Needle in a Haystack

Posted on Mon Dec 11th, 2023 @ 3:18am by Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Xex Wang & Lieutenant Arianna Durand

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)