Discreet Purchases

Posted on Thu Aug 15, 2019 @ 7:42am by Commander Caleb Ryan

420 words; about a 2 minute read

Mission: Doors of Perception
Location: Qu'it's
Timeline: MD10 2200

8/15/19

Qu’it’s
MD10 2200

Hepzibah glared at the hooded man across the table from her. Her white-furred fingers toyed with the glass of whiskey-and-milk she was drinking.

“We’re square, Black,” she said. “I told you about Daimon Dys and you dropped the charges.”

“Yep,” Caleb replied nonchalantly. He sipped at his bourbon. “An’ now Ah want somethin’ else.”

“I don’t work for free.”

“Ah’m willin’ ta pay.”

“Is that so?” Hepzibah’s blue eyes scanned the crowd for anyone that screamed Security. Was this a set up? Some kind of sting? But the patrons of Qu’it’s were well-versed in spotting a security officer, and none of them seemed on edge or wary.

Caleb carefully laid out several strips of latinum on the table, each one giving a soft clink.

“Since when does Starfleet use latinum?”

“Since it’s what gets it done,” Caleb answered.

Hepzibah reached out and swept the strips toward her. “That’ll buy you my time listening,” she said.

“Ah need weapons,” Caleb said. “An’ Ah know ya’ll got stuck with a stash when Torm got aced. Ah wanna buy some offa ya.”

Hepzibah’s tail twitched behind her as she considered. She already had a meeting with a buyer lined up in a couple days. How much could she afford to sell? “How much do you need?”

Caleb mentally counted off ch’Zath and his rebels. “Rifles an’ sidearms for a dozen. Grenades. Maybe some anti-personnel mines. Perhaps a weaponized drone, if ya got one. All non-Federation tech.”

Hepzibah gave a low whistle. “Outfitting an army? And don’t want it traced back to Starfleet?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Hepzibah did a quick inventory in her head. “I think I can spare that. She quoted a price that was pretty steep, expecting Caleb to barter. Instead, he just clicked down the strips of latinum on the table.

“Full price, up front. Ah trust ya won’t run? Ah can still put out a warrant on ya,” Caleb warned.

Hepzibah raised an eyebrow and collected the latinum. “Dock E85,” she said. “I’ll have it ready by midnight. You be there to pick it up. I don’t want you sending some Security flunky that will try and arrest me.”

“I’ll be there,” Caleb said. He tossed back his bourbon. “Drinks on me,” he told Hepzibah, leaving a slip of latinum to pay their bar tab before he left.

FIN

Commander Caleb Black
Executive Officer

Hepzibah P’Rurr
Mercenary/Arms dealer

 

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