Spying, Arguments and Suspicions
Posted on Wed Mar 22nd, 2017 @ 10:45am by Captain Rueben Gregnol & Alika Mahone & Brent Cadascott (*)
Mission:
Mission 3 - Negligence
Location: Bajor, Calash
Timeline: MD 01 :: 12:30
1471 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure
Rueben looked around the restaurant properly that he had been instructed to go to, he couldn’t see the man anywhere that had become a thorn in his side even after the half an hour he had spent talking and drinking at the bar. A Bajoran woman smiled at him taking him to a table in the corner that was far enough away that it allowed a little privacy. A man sulked towards the Captain, his usual suitcase went to the floor by his feet as he slid across the table from it. It was full of the usual communicators, his usual PaDD with his false credentials, identification and even a few false files that one would expect of a modest communication salesman. It would fool the majority of people but not Rueben not anymore he saw through the façade, saw through what he used to think was the much needed Starfleet Intelligence. The whole organisation was corrupt and he had spent the last two months avoiding them but now it was impossible, certain crew members had been threatened with capture and penal colony.
“Hello Gregnol. Long time no see, I am so glad you finally seen the light.” Brent said to the younger man. The last time they had met the hot shot Commander had been all too eager to end the relationship between themselves as had Brent but yet here they were both were.
“What do you want?” He demanded quickly letting the intelligent officer know that he was mad.
Meanwhile, nearby, Olsam Mott was engaged in conversation with his server. He'd already brought the woman to the limits of her patience by spending 20 minutes studying the menu and another 10 minutes asking very specific questions about the food, up to and including a request for a spectrographic analysis of the plomeek soup.
"Okay, I'd like the Acamarian stew-"
"We don't got that."
Olsam looked a little incredulous. "You have a replicator, don't you?"
"Yeah, but we don't got the license for no Acamarian stew."
"Who does?"
The server blinked. "I don't know, maybe Shash's Cafe?"
"Can't you just go get it from them?"
"What?"
"I mean, you do work in the service industry, don't you? Can't you just go get it from this other place and bring it to me?"
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
"Health regulations," the server said through gritted teeth. "You can't be carrying no open containers of food around the station like that. Security gonna pick you up."
"Then put it in a closed container."
"What?"
"I said, 'then put it in a closed container.'"
"What i always want from you Rueben." Brent countered in a tone that was a lot friendlier than the Captains. The Russian looked at him like he wanted to strangle him for a second before he shook his head. He was done with them, done with hiding things. If he wasn’t getting his commission back, he was going to make a go of it with the Mary Rose
“We are done. I don’t work for you anymore. The deal was you keep Jeassaho safe and somehow you allowed her to be kidnapped and brought to my ship by an intelligence Officer you placed there to kill her if I misbehaved… Your.” Rueben said falling silent as a server came over to them.
Alika had followed the Captain in, hiding among a gaggle of tourists who had come to see the 'Great Gulini' perform in his bi-annual magic show, which was slated to happen later that same night. Which meant it was easy for the helmsman/supposed second officer to sneak through the over-excited types and to a table out of view of both Gregnol and his other friend. The Captain had been acting fishy since they landed, and the Ferengi-training in her demanded mistrust and the desire to follow.
Brent refused to talk until the Bajoran waitress had left and returned with the ordered drinks, Deka tea and a whiskey. Rueben sipped on the whiskey for a moment waiting for the Intelligence Officer to say something. Brent glanced at the drink surprised that the dive had the drink.
“You are lucky to find that beverage on this planet.” Brent started to try and make a little small talk to get the Captain to relax a little but as he looked at him he knew it was impossible, the man was out for blood and more specifically anyone involved with Intelligence.
“I’ve been here before!” Rueben said simply. It was a long time ago but he remembered coming here and people being surprised by the same request and the man he had spoken to at the bar before knew his order so it was all good to him. Brent coughed, clearing his throat.
“Yes Keera’s involvement was an over sight. No one foreseen that Lieutenant Kea would be able to turn people to her cause once she discovered you being alive or that Admiral Michealson would be out maneuvered by his own daughter.” It was frustrating that all the chess moves that had been played in the last three years had been null and voided by an Ensign who had forgotten all her training and developed a friendship.
"So, just to be completely clear, you do not have Acamarian stew," Olsam said, stressing his words very clearly.
"Right."
"What about any French cuisine?"
"You seen that on the menu somewhere?"
"I don't recall, that's why I'm asking you."
"We don't got none of that."
"What about Bolian?"
"That a dish or what?"
"It's a culture," Olsam sputtered. "And quite an advanced one at that."
"We ain't got no advanced cultures."
"What? No. No! I don't want an advanced culture, I want a dish of food from the cuisine of an advanced culture."
"We got Bajoran food. That ain't advanced enough for you?"
Quang looked on toward the floor and saw one of the waitresses being bothered by a Bolian customer. He sighed heavily. It never failed. There was one noisome customer at least once a week. At least this one was merely being pushy about something. Still better to be safe than sorry.
He looked down the long clear plastic covered bar, and nodded toward his Edoan fellow barkeep. "Jarmu, I'm going to assist Jenna. She's dealing with a noisy customer. Can you cover the bar?"
The Edoan nodded, and Quang moved quietly onto the floor and through the floor traffic. His Hawaiian style shirt and sunglasses were enough for him to gain passage.
He moved up behind the Bolian and to his right side. He looked over toward the waitress. "Everything ok here, Jenna. It's getting to the end of your shift?"
With that he looked toward the Bolian. "Good evening. I hope that you're enjoying your time here. Would you like to order something? We specialize in local Bajoran cuisine. We also have an excellent variety of local and off planet liquors. Let us know when you're ready. Jenna will be going off shift in 15 minutes."
"Yes, I'd like to order the Acamarian stew..."
Quang replied evenly "I'd love to accommodate you, but we don't serve that. Restaurant codes, that kind of thing. Shash's Café does. But," he added with an edge to his voice, "we don't serve that here. If that's what you want, I recommend that you go there."
He stared over the edge of his dark glasses as he spoke. "I advise you to make a decision, sir. I hope it's the correct one. That's the one where you either behave peaceably and enjoy our establishment. Or you leave, one way or another."
Rueben turned as he heard the commotion and frowned as he saw the familiar Bolian. He had assumed a place like that would be to out of the way for anyone to track him down or even to bump into.
"This isn't secure! That is your stupid Chief Medical Officer." Brent realized thrusting the PaDD into the younger mans hands. "It has all the information on that you need." He added getting up, he didn't want to get involved in the Russians crew or domestics. Rueben smirked as the man scurried away quicker than he had appeared, it was just like Starfleet Intelligence Officers just to run off and disappear into the shadows when the going got tough. Maybe he would have to give the Bolian the raise he kept barking on about after all?
OFF:
Captain Rueben Gregnol
Commanding Officer
SS Mary Rose
Alika Mahone
Second Officer
SS Mary Rose
Olsam Mott, M.D.
Ship's Doctor
SS Mary Rose
Quang Tran
Barkeeper
Bajor, Calash
Brent Spiner
Intel Handler
Starfleet Intelligence
