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Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

“SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED.”

STARDATE 57647.98
APRIL 15, 2381
2300 HRS

[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

As twilight splendor gradually began to settle in across the distant horizon, bathing one of the street side markets of Ibai Besi in an almost iridescent haze of deep oranges and crimson, the Chief Intelligence Officer of the most wanted starship in the Galaxy stood idly by, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he waited for his contact to arrive. In truth, Fisher was more than a little surprised at how quickly his newly developed Aldean assets had come through on the slightly unusual request that he had put in.

Yet just twenty-minutes earlier he had received a coded transmission confirming that his primary contact, a man named Joban, had with his fellows managed to track down nearly all of the items on a list that the veteran Starfleet spy had forwarded to them. That they were now ready and willing to make delivery of the items in question at a time and place of Fisher’s choosing. With the pragmatic awareness that there were no guarantees of a tomorrow in which he could set up something a bit more safe and secure, he had instead opted to meet as soon as possible down on the planet side so as to keep any other members of the crew out of the matter. Of course it had dawned on him that his contacts might not have actually fulfilled his requests but were instead planning on setting him up for some other nefarious or unsavory purposes, and it was that reason which had prompted his choice of the Promenade Markets as the location. Given the newly unleashed Guardian Angel which hovered overhead in low-orbit, Fisher wanted to ensure that as little collateral damage as possible would be inflicted if things went south, and the markets were decidedly sparse with random innocent civilians at this late hour in the evening.

Emerging from around a corner some fifty or so paces distance, a man wearing a tan smock with three followers in tow stopped as he spotted Fisher standing alone, propped up against a sandstone wall.

“Flash!” Fisher called out in a hushed shout.

“Thunder.” Came the appropriate response.

Lurching forward, Fisher left the wall he had been leant against and began striding rather deliberately toward the first man, who in turn began moving to meet him halfway. “Joban.” Reaching out with a leather-gloved hand to greet his lead contact, appraised him with sage-green eyes for a scant moment before examining the other three which lingered back in their original position. He hadn’t explicitly stated for Joban to come alone, but he also hadn’t felt it necessary to do so. Such a meeting didn’t seem to warrant a security detail in his mind, which meant that Joban had an ulterior motive to the meeting, or that he had intended to re-discuss the agreed upon payment. “Your friends going to come over and say hello?” he teased the man with a wry grin, which was meant to express how unintimidated he was by their presence. This wasn’t the first time he had engaged in such an arrangement and knew all the tricks someone might have played in an attempt to squeeze a little more in the way of payment out of him. Still, Fisher needed to keep this little operation as clandestine as possible and had left a little wiggle room in his budget to allow for late term haggling.

“We need to discuss--” Joban began to speak, only to be interrupted.

“--the agreed upon price, yeah I kind of got that.” Fisher completed Joban’s statement for him, knowing where this was all headed. “If you really have managed to recover ninety-percent of the items on the list, in as short a time frame as you have, then I think we can come to a new agreement with an added bonus reflective of your speed and thoroughness.” Retrieving an Orion hand-computer from his pocket, Fisher flicked it on and brought up the active datalink to Theurgy that he’d programmed into it. Well, he hadn’t, one of his encryption specialists had, but all the same; he knew not to bring standard Starfleet equipment with him so as to prevent it falling into the wrong hands if he was indeed apprehended. Punching up the agreed upon contract, which had dictated a sum of fifty-bars of Gold Pressed Latinum to be paid to Joban upon delivery, Fisher doubled the payment to one-hundred-bars. No small fee by any measure but given the wealth that the spy had accrued during his time undercover, it represented little more than a drop in the bucket.

“One-hundred bars.” He said simply, finalizing the additional payment transfer from the Ferengi Banking Agent which had been handling his personal accounts over the past six years. “Better?”

Blinking a little, Joban seemed surprised to have had his payment doubled, and so he looked back over his shoulder at the three goons he’d hired, then back to Fisher and gave him an appreciative nod. “Uhh, yeah that’s... perfect.”

“Excellent.” It dawned on Fisher that he likely could have haggled to pay less than double, but under the circumstances it didn’t overly bother him. Again, he knew that the items contained within the packages that Joban had recovered for him were worth more than what he had just paid if you could find the right buyer for them anyway. What Fisher didn’t know, was that one of Joban’s men had in secret sent out a subspace communication of his own to someone else regarding the deal, and that the message hadn’t been properly encoded at all. That message could easily have been intercepted and read by anyone within range, including those back aboard Theurgy, whom Fisher was desperately hoping to keep out of the issue. That was likely now impossible, though he wasn’t exactly aware of who had intercepted such a transmission.

“So... coordinates of the goods?” he asked Joban, waiting to input them into the computer so that Theurgy could scan the items, then beam them back to one of the cargo bays, and he could complete his business with this matter as soon as possible.



Uncoded Communication which has been intercepted by Cam: [Show/Hide]

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #1
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]
Cameron Henshaw had been sitting under the shaded canopy of an ancient tree on the surface of Aldea. In one hand, slender fingers supported a PADD. The other flipped through the device with almost lazy indifference. Cam appeared to be almost...bored. On her left was an open tricorder. She’d used the device to search out the tree, one that was far enough from everyone else that she’d have some privacy to just sit and read. She had a pair of tiny wireless earpieces in and was eating a bowl filled with some sort of purple Aldean berry and a sweet cream. The music playing in her ears had drowned out the subdued sound of the continuous scanning of the tricorder next to her as she scanned through her PADD.

The tree itself wasn’t too far from the Promenade. She’d taken a right down an alley, and even though she knew she probably shouldn’t have, jumped a fence into an old park towards the ancient and gnarled looking thing. The bowl of the berries was set on her side-slung bag, which contained the rest of her gear as well. She’d been reading ‘The Odyssey’. It had been much more entertaining as a holo-novel but there was a certain charm to reading such an old book under a tree, and being able to feel the breeze and sunlight on her skin. Cam had been wearing a pair of dark pants with a pair of combat boots. She wore a leather coat over a button-up top. She looked entirely comfortable and happy where she sat, and really...she was. She knew that this wouldn’t be permanent, and she wanted to take advantage of every moment she could get on the planet. Every happy moment, at least.

After a while, she heard the tricorder through the earbuds going off beside her. She leaned to the side and saw the message:

“Meeting with the Starfleet Spy now. Ibai Besi Promenade Markets Exchange of illicit goods take place there.”

“God fucking dammit.” She narrowed her eyes at the message and shoved her PADD into the bag that she’d brought with her. What the fuck is this all about? She thought to herself as she gathered her things, just leaving the empty bowl, smeared with sweet cream right there under the tree. Surely some critter or another would come lick it clean. This took precedence. She didn’t have time to waste. She brushed some leaves off of her ass as she stood up and ran back towards the fence, scaling it in one smooth movement as she moved back down the alleyway towards the promenade. One hand plunged into the bag, brushing up against the rough fabric of the standard issue bag as she wrapped her hand around a hand phaser. She didn’t know exactly what she was about to stumble into. Given her luck though, she was about to stumble into some illicit exchange of information. She really hoped that wasn’t the case though, she’d be needing some backup if that was the case. A spy? What if they were feeding information back to Starfleet?

Cameron finally reached the promenade itself, which was sparse when it came to civilians given the time. As such, she grabbed her tricorder and set it to wide-band scanning, holding it low and to her side, to keep it concealed. She quickly narrowed down the location of the signal. Whoever had sent it wasn’t exactly a professional at keeping communications a big secret. She only looked briefly, trying to get an idea of what she was walking into before she jammed it back into her bag, and kept her hand on that weapon. She took a deep breath, her chest rising high and then crashing back down before she shook her head.

What are you doing?! You are not a fucking hero. It was only some illicit goods though. Maybe it was nothing. She peeked out from behind the wall where she had been standing and started moving through the Promenade, standing in front of a stand and looking through the wares as she looked around for her mark. She was certainly no spy, or even an intelligence officer. She wasn’t at all practiced with being hidden or trying to stay hidden. Damn did she try though. She picked up a piece of fruit, and handed over payment for it as she continued to move through the stands, moving towards the location that her tricorder had informed her she should be moving towards, and perhaps a familiar officer if she could. No luck on that part though.

She saw nothing for a time before she pushed through a group of Aldeans, “Excuse me.” She said, pushing straight through them.

“Hey!” They objected, as the human woman shoved her way through the group of them. They’d been blocking a walkway and Cameron was straight on a mission, so she didn’t care to be stopped. Once she was through them though, she finally saw what she was looking for, confirmed by a quick look at her tricorder, right where the transmission had come from. A small gathering of individuals, one of whom was Lieutenant Commander Andrew Fisher. Cam looked into the bag one more time to check the intercepted message before she approached the group. Her eyebrows furrowed. Now that she’d seen who the ‘spy’ was (even if she didn’t actually know him), who was the intercepted message intended for? She let out a deep breath and bit her lower lip for a minute as she thought of what to do next. She rolled the small, freshly purchased fruit around in her hand for a moment before she made her choice. The officer was the closest thing she had to an ally, more than likely. So she took the chance.

The fruit, small, round and red was stowed in the bag. She pulled out the Tricorder and put on her absolute best look of panicked confusion as she ran forward, “Excuse me!” She panted out, “I am so glad I found you. I’m lost...like, so fucking lost.” She let out a nervous laugh and looked around to the other...parties. “Hi.” She waved to the other people before she showed the Commander her tricorder, with the intercepted message on it. “I’m trying to find this, do you think you could point me in the right direction?” She rose a brow, holding it up for him to take if he so wanted to. If not, she’d put it back in her bag, still leaving her hand in the bag. “Sorry for interrupting.”

She continued to look around, between all present parties. She rocked back on her heels briefly before she finally did stand still, as to try and look less...out of place. Keep it cool, Cam. The sun continued to set down, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before it began to dip under the horizon, turning the gorgeous sky from crimson and orange to deeper blues and purples. With the color though, their light would go too. She definitely was not bored anymore.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #2
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

As with any clandestine operation, regardless of the degree of seriousness behind it’s manifestation, there were always a litany of problems and unforeseen issues which could pop up at any moment. That was one of the first lessons that any spy had to learn: that no matter how diligently you planned an op, things rarely always went according to that plan. You needed to be able to think on the fly just as well as, if not better than you did in advance of whatever you had put together. Often times it was that ability which separated the good spies from the bad ones, and the still living spies from the dead ones. For Fisher, having survived ten-years of deep cover operations in some of the most dangerous parts of the Galaxy, under the most intense scrutiny of some of the least savory people you could imagine, this little endeavor should have been a relatively easy one to get through. But still, he had taken whatever precautions he could to ensure that if things did go awry, he wouldn’t be the one left to pay the butcher’s bill, at least not a lone anyway, and the new ‘Arnold’ subtype Tovarek-class drone far above would ensure that in end some.

Joban had no inkling of the kind of hellfire and damnation that could be wrought upon him and his little retinue if they weren’t on the up and up with how they handled this exchange, and Fisher hoped that he never would.

“Alright. Here are the--” he had been just about to hand over what seemed like a Cardassian isolinear rod to the Chief Intelligence Officer, when a young and beautiful brunette emerged from a small gathering of Aldean’s nearby and called out for their attention. Immediately, Joban took a cautious step backward and withdrew his hand from Fisher’s grasp, unsure of what was going on, and who or what this young lady was about. He even cast a look back over his shoulder to the three goons he’d hired, who in turn took a step closer and began to spread out accordingly. One of them however, had a specifically nervous look to his face, and began peering about the area in search of something, or perhaps someone. It was clear though, that they had been instructed to protect Joban from Fisher, if things seemed a little off, given how they each began fumbling under the cover of their tan cloaks for what were surely weapons of some kind. The motion wasn’t lost on the spy’s trained senses, as he registered the potential threat and felt himself tense up in preparation for what could have been a shoot out of some kind.

“Easy Joban!” he blurted out, raising his hands up to calm the man, and his fellows as he looked out of the corner of his sage-green eyes at the Captain’s yeoman, keenly aware of a bit of deception being played on her part. It was a bold move she’d just made, and under more normal circumstances he might not have appreciated it but given the scope of what she presented to him via her Tricorder, he could be forgiving.

“Its... it’s fine. Where is she trying to get to?” Joban replied in acceptance of Cam’s apology, a little more at ease as he was buying what she attempted to sell as way of subterfuge.

“Erm... let me see.” Fisher looked the young Ensign over a moment, his expression meant to extoll just how confused he was by her being there, and unsure of what could have possibly prompted her intervention. But as he read the intercepted communication, his thick brows furrowed upon his forehead and he tilted the pate of his face slightly out of disappointment, though not in reaction to her. “Oh... leave it out!” he said in frustration as his attention went back to Joban, and the three men positioned behind him. Judging by the manner in which one of them seemed flightier than the others, Fisher had a good idea that it was he who had sent the message. A simple enough problem to deal with for the spy, but the more pressing and disconcerting matter was who the message had been meant for, and who else might have likewise intercepted it.

Litany of problems and unforeseen issues a plenty.

“Joban, you ass!”

“Hmm, what? I don’t understand?” stammered the man in question.

“That big mouth of yours, and your poor hiring standards are going to cost you one hell of a headache tomorrow.” Promised the spy, as with an exasperated sigh and alacritous deftness he lunged forward at the man with both hands, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar before spinning him about so as to cause just an instant of doubt in the three men providing overwatch. With one arm wrapped around Joban’s neck, Fisher’s other reached under the hem of his leather jacket and pulled forth a Klingon disruptor-pistol and fired a carefully aimed volley of green energy pulses in quick succession at the trio of guards, striking each of them square in their chest and sending them sprawling. Their threat dealt with, Fisher spun Joban round once more to face him, then without warning clocked the heavy handle of the Klingon Disruptor against the side of the man’s dome, dropping him just as readily. With a shake of his head, he looked to Henshaw a moment before bending down to retrieve the isolinear rod from Joban’s hand. “They’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering. Just stunned.”

“Well... they are.” He looked to the trio of guards laying on their backs as a number of Aldean onlookers began scurrying about, knowing not to linger around any longer. “Joban will wish he’d been stunned whenever he wakes up to his throbbing headache. Cognitive readjustment is decidedly unpleasant to deal with the next morning.” It was a nice enough way to say that the concussion Joban would be dealing with wouldn’t dissipate without the passage of some time.

Pocketing the isolinear rod, Fisher turned back to face the young Ensign. “Nice ruse, by the way. You gave me just long enough of a window of pause to capitalize on.” Moving over to where the other three lay, he began searching the pockets of the one which had garnered his suspicions. “What’re you even doing here, Ensign... umm... Henshaw, is it?” he hadn’t yet really had the chance to come to know Ives’ Yeoman, beyond that of a cursory greeting upon his arrival some eight days earlier, when he’d passed her by on the way to receive his initial briefing with the Captain. “I mean prior to bringing me that little tidbit of intel. What’re you doing on Aldea?” kneeling down over the unconscious man, he went through one pocket, then the next, finally discovering a small handheld computer of Aldean origin in one of them. He imagined it was likely the source of origin for the uncoded transmission that the Ensign, and possibly others might have intercepted. Flicking it on, he stood up and began scrolling through it for anything which might give him a better idea of what kind of a shitstorm he was in.

Though, it soon dawned on him that while he was used to this kind of occurrence, the Yeoman likely wasn’t. Appraising her with an apologetic look, Fisher cleared his throat prior to speaking once more. “Right... sorry. We should get out of here before things get dicey.” Slapping his left pectoral where a combadge was hidden under one of the shirts he wore, there came an audible chirp. “Fisher to Thea, lock onto and beam Ensign Henshaw and I back aboard.” There was an expectation that both he and the Yeoman would dematerialize into a haze of bluish sparkles, but as the seconds passed, it became clear that wouldn’t happen. With the mind to give it another chance, Fisher slapped his combadge a second time. “Fisher to Thea? Fisher to Theurgy? Anyone?” Communications were being actively jammed, which meant that someone else had come to follow up on the message that had been sent by Joban’s two-timing guard.

“You not go no-where, Starfleet!” called out a dull-voice from somewhere. “We takes you back to ours ship. We sells you. We make ship strong. We makes us stronger.”

Raising one of his thick eyebrows at the strange manner of the voice that was speaking to them, Fisher turned to watch as a large group of tubby pale-skinned aliens emerged from the shadows of a nearby stall, each of them wearing a rather ugly shade of brown, and brandishing older model Type-3 Starfleet issue phaser rifles.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He exclaimed, recognizing the characteristic facial features of their new ambushers, as Pakled.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #3
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]
Cam had no experience with this sort of thing. She tried her very best to play it cool. She turned brown eyes onto the nervous looking one as they all spread out, and her immediate reaction was that she was going to be shot on sight. Well that’s that. She luckily, was mistaken. The more senior and much more practiced officer had a better handle on the thugs than she ever would. Her eyes went a bit wide and she let out a nervous laugh, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare anyone.” She looked around to the others and let her eyes quickly shift to Fisher, if only for a second. If he got the message or not, she kept it up for him.

The fact that Joban took the bait, actually made Cam stumble more over her words for a moment more than if he hadn’t taken the bait. As for whatever was about to play out. She had no clue. She just kept her free hand tightly wrapped around the phase pistol in her bag in case she needed it, and the other one on the tricorder. She visibly relaxed some...until Fisher spoke up again.

“Joban, you ass!”

Oh, fuck.

Her hand tightened around the pistol. Her eyes did not focus on the man in question however, instead they focused on his men. Her dark eyes darted from man to man. Cam would have loved to think she was ready, but she wasn’t as quick on the draw as he was. Before she could even think, the three guards were on the ground. She drew the phase pistol out at once, in case there were more, she looked to Fisher with complete shock for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she was more bewildered or more impressed. “You need to show me how to do that.” She could shoot, but she couldn't shoot like that. From the look on her face though, she was clearly jealous. She stepped closer to one of the now stunned guards and gave him an idle poke to the sole of his foot with the point of her own. Yep. Definitely unconscious.

“Thanks...I guess. Best I could come up with quick.” She leaned down to search one of the non-suspects and didn’t find much of interest. A few strips of latinum, and a datapad. She left them, after all, she wasn't here to steal. “I was reading in the park. Listening to music. Eating berries. Trying to enjoy the sunset. You know, everyday stuff. Minding my own business, when one of these morons.” She motioned to the pile of bodies, “Sent out that message for the whole fucking promenade to see. I figured it was just some goods, so I’d have a look. If you were actually selling classified information or something, I’d call for some backup...or shoot you.” She waved the phase pistol and gave a shrug. “Both.”

Dicey. She stood up and gave him a nod. She didn’t need telling twice. She was no coward, and she didn’t need to prove that, her actions proved that. However, if she could avoid a phaser wound, she absolutely would. She waited for the transport but...nothing came. “Well…” She said, in a somewhat sarcastic, partially nasal voice. “That was anticlimactic. I’m guessing this is the dicey part.” She checked the phase pistol once and it was as if on cue the voice rang out in tell-tale grammar:

“You not go no-where Starfleet! We takes you back to ours ship. We sells you. We make ship strong. We makes us stronger.” She looked over towards them and she just let out a sigh. Her reaction was about on par with his. “Oh for-”

Cam saw the slight glint of metal in one of their arms and as Fisher spoke out, she fired. A volley of three blasts towards one of the Pakled. The first shot flew over his head and slammed into a fruit stand, causing an explosion of color behind the grouping of them. “Guess it’s good that Aldeans are smart and hauled it out of here at the first shots.” She chortled and gave a nod to the unconscious grouping already on the ground.

She pulled the trigger again and this time, struck true. Two shots emerged from the tip of the pistol, raging forward towards the large group of aliens. Both struck home. One, who had been partially protected by his backpack crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. The other, had been far less lucky. The pistol, set to max stun by Cam, sent him flying into a wall. Cam herself ducked behind a wall to take cover as they returned fire. While they said they would sell them as slaves, she wasn’t taking chances that they were using stun on their rifles, and either way, she didn’t really want to be a slave. “Pakled.” She laughed, under her breath.

“What the hell is this cargo?” She nearly shouted over at Fisher as she kept her head ducked down, a shot ringing out right over her head and flying into a nearby stall. The shots themselves were starting to be the lights upon the Promenade, balls of energy casting rays and shadows as they traveled along the way. The sun was nearly set. “Another uh-” She paused “Side note. That transmission-” She really didn’t want to have to say it aloud. Hell she’d practically already said it. It was broadcast basically on the open, who knew who all was coming. It could have been more than just some Pakled with some Type-3’s.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #4
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

With how this meeting had gone from a simple exchange which could have been handled according to his original plans, to one which involved a pseudo stand-off between himself and Joban’s goons, Fisher knew from the onset that the other party was full of pretenders. So it only made sense when one of them turned out to be in it for their own nefarious reasons and introduced the requisite element of chaos that seemed to follow the spy whenever and wherever he went. It was however that recognition of amateurs, which had prompted such a calm and calculated retort from him in form of a volley of carefully placed shots. Such deftness of action in the face of incompetence didn’t necessarily come without years of staring stupidity like Joban and his retinue in their faces over idiotic and overcomplicated information exchanges like this one had turned out to be. Given enough opportunities, anyone regardless of vocation could pull it off, he had personally surmised some years earlier. You only really needed to be something more when it came to dealing with true threats, like rival Intelligence Services: The Tal-Shiar, Obsidian Order, and Orion Syndicate to name a few.

Still, the Yeoman hadn’t exactly panicked in the face of sudden movement as some others might have done.

“It’s simply really. Point at foe and pull trigger. Just don’t forget to breathe.” With a wryness he winked to the Ensign before going about the process of recovering his paid for property from Joban’s unconscious body, and then the rat among the pack afterward. “Well then, I’m fortunate you decided to take in the sights tonight. Otherwise who knows what kind of idiocy I would have had to contend with. I suppose I should also thank you for affording me the level of trust to not shoot ‘ME’ on sight.” Once he’d finished going over the trio of unconscious idiots and called for transport back to Theurgy, only for it to not happen, he had known instantly that they weren’t in the clear yet. “Yeah.” He replied to her simply when she pointed out the rather anti-climactic feeling which permeated the two of them, at having been left to wonder why they weren’t dematerializing just yet. And then, there came the explanation at the behest of a dullard Pakled, a redundant term sure, who made it abundant that he and his own group of fellows sought to take Cam and Fisher as prisoners. Not exactly entirely unexpected for a second party to show, though what was unexpected was how quick to the trigger the young woman had suddenly become.

Diving for a nearby short wall as the Ensign provided plenty of covering fire for the both of them, even going so far as to stun three of the ten brown clothed Aliens who were attempted to abduct them.

“You're a fast learner, that's some nice shooting!” he commented over the sound of several discharging phasers, their ruby beams striking against the wall that he and Cam had taken momentary refuge behind. Spotting his own opportune chance to down one of their assailants, the spy peaked up over the wall and fired his ‘borrowed’ Klingon disruptor at one, striking him in his mid-section with a pair of green glowing shots that dropped him like a sack of potatoes. “Yeah, Ravenholm intercepted uncoded communications from a small Pakled vessel that arrived in system a few days ago. My guess is this is their crew, come to capitalize on my bad luck!” Keeping a keen eye out for additional opportunities to shoot, Fisher watched in astonishment as one of their attackers attempted to advance on them, only to stop and take up a protected position behind a loom. The ‘protection’ provided was nothing more than a half-completed quilt of some fashion, which of course meant it provided no protection at all. With a raised eyebrow, he looked to Cam as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then with a shake of his head raised his weapon and fired one blast which singed a hole clean through said quilt and struck the dummy that had been hiding just behind it.

“As for what’s in the cargo, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” His tone dead serious as he played up the old and quite trite Intelligence trope, until a smirk crossed his face in amusement.

“Throw down your weapons! All of you!” called out different voice, this one obviously laced with a hint of intelligence to it, though there was also a clear hint of snark hidden there. Curious as to who this mysterious fourth party to join the fracas was, Fisher peaked around his surroundings for any signs of said newcomers but couldn’t directly see anyone just yet.

“We no surrenders Ferengi! You surrenders too! You gives us latinum! We get rich! We get stronger!”

“Fools! We can make a deal yes! These two hoo-mons are worth plenty if we capture them!”

“Oh I’ve just about had enough of this.” Fisher lamented as he stood from behind the wall which he had been ducked behind, drawing the renewed interest of the remaining Pakled, prompting them to emerge from their cover. His weapon held out at the ready, he quickly dispatched two more of the nimrods in succession, while the other three fired poorly trained shots in his general vicinity only to each miss by as much as a meter. The ploy wasn’t exactly a suicidal display of bravado, rather a calculated risk which he hoped would give him an idea as to the whereabouts of the the new group, and sure enough three big-lobed orange-skinned Ferengi came running into the square with their own mish-mash of weaponry, firing blindly in any number of directions as they were trying to insert themselves more directly into the scenario. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he dropped back down to cover after one of their wayward shots buzzed right over his left shoulder, striking the wall behind him. As they fell into their own cover, it was becoming evident that even though their enemies were utterly incompetent, there were still a lot of them.

“We need to find a way to get clear of whatever jamming signal these gaggle of morons are using to interfere with our transporters before anyone else decides to show up and get invol--”

“Starfleet! Come out, Starfleet!” a deep baritone voice from across the way, and without even needing visual confirmation the spy knew that the way said voice used their affiliation as an identifier, it could only have come from a Nausican. Sure enough, as he peered from the cover once more, he could see a pair of the big bruisers clambering for a vantage point on one of the rooftops that overlooked the market.

“Figures.”

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #5
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
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“Breathe. Right.” Cam rolled her neck and did just that. She took a couple of deep breaths and ignored the officer adjacent to her for a moment. Hell, she even ignored the attackers beyond the wall. “You’re fortunate that I forgot to close my tricorder when I sat down under the tree. If I had, I wouldn’t have seen the transmission.” She shrugged once and let off another shot over the side of the wall, this time the round missed but she didn’t seem to care much, she was just trying to offer some suppression. “As for not shooting you...Starfleet is Starfleet. While half the Federation might have forgotten that, I haven’t. Benefit of the doubt and all that.” She looked down to the phase pistol and kicked up the setting to high stun as the transporter failed to materialize. When she fired the first opening volley that took a few of them out, she looked just about as shocked as the Pakled’s did when she struck them.

“Not my first rodeo but, thanks.” She laughed, somewhat nervously as she spoke to her shooting partner. She watched the Klingon disruptor open up and couldn’t help but comment, “Say what you will but, those disruptors certainly have a charm.” She peeked over the wall and watched the Pakled he’d shot drop. “Well I guess they bit off more than they could chew, I feel like this is a common occurrence with Pakled’s.” She was almost positive she’d read something in some report back at the academy of Pakled jumping at opportunities that backfired directly in their faces. Maybe that was just a rumor though. She actually laughed aloud as he fired straight through the quilt. She herself peeked up and fired her pistol straight into a crate, which a Pakled was taking cover behind. The crate itself shattered into a thousand pieces, sending the Pakled behind it flying, and wooden shrapnel flying in all directions. She ducked down, trying to avoid the thousands of flying splinters that she’d created.

“Oh really, that important?” She fired back at Fisher, mostly sarcastically, in response to dead seriousness. “Come on, I’m getting shot at for you, least you can do is tell me I’m getting shot at for something cool. Experimental weapon. Secret Romulan Cloaking device. Crate of extinct seeds.” She rattled off things that to her, sounded cool.

Then, she heard the other voice. It was absolutely telltale. She just ducked down a bit, and closed her eyes, “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” She snarled, under her breath. She tried to peek around her side of the wall, but a phaser beam came cutting right around where she peeked out and she came flying right back into cover. Well, she wasn’t going to peek out that way.

“Ferengi. Ferengi?! Is it a crate of Latinum?!” She shot at him, this time not at all quietly. As Fisher stood, she took the que and did so as well. “Hey, little-lobe!” She screamed at one of the Ferengi. She opened fire, covering her own approach as she ran forward into closer cover. As she ran forward, she actually domed one of the Ferengi with a round, resulting in him crumpling to the ground with a nasty looking burn on his face. She continued to fire, trying to lay down as much cover as she could to allow Fisher to get to new cover if he so wished. She wasn’t the world's greatest shot but she had an eye for a tactical weak spot, and she was trying to exploit those that she could see. At that moment, it was a group of offended Ferengi.

“Agreed!”

She bellowed over to Fisher, and then the next voice, just had her getting even more irritated. “I-”

“I swear.” Was all she could say as she peeked up again, and fired a round at random at one of the assailant’s, taking out another Pakled, who flew backwards, knocking over a Ferengi, who tried to get back up to his feet. They were terribly disorganized, but there were an awful lot of them. She moved back into her cover and fired off another couple of rounds. She thought for a moment and dialed up her phaser again, “Hey, how about the fountain, both fire at once. Might cause the plumbing to blow. We can bolt.” She offered the suggestion, pistol already good to go.

"Otherwise, I'm open to suggestions." She wasn't exactly well practiced at firefights or finding creative ideas out of them. "Make nice with the Ferengi? I'm all out of Latinum." She was just nervously rambling again, so she silenced herself.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #6
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

Were they fending off a far more competent bunch of foes, rather than this mixed batch of dullards made up of Pakled, and Ferengi; there may have been a modicum of serious concern at play for the veteran spy. As it was, however, he only saw this entire fracas that he and the young Ensign were mired in as little more than a moderate annoyance. After facing the likes of the Obsidian Order, Tal-Shiar, and Orion Syndicate over the course of his covert career, these buffoons, while still very lethal, merited that level of his respect.

“It’s a mish-mash of items actually. A list of rarities that you can only find in backwater ports and markets like those here on Aldea. At least that’s the case when you’re this far from Federation space!” Aware of the slight window that Cam had afforded him with her own bout of fire, in fact striking one of the bumbling Ferengi upside his bulbous head, Fisher dove for the cover provided by a concrete stanchion leading out from the round-about shape of the fountain at the center of their OK Corral shootout. “Aldeberan Whisky. Orion Vodka. Romulan Ale. Cardassian Kanar.” In his mind he could see the lengthy list that he had given to Joban at the onset of their venture together, and imagined that to the Captain’s Yeoman, such an accord being struck over the acquisition of silly luxury items was probably absurd. Hence why he had gone about it in quiet in the first place, as he could envision the odd stare of Theurgy’s requisition staff had he gone through them directly. “A few boxes of Zakdorn Cigars too. Mostly though! It’s just rare vintages and luxuries from back home on Earth.” Peaking out from cover, he spotted one of the Ferengi trying to drag his unconscious fellow from the battlefield and felt a slight pang of guilt over the prospect of shooting the would-be rescuer.

“A Shame.” He commented softly as he pointed and fired his Klingon-disruptor into the idiot’s chest likewise sending him sprawling unconscious.

To his right, he watched as Miss Henshaw fired her own weapon and caught one of their dullard Pakled ambushers, who in turn knocked over the last of the Ferengi. The amusement of how disorganized their attackers was hadn’t been lost on Fisher, who even had to stifle a bout of laughter at the display of ineptitude. But whatever levity there had been soon disappeared as the situation grew somewhat more serious with the arrival of the big bruisers that were Nausicans. They weren’t the brightest of opponents, but they were vicious, and their brutal strength and ferociousness in combat would prove to be a wholly different matter to deal with. Some might have taken the challenge of fending off this latest foe in step, but Fisher knew it unfair to expect the same level of brashness from Cameron and was also aware of how unpleasant an extended stay under the care of Nausicans could be. “Sounds good, let’s do it!” he responded to her, firing a covering volley at the Nausicans who had taken up position on the adjacent rooftops. When they had ducked out of necessity, Fisher emerged from behind the fountain and fired his disruptor into it repeatedly in concert with the Yeoman.

Water flash-steamed as it was struck by the energy blasts, and soon the structure which fed upward from the center of it spraying water burst with a loud 'chunk' under their combined assault, causing the modest pressure it had been containing to be unleashed.

“Go!” he pointed at the far alleyway as the eruption of water indeed made for a rather effective distraction, and obfuscation of their movement while it gushed like a geyser from it’s base. Keeping low himself, he was pelted with heavy droplets as he stuck close to the spray as he ran, his boots up to the ankle inundated by the released flood of the basin which had spilled over almost immediately, sending a ripple of water across the open courtyard that the two of them would need to splash through on their way to said alley way. Hopeful that Cam would stick close and once he had made it around the corner, Fisher peered back to appraise if they would be pursued immediately. “Nice thinking!” he said absently. “Now we just need to manage our way out of this dampening field that’s interfering with communications, and we’re home free. Question is how far does it extend?” he wondered aloud, peering down the dark alleyway he had tucked into, he spun back to face Cam. “How far was it to the park you were at?”

“wejpuH, tIqwIj! tIchugh!” came a new voice, which made the hairs on the back of Fisher’s neck stand up.



OOC: The Klingon translation of speech is as follows: "They went that way! After them!"

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #7
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
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Despite the handful of morons that were firing volley after volley of energy blasts at them, Cam still took it entirely seriously. She was a Yeoman. She was a tactician. She was not a security officer. She’d looked down that path once and decided not to take it for a reason. Too much running. Too much stress. Doing this on a frequent basis? No thanks.

When he started listing off a slew of alcoholic beverages she perked up and fired a few bolts across the way again, missing but she did fire another remark off to Fisher, “What about…” She popped up and shot another one of the Ferengi, it seemed like she really had a taste for shooting the large-lobed aliens, “Good old-fashioned Tequila?” She gave him a smile and laughed before moving to another crate for cover as the one she was behind exploded into splinters. The sight of the Ferengi dragging his mate getting blasted caused her to try and hide a sort of snicker, “You know you’d think they’d be at least a little more organized than this.”

Up ahead, she saw the Nausicans and the nervous pit in her stomach grew. Unsure if he’d seen them she said the word aloud, Nausicans.” She ducked down and took a breath, subconsciously checking the weapon setting. Seeing the Nausicans had unsettled her. Their reputation alone was enough to do it. She shook her head, as if shaking the fuzz of being unable to focus off of her. “Well they clearly think you’re smuggling compression rifles or something because there is no way that this many thugs want a few bottles of Kanar this bloody badly.”

“Got it!” She called back, though not with nearly as much courage or confidence as she’d liked to have exuded in that moment. When the bruisers took cover under Fisher’s volley, she popped up and fired as fast as her finger could pull into the fountain.

She didn’t need to be told to run more than once. She bolted down the alley, dodging pieces of rubble and boiling water as the fountain gushed in the center of the square. “We certainly know how to leave a mark!” So much for quietly enjoying a day on Aldea. She stuck close to Fisher, only looking over her shoulder once to fire as a Pakled who’d used the chance to try and stick close to them. She shot him square in the chest and while he didn’t go flying backward due to the weight of the water around his legs, he did crumple down like a ragdoll. “Thanks!” She called back.

“It wasn’t far, follow me.” She sped up to take the lead, making sure that he was still close by as she traced her steps back down the alley that she’d come into the Promenade from. She didn’t quite make it far though before she heard the Klingon. She wasn’t fluent in Klingon by any means, but she knew enough. “I think I’ll take the Nausicans.” She grumbled. Instead of stopping though, she continued on. “Here!” She reached the fence that she had hopped, the park clearly being a private one, and gave him a sort of guilty half-smile, “I never said I was supposed to be in the park, it’s the only one that wasn’t crowded.” She gave herself a running start and quickly started to climb it, once her leg was swung over though she extended her arm down to offer it to Fisher.

Quickly though she heard more shouting in Klingon and the ever familiar sight of a Klingon disruptor bolt, this time however, it was coming their way. “Oh mother-” She looked up and down the Alley and saw them. Two of them. They were not pursued by any of the other aliens from first glance, though likely they were still getting up and on their feet from the fountain explosion. Two Klingon warriors however was enough to make Cam shiver in her boots. She kept her arm extended, her torso laid flat against the wade base of the top of the fence. She sort of wrapped her legs around one of the rungs of the fencing and lifted the pistol up, firing a few covering shots down the alley to give Fisher time to climb, if he chose to do so.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #8
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

As irresponsible, reckless, and dangerous as it might have appeared from another person’s point of view, there was a genuine element of enjoyment which came from dealing with the kind of scenario that Fisher and Henshaw had found themselves mired within. Sure, it was nice when a plan went off without so much as a hitch, but that was rarely the case when it came to clandestine operations. Adaptation and improvisation were about as necessary a set of skills as you could imagine for someone involved with Starfleet Intelligence. Even when involved with something as innocuous as a simple goods exchange in the midst of a moderately busy public market, there was always the chance of the unknown rearing it’s head and turning everything around and against itself. In more dire circumstances, it was important that those skills were well honed and maintained. So, in a way this little case of betrayal over what was supposed to be a routine exchange represented something of a chance to practice. Of course, that’s not to say that Fisher had exactly expected this little meeting of his to go awry. He had taken some standard precautionary steps so as to cover his ass, hence the disruptor pistol he had borrowed from one of the Klingon warriors stationed aboard the Aldean Shipyards in orbit. What he hadn’t necessarily been counting on, was that the other precautionary measure he had set up would be rendered somewhat moot due to signal interference from his would-be assailants.

Clearly, their available tech was better than he had anticipated, as it had left the ‘Arnold’ subtype drone hovering high overhead in orbit, decidedly unreachable. Were it not for that jamming signal, he would have already activated it’s emergency protocols and beamed himself back to Theurgy, and out of harm’s way. Thankfully, dumb luck and good fortune had been there to pick up the pieces in the form of a young Ensign who had inadvertently intercepted some messages sent from one of Joban’s goons.

“I’m sure there’s a bottle or two in there!” Fisher remarked in response to said Ensign’s query over the requisite cargo, ducking to avoid an incoming phaser beam which in reality was well off the mark, and bore no real threat in hitting him. “It’s yours whenever we get out of here, and these shipment containers are back aboard ship!” Returning fire with a quick little volley of disruptor fire, he could tell that their window of escape was approaching. “The least I could offer, considering you managed to give me a bit of an assist here!” That was an understatement he realized immediately upon finishing his sentence, as she had actually played a pretty big part in save his skin from would-be captors, and possibly also being chewed out by the Captain if he would have merited some kind of silly rescue, all over a couple of illicit personal luxuries. A fact which he made mental note of, fully intending to give the young Yeoman her first dibs on any and all of the items contained within the shipment that he was to take ownership of. It really wouldn’t hurt in the long run, and if anything it might help to establish a rapport with the woman who most directly dealt with the Captain on a regular basis. A valuable asset to have access to, and to maintain favorable relations with.

“Well, we are on the ass end of space. I’m not really surprised that we’re dealing with the Galactic equivalent of Larry, Curly, and Moe!” He pointed out as their bumbling cadre of attackers continued to prove their ineptness.

Once the fountain distraction had been set off, and they had made their hasty escape from the courtyard battleground, he settled in behind the short brunette and was careful to keep an eye on his syndicate computer in the hopes that the jamming signal might weaken enough to allow him a chance to communicate with the drone overhead. And as they made their way toward the park, the signal did start to degrade gradually, but not yet enough to grant him that capability. And with Klingons added to the mix of Pakled, Ferengi, and Nausican; their situation was starting to become a little more serious by the second, making that necessity of support and an actual escape all the more important. But he had a bad feeling as Cam led him into a private park, herself making note of how she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, that reason they weren’t yet free of interference was due to it originating from the Klingons which were pursuing them. It was likely that until they dealt with them, they wouldn’t be able to truly make their way off planet, and out of the proverbial hornet’s nest that had been kicked over.

“No worries, Ensign. I’m not technically supposed to be planet side at all.” He afforded her a similar half-smile as reassurance, that there wouldn’t be any kind of reprimand or judgement cast from him. It would have been hysterically hypocritical if anything. Accepting the hand as it was extended, not exactly in need of it, but as sign of appreciation, Fisher clambered over the fence after the lithe figured Ensign and dropped down on the other side of the tenuous barricade. “Of course!” He remarked sarcastically as she was seemingly waylaid by their pursuers before she could descend the fence, instead having opted to fire a return volley at them. Her covering fire having provided the window he’d needed to make it over; Fisher knew to return the favor and found a large enough loophole in the wall that he could fire through. “C’mon!” he blurted as the pair of Klingons dodged his weapons fire with more deftness than the bumbling cadre they had been dealing with earlier. This wouldn’t be as easy a fight as the other had been, he soon understood as more disruptor bolts soared over the top of the fence.

“This just gets better and better!” He announced with annoyance as he found some cover to duck behind. “Ensign! Check your Tricorder! Maybe it has a better read than my junky syndicate computer. Try and scan for an encrypted signal hidden on the theta band. Frequency Nine-Nine-Seven-Six. It’s tied into the overwatch I set up in advance of this whole thing.”

He wasn’t sure of it but was hopeful that maybe Cam’s Tricorder could better link up with the drone overhead. That maybe the slightly weakened signal could be breached with her superior Starfleet tech.



OOC: Leaving it entirely up to you if Cam’s tricorder breaches the jamming signal enough to link up with the hovering Mk II Tovarek-class OGS Drone. If so, feel free to have some fun making use of it in your next post if you’re so inclined. ;)

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #9
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promendae | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
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Cam aimed down the barrel of the pistol one more time and fired a burst of three rounds down the alley. The pulses from the phaser lit up the Aldean walls before they ended up striking one of those very walls, blowing a chunk of a fancy looking statue into smithereens. As high-octane as this was, and for that matter, exciting as it was, she was very ready to be back aboard Thea, and in the safety of her halls. That, and she wanted a drink. A drink of some real alcohol. Maybe that made all this worth it? No. Probably not. In the past little while she had been in more sticky situations than she thought she’d be in, in such a short period of time. This one though really took the cake as one that was unexpected. She had just wanted to read a book. Either way, she was in it now.

“I guess that makes up for getting shot at...a little” She gave him a brief look and a grin, though a weak and preoccupied one, before she looked back towards the alley. This time however, a disruptor blast came within what felt like an inch of her face. The heat of the pulse felt like it singed her cheek. Her heart rate noticeably increased within her chest and she jumped down off of the fencing as soon as Fisher was down and done with climbing as well. “I’m going to need a drink after this.” She muttered, rubbing her cheek to make sure her skin wasn’t burned off or anything. It wasn’t. It was perhaps a bit red but it wasn’t burned or anything. “I guess it was smart to use this time to get a crate full of goodies. Someone had to run the ship's black market after all.” She kept her voice as smooth and calm as possible, trying to not give away if she was serious or not.

“Except for the Nausicans and Klingons. They make phaser-wielding Ferengi look cuddly.” She was a bit of a history nerd, that very much included old Earth movies and their little shootout felt like a scene out of one of them. She took cover behind a pillar as more shots rang out and more words in Klingon were shouted, these ones more echoey and incoherent as they came from in the alley and...even from the rooftops much to her disdain. She leaned to the side and fired a single round off towards the roof, causing the Klingon up there to take cover.

The park itself was very nicely kept. Upon closer inspection it was probably obvious that it was a park intended for use by one of the adjacent buildings. Cam wasn’t sure which one, but whichever one it was, hadn’t sent security to kick her out or anything. Not yet at least, they hadn’t seen her. They probably saw the commotion now though “They really want that crate of drink.” She scoffed as she moved aside again as she saw a rifle raised her direction. “They’re probably moving slowly in our direction. My guess is that by now someone out of the bunch, or more likely more than one someone has tried to take charge of the lot of them which make them a whole hell of a lot more-” And is if on queue she heard more than just Klingon voices coming down the alley.

“Not meant to be planetside huh?” She didn't pry, but she did give him a grin. The rate of fire from the Klingons increased but not all of it was coming towards them, some of it was falling on the alley. Which would have been great, but some of the other fire from the Alley was coming towards the fence as well. She glanced at her tricorder and went wide-eyed before she grabbed Fisher by the arm and started sprinting towards the tree, “We gotta move! Very big boom inbound.” As she ran from the gate she'd detected some form of explosive careening towards, she started to tap a command into the Tricorder, per Fisher.

“Got it.” She panted, as she reached over her shoulder and fired a few stray rounds, hitting a Klingon in the knee through the gate slats out of sheer dumb luck but hitting nothing else at all. She got through the layer of encryption and then started to work her way into the drones command sequencing before she gave a few nods, “Catch!” She tossed the tricorder over to Fisher and started laying down covering fire for him as she continued to run towards the tree in the middle of the park, not that it offered very much cover, but it was better than nothing. She didn't know what exactly to do about the overwatch so she passed that on to him once she'd broken through.

If things couldn’t get any word though, the other side of the park began to get noisy, and she saw some of the attackers from the fountain start to trickle in on that side of the gate. “Oh shit-” She swung the phaser around and fired a few rounds to force them into cover, “Twelve o’clock, we have more.” Now she was actually starting to look a bit scared. Perhaps the assailants were all mostly absolute idiots who were not only shooting at them but also at each other, but they were seriously outnumbered, and surrounded in the park. 

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #10
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

A drink sounded remarkably refreshing at this point, Fisher soon thought as both he and the young Ensign continued to fight their way to the park. Thus far they had managed to outduel their pursuers, but the situation was hardly in hand yet. For with every two forward steps they’d seemingly made with regard to progress, they had made also at least one backward. “At this point, I’m half-expecting a Borg incursion too!” A clear tone of annoyance was interlaced within his words as the two of them sought a momentary reprieve from weapons fire upon entering the park. Peering back up over the fence, he fired two green-glowing bolts from his disruptor down the alley in accompaniment with Cam’s own of radiant-ruby. He too made personal note of the increased staccato of weapons fire that was echoing throughout the immediate area surrounding the park. A point in their favor, he surmised, as the fight was spreading among their assailants. If anything, it improved their odds, as even now there was a modicum of truth to the old adage of ‘The enemy my enemy’. Sure, they weren’t exactly about to start friending it up with some Nausicans, but the efforts of the myriad of attackers would now be divided among each other in addition to Fisher and Henshaw.

At least, that should have been the operating theory. Instead, their situation suddenly seemed to grow more severe as Cam grabbed at Fisher’s arm and directed him away from where they had been ducked for cover. Thankfully so, as the fence burst with a concussive force just a second or two late, tearing a scorched hole where the two Starfleet Officers had been just an instant earlier.

“God damn!” he exclaimed as the two of them were showered with chunks of soil, cement, and other debris.

Clearly the tenaciousness of their adversaries was greater than he’d expected, as the use of high-explosives hadn’t been something he was counting on even in the slightest. He had hoped that maybe the chase would ease up as they moved further and further beyond where it had begun, rather than having intensified in such a manner.

“Are they trying to capture us? Or kill us?” he shouted as debris fell from the skies with a pitter-patter.

Likewise, Fisher returned another barrage of weapons fire aft of where they were now running, not really caring if he hit anything or anyone. The shots were meant to provide that modest amount of cover they were in need of, if they were going to keep from being gunned down in their backs. Cam, however, was a little more on point with her fire, either deliberately, or out of sheer luck as she struck one of the Klingons coming after them in his knee. She was good with a phaser. Not at all what he had expected from a Captain’s yeoman. Though, he supposed that it was a bit of an unfair judgment of her. After all, aside from a simple yet exceedingly brief ‘Hello’ a week earlier, he’d had no real interaction with the young woman. There simply hadn’t been the time, or the necessity for him to have reached out to her for anything of need. For the most part, his work with regard to the Captain, was achieved via filed progress reports that he put in through the computer system. He imagined he might make better use of her position now that she had proven herself surprising adept and skills, especially as she managed to gain preliminary access to the guardian angel in low-orbit overhead.

Catching the Tricorder after she’d tossed it too him, he began spinning up the systems on the drone in order to bring it to bear. There was a mild delay to his input commands due to the lingering interference, but she had indeed managed to punch through it enough that they were still effective. The first thing he did, was to mark off the location of the large tree in the park where both he and Henshaw were now standing, ensuring that there was no chance of stray weapons fire striking them. Next, he could just barely make out the faint life-signals of their attackers, confirming what Cam had announced, as there were additional enemies encroaching upon them from a new direction. In fact, they were seemingly surrounded at this point. “Actually. It’s worse than that!” he declined to specify just how much worse, but it appeared that everyone and their mother had come to try and get a piece of a Starfleet Intelligence Agent. It didn’t matter though, as the drone was more than a match in terms of the support it provided, in addition to homing in a transporter lock on the pair of stranded and waylaid Starfleet Officers. It was just a matter of time. For now, he programmed a defensive sequencing into the drone, giving it free-reign to provide the necessary ground cover that they were in need of.

“C’mon! Don’t let me down now!” he commented, peering out from cover as a trio of armed Klingons approached the blown-through hole in the fence.

A nano-second later, a bright-red ruby beam descended from the heavens above, and struck at the foot of said Klingons, kicking up a mess of soil and debris once more. When the smoke began to settle, the Klingons had been thrown clear of where they had dared to tread, laying on the ground a few meters distance, and groaning as they tried to regain their footing. Another instant later, a second phaser beam struck behind Fisher and Cam about twenty-meters away, causing the spy to spin round and spot a pair of Nausicans clambering in an apparent panic as they began to run away. “I really owe Lieutenant Arnold and the Engineering staff.” He commented as a third beam surged down from the partly cloudy sky above, illuminating everything in an eerie orange-hue before striking at the forefront of another group of attackers, no doubt driving them back from once they had emerged. The Aldean sun had just about finished settling over the horizon, bathing the park and its surroundings in near total dark, yet soon the skies were filled with green, orange, and yellow energy pulses as their assailants began to shoot toward the omnipresent threat which was protecting their prey from them.

Standing a little taller and in fact feeling more confident with where both he and Cam were standing, Fisher peered up at the sky as it was filled with the sparkling display of energy exchange, and for a moment found it oddly beautiful and serene. Nodding his head, he looked back to the Ensign as his communicator chirped three-times in advance warning of a transporter lock.

“I think that’s our cue.” He acknowledged, tapping the Starfleet delta hidden beneath his jacket.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #11
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @Swift
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Cam gave a visible shudder when he mentioned the word ‘Borg’. She gave him a murderous glance and then shook her head, “Please, don’t even say that.” She reflexively looked up for a moment as if the sky was about to split open and deposit  a Tactical Cube in the space above them. “Knowing our luck today…” She trailed off. She watched a Nausican or a Klingon in the distance physically lift one of the smaller aliens, if it were a Ferengi or a Pakled from where she was, then he chucked the alien like a baker would a sack of flour. The explosion quickly killed any amusement the image might have caused however.

Once her and Andrew were out of the way of the explosion, she turned her head over her shoulder to get a look at the smoldering, smoking crater that stood exactly where they had been standing. A piece of molten metal landed on her shoulder and singed a hole in her uniform. She brushed it off with a pained intake of air and looked to her comrade. Explosions. Klingons. Pakled. Ferengi. What was coming next?

“Fuck if I know but they’re getting damn close to it.” She reached back and fired a few stray shots. They missed entirely. The gunfight began to heat up between their assailants as well, different languages beginning to shout back at one another in the distance. “Maybe-we just caught in the middle of something? They saw the transmission when their little turf war was about to kick off?” Probably not. They probably wanted to debrief the two officers for something or another but she wanted to at least hope. If they couldn’t take the officers, they’d kill them instead apparently. They were certainly trying very hard to.

While he did his work on the tricorder, she did the best she could to provide some cover with the phaser she had. No, she wasn’t great at it. She fired off a few rounds into the distance, her lucky streak having seemingly run dry. They all went wide and she screeched out a string of irritated expletives. Sure, she was decent at jury-rigging things when she needed to, and at computers, even at tactics. Guns and shooting though, that was really mostly luck with a dash of practice tossed into the well. “How can it get worse?!” She sighed out, her voice hoarse. She couldn’t see the tricorder display, but she did look up to the sky, trying to get a look at the drone through the breaks in the canopy the tree limbs cast. As she raised her phaser to fire on the Klingons, it was as if whatever god there might be cast his holy fire down on the ground in the form of phaser.

“I’ve never been more thankful to see phaser fire.” She laughed, her face absolutely jubilant as the ground around the beam exploded.

“So do I, apparently.” She shocked her head and watched the beams cover them for a moment before she looked over to the horizon, watching the sun vanish and the light be cast by weapons fire alone. It was like some sick and twisted fireworks show. She checked her phaser one more time, just to be safe before she heard the chirp. It was like a resounding, glorious call from home. “Reminds me of First Contact day at the Academy...sorta. Less violence there but...still colorful, yea?” She gave him a doubtful look, trying to fill the explosions and screams of their enemies with more cheerful noise, like...friendly conversation, before the chirp came and shut her up.

“That’s a sound I didn’t think I’d hear?” She grinned at Andrew, let out a sigh of relief, and brought her hand to her chest, holding it over the badge for a moment. She stopping in her tracks, a look of momentary shock and hesitation on her face. “Wait, what about the stuff! Given we’ve nearly been killed over it all.” Despite the question, she was not ready to actually die for it. The hesitation was gone by the end of her sentence.

Either way, as he tapped the badge, so did she. She let out a sigh of relief and waited a moment. It certainly took a second longer than it usually might have, the lingering interference forcing the computer to confirm the lock before scattering their molecules into a datastream. It caused her brain to fire into a momentary panic, which showed on her face, but only a moment. Then, she felt the familiar feeling that had terrified her so damn much as a Cadet. It was like ice being trickled from the top of her skull down to the tips of her toes, and goosebumps following shortly after. Then a rush of heat followed only a moment after. At least, that was how her nervous system interpreted the strangeness of it. She had no clue if it was the same for anyone or everyone else. When her eyes opened, she was in the transporter room.

She stepped off the transporter pad and shoved the phaser into her bag immediately. At once, she sat down on one of the steps off the pad, not looking behind her just yet. She took a moment to catch her breath, and to rest her legs, which she realized upon materializing, felt like gelatin. The familiar rush of adrenaline, could be felt, now that she wasn’t directly in the face of a fight she could feel her body and, yea it hurt a bit. Finally, she craned her head back over her head to look at the rest of the transporter pad.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #12
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime ] Attn: @BipSpoon

There indeed had been a rather noticeable delay after both he and Cam had actuated their commbadges in anticipation of beam out, and for a moment Fisher cocked one of his thick eyebrows higher than the other, affording the young Ensign something of a quizzically wary look until finally that reassuring shimmering blue light engulfed the pair of them. The world around him soon transitioned before his green-eyes, and as the tension of the situation alleviated, Fisher felt a notion of general relief awash throughout him as he instinctively realized that he no longer needed to worry about the young Ensign. Cam was safe now. Well, as safe as anyone who served aboard a rogue Federation starship, which was harbored in secrecy above an unaffiliated planet, whilst half of the Galaxy was actively seeking to apprehend or destroy it, could be. The point being, Fisher was decidedly off the hook in terms of responsibility for her. Regardless of whether or not he would see any punitive or disciplinary repercussions for this somewhat idiotic venture of his, he could at least cross the potential of casualties off of his list. No need to try and explain to the Captain, why his Yeoman had been shot and killed because the Chief Intelligence Officer had been trying to gather up a number of illicit and technically illegal items for the pending journey ahead.

[ Transporter Room 02 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

“Well then.” He clasped his hands in front of him with an audible pop, before turning to appraise his companion who had stepped off of the transporter pad and was evidently attempting to get a grip over her own sense of relief.

Thankfully, aside from the two of them the transporter room was empty, which meant he wouldn’t need to explain to anyone else what they had been up to, and why they had suddenly materialized aboard the ship. The ‘Arnold Drone’ had performed as programmed and hadn’t required anyone aboard Theurgy to be manning the console in order for transport to be completed. Best of all, the system suite he’d had integrated as part of the drone’s software would have ensured that no alerts were sent to security over the matter. Simply put, they had been beamed aboard, and no one was coming to file an inquiry into it. A matter which would be further compounded, as Fisher would access the data logs and erase any record of their beam-in from the patter buffers. Though, that would have to wait until he could hopefully bribe his ‘accomplice’ into silence. “Well, Ensign. I believe there’s still the matter of your bottle of Tequila.” Stepping down from the transporter pad, he held his hands out at his side as if to invite her along. “Would you care to join me in cargo bay three, where we can finally recover the goods and settle up?” Not necessarily waiting to see if she would accept his invitation, Fisher exited the transporter room and made for the nearest turbolift.

“Deck eight. Cargo bay three.” He ordered after the doors shut. “I’ll admit, you handled yourself well. Better than any Yeoman I’ve ever met before.” Peering out of the corner of his eye at the Ensign, he smirked out of a sense of general amusement before his brows grew fixed in a manner which spoke of a general notion of confoundment. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever met another Yeoman now that I think about it.” Shrugging his shoulders just prior to the turbolift coming to a halt, he stepped out and spun back round to face her again. “Still, I’ve known spies that were less cool under far more steady circumstances.” Leading her down the corridor, only to stop before a pair of large doors, Fisher punched in a series of override codes into the door panel and it opened to him. “You wouldn’t happen to actually be member of the Tal-Shiar, or maybe the Obsidian Order?” Clearly teasing her, he made his way over to a console attached to the base of a cargo transporter pad. “This whole Yeoman business is nothing more than a cover ID, isn’t it? You can be honest with me. Spy to spy?” Offering a wry little wink, he stuck a hand into his pocket to retrieve the isolinear rod which contained the coordinates of his ordered goods.

[ Cargo Bay Three | Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

“Need to get a scan of this.” He explained as he went to a wall-mounted locker to retrieve a tricorder.

A moment later, Fisher scoffed as he began punching in the coordinates. “Joban. The ass. According to this, there are three containers hidden in the basement of a home just fifty-meters from where our exchange was supposed to go down.” Pocketing both the isolinear rod and tricorder afterward, he shook his head as the computer began to lock onto the containers in question. “Idiot.” He remarked after the computer chirped in accordance. “Energizing now.” Sliding his finger up the power scaling on the transporter controls, there was an audible hum which filled the cavernous cargo bay. An instant later, a familiar blue shimmering light began to resolve into a trio of moderately large metallic containers laid out neatly in a row. Once more, looking back to Cam to gauge her reaction, Fisher pulled the tricorder from his pocket and approached the three boxes, each of which nearly came up to his waist. “Well. No bombs. No traps of any kind. Tricorder is only picking up alcohol, tobacco, and a few other items. Seems like Joban and his cronies did at least do a decent job of finding the items on my list.” Stepping toward the second container, Fisher switched off the tricorder and leant down to grab at a latch.

“A deal is a deal, Ensign.” He added as from the container he was stood before, he hefted a 750ml bottle of Tequila. “Tres Agaves. Not familiar with this particular distillation.” Holding it out to the Ensign, he stepped back to give her the room she might need in order to grab anything else of merit or want. “Help yourself to anything else you might fancy. The least I can do.”

The options were incredible, varied, and exactly what the crew of Theurgy were going to need over the course of the coming weeks.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #13
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Transporter Room 02 | Deck 05 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift
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Cam laughed, as she always did when the rush of utter relief came over her. Though, she did glance once along the transporter room, just checking there was nobody there. She let out a deep breath and slung her bag back over her shoulder, stowing the phaser safely within. In the same motion, she lifted her arm to her nose and sniffed. “If people see us be in or not, it won’t matter much if we roam around smelling like explosives, blood, and dirty water.” She looked relieved however, that she did not smell. Tequila sounded like a blessing from the divine however, and her thoughts at once went from worrying about her smell, to simply giving Andrew a nod, “Yea, sure. Not like I could sleep right now anyhow.” Besides, knowing their luck they’d beam the goods aboard and four Nausicaans would leap out of the cargo container. She shuddered at the thought and followed after him without hesitation, trying to straighten herself out as she walked.

“Thanks.” She grinned at him though she was still coming down from the ‘high’ that the action provided her. “I met one, back at the Academy. Thought I’d always be a counselor, definitely not a Yeoman.” She leaned back against the wall of the turbolift, but practically as soon as she’d relaxed the lift came to a stop and she pushed right off the wall and started walking after her comrade. “Cardassian, through and through. Don’t tell anyone though, you’ll blow my cover. ” She shot him a wink and pursed her lips in amusement. “My surgeon is just really damn good.” She ran two hands down her sides as if ‘presenting’ herself. “Had to hide those ridges after all.” She ran a finger down her neck and then down her shoulders, as if she was stroking the harsh neck ridge that Cardassians all just loved to show off in her experience. She kept up the joke as they walked, “He’s a Denobulan. Tall, handsome, several wives, he loves to talk about them.” She raised her eyebrows as she spoke the word ‘love’. It was clearly sarcastic but, she really did seem to be trying her damn hardest to appear serious.

[ Cargo Bay Three | Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]

While he moved to a locker, she simply found a cargo container, read the label to ensure she wasn’t about to plant her ass on a container of something unpleasant, then sat right down on it once she’d realized it was only some sort of seeds. She was however, not far from Fisher. “How did you meet that guy anyway? I cannot imagine that he’s some brilliant intelligence contact.” At least, she hoped he wasn’t. Her face fell a bit as she thought on the very concept that Starfleet security very well may have rested on contacts like him. She crisscrossed her legs on top of the cargo crate and watched the cargo transport in.

“He knows his goods though at least.” She hopped down and moved closer to the crate, hand shoved in her bag. Once the all clear was given, she got close enough to take the bottle and immediately uncorked it, giving the golden elixir a sniff. She inspected the label, and swished the liquid around the bottle once, watching it crawl back down the sides before she smelled it one more time. It was strong but a good reposado, by her nose at least. Her nose wrinkled in response, but she gave an approving smirk to Fisher. “Hmm- maybe he was an idiot but, sure beats the Synthahol.” She took a swig right from the bottle and didn’t flinch when she swallowed it down, not until she finally exhaled, when she blinked a few times and took a sharp breath. “Yea, it’s good.” She offered the bottle over to him, offering him a sort of celebratory drink with her before she peered into the crate. She didn’t take anything else though. She was happy enough with her tequila and knew full well the rest of the crew would need their own share of illicit intoxicants. “How’d I do, by the way? With my Cardassian Cover.” She canted her head to the left and raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve come up with better, I think.” She’d come up with far better lies before. Lies like that though, joking or not? Far beyond her grasp.

“So...were these all requests or are you sharing it based on favors or just-” She stopped herself and raised a hand, “Nevermind.” The less she knew the better, she thought. Given her tendency to ramble. She made a ‘zip’ motion across her lips and mimed as if she was tossing away the key. “Less I know the better probably, but...you won’t get sold out by me.” She assured him. “I don’t know exactly who will get blamed for the carnage on the surface but-” She started to laugh and palmed her face, using her thumb and index finger to pinch her temples as her head slowly shook side to side. Eventually, she released her head and made to re-cork the bottle she’d opened up. Once she’d relaxed though, she realized that despite her best efforts during the combat, her hand was shaking. After a moment of trying to slow it, she did manage to seal the bottle though.  Her face looked remarkably embarrassed though.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #14
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Cargo Bay 03 | Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BipSpoon

Years of practical experience dealing with situations and scenarios far more strenuous than the one they’d just been through, dictated for the Commander unlike his Ensign counterpart, that he wasn’t now on the downslope of any emotional highs or lows. For Fisher, there simply had been no real major peaks of adrenaline induced fervor which he now needed to cope with, as for the most part he had managed to maintain a somewhat level sense of overt awareness throughout the entirety of the incident. But that was something which came from conditioning and offered nearly as many drawbacks as it did advantages. In a way, Fisher found himself genuinely envious of the fact that Henshaw could still be exhilarated by the kind of altercation, or more appropriately the kind of shitshow, they had just been through. It wasn’t necessarily that he was an adrenaline junkie, though some people liked to assume all spies were due to their opinions of them being based off of a plethora of fictional accounts meant to garner interest from a purely entertainment standpoint, but there was indeed something uniquely human about being brought just to the edge of a panic and seeing your way through it. A kind of survivor’s catharsis, which he could really no longer enjoy, due to the sensation of it having been weened out of him, like an old drunk who’d built up a tolerance to the effects of alcohol due to excessive consumption.

No, whatever small notion of elation he was indeed feeling now, was most likely entirely fueled by the fact that he’d not have to worry about the young Ensign’s fate weighing on his conscience anymore. Still, it was nice to get to know and understand another face of the crew, even if it meant that he would feel a slightly bitter pang of realization should it turn out she wasn’t to survive the long-haul of Theurgy’s mission. Pushing the grim thought aside just as quickly as it had popped up within his head, the spy instead made a point to listen more closely to Cam’s anecdote about her time at the Academy, and the amusingly sharp quip she’d spun up in response to his teasing. With an appreciative smirk, he was starting to understand why she’d made a decent personal attendant to the Captain, as a quick wit would almost certainly be a boon to dealing with those who might’ve been impatient about stealing a bit of his precious little time. In addition to that, she had more than proven herself capable of handling things in the midst of a moderately stressful situation, as had been demonstrated back down on the surface as the skill of their attackers gradually increased.

It was safe to say, that the spy held an approving appraisal of the Yeoman.

“Joban? Oddly enough, I overheard him discussing another job with one of his accomplices in a bar down on the surface.” Taking a moment to pilfer through the other odds and ends contained within the metal trunk as Cam went about examining her preferred parlance, he peered back as she popped it open. “Given how loudly he was speaking, I didn’t expect much from him to be honest. But, when they’re as dumb as he is, there also usually less likely to push for excessive pay or try and keep the goods for themselves. Plus, given the constraints I really didn’t have the time to source out someone better.” Approaching the Ensign as she took a swig of the Tequila, he cocked one of his thick eyebrows higher than the other over one of his sage green-eyes, weighing her reaction. Then, with a broad grin he accepted her offer and took grasp of the bottle, only to toss it back and take a decent swig of his own with little to no hesitation. The familiar alcoholic burn ran soothingly down his throat, the flavor of the agave distilled beverage stinging at his taste buds a little more sharply than he was used to. “Ooof... yeah, that’s tequila alright.” Laughing heartily for a second, he winked wryly and handed the bottle back to her. “That stuff’s dangerous. I’ve got a lot of blank memories knocking around in this old head of mine, thanks to Tequila and my younger more impulsive years. Nowadays, I generally stick to Irish Single Malts.”

Peering back at the metal containers he nodded succinctly. “Which, there seems to be a few of them mixed in throughout the haul. So that’s nice.”

“Hmm, oh?” Turning back as she poked fun about her ‘Cardassian Cover’, he once again let out a decent chuckle at the silly notion. “Well, you certainly had me convinced. I was about ten seconds from contacting the Captain and informing him of a... spy... in our midst.” Narrowing his eyelids suspiciously as he gave her a quick once over, he then held up a finger as if to raise a contention. “But... when you passed over all of the bottles of Kanar in favor of Tequila. Well, that’s when I knew you couldn’t possibly be a member of the Obsidian Order, as you so claimed. For in all my years playing opposite of them in the spy game, I never met one of their agents who could refuse a bottle of that viscous shit.” He had drank more than his fair share of Kanar and had never really developed much of a taste or appreciation for it; the way it slivered down your throat, burning the whole agonizing way down, just wasn’t for him. “Well, most of it’s unclaimed. A few of the items I’ll be gifting to Officers; like the aforementioned Lieutenant Arnold. But the rest I’ll trickle out among the crew as the mission proceeds.” Taking a deep breath of exasperation in acknowledgement of what was ahead of him, Fisher placed his hands at the sides of his waist. “Given what we’re likely headed into, I think they’ll be needing all the comfort they can find. Even if it comes from a bottle of Tullamore, Lagavulin, or Tres Agaves.”

“As for the calamity back on the surface, I doubt it’ll raise any major alarm, at least not before we’ve left this place in our wake. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling we’re not much longer for Aldea.” Gaze going back to Cam once more, Fisher noticed the manner in which her hand had shook and felt a pang of concern starting to nag at the back of his mind. “It’ll pass, Ensign.” He sought to reassure her. “Trust this old spook when he says that you did well down there.” Approaching her, he reached out a hand to touch gently at her shoulder as an emphasis to his point. “If there are a few more Henshaws among Theurgy’s crew, then I’d say the fate of the Galaxy is in good capable hands.” Affording her one more wink, he turned back to the containers and began moving over to take a stock of what was there. “You should probably call it a night. Captain’s gonna need his right-hand in tip-top order when the shit really hits the fan. Go on. I’m gonna stay and organize this just a little, but I’ll probably call it soon enough myself.”

Grabbing at a bottle of Bourbon after he knelt down at the side of the open metal container, he examined it for an instant. “Oh, and Cam!” He peered back over his shoulder to her once more, using her given name as sign of friendly affection. “Thanks. For having my back down there.”

Nodding once more with a smile, his attention then returned to the container and its contents.

Re: Day 36 [2300 hrs.] - “Shaken, not stirred.”

Reply #15
[ Ensign Cameron Henshaw | Cargo Bay 03 |  Deck 08 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Swift
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At a bar. She smirked.

That explained a lot. Cam wasn’t exactly well versed in the inner workings of the black market but she didn’t think that someone overheard in a bar would be the most reliable of all contacts. Though, she could very well be wrong. “But his cronies weren’t exactly chosen wisely clearly.” She let out an amused sound that almost reached a snort, but to her own relief it didn’t. She liked the tequila, and more than anything else she liked the fact that she finally had some more real liquor on hand. When he handed the bottle back, she took another drink. “That’s part of the enjoyment.” She grinned at him. “Most of my blank memories come from experimenting with Romulan Ale and...Andorran Whiskey and...other non-human drinks that my poor liver is just not designed for.” She had a brainwave and added to the list, “Don’t even get me started on bloodline.” She scoffed.

She looked towards the crates, trying to see if she herself could spot any of the bottles, but she couldn’t. Her knowledge of Irish Whiskey was lacking, to say the least. Usually if she was in the mood for a Whiskey she’d just ask for the drink, and what quality of Whiskey she was willing to pay for, if she wasn’t on Earth.

Cam kept up the ridiculous farce, this time only with a sigh. “I never really could stomach Kanar though. Even if I tried too. It never really was the taste so much as the consistency. Like drinking...punjent, alcoholic syrup.” She shuddered at remembering the taste. She hadn’t drank that much of the stuff but she didn’t plan to if she could help it. Though given her position on the bridge as a Yeoman and her potential position in the command track of Starfleet, she knew that might be impossible. Another terrifying thought. “Shocking what a little bit of an intoxicant can do to help one cope with the harsh reality of the universe.” Probably why Starfleet kept the shit under lock and key in the first place.

“I know it will.” She gripped her hand tight with her other hand. “I uh-.” She paused, “It’s not my first time in a fight but that was just...intense.” Her eyes gave him a quick once over before she nodded. “Thanks.” She knew it wouldn’t be the last time she had to deal with chaos unfolding around her.

A few more Henshaw’s.

Her face fell. He didn’t know. How could he know. She felt like her whole life really had started to revolve around the losses that she had suffered, and on the surface of Aldea, for a few minutes, that action? It had sucked the loss away. She’d found a vice that wasn’t among the usual suspects, just covering the pain. This one really made her forget. Now though, she remembered. There were no more Henshaws. Just like there were no more in her adoptive family either. “Yea I probably should.” She cleared her throat. “Let me know if you need anything.” She started towards the exit of the cargo bay and when she heard her name she turned again, giving him a smile.

“Anytime.” Starfleet was Starfleet. That was how it was supposed to be. She turned back again, and without stopping, left the holodeck, heading down the hall and to a lift. Once in the lift she paused, “Deck Seven.” The lift sprang to life at once and as it did, she spoke again. “Hold.” Her voice broke, and she released the death grip she’d been holding on her hand, letting it shake. The stress of the fight and the flood of emotions that had finally vanished, even if for a time, rushed over her. She felt them, only for a moment, before collecting herself and wiping her face on her sleeve. “Resume.” She called out, before continuing to her quarters.

-FIN

 
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