Triangulation
Posted on Mon Oct 23rd, 2023 @ 8:02pm by Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant Victoria Cross & Lieutenant JG Gwenwyn Marwol & Ensign Mei Ratthi & Lieutenant Timmoz
Mission:
Stardust and Sin
Location: Hukatuse Tagumik: Gravity Well Bar
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 1830
[Gravity Well Bar]
[Hukatuse Tagumik]
[1830 Hours]
They could smell the place before they really saw it. Acrid smoke hovered above their heads, diffusing the already sickly lighting and turning its cool tones green. It was hard to tell what, exactly, had caused the smoke. A blend of chemicals from faulty power relays, perhaps, mixed with whatever substances the station's denizens were smoking. It wasn’t quite enough to burn the eyes, but would probably burn up their lungs if they decided to set up camp there for more than a few hours, though the noise would do for their ears in less time than that. What was coming out of the speakers was probably considered music by some cultures, but sounded more like distortion punctuated by a basic, syncopated rhythm.
Timmoz, Ratthi, Marwol and Cross paused in the bar’s wide doorway long enough to get their bearings in the dim light, staying off to one side so as not to get in the way and draw undue attention to themselves.
“Well, now what? It’s going to be hard for us to see each other in here, let alone a certain someone who might want to stay hidden,” Ratthi said as quietly as she could as she pulled her hood over her head to conceal her hair. “I guess the bright side is that no one will notice if we’re running scans.”
Gwnewyn's hands dropped inside his pockets of the jacket he was wearing, he quickly moved from standing beside Mei to in front of her, "It would be best if we didn't scan the room. Look around with our eyes first." He suggested, seeking missions reminded him of a certain away mission he advised aboard the now-defunct USS Comos where his comrades had to locate an exiled politician of the Tellirite government in a small window on a Nausicaan outpost.
Victoria stood out in ways she couldn't help, namely her height. Her head wrapped in a cloth, her body covered in a rough jacket, she did her best to look like any of the normal rabble of the bar. She gently elbowed Ratthi and murmured, "Can you lock onto my comm badge and use it as a relay for remote scans? If we all do that, maybe we can split up in the bar and triangulate her if she's here."
"I probably could," Mei murmured back, then raised her voice just loud enough for the rest of their teammates to hear, "But maybe we should go in and get a sense of the place before we do anything else. At least, we should stop standing in the doorway. People are going to notice."
Timmoz, listening, simply proceeded within. To his Orion mind, hovering in the door was far more suspicious than egress. He swayed inside like this was his natural element. While he did he put a hand on his lip- and surreptitiously double-tapped his hidden commbadge there to initiate his part of the triangulation. He did what he could to further the triangulation- he started putting some distance between the rest. He headed for the bar, intent on asking questions while the others could begin their signal tracking.
Ratthi had been correct. Though the Starfleet officers weren't in uniform -- and were thus inconspicuous in their attire -- their lingering in the entryway to discuss and plan had still drawn some curious eyes. As Timmoz walked decidedly forward towards the bar, most of those eyes returned to what they'd been doing before the group appeared. But one alien in particular had locked its gaze on the very tall Cross, who stood a good deal over many of the patrons gathered in the bar. It blinked its blood-red eyes slowly while watching Victoria and the others, sipping from a quite dirty glass and not looking away. Should Ratthi, Marwol, or Cross look its way, they would notice the alien tipping its head to them in acknowledgment.
Meanwhile, as Timmoz approached the bar, another alien worked behind it. With large, unblinking eyes and a head that might remind one of a sea creature of some kind, the bartender was busying itself by wiping down the counter while waiting for someone to approach with an order. Other bartenders tended to patrons as well, though they all seemed busy conversing and serving down the line of the bar. Only this alien seemed available to converse with at the moment.
"Hi," Timmoz began with his charming Orion swagger. He casually brushed his cheek. "Give me the local favorite. And maybe you can help me. I've been waiting outside. For my date. But I think I've been stood up. She's a Kazon. Have you seen any Kazons around here?" He asked the bartender.
"Greetings/acknowledgment/salutations of arrival," the bartender responded in a wet gurgle, setting aside the rag they'd been using to wipe the counter to give Timmoz their full attention. "Tasserith," they named themselves with a gesture, then flashed a mouthful of whale-like teeth, the slats of their smile clearly meant for collecting plankton in aquatic environs. "Serving of kaduu-sham to deliver/give/entreat with you," they said, producing a glass from beneath the bar and turning to a large, chrome-finished vessel at his back against the wall.
The container was not unlike those Earthers used to serve coffee with at large gatherings. Pulling down a spigot, a steaming stream of a globular green and brown substance fell into the glass. The viscous liquid was like chunky gravy as it plooped and glooped, wafts of steam curling up and away from the rim. Turning, the bartender slid the drink towards Timmoz, a heavy scent of musky earth and something vaguely seaweed-like filling the air.
"Three," they indicated, holding up as many fingers and pointing at the slips of metal in the Orion's hands. While waiting for Timmoz to count and hand over the precious metals, the bartender looked down the line, briefly making eye contact with another alien server: this one very tall, well-built, and imposing as all hell. He looked at Timmoz briefly before giving Tasserith an approving nod and returning to his own work. The shrimp-like alien smiled disarmingly at Timmoz then, "Kazon was present/confirmed/existent before. No Kazon spotted/visible today. Go home without luck/good fortune/sexual release?" The last was a question, not a directive.
"Hope not, we'll see," Timmoz's ever-charm smiled his Cluros smile. "Thank you," he said while he pushed four strips of the metal- the fourth a tip- to the alien. Timmoz straightened. "We'll see. Maybe she's just late." Timmoz took the unusual drink and eyed it before giving it a taste. It was thick like a milkshake, those foul, sweet things that Humans seemed to devour with such relish. The memory of the taste haunted Timmoz while he sampled this drink. He turned his eyes to his compatriots, making sure to look like he was still waiting for his date.
"Maybe she is," the bartender nodded. "And maybe she is not," they shrugged, once again picking up their cleaning rag and running it across the bar. "Will watch for her closely if you wish, friend/companion/customer," they said, extending a hand out in the customary gesture of pay for such services.
"Appreciated friend," Timmoz replied and another strip of metal was placed into the alien's hand. "The name is Sirru. Thanks again for the drink." The green one turned and observed the bar for a moment, taking in the gradual disbursement of his cohorts around the establishment. He set himself into casual motion, making his way around the Gravity Well's clientele. Smiling in greeting at the faces that looked at his, the Orion casually touched his belt and tapped his badge. "Kaldri was spotted in the Gravity Well recently. So far not today. I'd recommend someone ask about her likeness down wherever they dock shuttles."
"I think that one likes you," Ratthi said to Cross as quietly as she could, smiling without teeth and tilting her head toward the red-eyed alien. "Or at least they're impressed by your height. If you wanted to go and say hello, it'd give us a bit more distance to do some triangulation." She glanced back at the alien, then up at Cross again, eyebrows lifting in a silent question as she double-tapped her commbadge to initiate another triangulation point.
Not skipping a beat, Victoria approached the alien, briefly raising her hand in the style of a Voyager Golden Disk wave. "G'day. My compatriots and I are long haulers from far into the black. I saw you curious about me, I could answer any questions about myself if you're game on doing the same?"
Sitting low in his chair, the alien peered up, up, up at Cross, his crimson eyes widening at the tall woman's approach. "Brimson," he introduced himself with a croak, thin, elongated fingers raising to mirror Cross' gesture of greeting. He studied the "long hauler" as if appraising her worth, eyes flicking back the way she'd come to regard the other figure left in her wake. Mei was immediately dismissed in favor of locking eyes, once again, on Cross.
"How did you get so long with your legs?" the alien wondered with kaleidoscope eyes, clearly fascinated by the woman's height.
"Hah! I suppose I just got lucky," Cross replied. "The name's Jo Zanetti, my crew are hauling between colonies, Brimson. You come here often? What kinda people do you see often?"
Brimson considered the notion of being "lucky" and chuckled. "If height were a lottery, I suppose you must have been very lucky indeed," the alien smiled. Given his large mouth and huge unblinking eyes, the effect that resulted might be classified as a bit...creepy? "It is warming to meet you, Jo Zanetti," he said, then gave the woman's question some thought. "My ship operates out of Tagumik. Here very often, see many people of all kinds," he responded. He assumed a suspicious air then as he asked, "Why do you ask this?"
Victoria didn't seem to mind the giant eyes and large mouth, though the alien's suspicion was something that caught her on the defensive. She shook her head. "No ulterior reason, friend. Just new in the trade route and curious. Something somewhat of a scientist, me."
"Comprehension established," came Brimson's oddly-translated response. "I was new to these routes once, too." The alien seemed to let down his guard a bit, perhaps accepting Jo's explanation and letting some of his suspicion evaporate. "See a variety of people here. Vidiian, Hromsk, Malon on long-hauler convoys. Sometimes the exotics come from very far away, even," he explained before taking a sip of his very pink and very frothy beverage. "Need you a drink, Jo-Zan-Etti?" he asked, sounding out the name.
"I'll never turn down a drink, mate. What's on the tap, and who are we toasting for?" She tried to lay the charm on thick, crossing her arms on the end of the table and giving the alien a wide smile. "I got a lover back home, myself. Parting from her hurts, but someone's gotta do my job, might as well be me."
Brimson offered what constituted as a smile for his race, gesturing "Jo" to take a seat and join him. "We must all do the things that need doing," he agreed, his countenance and tone darkening a bit. "My family will not come here. I have offered many times," he lamented quietly. "I am here alone, except on rare occasions I am able to return home to visit. Order here," Brimson said, gesturing to a set up controls built into the table's service. They activated a holographic display showing the menu and ordering options. "Perhaps we can drink to those we leave behind?"
Victoria quietly ordered a drink she was sure wasn't alive or poison to her. It was.. green? Once it was delivered to the table, she raised the glass to Brimson. "To those we leave behind." She took a drink. It tasted like asphalt mixed with syrup, and she visibly grimaced, before hurrying out of the room, turning visibly pale. She returned a moment later. "Okay. That was either paint thinner or warp runoff."
Brimson had raised his own glass, downing a deep sip as "Jo" took a drink from hers. "To those we leave behind," the alien murmured in response. Clearly, his race was familiar with the idea of toasting. Blinking his bleary, beady red eyes at the beverage the woman had selected, Brimson shook his head. "Is neither. Is Mokta-klahn," he said, naming the verdant liquid. "Made from sap from Mokta trees from Clembore VI. Be careful how quickly you drink," the alien urged. "Powerful intoxicant."
"Perfect. Uh, if you'll excuse me, Brimson, I need to go converse with my traveling companions. It was nice to meet you." 'Jo' left, reeling from the still present taste of the Mokta-klahn, and took a quick survey of the room. Brimson, meanwhile, merely nodded to the woman before returning to his drink and the device he was reading.
Mei casually wandered over to a small table for two and slipped into the chair with her back to the wall, studiously ignoring the seat's gritty surface. She idly tapped the blue button inlaid into the table and pulled up a holographic menu. She couldn't really read it- the iconography was from no language she recognized- but flipping through it with a thoughtful look on her face let her pretend like she was weighing her many options while she monitored the readings from her commbadge and glanced up now and then to keep an eye on Cross and the others.
After a few moments, a scantily-clad alien walked up to Mei's table. He wore an outfit -- if there was enough material there to be called that -- of stunning gold with silver trim that barely covered what must be his not-for-public bits and bobs; the rest of him was bared, showing off an impressive array of bony ridges along his trunk, mixed with the sharp, almost tribal lines of his various tattoos. The alien server looked down at Mei with a smile, "Need a suggestion? Or got something in mind already?"
"Nothing really in mind," Mei said, giving the menu a last, bored look. "What do you recommend? What's good? And-" she held up a hand to forestall any impetuous suggestions, "I'm looking for a drink, mind you. I'm not degreasing any engines today."
"If you like the, uh, milder solvents," the server smirked widely, revealing twin rows of very sharp teeth, "perhaps you would like Gralthic wine? It is a tiny bit sweet and tends toward sour. But good for the constitution and enhances the senses," the alien said, a forked tongue darting out to quickly wet his drying lips. "Done with your work for the day then?" he wondered, making conversation while Mei mulled wine over as a choice.
"Gralthic wine sounds alright," Mei said off-handedly. "But if I don't like it, I'm going to blame you. Hope you don't mind, but it was your suggestion." She flashed him a winning smile and dismissed the menu. "As for work, you know how it goes. You do the things, go out to see the sights for a bit, and as soon as you've settled down somewhere, they call you right back in. I fully expect to be halfway through my drink and hear that I need to head back. Why? Probably to stare at a monitor all night and call someone on the off-chance it changes. Happens every time. I'm considering looking for something else. Know of any openings somewhere that isn't a rattling death trap?"
The server smirked back, flashing the barest hint of his sharpened dentals. "Gralthic wine it is," he nodded, keying the order into his tablet-like device and transmitting it to the bar. "Will grab when ready," he assured before responding to Mei's commentary and question. "Running business out of this station isn't always...ideal," the server admitted. "I have emptied many a purchased drink because it had to be abandoned. But if you are looking for more stable work, The Hole is always looking for security guards. It's stationary work, more regular hours, but sometimes emergencies still arise. Perhaps less so than a ship crumbling to pieces around you, though?"
"If by security you mean 'people who stand around looking for that one person who might have done a crime', then I suppose I could do security. People-watching beats monitor-watching any day. I'd bet that all the monitor-watching I do doesn't actually accomplish anything. I might as well be staring at knickknacks on a shelf, for all the good it's probably doing." Mei sighed and rested her chin in one hand. "You might be pouring out a lot of unfinished drinks, but you probably see a lot more interesting people while being here than I do while being out there."
"We see many kinds," the server nodded in response, his barely-there golden outfit sparkling in the pulsating lights of the bar. "Many of all kinds end up here. Some races you would expect: others, perhaps not. People come from very far and also near." He'd been about to say more when the bartender pouring Mei's drink raised a hand signal his way. "But a moment," the alien promised, moving to the bar to retrieve the order.
A grimy goblet made of something resembling tin was set down in front of Mei as the server returned. "Your wine, miss," he nodded, intoning his voice with respect. "While you try that," he gestured to the vessel filled with a very dark, amber liquid, "from how far have you come? I have not seen your kind here before," the server noted.
Mei gamely picked up the goblet and held it up to her face, sniffing it a few times before taking a sip. It wasn't the worst thing she'd ever had, though it was far from being the best. Still, the sickly sweet and yet vaguely sour beverage was tolerable, so she braved another sip. Then she rested her chin in one hand and swirled her drink around in its goblet. "I'm not surprised you haven't seen anyone like me. I'm a bit of a mix. Some of this, some of that. None of it the most interesting, or even the best features of each race, I'm afraid. Even my teeth are boring." She smiled, revealing her own, very ordinary teeth. "As for where I'm from- you know, I've been so many places I honestly couldn't say I'm from any one place. I'm from space, wandering around with my crew, and trying not to get into too much trouble. Trying, mind you. We had a bit a run-in with some pirate-types, and there's this Kazon woman, and if I could get my hands on her, I'd like to give her a good shaking." Mei scrunched her nose and shook her head so that some of her curls bounced free of her scarf. "Anyway. I'm just talking nonsense now. You should probably get back to work."
"Kazon?" the waiter asked, arching a brow encrusted with scales. "We do not see many of those here," he mumbled, his tone changing. He no longer seemed so warm and friendly, though his tone and demeanor remained professional. At Mei's suggestion that he get back to work, the server nodded and said, "Enjoy the wine. And if you need anything else," the alien made a small curtsy, "simply wave me down." And with that, the waiter moved back towards the bar.
Mei looked after him, a bit crestfallen. And they'd been getting on so well. She replayed their conversation in her head, and tagged the moment when his attitude toward her had changed from warm to merely polite: when she'd mentioned, half-jokingly in her own mind, wanting to shake a certain Kazon. Perhaps he knew a thing or two about Kaldri. She sipped her drink- the flavor was growing on her- and activated the menu again to look for something edible. After a little while, she caught the scantily-clad waiter's eye, smiled, and waved him over.
Doctor Marwol looked around the room, looking to use his medical talents though there weren't many races in this place he knew. He slowly strolled along the floor aiming for the bathroom or what he thought was the bathroom to ease wandering eyes, keeping his eyes peeled for elderly aliens with disabilities, eager to make new friends.
As it so happened, there was someone who fit the profile Marwol was looking out for. Though age was sometimes difficult to tell from alien appearance alone, there was a possibly elderly-looking alien approaching the stairs that led to the second level. Their sex was visually indeterminate given their race was not one Starfleet knew but the alien walked slowly, hunched forward and holding an anti-grav walking assist board. The device was held at chest level, its repulsors pushing against the ground to help the alien stay mostly upright as they began to ascend the spiraled staircase.
Marwol quickly darted across the room, "Can I help?" He asked hoping the universal translator worked, with his best smile he gave the person no choice in the matter as he latched on like a koala to a tree.
As the doctor placed a stabilizing hand on the alien's elbow to help it up the stairs, said alien stopped entirely and looked at Marwol with wild eyes. "I don't have nothing you want, young man! Not a strip of metal on me. Just spent the last one on dinner, so you'll have to go shake down someone else!" With surprising strength, the alien -- who sounded male, though assumptions were often inaccurate -- pushed against Marwol with his anti-grav board, trying to forcibly disengage from the doctor. The net result was that the board flipped over, however, and the alien lost its support. And with no support and the sudden pushing movement, it lost its balance and began to tumble down the stairs.
Gwenwyn quickly moved like a cross-country athlete, trying to catch the Xeno. "You okay?!" He asked from above, "I'm Doctor Gwenwyn Marwol, I just want to help you." He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as if he was being watched by everyone else in the bar but he put them out of his mind, focusing on his patient instead.
"Help me?!" the elderly alien exclaimed in disbelief, clearly in a lot of pain from his hard tumble. "By pushing an old man down the stairs when he wouldn't give you money?!" To be fair, he'd caused his own fall by trying to push away from Marwol but it was the Doctor who'd laid hands on him first, which -- in a place like Hukatuse -- was a precursor to robbery, assault, or in most cases, both.
Timmoz's eyes- like many of those in the bar- turned to the display. "Oh. Booska," the Orion sighed at this complication, watching the alien's body tumble down a set of stairs and with Doctor Marwol at the top. Timmoz kept on contact on the Doctor as the gasps rose and the alien's body hit the final stair and then onto the lower landing. The Orion filled his chest and exhaled.
Mei looked up at the commotion, her gaze going first to the alien as he hit bottom, and then followed his path up the staircase to Marwol. Her eyes widened, then returned to the alien on the floor. "Not quite what I expected from this round of people-watching. Is he still alive?"
The server in the skimpy gold shorts seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I will find out," he promised, moving towards the elderly gentleman at a rush. Bending at the knees, he offered a hand to the man, who seemed to be conscious but dazed. "Are you alright, friend? Nasty fall, bad rolling," he said, shaking his head and looking up at Marwol.
He wasn't the only one. Practically every set of eyes in this section of the bar had been diverted to the doctor.
Victoria stepped up beside Timmoz, hands shuffling into her pockets. The old man rolling down the stairs certainly wasn't great news, but instead of rushing to aid, Victoria tried to avoid calling further attention to herself. She leaned over, murmuring into the Orion's ear. "Any word on our Kazon?" Her breath smelled like an alien sap whiskey.
The Orion simply shook his head, his arms cross over his chest. "She's been here. Yesterday. That's all I found out. This place operates on the unspoken agreement of the need-to-know." He commented with a rise of brow, silently judging that situation. He cleared his throat. The smell of the whiskey, he noted. It was strange to his nose and stranger still to have the shell of his ear whispered into. "How about you? Any luck?" Timmoz fingered the small bulge in his pocket that was his phaser, still waiting to see if he'd need it to aid their Doctor.
The old man, meanwhile, looked up at the golden-clad alien from his place on the floor. "I am not alright. He tried to steal my ingot slips! And when he couldn't get them, he pushed me down the stairs." He stared up at Marwol, his gaze dark and full of fury.
"Is there a problem here?" a rankled voice asked. Another alien had appeared from somewhere and she was moving with all the authority and purpose of someone who worked for the Well. Though not as tall as Cross, the woman made up for in muscle what she lacked in height. Dressed in all black with an earpiece jabbed into her left ear, the woman seemed to be a bouncer for this particular bar. And though she'd not witnessed the fall herself, she seemed keenly interested in what had just happened.
As the elderly alien and the gold-clad server filled her in on what had just transpired -- the old man's version of it, anyway -- the woman plucked something from her belt and depressed a button on its surface. A blinking pink light began to strobe above the entrance through which the Starfleeters had entered. Nodding to the aggrieved party then, she turned to look up at Marwol. "Come down here...now," she ordered, pointing to the immediate spot in front of her. "Malik does not take kindly to theft and assault in his bar," she sneered at the Doctor.
Following his orders to not cause anarchy, The Welsh Doctor compiled, standing in the place he was ordered to. The scar on his hand became irritated, and the desire to scratch was becoming worse as the situation depended. "I was assisting this gentle humanoid in climbing the steps. He became hostile and fell." Gwenwyn stated the truth, keeping his hands to his side and remaining calm.
"Assisting me?" the old man huffed incredulously. "More like trying to kill me!"
As the scene continued to play out, six figures clad in body armor suddenly entered the bar, having apparently been summoned by the device the bouncer had activated. Looking around, the leader of the group fixed his gaze on the muscular woman and approached. "Enforcer 626," he identified himself. "What has happened here?" the man asked from within his face-shield-equipped helmet.
"Mekkara Lynd," the woman named herself in response. "And this man," she gestured to Marwol, "tried to steal from Mr. Delbard here. When he found there was nothing to steal, he pushed Mr. Delbard down the stairs. But he didn't act alone," the bouncer said, an accusation infusing her tone.
She turned then, pointing in turn to Mei at her table and then Cross and Timmoz standing not far away. "I'm told," she tipped her head to the gold-bedecked waiter, "that they all came in together. Stood in the doorway, made a plan, and then broke into action. Three of them engaged patrons and wait staff as a distraction while this one," she chucked a thumb to Marwol, "attempted the theft."
Enforcer 626 nodded, accepting the explanation without giving Marwol or the others a chance to explain their side of the story. "Please tell Malik that the Governor and his Enforcers take the security of this establishment very seriously and are only too happy to assist. We will take them to The Hole to await judgment," he said through the side of his mouth to Mekkara. "Take them," he turned, nodding to the other five members of his Enforcement squad, spurring them to action.
"Thank you," the bouncer replied. "I will see that Malik knows of your quick response and service." Lynd watched with satisfaction as, almost in unison, the five Enforcers moved forward.
Flicking their crowd control batons to their full length and holding them up in threat, the Enforcers took decisive action as their supervisor and Lynd watched. One of the armor-studded Enforcers approached Mei, barking at her to stand and place her hands behind her back. Another moved to Marwol, issuing the same command under threat of a beating. The other three assumed triangulation around Cross and Timmoz, ordering them, too, to submit to arrest. None of the station's security force seemed particularly interested in talking things through: they'd sort it all out at headquarters.
When fingers started being pointed, Mei clutched her drink in both hands, ignoring its gritty surface and wincing when some of the wine sloshed down her front. She was going to smell like it for a while- not too long, she hoped, but better to smell drunk than to actually be drunk. Good thing she hadn't downed much of the stuff yet, though her breath probably smelled of it. As the Enforcer strode up to her and demanded she stand, she let her mind go blank and her eyes go wide. She wasn't going to be able to talk her way out of this. Better to look harmless and a bit dim-witted.
"Well this is fun," Timmoz said, oozing charm with a seam of sarcasm. His eyebrow arched, "It's been awhile since I've been arrested. Go on then." He advanced toward one of the guard, his wrists out and turned up. His voice, still disarming and sarcastic, purred, "Take me to your best holding cell." He looked back at Cross and winked, "No reason to resist. We didn't do anything wrong." This was said as an Enforcer took Timmoz' hands, placed them behind his back, and affixed security restraints.
"Wouldn't think of it. I'm totally innocent." She did as Timmoz, hands out, palms up. One of the guards grabbed her by the arms, folding them behind her back and slapping restraints on her wrists. "First time I've been arrested meself, mate." She grinned, her big blue eyes meeting Timmoz'. The arresting guard took a tight grip of her wrists.
"Enough talking. This is serious. Get moving," said another Enforcer.
Victoria was shoved between the shoulders and pushed towards the exit. With a stumble, she began to march. Her combadge weighed heavy on her undershirt under her jacket, plaguing her mind with some anxiety. Her confident air briefly wavered, and she took stock of the floor and her feet as she walked.
Gwenwyn complied with the order. He always had a passion to explore and this time would mark the first time he had the opportunity to explore a justice system. But as a man of medicine, he knew that if the situation didn't calm down his itchy scar would lead to something drastic.
Having rounded up the Starfleet foursome, the Enforcers -- led by the one identified as 626 -- connected the prisoners with a single chain, the end of which was held by the lead Enforcer. Pulling the chain harshly, 626 and the surrounding Enforcers herded Timmoz and company through the bar's primary exit, making quite a spectacle of the whole ordeal. They wanted the patrons in the bar and the pedestrians beyond to see the Starfleeters being led away in shackles. It was just one of the ways they inspired fear of the Governor's wrath and retribution for unruly behavior.
Onlookers watched in concerned silence as 626 guided the prisoner procession down the promenade, eventually arriving at the intended destination. The place -- marked in alien writing that translated as 'The Hole' -- stood imposingly at the end of the fairway, all dark metal and glass surrounding the facade's circular opening. As the Starfleeters got close enough to see inside, an array of various holding cells cordoned off with mandarin-colored glass was visible. And in each of those cells were groups of prisoners; some sat contemplatively, waiting with patience either for their hearing or the end of their assigned stay. Other groups were more belligerent, slamming their hands against the glass of their cells and shouting to be released. Those particular prisoners were quickly rushed by entering guards who beat them with their batons.
As the Enforcers led the Starfleet team inside and down to the central floor for processing, one thing became very clear: this place was not a Federation penal colony. The only law here was the Governor's, his Enforcers an extension of his will. And here, it was the language of violence that seemed to keep the other prisoners in line. The away team would do well to bear that in mind while presenting themselves for biometric scans and short-term(?) incarceration...
=/\= A joint-post by... =/\=
Lieutenant Victoria Cross
Operations Officer
Lieutenant JG Gwenwyn Marwol
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
Ensign Mei Ratthi
Science Officer
Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Flight Controller
Various NPCs (played by Brad)
