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Day 12 [2100 hrs.] Little Woman

Little Woman

STARDATE
22 MARCH, 2381
2100 HRS

[ Lt Carrigan Trent | Alias: Hahne Kedar, Kanala Exports | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] attn: @Triage

There were plenty of things Trent could be doing at this time, but then this task landed squarely in this lap  And that was definitely a different kind of job that had turned up.  One he, frankly, had never thought he would see coming in a hundred years.  But, oddly enough, he was rather well-suited for, for a change. 

The trip from the ship to the surface had been by transporter, but not to a central location in the city, but near an expensive provider of ground transportation, where he and his... partner for this operation boarded a luxury ground car that took them to a landing pad set in the front lawn of the most opulent estate of one Darle Estraya, known within he system as an owner of several manufacturing plants that could produce starship components too complex for replication, and he was holding a bit of a gathering. 

Trent, or Kedar, had no idea how the invitation had been procured, but he was told he was the plus-one here, there to provide direct support for the principal with his unique set of skills as she would be there to negotiate the acquisition of some parts and components with Estraya himself. 

Overall, a fairly straightforward mission.  And now, it was game time.

A valet opened their vehicle's door and out stepped the Human.  As he stood in he cool evening air, he adjusted his cuffs and did up the button of his dinner jacket, before he reached towards the opening of the vehicle to help the mission's principal out, as the rules of high society dictated. 



Re: Day 12 [2100 hrs] Little Woman

Reply #1 –
[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley | Alias: Hanna Heller, Ronan Enterprises | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] Attn: @CanadianVet
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Sinead O'Riley could be described to be a woman of many, many talents, and a very versatile person. But if she had any glaring faults, and she had plenty, one of them was that she retained the Bringloidi characteristic of leaping twice and only then looking back to see where she'd been. This led to the unique quandary that she now stood before. She couldn't decide on the blue dress, or the yellow dress. In the first place, she couldn't decide on a dress!

She had never been required to attend anything more formal than a promotion on board a starship, and even then, only for the official promotion of a Lieutenant commander to commander. Other than that, she'd never faced anything more formal than a dress down.

The greater problem was the lack of forewarning when this was dropped on her. Evidently, there was no time to waste, and she was to attend the dinner with Lieutenant Carrigan Trent as his partner, to keep an eye on things. There was an expected threat that may need their specific expertise. Now Sinead was good with holograms, warp cores and killing. Of the three skill sets she was familiar with, only the last one seemed the most likely to see use. She was beginning to see Klingon involvement in their mission assignment. Only they would give something so last minute. Probably as a test to see the mettle of the Theurgy crew.

Unable to decide between the yellow or the blue (or was it really just one dress with two colours?), she decided to pick the simple green dress. It framed her petite figure well, and had small pauldrons that doubled as tiny sleeves. The skirt flared out from the waist, and didn't restrict her movements, but if she wanted to use agility, the dress would have to come off, to that end, she wore a small cloth wrap around her chest under the dress, and a pair of standard-issue regulation shorts. Disguised as simple accessories were parts to make a simple phaser cutter. It wasn't exactly a potent weapon, but it would still cut flesh very easily.

She had yet to meet this Carrigan Trent outside of duty, and aside from whatever reports she had read in his dossier prior to today, she knew nothing else about him.

She paused outside the transporter room to regard him thoughtfully, then followed him down. The journey had been spent with her trying not to gawk and stare like a moon-mad mallard as they entered a most opulent building. She almost missed a step when the door opened and Carrigan held a hand out for her to take. She looked wonderingly at it before realizing she was supposed to take it. When she did, she gripped his hand and hoisted herself out with the fluid grace afforded to her through her training in combat forms, but not by any societal training or upbringing. And she continued to stare about, but now she was analyzing people and assessing their threat levels, but she wasn't too subtle about it, and was soon catching the attention of other guests with her rude staring.

Sinead's Dress
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Re: Day 12 [2100 hrs] Little Woman

Reply #2 –
[ Lt Carrigan Trent | Alias: Hahne Kedar, Kanala Exports | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] attn: @Triage

The had that accepted his was surprisingly small and delicate-looking compared to the feel of calluses and its obvious strength.  And there she stepped up beside him, slim and green and looking like she belonged at the high society gathering they were heading into.  But, before they could head inside, Trent gently re-positioned O'Reily's hand so it would sit in the crook of his elbow as was proper, and he took a deep breath, both to collect himself and have a chance to make sure all was well with his companion. 

Well, there was something that needed a slight bit of correcting.  "Hanna," he indeed did know of her cover identity for this; he did help create Heller Enterprises out of whole cloth, after all.  "You are a little... intense.  Remember, this is a social occasion."  Don't stare so hard, he wish he could have openly said.  It was already going to be a sufficient challenge to get the components they were sent for, while keeping an eye out for a potential threat to he august gathering.  Mostly, Trent knew he was there to back Sinead if it came down to a fight and in any negotiations, for she was the combined close-combat and engineering expert; and while he was no slouch in a scrap, she was far better than he was at it, and while he could rattle specs like the best of them, he was not a natural at talking hardware, let alone negotiate a fair price.  But what he was was a man who had been raised in high society and had to accompany a Starfleet Admiral, as a member of his staff, to entirely too many high-end shindigs for his taste.

Only the did he start up the stairs into the rich manor, for there was no other way to describe the house of the Estllraya family. 

As they stepped inside, Carrigan reached into his jacket, and from the inner pocket he withdrew his old-fashioned invitation of gold-embossed card stock; even on Aldea, there were certain formalities that had survived, and the heavy paper, made not from pulped trees nor replicated but instead from the fibers of something akin to Earth's linen was such an example.  The majordomo who accepted the invitation, and then checked it against both a thoroughly archaic paper guest list and then a far more modern scanner then offered a nod.  "Shall I have the gentleman and his guest announced?" 

Now was a time to actually think fast; on one hand being announced would be most proper, but on the other it would do very little good to his partner's comfort levels in this situation... "I don't think that will be necessary," he answered politely before leading the lovely Bringloidi who was his date towards the hall where canapes and drinks on silver trays were circulating.  And once he crossed the threshold into the reception room, he felt his breath catch and his elbow contracted a little around Sinead's hand. 

XO, message for flag.  Inform the Admiral we are committed to action. 

The thought had come to his mind unbidden... and somehow that phrase he had uttered often enough when he had commanded the Harrier, both in simulations and in action.  And it seemed most apt...

Re: Day 12 [2100 hrs] Little Woman

Reply #3 –
[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley | Alias: Hanna Heller, Ronan Enterprises | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] Attn: @CanadianVet
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Sinead's attention had been briefly pulled from her activity of observing potential suspects and targets. Most of the people were Aldeans, but there was the odd Klingon or two, some were guests, and some were acting as security. Considering the setting, the Klingons and their gruff manner was decidedly out of place to most but Sinead, who saw the practicallity and simplicity of their nature allowing for very little room for subterfuge. Nevertheless, her attentions were drawn to what Carrigan Trent was doing with her arm, and she looked questioningly at the placement of her arm within the crook of his elbow. Vaguely, she remembered this would be the proper action as the lady companion, but she still wondered at the hazards of such positioning.

How was she supposed to dart or throw herself at an attacker if she was so latched to the man like this?

He then whispered to her, and she stared at him instead, trying to fathom what he was on about. She was only doing her assigned task. She didn't particularly care in this case how people felt about her intensity. The important thing was to ensure no civilians got harmed. Nevertheless, she decided to acquiese for now. She tried her best to discreetly study the people, she also tried to assess their skill levels. Most people were dressed in highly inflexible robes and attire that made hand-to-hand combat impractical for them. Unless they drew firearms, she would have the sole advantage as she was quite prepared to step out of her dress and reach any attackers before damage could be done.

They had a fairly useless form of security that required a card with names on it. She shook her head to herself, but said nothing for the time being. She squinted at the man when he asked if Carrigan would like for them to be announced. That would be most counterproductive. She sighed and silently urged Carrigan forward after he politely declined an announced entrance. She eyed the flutes that held unknown drinks on silver trays. If she was supposed to blend in, the right thing to do would be to take that drink. She swiped a flute from the tray with such speed and fluidity, that the waiter flinched and nearly dropped his tray because he thought she was about to attack him. Ignoring the clumsy waiter, the auburn-haired woman touched the drink to her lips and tasted the drink.

Pathetic. Bringloidi brew was much better.

She arched an eyebrow at her partner when he tightened his grip on her hand, but he was looking ahead. She glanced towards wherever he was looking, but couldn't see anything of note, and she had to ask him, “What is i'? Somethin' yeh see?”

Sinead's Dress
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Re: Day 12 [2100 hrs] Little Woman

Reply #4 –
[ Lt Carrigan Trent | Alias: Hahne Kedar, Kanala Exports | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] attn: @Triage

Trent's heart only had the time to just barely speed up before his companion spoke to him.  And only then did he realize his arm had tensed, and he let it relax around her slender but powerful hand.  "No, I didn't see anything.  Just nerves; this might look all civilized and polite society, but we're entering a battlefield as vicious as any."  His voice was calm, though perhaps a little quieter than his typical near-whisper. 

He  could not understand officers who made diplomacy their career.  It was not that he could not appreciate the complexity of what they were doing, but the nature of the work, being able to and willing to play people against one another for the end Starfleet Command, and by extent the Federation Council would prefer, was the kind he had no stomach for.  Give him a crew to whip into shape, or a ship in a subordinate command, or let him ply his true trade of bringing force to bear from the bridge of a ship, and there he was at home. 

And while he could possibly re-frame his current situation as a tactical problem, this was not his favoured operating medium... However, he still knew how to move in such a crowd, and he had done his preliminary research.  Which, as it would turn out, would become rather handy now that he'd seen Sinead's reaction to the local champagne-analogue.  And it did not take long after he had signalled one of the event's servers to come over that he passed on an order for drinks.  For that too had been in his preparation; after all consuming alcohol would be expected, and it tended to pay when one knew what they could imbibe without poisoning themselves, and enjoy. 

Mere moments later, another servant bearing a tray delivered a pair of drinks, both based on a local take on whiskey and served in tumblers with a large block of glass-clear ice. "This will probably be more to your liking," he said as the glasses were brought and he took his own.  And now that they were suitably armed to brave the reception, he nodded towards Darles Estllraya, their host and one of his other guests, the manufacturing mogul the needed to woo.  "Shall we get to work?"
 

Re: Day 12 [2100 hrs] Little Woman

Reply #5 –
[ The following post contains graphic scenes of extreme Bringloidi. Bloodthirsty viewer indiscretion is advised. Barf bags not provided. ]

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley | Alias: Hanna Heller, Ronan Enterprises | Estllraya Estate | Aldea Prime | Aldea ] Attn: @CanadianVet
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Sinead's lips curled downward ever so slightly before it returned to its relatively neutral mask. She had heard of Carrigan Trent's tendency to describe things with a theatrical flair. She'd heard far more and read incident reports too, of course, but that was unimportant. She looked around her and frowned. A visual assessment told her if it became necessary, she could incapacitate everyone within sight, starting with the Klingon guardians, who were the only genuine threat that she could see. Almost everyone else, in particular, the Aldeans, were plump or not at all in the shape for any sort of fighting thanks to excessive soft living.

“I find yeh assessment t' be mosth inaccurate,” declared Sinead breathily, “only th' Klingons be any sort of challenge here, nowh.”

Trent ran a hand through his hair irritably, and muttered, “I don't mean in the physical sense, Hanna.”

Sinead made a sniffing noise and shook her head, “Then why did yeh not just sayh so?”

Earth folk tended to speak in circles rather than get straight to the point, much to the Bringloidi's annoyance. Only her training with the Vulcans gave her some measure of control over her emotions. She had dumped the flute in her hand on the tray of another passing waiter, again shocking him with her speed and intensity, though it still possessed grace. She disregarded the offered whiskey, as she did not wish to dull her wits, as strong as her belly and mind was, and she moved ahead, slipping out of Carrigan's hold with purposeful strides. There was something that caught her eye, and she wanted to see it up close. Returning the glass meant for Sinead, Carrigan rushed to catch up with her, and inquired if they were ready to get to work. She turned to look up at him, arching an eyebrow in the process, “What d'yeh think we have been doin'h?”

She sincerely was baffled by him at this point. Instead of going into the nuances of it all, Carrigan opted to just proceed and with a gesture of his mechanical hand, led her toward a table as Aldean merchants and leaders arrived.

“Adras,” said Carrigan quietly, indicating with a quick glance at an elderly man in somewhat richer looking garb, “he is in charge of trade and supply to the station.”

Sinead gave an imperceptible nod as Carrigan went on to quietly describe all the people of importance and value. Her attention however, was riveted by the array of spoons, forks and knives set before her. The size of her eyes widened comically as she goggled at the utensils. “Why d'yeh hav' five spoons, forks and knives of all sizes and shapes 'ere?” she couldn't help asking as she tried to puzzle out their uses. She had asked this fairly loudly, commanding the attention of everyone at the table and one or two from nearby tables, but she paid them no mind, awaiting an explanation as she gingerly lifted a tiny spoon and looked at it like it was an odd religious icon.

Some of the guests gawked at her uncertainly as she continued to frown, puzzling out the uses, while Carrigan chuckled softly and scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out a way to best explain it all to Sinead. He had thought this would have been provided in the briefing for her, or maybe they just assumed she would know the etiquette and finer points of high society functions.

That clearly did not take with her.

“They're all uh...used for specific dishes or servings,” Carrigan whispered as softly as he could.

Sinead arched an eyebrow and hefted a large spoon with a round head, what Carrigan identified privately as a soup spoon, and she gripped it tightly, “This be good enoff for everythin' I do at th' table.”

“Well whatever will you use the other ones for then, dear?” asked Shanchal, the wife of Adras with a patronizing smile.

Sinead looked down at a five-pronged fork and grabbed it, then she started combing her hair with it, “Everythin' will have some use.” said the auburn-haired woman. Her behaviour was met with a mixture of horror, amusement, exasperation or just a dumbfounded look. At least one of them looked outraged, but a calming hand of the person's partner soothed and prevented a biting remark.

After the herald announced the beginning of the meal, Sinead could not resist rolling her eyes. So much formalities.

“Shall we get downh t' business, then?” she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.

“Hanna,” Carrigan tried to caution her. Maybe he would have been better off alone.

“There'll be plenty enough time for that, dear,” said Adras, “why don't you tell us about where you come from?”

Sinead's eyes narrowed, and she decided to ignore the query, proceeding instead to the topic. “We be in need of valuable parts tha' ken be found from yeh self, an' we will be needin'...” her eyes slowly wandered over to the hand of a waiter placing a tray of food on the buffet disc. His hand was tinged with green, and there was a pistol or a small sidearm bulging out of one pocket. He saw her looking intently at his hand, and the waiter nervously retreated, constantly looking over his shoulder.

“D'yeh hav' Orions painted t' look like humans serving?” Sinead looked around the table, and at an incredulous query, she repeated herself.

“N-no, we do not.” said Adras worriedly. A quick survey showed five disguised Orions, and two particularly impatient looking Klingons.

Before she knew it, two of the Orions drew their hand-phasers and took aim. A scream rang out. Sinead seized a round platter, and hurled it across the room, catching the hand of the nearest Orion. By a stroke of luck, the platter bounced off and caught the hand of the other man. Surprised, they looked around in a searching manner, but all the first Orion saw was a tiny reddish-haired ball of murder in a green dress charging at him, her hands reaching for his head. She swung around the first Orion, using his body as a leverage and steer, her momentum and her firm grip on his head twisting it hard and fast, and a snapping sound told everyone with remote understanding of anatomy that no Orion was supposed to have their heads in that position.

He could now examine his own posterior, and it was in dire need of cleaning.

Her legs wrapped around the head of the second Orion, crushed between her thighs, and she spun forcefully, yanking him to the ground, followed by another snapping sound, and her second corrective facing surgery was complete in as many seconds.

As this went on, one of the Klingon guards reached up and pulled off a glamour mask, revealing himself to actually be a Nausicaan. The nearest actual Klingon shouted and drew his dagger. Unfortunately, the Klingon brought a d'k tahg to a Nausicaan Tegolar sword fight, and the Nausicaan won by sheer reach and embedding his blade through the majority of his opponents spine ensured he was the winner of that short fight. Carrigan was running to assist Sinead before he even realized that she didn't need any help, but he did. Two more Orions had rushed him and tackled him right back to the table, smashing against it, and bringing the entire table cracking to the floor. Adras was shouting, “That table is priceless!!!”

Grabbing a soup spoon from a nearby table, an Aldean woman screamed as Sinead proceeded to find out if she could scoop Orion eyeball dessert with it. Turned out she could, and the last Orion was now screaming on the floor, clutching at two empty sockets. More than a few Aldeans had since fainted. The oldest Klingon warrior in the room had scoffed at this and shook his head as his younger warriors rushed to deal with the Nausicaans.

Carrigan struggled with one of the Orions, while the only female amongst them got up and started stalking towards Sinead whilst her attention was drawn by one of the two Nausicaans currently engaging with two Klingons.

“I’ve got this one!” Carrigan announced to no one in particular as the crowds began to move away from the “battleground”. Struggling with the big Orion man, Carrigan drew back a fist and punched his opponent, once, twice, and by the third time, Carrigan was beginning to wonder if the Orion even felt anything.

The first Nausicaan that had killed a Klingon was now sneaking up on Sinead from behind, when he grabbed one her dress straps, intending to trap her in place and then impale her with his blade, “Ah-HA! Now I have y-what?!?”

The moment he had grabbed her, Sinead slid right out from her dress, fully prepared for this, clad in skin-tight shorts and a cloth piece around her chest, she crouched in a combative pose and took quick assessment of two dangers, the Nausicaan and the Orion woman, who was raising a pistol to fire at an Aldean. Staring dumbly at the green dress now hanging in his hand bought Sinead time. She slid forward in a split, pulled back her fist and threw it forward as hard as she could between his legs. As he keeled over in pain, she grasped his sword and wrested it out of his hand.

The last Orion woman was about still raising her hand up to aim properly, right at Adras, Sinead sprung to her feet, crossed the short distance to the woman and brought the sword down. Now the woman didn’t have an arm any longer. Screaming, the woman collapsed on top of the other Orion still pinning Carrigan to the floor, prompting a groan from the Starfleet officer. The last conscious Orion, seemingly oblivious to the weight on top of him, was about to choke Carrigan when Sinead kicked him between the legs. Both men wheezed, and Carrigan exclaimed in a strained voice, “You got me, too!”

The last Nausicaan had bitten off more than he could chew with the two Klingon warriors, who finally bested him and held him between them, when old Klingon warrior shouted, “MEVYAP!”

He was loud enough that what few remaining fighters all paused to look at him, and he glanced at his warriors in annoyance, “tlhIngan maH! What is wrong with you pups?!? Wasting your time in boastings of strength! GRAGH!”

Feeling foolish and chastised, the Klingons finally realized that indeed, they shouldn’t have been struggling in Aldean, and instead Staring in Klingon, and then Shooting in Klingon. Eager to correct this mistake, they pushed the two Nausicaans together, whilst the old warrior yanked the suitably incapacitated Orion off Carrigan, with the bleeding female and threw them all close together. Drawing out their disruptor pistols, the Klingons proceeded to swiss cheese all but the Orion man in the old Klingon’s hold. The old warrior grinned toothily at Sinead as he passed by, “Good kick. You fight well. Qapla!”

Sinead nodded in acknowledgement of the warrior and walked over to Carrigan, who’d retrieved the tattered remains of Sinead’s dress. In a graceful, fluid motion, Sinead bent, and slid up back into her dress while Carrigan still held it. He helpfully smoothed out the folds on her back on shoulders, but she gave him a quizzical look, then she floated over to the stunned looking Adras and his wife, “Me colleague will be givin’ yeh a full list o’ th’ things we needh,” she said evenly, “we willh be expectin’ it dawn, tomorrowh. Yeh understan’?”

Nodding mutely and examining the carnage before him balefully, Adras accepted. With the deal finalized rather quickly, Sinead looked at Carrigan, nodded at him, and strode out the building, just behind the Klingons. Her job here was finished. She had grabbed the hair-comb fork she’d been using earlier as a souvenir. Why they needed five of every utensil on the table for each person was still beyond her, but nobody said Aldeans weren’t a strange lot.

FINITE INCANTATEM

Sinead's Dress
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