softly landed on the growing pile. "My first job was working as a puppeteer in the circus." Another torn square made contact with others of its kind far below. "I was born in Wales, United Earth." Another paper left the palm of his hand and was whisked away. "My family dates back to the Roman Empire and since the 16th century in the Bubonic plague we started being doctors." Now the last paper was lying on the floor with its brothers.

Timmoz followed suit with an amused look. "I don't know what the Bubonic Plague is... but it sounds disgusting. In Orion, Bubonis means a small crustacean that vomits up its own organs to digest its prey." The ever-present smile and hooded-eyed look of the Helmsman turned to his toilet paper. "Yes, my family is Syndicate." He dropped one sheet on the ground. "My first posting was the Qualor II shipyards." He chuckled and circled back to his perch, "Not Qualor II itself. Our Zakdorn masters saw no point of shoreleave."

Timmoz leaned into his spot again. "Lets see... two more." He scratched his cheek absently. Another tear of tissue went to the floor, "My favorite past time is watching Tatharoc." And the last square went down, "And I play the Tigan Mira. Badly."

Mei took her time selecting the bits of paper she'd toss into the circle, as though it really mattered which bit she tossed and which she kept in hand. "My family moved around pretty much constantly when I was growing up, so I don't feel like I'm from anywhere in particular, except, maybe Betazed, since we lived there with my grandfather for a few years." She threw the second piece, though it didn't go far and fluttered to the floor a few centimeters from her foot. "After I graduated from the Academy, I spent two years on Andor, studying with the Aenar. I got my masters degree in anthropology there and an appreciation for the many varieties of natural snow and ice formations."

While the game could have, quite likely, gone on for additional rounds, the guards for Hukatuse's premiere prison seemed to have other ideas for the prisoners' time. The large metal door hissed and groaned open, allowing a view of four guards, two of which were wielding stun batons in a threatening pose as the other two moved forward. "Get to your feet," came an order from one of them. "We are taking you to the exercise yard. You will have sixty kelliks to spend there." Again that unexplained-in-Federation-standard measurement of time. "Let's go," the another guard said, sparking the baton's tip against the air itself and gesturing the four prisoners out into the hallway beyond.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Lieutenant Victoria Cross
Assistant Chief Operations Officer

Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Flight Control Officer

Lieutenant JG Gwenwyn Marwol
Assistant Chief Medical Officer

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Science Officer

NPCs and Environment Stuff (Brad)]]>
Fri, 10 Nov 2023 00:09:14 +0000
The Cards You've Been Dealt https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/393 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/393
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - The Gravity Well Bar - Gaming Floor
Timeline - Mission Day 2 at 1845

[Main Gaming Floor]
[The Gravity Well Bar]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[MD 2: 1845 Hours]


Amidst the melodic, happy tones of various gambling machines and the shuffling of cards and metal strips at surrounding gaming tables, Kodak looked down at the cards in his hand, lips pursed in thought. The action was to him but what to do? He debated his next move as his security escort sat next to him, keeping an eye out for anything untoward that might threaten the Captain. With so many people coming and going in the Gravity Well's main gaming area, the Chameloid found himself glad t'Nai had so stringently urged he take protection along. Another pair of eyes never hurt in an environment like this one.

"Exchange or lock in, Mr. Kennuff." An alien card dealer stood inside a hollow in the table, placed so that she could efficiently deal to each player and collect and redistribute their currency as needed. "You have 30 missiks to decide," she warned. This translated to about 25 seconds in Federation Standard Time. If a player could not decide in the allotted span, their hand would be automatically folded and their bets forfeit.

"Mr. Kennuff" narrowed his eyes at his cards, still debating his next move. While Kodak had initially been unfamiliar with the game, a few rounds had quickly brought him up to speed.

The game worked a bit like a combination of Blackjack and Five Card Stud. The goal was to use the cards dealt to add up as close to 42 as possible. But of course, the cards had very different values and some even had special abilities assigned to them. For instance, the 12 of Spires the Chameloid held -- one of eight cards in his hand -- was specially colored to indicate it could add or subtract from the total of his cards. On the final round of the game, however, the Captain was 14 short of the total he needed to win against the four other players at the table.

Picking a lower value card -- the four of Stars -- Kodak slid it across the table towards the dealer. "Exchange," he said, nodding to the woman.

The dealer was outrageously tall and well-muscled, her skin crimson and striated with ridges. A mop of wild black hair disguised the root of a single curved horn growing from her head, which rose above her hair and to the side, curling like the horn of a ram from Earth. So vibrant was the dealer's skin and bright, canary eyes that she almost seemed to be glowing from within. And on her face was the winningest of smiles, no doubt meant to entice players to keep on asking for cards and betting.

"Aces," the dealer remarked with an enthusiastic thumbs up. She took the offered card and moved it to a discard pile, then slipped another from the top of the deck and moved it towards Kodak.

The Captain picked up the card and regarded its value of 22. He'd been expecting one of those moments that so often seemed to happen in casino-themed holodeck programs: getting just the card you needed on the very last hand. Kodak envisioned himself reveling in his winning hand and reaching forward to gather up all the strips of metal he'd just won. But the reality of his dealt card sunk in and, doing the math, the Chameloid realized his hand was now a 45: he'd gone three over.

He could try to bluff -- that was where the elements of poker came in -- and get the other players to make risky moves that could backfire on them during this, the final round. It'd been clear ever since Kodak sat down at the table that he wasn't the most competent of players, so assuming a pleased and excited expression might easily sell the bluff? Making his decision, the Captain had been about to double down on his bet -- choosing to risk more money on the possibility of his bluff working -- when his security escort leaned in to whisper something to him.

She clinked slightly as she moved-- conspicuously armed to the teeth. She had opted to go for the look of 'muscle,' rather than attempting to hide her position as Kodak's security detail. Her long black hair had been tied back in twin pigtails, and she tilted her head just so one straight jet black fall of hair would disguise the movement of her mouth.

"You can't win," Ensign Drol informed the Captain bluntly, her mouth close enough to Kodak's ear that the sound wouldn't travel. She kept her expression as forbidding as she could-- not difficult with the tell-tale Cardassian facial ridges. Many an Academy friend had informed her she had 'resting scary face.' Although she had been ostentatiously lounging next to Kodak with a bored expression on her face-- the very picture of hired muscle bored to death-- she had, of course, been paying attention. Apparently she'd been paying attention to the game. "The squidgy looking guy is much closer than you, but the guy with five eyes has the big four-two. Oh, and also we seem to have picked up a couple of admirers."

Having thrown the last sentence in almost as an afterthought, Drol leaned back, schooling her features into a self-satisfied smirk, as though she had just imparted some trump-card of wisdom to her employer. In reality, she was fairly certain Kodak knew he was playing horribly, and she couldn't risk rubbing it in-- while informing him of the danger. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest with another soft clink. As she did so, she caught Kodak's eye and flicked a very momentary glance to his eight o'clock position where a row of bright, noisy gaming machines bordered the card tables.

A variety of alien forms occupied the machines, but two seemed to be playing a much more lackaluster game than their neighbors. in the Federation, they may have stood out for their reptilian, almost Gorn-like appearance. Here, they were just another body shape among a sea of unfamiliar body shapes. The larger of the two-- a male, Drol suspected-- was burly enough to give even her pause. 'He has muscles on his muscles,' her academy roommate Mishka would have said. But it was his companion that had Eekit Drol most on edge. Seemingly the same species, the smaller of the two was lithe, with intricate tattoos or painting on the scales around her eyes. Her regard was too sharp, her interest too unwavering, and her eyes too... dead. The tiny hairs at the base of her neck had risen to full attention about the third time Drol had noticed the creature's regard.

Kodak initially smiled at Drol as she advised him on the game. The Cardassian had served on his protection detail several times before and he'd taken a shine to her. Drol was hard around the edges but had a streak of mischief and good humor to her when the situation was right. But as the security officer outlined not only the poor outcome Kodak's hand would have, but also the presence of the two literal tails, the Captain's expression quickly changed from a smile to something much more neutral. Being careful to school his face so as not to give anything away, the Chameloid placed his cards face down on the table and slid them forward.

"My associate has informed me of a matter that requires my attention," Kodak said mock-drolly. "I officially withdraw from the game," he said with a nod to 'Aces.' He'd come to regard the dealer by this name given her oft-used catchphrase. Of course, the term was actually something much more alien but the universal translator had parsed the wording into something in Federation Standard that was much more familiar. "Thank you," the Chameloid said as he rose, slipping two ingot slips across the table to the woman as a tip.

Drol rose smoothly in time with him and rested a casual hand on the hilt of one of the knives at her hip. She hoped it looked more menacing than the phaser, which she knew would be a disaster to try and use.

"Let's go," Kodak said to Drol, choosing a footpath that would carry them away from the two lizard people. He'd half a mind to duck behind a gaming machine, change his appearance to be someone else entirely, and then disappear into the crowd. But t'Nai had been insistent on a security escort and while the extra set of eyes had been helpful in spotting their tails, the presence of an extra person to worry about made getting away that much harder. As much as she was there to protect him, he couldn't give himself permission to ditch her in the name of his own escape. He mentally cursed himself for agreeing to an escort.

"There," he said, subtly nodding towards the stairs that would take them down to the floor level. Drol nodded, as she fell into step behind the Chameloid, and slightly to his left, her own body angled slightly to give her the best view and avenues of defense. Kodak strode towards the stairs, about to casually descend -- after all, they didn't want to call attention to themselves -- when two more figures appeared at the top. While they were not lizard folk themselves, it was clear they were working with them, at least. Arms folding across their chests, they formed an impenetrable wall blocking off escape via the stairs but made no move to close the distance between them.

"Not going that way," Kodak sighed while Drol hissed through her teeth. "Suggestions?" he asked, altering his path to the left, towards the upper level exit. For the moment, that particular route seemed clear but, as they neared the doorway, the woman with the tattoos around her eyes seemed to materialize from somewhere, taking up position in the egress portal. She was holding some kind of extendable baton, though had yet to raise it in any kind of threatening gesture.

"If they don't want us to leave, what do they want?" Drol wanted to know, which wasn't exactly a suggestion. As they altered their trajectory once again, Drol tried to scan ahead, hoping to catch sight of an egress that didn't have a menacing figure in it. "Way I figure it," she said, finally answering Kodak's question as they edged down a row of brightly-lit gaming machines, "We can either talk to them, or try to lose them." Drol cut a glance left, then right, then stepped slightly to her right, bumping Kodak forcefully enough to turn them both down a sideline of gaming machines. "The latter would be much easier if we were both... y'know..." she gestured at him. Then, in a lower tone, she muttered, "Or if I wasn't the only bloody Cardassian on the whole station..."

Finally, ahead opened the wide, shallow staircase that led from the lower bar up to the gaming hall. It was as Drol had remembered it: almost impossible to block without being really, truly, painfully obvious. And sure enough, it was open.

Like really open.

Security senses tingling, Drol jerked her chin at the staircase and then murmured, "It looks like we can get down there, but we'll be in the open longer than I'd like. Got your quick-steppin' shoes on?"

“Gay men,” Kodak began, trying to use humor to assuage some of his natural anxiety, “apparently walk at warp speed by default. At least, according to my partner,” he smirked, his thoughts flashing back to walking around Risa’s shopping districts with Andrew and some of his friends. One of whom — a straight woman — had commented on how quickly the Chameloid and his paramour walked. Andrew’s default walk speed response had been positively priceless and thinking of his partner now slightly calmed Kodak.

“So yes,” the Captain continued, hastening his pace, “let’s set a course at warp 7, eh? Pretty sure those stairs are open by design, though,” Kodak commented, sensing the same trap Drol suspected. Their pursuers wanted them to take that particular route, which meant there was probably a very good — and potentially very nasty — reason for that lying in wait.

Drol's grunt of agreement came out as more of a growl. "Keep your eyes forward, Captain, I'll keep my eyes behind us as best we can, and let's get the hell out of here," she said, keeping her voice low and turning her body slightly to the side with a flick of one long pigtail and a clink of armaments, opening up her peripheral vision to their vulnerable backs. Then, with a twitch of her lips, she added, "Warp 7, engage."

Descending the stairs at a decent clip, Kodak spotted Wang, Parsons, Rowanoski, and Qo standing at a small bar below. This particular bar seemed to serve patrons who’d gathered to watch a live band performing on a small stage. The music — though the Chameloid thought calling it such was charitable — wasn’t exactly pleasant to an Earther’s ears but it did provide some audible cover to have a private exchange with Drol.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kodak nodded to the suspiciously unobstructed exit ahead and said, loud enough for only Drol to hear, “Yeah, that’s a trap. They clearly want us to head out that way, right?” He turned to the Cardassian then, his feet slowing his pace to a pause. “We could call for a beam out but I’m guessing that would set off some alarm bells here. Any thoughts on where they might be trying to lead us?”

A quick toss of her head negated the beam-out option. The security woman clearly felt they weren't at that extreme yet. "If we beam out, we put every team on the station at risk," she agreed, eyeing the indicated exit critically. Reminding herself that she was supposed to be hired muscle, she settled her ridged features into a forbidding grimace that was designed to keep casual passersby out of their personal bubble. As much as it could in the crowded, noisy confines of the the small section of bar, it seemed to be working. Drol pushed herself to tiptoes, putting her mouth closer to Kodak's ear so she would not have to shout so loudly over the din, "It'll be someplace less public. They won't want to risk pissing off the local security." She tilted her head toward a hulking figure standing ostentatiously near the door, a reminder to any patron who thought to get overly rowdy.

Dropping back to her heels, Drol stopped speaking for a moment while she consulted the flipbook of her photographic memory, and then she continued, "That exit leads into the thoroughfare to the main habitation sector, though." Confusion colored the woman's tone, even at high volume-- a place such as the habitation sector would be public enough. Brushing her fingers past both her holstered phaser and the myriad bladed weapons fastened about her person, she shrugged. Her dark gaze had gone slightly distant as she checked and rechecked her mental map. "I can't see how we'd be trapped leaving through there-- and we certainly shouldn't stay here." Drol's eyes sharpened, glancing back over her shoulder at the wide staircase, down which a few figures were descending. The smoky atmosphere and strobing lights made it hard to tell who they were, but she suspected they weren't coming down it by chance.

Kodak took in Drol's proposed plan and, deciding he liked it more than staying put, nodded his confirmation. "Habitation Sector, then," the Chameloid said, pointing himself at The Very Obvious and Open For a Reason exit. With Drol bringing up the rear, Björn kept his gaze wide and observant as he passed through the exit, spying no standout lurkers who might be with whoever was following them. That didn't mean they didn't exist, though. Any one of the myriad of people walking through this particular thoroughfare could be with them. Having at least exited all the loud music and bar noise, however, Kodak reached into his jacket pocket to activate his combadge.

"Kodak to Sojourner," he began, keeping his eyes ahead so as not to make it obvious he was talking to his pocket. "Ensign Drol and I have picked up a tail. Several of them, actually," Kodak said, looking up at the signs and heading in the direction of the listed Habitation Sector. "Pretty sure a beam out would draw way more suspicion than we want here. We're going to try to lose them but keep a transporter lock on us just in case."

"Understood, Captain," came the only-slightly-nervous sounding voice of Lieutenant Oliveria. The Chief Engineer had been left in charge of the ship while the away teams searched for Kaldri. "Reading transporter lock now. Just give the word, sir."

"Much appreciated, Lieutenant," Kodak rasped, looking back to Drol to confirm she'd heard the exchange. "We'll be in touch." And with that, the Chameloid tapped the combadge in his pocket to deactivate the channel, then fell into step beside the Cardassian, making it appear as if they were just taking a stroll together. "If I remember correctly, I think the Habitation Sector...oh no," he said, the color draining from his face.

"Oh no?" Drol echoed, having been looking the opposite way in an attempt to see if they had indeed shaken the tail. When she finally craned her neck back forward, the reason for the captain's dismay was abundantly clear.

Ahead of them, a squad of several of the station's Enforcers were leading a group of people down the thoroughfare. They were clearly being detained given that their hands were restrained behind their backs and the Enforcers were prodding them forward with the ends of stun batons. The group wasn't close enough to see well but the very verdant skin of Mr. Timmoz was impossible to miss.

Amongst the ridges, it was difficult to see Drol's expression change, but there was a hardening of the features, a tensing of the body that betokened her recognition of the pilot's distinctive skin. Although there were two Orions amongst the personnel of the search parties, that froosh of hair could belong to only one of them. A guttural series of syllables left her lips at low volume, too quiet for the translator to pick up, though their intonation made it clear they were a Cardassian curse of some time. "We've hardly been on the station an hour," she said through clenched teeth, as she attempted not to stare at the group of detainees, "What has that flyboy gotten them into now?"

Besides Timmoz, she knew the rest of the team consisted of all humans: a doctor, an ops woman, and a scientist-- none of whom she thought would fare well in the kind of detention facility Hukatuse Tugamik likely boasted. Drol flicked a glance at Kodak; although her duty to protect the captain was clear, it didn't seem that such a protection detail was mutually exclusive of helping the luckless group. Lifting her brow ridges in an expectant expression that suggested as clearly as words that they do just that, she merely said, "Sir?"

Kodak's face set first into determination, the Captain beginning to stride forward to take action. But then not one but two of the reptilians who'd been following them somehow appeared ahead, eyebrow ridges raised in a By all means, come this way, look. The Chameloid shook his head, irritated that he wouldn't be able help Timmoz and the others. Instead, he looked to Drol and nodded back towards the branching hallway that would take them to the Habitation Sector. Redirecting his feet, Kodak pulled his combadge from his pocket and tapped it, the device issuing its familiar chitter upon activation.

Drol fell into step just slightly behind and to Kodak's left-- his weaker side-- her hand settling comfortably on the handle of her phaser. Still conscious of not drawing attention, yet more conscious of their danger now they were clear of the bar and still being herded, she drew the weapon and held it pointed downwards,close to her thigh.

"Kodak to t'Nai. Two things," he said in a hushed and quickened breath, his pace swift as he and Drol darted down the hallway at speed now. "First, some of the locals have taken an overly keen interest in Drol and I," the Captain rasped. "We've left the bar and are headed to the Habitation area. Hoping we can lose them." Perhaps anticipating that Emni would want to rush to help, he pressed forward, "Second thing. On our way, we just saw Timmoz and his people being led away from the bar in restraints. We think they've been arrested but we don't know why. We'll deal with our pursuers but I need you to look into that." Spotting another pair of lurking herders to his and Drol's left, he sighed. "No time to talk. Stay safe, Emni."

"Stay safe, Björn," Drol muttered snarkily in a passable imitation of t'Nai's patient tones. Clearly she had Ideas about whose safety was most at risk in the present moment.

Cutting the channel, Kodak had been about to comment to Drol when it all suddenly happened. Halfway down the hallway leading to the Habitation Sector, the trap they'd been herded into all along was sprung. Stepping from various open doorways and shadow-shrouded loiter points, no less than six imposing aliens appeared. They hastened into a ring around the Chameloid and his security guard, the obvious leader of the group a Hirogen of imposing stature. Armored in the customary blacky-blue carapace his kind favored, the man offered the two Starfleeters a decidedly nightmarish grin.

"Take them," he ordered, enjoying the look of surprise on Kodak's face.

Drol's Cardassian curse returned as she automatically stepped back and turned slightly, putting her back to Kodak's, her free right hand closing around the hilt of her most handy beltknife. Clearly, their supposition that their followers would not act in public was incorrect. Nevertheless, Eekit Drol certainly wasn't going to be 'taken' without a fight. "Take this--" she snarled, her phaser already rising--

--but not fast enough.

Flashes in various colors issued from formerly-concealed hand pistols, hitting Kodak and Drol and dropping them both to the ground, unconscious and burned but still alive. The ring of alien thugs tightened, with some lowering into crouches to lift the Captain and his escort to their feet. They supported the knocked out Starfleeters like one would a drunk friend who needed help getting home. Onlookers were used to seeing such coming from the bar and paid little mind as the group continued towards the main living area of Hukatuse.

"A successful hunt indeed," the Hirogen gravel-growled with amusement as he walked. His face was heavily scarred and at least two of his teeth were missing. "The First Maje will be very pleased, oh yes. It's a pity they were so easy to capture, though. I'd hoped for a bit more challenge but," he gave a slight shrug, almost imperceptible through his armor, "the Maje's metal will spend all the same, easy hunt or no. Galis," he nodded to the Vaadwur woman walking to his to his right, "contact Subrek, tell them we have the Starfleet Captain and that Korvas expects prompt payment for him. T'nos," he looked then to a Hazari man at his left, "walk ahead to our staging area. Prepare it for company," he unnervingly giggled.

"Yes, Korvas," both replied in sync before heading off to fulfill the Hirogen bounty hunter's commands.


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer

and

Ensign Eekit Drol
Security Officer]]>
Wed, 08 Nov 2023 18:59:19 +0000
Meet the New Boss https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/376 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/376
Mission - On the Road Again
Location - Lt. Commander t'Nai's office
Timeline - Mission Day 0 at 0730

The first day on the job on a new starship wasn't an experience Victoria was exactly used to, but the fresh knowledge from a five-year expedition on a much larger vessel aboard the *Rendlesham* softened the blow partly. Still, being a quadrant away from home and her wife was a new, tricky thing for her to learn.

Nevertheless, it didn't detract from her work. Having made her way to her station to report in and get a log of the current sensor and power readouts, she took a turbo-lift to Deck 2 and patrolled down the corridor to the door of the XO's quarters. Pressing the hail button to the side of the door, she took a step back and assumed a firm posture, her long arms crossing at the wrists behind her back.

She quickly slid a hand through her hair, then assumed her pose once again.

Emni was already on her second cup of coffee when the chime sounded announcing the arrival of someone outside of her door. The night prior had been one of the nights Karim had chosen to show up at her door in the middle of the night seeking someone to discuss the meaning of existence with. She knew, somewhere in the depths of her brain, that this process of talking things through was helpful--an exercise in logic that the Vulcan was using to reassert control of his emotions. But still... at that moment... she wouldn't have minded if he could have kept the existential angst to... perhaps... a mid afternoon conversation.

"Come in," the Romulan called, following the offer with a yawn before lifting her mug to her lips and sipping, putting the PADD held in her other hand down to be resumed later.

The door chimed as Victoria entered. "Good morning, sir, I am Lieutenant Victoria Cross, the ship's new Assistant Operations Chief. I have a ship-wide power systems diagnostics and output for you to go over for inspection, and I wanted to formally introduce myself. I served under Captain Rovik of the USS Rendlesham for five years, and I think the Sojo is a fine ship, sir."

Lieutenant Cross was preceded by the wash of new emotion that heralded the arrival of someone Emni hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet. New emotional signatures were always interesting and, almost unconsciously, she took note of the peaks of anxiety and longing intertwined with the brighter, warm professional pride and focus. Overall the woman that now stood before her bore struck her as having a brightly colored and warm emotional make up.

Standing up from the spot she had held on her couch she moved around the coffee table and extended her hand to the other woman, a warm smile lighting her features. "Lieutenant Cross," she said, the warmth of her expression leaching into her voice, "Commander t'Nai. It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome aboard."

Taking her superiors' hand, she peered down at her with a smile, giving the hand a shake. "Thank you, sir. I look forward to this commission, I think the Delta Quadrant has a limitless mystery to Starfleet and could offer a scientific and cultural treasure trove. I just wish the wormhole back home was more stable than once a month."

Emni felt a wave of that same longing roll through, and it sent her mentally back through the new officer's file. A wife. Back home. That was it. For a moment her own sense of longing crept back in, unannounced, and her grin slipped every so slightly. Perhaps Karim's extremes were wearing off on her. She couldn't be sure, but it certainly seemed as though Jori and Sulli were creeping back in from her memory more frequently of late.

Gesturing to the seating options -- the couch itself and a chair catty-cornered from it -- Emni indicated that the other woman should sit if she like. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, moving toward the replicator before adding, "You have close family back home, is that correct?"

"Uh, cuppa, please. Coffee, latte, please." Victoria took a seat, resting her hands on her knees. "That's right, sir, I have a mum and a wife at home in Brisbane, in-laws on Vulcan, though my mum-in-law is doing a restoration project at the Louvre at the moment. My wife toured with me on the Rendlesham for a five year your and honestly, it's starting to settle in, her absence, that is."

"But trust me, sir, it won't interfere in my duties. I'll just have to see it as a long distance relationship, encrypted messages and love letters. It's a star sailor's life for me, sir."

A crook at the corner of Emni's mouth as she ordered the lieutenant's latte and a second coffee for herself signaled her appreciation for both the woman's honesty and her upbeat commentary intended to cover over the longing she was projecting. A moment later Emni returned with beverages in hand, passing one to Victoria and then taking a sip of her own before sighing happily. "Didn't get nearly enough sleep last night," she said by way of explanation. "My blood may be 90% coffee at this point of the morning."

"Lots of folks who have family back home have created their own circles here as well. Surrogates if you will. If there's anything I can do to help you connect with other crew let me know. Our time out here can feel long and lonely, particularly when those we love most are on the other side of the Barzan." Or on the other side of the veil, she added mentally again feeling the spectres of Jori and Sulli rear up in her mind's eye.

"I of course would like friends, if that's what you're offering," She said, taking the cup of coffee and taking a drink, "And uh, I understand running on coffee. My father was a Starfleet Captain, and he wrote about how coffee kept him sane during some mornings. Said a ship's cat and coffee was all he needed until he met my mum. So uh, sir, is the Sojourner your first executive posting?"

Emni chuckled at the mention of a ship's cat. She'd heard rumors of the infamous Cat program that Midshipman Balsam was working on though she hadn't yet seen it. With the amount of holoprojectors on the Sojo she had a momentary image of a random cat wandering the corridors followed behind by the lanky cadet. If Cat was anything like Mood she would undoubtedly be a welcome addition.

In answer to the taller woman's question she nodded, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, "It is." Mug returned to the coffee table and Emni sat back slightly. For an odd moment she wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands before shifting position so she looked a bit more natural and was facing Cross more directly. "I was the Chief Medical Officer at her commissioning. And served with Captain Kodak on the Adelphi in Sickbay before that. But we lost our XO somewhat suddenly while on a mission and I was asked to step in. We made it permanent before we crossed through the wormhole. It's... certainly different from the work of a doctor. Though there's some similarities."

Leaning forward she picked the coffee back up and took another sip, keeping it in her hands this time. "Is there anything about the Sojourner and her crew you'd like to know? Any concerns as you get started?"

"Yes, err, yes, sir. I like to keep an active lifestyle, so is there a holodeck, or exercise quarters aboard the vessel? I know the ship is smaller than my old posting, but, well, you know, idleness is the workaholics' enemy." She gave the XO a slight smile.

Emni returned the smile with a slightly broader one. "You'll find both," she commented. "We're small, but we're also a deep space deployment so we have a fair number of comforts." Another sip of the coffee and she noted that she was quickly draining the cup. Setting it down she continued, "Both gym and holodeck are on deck 5. Naturally holodeck time is scheduled so that everyone can partake, but it's not typically hard to get a time slot." She eyed the other woman for a moment. "And if you need something less active, but you're craving a bit of flora we have an Arboretum on deck 2."

"What do you do for leisure, personally? I try for the body and mind thing, keeping my fitness and intellectual pursuits active. And you know, social activity. I'm gonna try to make friends, mate. Get some pals in the holodeck and act like the Kelly gang. Maybe you would like to join up?"

In a distinctly Vulcanesque reaction Emni's right eyebrow crept upward at the suggestion. Unlike Vulcans, though, the eyebrow was met with a smile of appreciation and amusement. "I can't say I'm familiar with the Kelly gang."

"During the 1880s and 70s, the Kelly Gang was a notorious band of ruffians and robbers in Australia, about the same general time as the American 'Wild West.' Ned grew up in the 1860s, poor, and destitute, and started a life of a wandering member of a gang of thieves at 14. Some folks see him as a folk hero, some as a murderer and last gasp of a non-civilised society, I see him somewhere around the middle. He's one of a few historical figures I like to research. His holodeck stuff happens to be the most gung-ho and fun, though."

"I like the camping, the frontier aspect. Maybe playing a trail-dust covered crook a little." She laughed.

Emni laughed along. She appreciated the way it seemed as if Cross was relaxing into the conversation, a touch of the homesickness that flowed from her softening. "I'd certainly be willing to give it a try," she commented. "Can't say I'm familiar with Australian folk lore, but I never mind learning something new."

"When I've got the time I'm a fan of kal-toh," Emni commented, belatedly answering the question she'd been asked before the Kelly gang entered the conversation. "And I enjoy reading." She considered a moment, realizing how sedate and... boring... she must sound.

"Oh, kal-toh, my nemesis. My brother in law is a monk, and he brings out the set every time we visit Vulcan. Says it's good for my patience. I know he's just being passive aggressive. What do you enjoy reading about?"

Emni chuckled, a memory of the first time she'd played the game with Karim bubbling to the surface. She'd interrupted his game, more correctly, and he'd been derisive about the likelihood that she could keep up. "I have a very good friend who can be a bit passive aggressive about the game as well. I particularly enjoy surprising him when I know what I'm doing. Happy to offer some tips if it's ever of interest," she offered.

"Books are always good. I'll read just about anything. But I prefer... escapist literature. I've seen my share of loss and ugliness, so I tend toward books where the main character wins in the end... even if there is a great deal of adversity in between."

"There's a lot to be said for how the written word allows us to escape. I'm sure I've painted my life in a rosy manner, but believe me, mate, I've had my share of hardship and pain. I know the weight my last name carries in some circles. My father's is etched on the Dominion War memorial. To escape, to be given the chance to dream of escaping it all, I think that's a normal, primal thing that comments most sentients. You know, except for the Borg and Jem'Hadar."

Settling back into her seat Emni's expression turned thoughtful. "I'm not sure I agree with you. I mean... about the Borg and the Jem'Hadar. Perhaps their makeup pushes against such thoughts, but I'm not sure it's all encompassing." One long finger tapped her knee, thoughtful. "It would be interesting to research that more deeply. I'm afraid I've encountered few of either race, so can't speak to first hand experience. Still, the research taking place now..."

The Romulan's voice trailed off as her expression shifted far away for a moment, lost in a thought. It was only a moment though before she shook her head and nodded to Cross. "I'm sorry for the loss of your father. Losing family is..." she paused, searching for the right word, "deeply painful."

"It was. Still is. I suppose it's ultimately why I'm here and not an oceanographer or baker or something. I suppose many of us in Starfleet are like me, exploring the stars, pushed on by losses and things that shaped us. I know he'd be proud of me, and that's enough for me. Maybe if I get my time in the chair in ten or twenty years, too." She chuckled.

This last caught Emni's attention particularly. "Ah, are you on the command track then?" she inquired. "I can help with some bridge duty to work toward your bridge command test if you'd like."

"Well, sure, I would appreciate that. Yes, I'm on the command track, I like to think. I excelled in leadership command testing in the Academy, or so my instructors told me. Thank you. I'll do my best to do the Sojourner proud."

Emni grinned at that. "No doubt you will Lieutenant," she said and then stood. "Would you like some more tea?"

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Victoria Cross
Assistant Chief Operations Officer]]>
Mon, 06 Nov 2023 18:34:55 +0000
[Backpost] Reporting In https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/395 https://sojourner.simcentral.org/index.php/sim/viewpost/395
Mission - Stardust and Sin
Location - Emni's Quarters
Timeline - Mission Day 0 at 0000

Sava would've thought that even on a Nova class vessel the First Officer should have their own small office somewhere on board - they had to work from somewhere, after all. It was for that reason that she was quite surprised when she was told by the nice transporter operator to go find the XO in her quarters, because she apparently worked out of there during office hours - not that it was in any way a bad arrangement, mind. Sava too would've loved to have that privilege, if it were up to her.

And so she'd put her belongings down in her quarters, spent a few moments adjusting her appearance and sought out the First Officer's'. Sava reached out, and pressed the doorbell.

Within the XO's quarters Emni had been lounging on the sofa, booted feet up on the arm rest, and a pile of PADDs on the table next to her. The one in her hand bore the upcoming crew rotations that had been submitted by the department heads as well as dossiers on all of the new arrivals. There had been a flurry of change overs, it seemed, and while the Romulan woman was happy to have new faces and to play the welcoming XO, she also felt a tiny bit of trepidation at the amount of change. They were deep in space and so much of their success depended on the crew's ability to function as a team. Yes, they were all trained, but the connections they made with each other were vital to make things work seamlessly.

Sighing she set down the PADD, rubbed her eyes, and stretched luxuriously letting out a groan as she did. Her lower back ached from sitting in one spot for too long and so she swung her boots down, feet hitting the ground a millisecond before the chime announced someone at her door.

With an annoyed harrumpth she gave herself a small mental reprimand. She'd not been paying close enough attention and somehow missed the arrival of a new emotional fingerprint at her door. This had to be one of the new arrivals.

"Come," she called, one hand absently straying to the pile of PADDs to straighten it as the door slid open with its telltale whoosh.

"Lieutenant junior grade Sava, reporting as instructed." She announced to the woman waiting beyond as she stepped through the door and came to attention. The First Officer was Vulcanoid, as her name had suggested - though there was just something about her that simultaneously suggested otherwise. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Tall. That was Emni's first thought. Followed promptly by Kelpien and a wash of her own curiosity. She'd not met a Kelpien before and with a small smile she noted that they were, in fact, as tall as reported.

"At ease Lieutenant," Emni commented, her tone easy and casual. "No need to stand at attention. Can I get you anything to drink?"

For a Vulcan, the First Officer was surprisingly easygoing, Sava thought to herself. Maybe she was simply very, very well-adjusted indeed. Or maybe, as she'd suspected, there was more to her than what she could see. "Kelpien fredalia tea, iced with sugar, please." Sava smiled sweetly and relaxed. Fredalia tea by itself was naturally sweet - adding sugar usually raised eyebrows from native drinkers because of that, in fact, but Sava had learned to simply ignore the naysayers. She liked the drink as such.

If the sugar raised any eyebrows in Emni the XO didn't show it. Instead she gestured to the seating area. Though her quarters had come standard with the couch and coffee table, she'd since added an overstuffed chair to the side of those two, creating a sort of alcove for people to sit. Early on she'd found not everyone was comfortable with sitting on the same couch as the XO... nor did pulling up the desk chair give quite the right impression for conversations needing a particular demeanor.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," she said as she moved to the replicator, ordering the requested drink for Sava and a cup of hot coffee for herself. She returned with the two mugs, setting the tea in front of her guest with the handle facing the the Kelpien to make it easy for her to grasp.

Settling into the open seat, Emni blew lightly across the top of her mug, raising her eyebrows at Sava. "Welcome to the Sojourner," she said, a phrase that she reflected had become almost rote in her mind. "Have you found your quarters yet? If I recall correctly you're assigned to Junior Officer quarters."

Sava plopped down onto the sofa, mug of tea in hand. "I have." She said, while sipping from the cup of sweet, floral brew. The taste was something indescribably comforting to her: maybe it was homesickness that brought it about considering she hadn't been home in a few years now. "And I'm quite pleased with them so far! So long as I have sufficient space to stretch my legs out when I sleep, I consider my needs fulfilled. Oh, and I haven't met my roommate yet, but I suppose I shall eventually."

"Is there anything urgent that I should be attending to as assistant head of security and tactical?" She added.

Emni considered that a moment. "You'll have met Lieutenant Bridgeport on the shuttle, but in case the appropriate connections haven't already been made, he'll be your direct supervisor. I'd certainly check in with him first thing to get familiar with how he runs his department. That said, he's new to the Sojourner too, so it may be more a matter of working together to learn the lay of the land." She paused, sipping again, letting the hot bitterness linger on her tongue for a moment before swallowing so she could continue. "Beyond that, with our current tactical position, nothing urgent. Familiarize yourself with the ship, certainly. She's not enormous, but you'll get your steps in walking the decks all the same. If you need anything check in with Ops, they'll sort out any requisitions or moving things around."

She paused, realizing she'd been thinking out loud more than any real sense of urgency. "Overall," she continued, "nothing urgent. Take the time to get up to speed that you need and you'll be fine."

Another sip, this one shorter before she settled back, resting the mug on her knee. "Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked.

"Well, not really, no. I've found things quite pleasant so far - though I don't quite expect them to remain that way all the time," Sava replied. "And I've always been quite good at figuring things out on my own. Of course, if I need any assistance I'll ask for it," The Kelpien smiled her classic craggy smile. "I've yet to meet the rest of my department or the crew in general, but I'm sure I will in good time. Maybe I'll go to the mess hall tonight and see who I meet."

At that Emni nodded. "Debbie's," she commented. "Go to Debbies, not the Mess." She paused then as if momentarily reconsidering her recommendation. "Don't get me wrong. The Mess is fine and it's got all the things you'd usually need, but," She leaned forward propping her elbows on her knees, mug held in both hands ahead of them, "if you want to meet people go to Debbie's. More folks spend their off time there than they do at the Mess."

As if on cue Emni's commbadge tittered, and the level unemotional tones of a Vulcan came through, tinny in the air of the room. "Emni, I'd thank you to pay heed to your turn in kal-toh with better promptness," the voice said and, if it was possible for a Vulcan to sound such, it seemed slightly grumpy.

"Thank you Commander," Emni responded back, ignoring the failure to use her correct title. "I'm with a new officer, but I'm sure I'll have an opportunity to get to it soon. t'Nai out." A quick tap of the badge prevented any further communication from the disembodied voice.

"Is there anything else I can help with then?" she asked, her tone shifting slightly as if to indicate she needed to get on to another task. "If not, I should probably see to," she waved her hand vague at the air ahead of her, "that."

"Not at the moment. I won't keep you from your kal'toh game any longer, Commander. I'll be sure to visit Debbie's when I get the chance." Sava replied. "That'll be all. I'm just pleased to be here. Permission to be dismissed?"

Emni smiled, the turn of her lips apologetic as she realized she'd perhaps rushed the other woman in her hurry to sort out Karim's impertinence. "Not keeping me at all. Just a particularly cantankerous patient who is still under my care. Permission granted Lieutenant. Please don't hesitate to let me know if anything else comes to mind."

She her smile warmed and broadened as she added, "Welcome to the Sojourner."

=/\= A Mission Post By =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Junior Grade Sava
Assistant Chief of Security

]]>
Thu, 02 Nov 2023 23:45:28 +0000