Miranda, Part 12

Posted on Wed May 15, 2019 @ 8:40am by Commander Caleb Ryan

976 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Doors of Perception
Location: Deep Space 5/Inglorious Bastard
Timeline: MD12 2330

An hour past their meeting with Hepzibah, Moia and her company were back aboard their ship, the Orion raider Inglorious Bastard. Once in the crew lounge Monty groaned and straightened up, pressing a hand to his back.

“I did not miss Montgomery Slater!” Ash said, cracking his neck. “I don’t suppose you would like to give me a massage before bed, Moia?”

Moia’s form shimmered golden liquid and turned into a beautiful blonde Bajoran. “Have Tason do it. He has amazing hands,” Myru Jera said with a smirk, looking to the big Orion.

Tason Inebrey smiled shyly.

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Ah, what the hell, big guy. Oil me up!”

“What about Deneia Tejera,” Jera spoke up.

They all grew silent at that.

“We should warn Captain Tejera,” Tason rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Yes,” Ash said. “I’ll comm him. This is...bad.”

“Tan’ato is in command of a hospital ship. What use would he be to Deneia now?” Jera asked.

“With limitless access to highly restricted medications worth their weight in latinum?” Ash said. “If Deneia got her pheromone hooks into Tan again, it would end his career.”

“Not to mention she’s a fairly vengeful bitch,” Tason pointed out. “Tan helped put her in prison.”

There was a chime, and Ash moved over to the wall panel and activated the incoming comm. Moia Ilmater appeared on the screen.

“Is the line secure?” Moia asked.

“Yeah,” Ash replied.

Moia’s face melted away to reveal the beautiful Romulan visage of Rilasa Graeca. “Thank the Elements!” she said, running a hand through her red hair. Behind her was the cabin of an alien vessel.

“Is that...blood?” Jera asked.

Rilasa scowled and touched her face, coming away with a brown smear. “Yes,” she said. “It isn’t mine.”

“Well, that’s obvious from the color,” Ash said. “Cardassian blood. What happened?”

“Let’s just say a diplomatic business offer turned into a hostile takeover,” Rilasa said with annoyance as she got a cloth and some water to clean off the blood from her face and hair. “Turns out Damak prefered being top dog to being my lieutenant again. I’m not sure Moia was straight with us about him.”

Ash considered. “She had no reason not to be. She knew she couldn’t get off that planet.”

“Vengeful bitch?” Tason rumbled from the back.

“Maybe,” Jera said. “But it has also been ten years. A lot has changed.”

“No kidding. Deneia Tejera is back,” Ash told Rilasa. She stared at him with confusion. He waved it off. “Old acquaintance. Before your time. Old player returned to the field.”

“Like we didn’t have enough before?” Rilasa said, tossing away her bloody rag. “Anyway, Damak is dead and his lieutenants are now being entertained by a trio of Clan Inebrey’s finest slave girls, so they should be more amenable to negotiations tomorrow,” she reported.

“Wonderful. We now have our foothold,” Ash said. “You okay?” he asked with concern.

“Nothing a good regen cycle won’t fix,” Rilasa said. “And maybe a little bit of repair, but I have everything I need. There’s a reason I was assigned to operate alone,” she reminded.

“Doesn’t make me feel any better,” Ash pointed out. “We have Hepzibah on board, so that should help us smooth some things and get more current intel.”

“That the Caitian with the big boobs?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ash said dryly.

“Of course you did,” Rilasa smirked. “What’s the pool on how long it takes Ash to bed her?”

“I have a week,” Tason rumbled.

“Ten days,” Jera chimed in.

“What?” Ash asked, turning and staring at him. “There’s a pool?”

“Hundred credit buy in.” Jera ignored Ash.

“I will have you know that Montgomery Slater is not a womanizer! Not even someone a female would desire! It keeps him low key and ignorable!” Ash said defensively.

“And yet you happened to enjoy the attention of two of our slave girls on the way here,” Tason pointed out.

“That was in character!” Ash exclaimed. “And it cost me way more than a hundred credits!”

“Put me down for three weeks,” Rilasa said. “Ash respects his craft--”

“Thank you, Ril!” Ash said.

“--but he also can’t resist temptation. And put me down for another hundred that she claws his face off before she sleeps with him.” She grinned.

“Hey!” Ash protested.

Rilasa contemplated. “Unless there’s catnip. Do you have catnip, Ash?”

Ash paused, thoughtful. “Does that work?”

“Ash!” Jera exclaimed with a laugh. Tason rumbled a chuckle behind her, and even Rilasa smirked.

“I’ll rendezvous with you back at the Nemesis,” Rilasa said. “Right now I have three Orions who are hung like targs waiting for me at the feast and I intend to get stuffed full of Orion culture.”

Ash blinked. “Wait, what? Ril--” he protested as the screen went blank.

“I think that was an insult,” Tason rumbled. “Targs aren’t that big.”

Ash looked cross. “They are if all you’ve known are Romulan--Ow!” he exclaimed as Jera cut him off with a slap to the back of the head.

“Go get yourself oiled up, Monty,” Jera said.

Ash glared jealously at the screen where Rilasa had disappeared, then at Jera, and finally at Tason. “Fine. But no targ anything from you,” he warned the big Orion. “And five days, tops, for Hepzibah. And that's not even really trying.”

“Nothing targ about me,” Tason boasted. “Whatever you say, Monty.”

“Don’t worry, Inebrey,” Jera said as she headed to her quarters. “When you’re done, come to my cabin. I love targ.”

FIN

Ltcdr. Ash Danrisa
Intelligence Officer
USS Nemesis

PO3 Tason Inebrey
Engineer
USS Nemesis

Myru Jera
Intelligence Asset
USS Nemesis

Rilasa Graeca
Intelligence Asset

 

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