Currents

Posted on Fri May 20, 2016 @ 3:20am by Civilian 'Key Holder' Yolanthe Ibalin & Captain Isha t'Vaurek

1,665 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Interlude - Day 1
Location: Promenade
Timeline: MD01 1600

::ON::
The Promenade was beginning to warm up for the evening as Alpha shift personell started turning out in search of dinner, and gamma shift ran errands before starting work and civilians of all types came to shop or eat or be entertained. The majority were federation races, humans, andorians, vulcans, Tellurites and more, and a noticeable properotion were Bajorrans from the diaspora, or Klingons and Romulans there for their own reasons and scattered in amongst them were a handful of examples of other, more exotic types, such as boslics far from home or a Mazarite or a Lissepian.

Amongst this melting pot of cultures and species there was a constant babble of commerce and trade and multiculturalism. But just underneath there was also a tension. As the station time ticked from day towards night, the very first traces of lines being drawn could be seen.

On one side of the Promenade, The Box Of Delights was bathed in shades of purple and blue, and the early drinkers of a dozen species had already drifted in, and the customers were literally colourful, coming in all shades of the rainbow, much like its owner, who was standing at the side of the wide open entry way in conversation with her bouncer, an enormous green Gorn.

And on the other, the notable concentration of humans around the Dilithium Chamber, it too doing a low key but steady trade in the run up to the busy station evening.

In all her time on Deep Space Five as an Ambassador Isha had had little time to explore the promenade, and then rarely alone. After so long confined to her quarters she took the earliest opportunity to go out, and stay out. She took the view that as Captain she ought to be seen by the station's population - being distant and aloof was fine for an ambassador but that the commanding officer people needed to know that she was approachable.

Isha paused by a stall, her fingers testing the quality of the fabric on display. The stall owner, a human woman in her forties saw Isha looking and came over. "Thats Lissepian cotton," she told Isha. "The raw cloth itself is replicated, but we dye it and block print it by hand in our work shop on deck 397. That way you're guaranteed every bolt is truly unique in the galaxy."

"Its very nice," Isha remarked examining the swirling design in silvery grey, "How much is this one?"

The stall holder gave her a curious look, obviously thinking she was dealing with a vulcan "Oh, don't worry we're part of the Fedneration credit exchange, All I need is a thumbprint. The dyes are from Pythro V. the iridescence is a natural effect of the pigment."

Isha smiled, and offered the suggested digit. As Captain of this place she didn't have to mess around with latinum unless she wished to. "Of course. Could you have it delivered to my quarters?"

"Of course captain. Anything you like." There was the tiny trace of stiffness in the woman's response, like the courtesy was reflex without sincerity.

Isha noted the subtle tension in the woman's demeanour, "These have been trying times, haven't they," she said politely in an effort to understand the issue, "Were the recent events on the Promenade terribly disruptive to your business?" It was not an unreasonable enquiry given the firework display put on by the conflicting Fae.

The woman's face hardened. "We lost almost all our stock. Most of it was destroyed by the fire suppression." The woman didn't say it, but it was obvious from her body language. And I blame you.

"You have insurance, no?" Isha asked - more fool the stall holder if she didn't.

The woman laughed, a sharp bitter sound. "Captain. Insurance can't cover themyriad of problems that absence does to my business, loss of interest, the damage to relationships, the people i've had to let down. Stock can be replaced easily. People...not so much."

Instinct told Isha there was something more behind the woman's less than open attitude - it wasn't one that seemed likely to secure repeat custom, indeed if the transaction had not already taken place before the conversation she would have moved on without a purchase, "I am sure the Federation will do everything they can to assist," Isha said, "I must be moving on," she added before continuing her progress.

Isha's sharp ears caught a mutered sentiment that she had not been meant to hear: "But you're not federation, are you?"

Isha paused by the railings looking out across the promenade. She'd never noticed before but it seemed divided somehow, as though people were making an effort to segregate themselves into their own groups, the most notable divide being that between the patrons of the two major entretainment establishments.

Not quite ready to go home, Isha opted to visit one of them, she was curious if it was just her perception or if others felt it too. She made for the Box of Delights.

Yolanthe saw the smaller woman coming, and moved away from the Gorn to create her. "Afternoon, captain. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I thought I ought to become more familiar with my surroundings, and my people," Isha used that term for want of a better word. "A Captain should understand the issues faced by her crew, and on a facility like this, her residents. I have a very carefully honed sense of paranoia," she continued, "one that bids me to conclude that if I feel something is amiss, it probably is."

Yolanthe nodded, and her gaze surveyed the Promenade. "we're getting busy. There's lots of new faces, prospectors and settlers coming to try and get a piece of Pangaea. The ban on landing is making them fractious. Nothing's happened yet, but the new comers are worrying the old hands. And even the new comers are bickering with each other." She picked at a piece of potted shrub that stood on the promenade walk way, and grey began to leach into her violet skin. "I'm noticing a shift in my clientele. Less humans, more non-federation types. Cardassians, Romulans, Ferengi, Boslic. And the federation species that do. Well...they're...clustering." SHe blew out a breath. "My people are still tribal, Captain. We can fight like dendrekeles in a sack. I know what it looks like when tribes tighten up and get ready to defend against all comers."

Isha nodded. For a moment her gaze flicked back to the stallholder who now appeared to be deep in conversation with human man Isha did not recognise, then it turned back to Yolanthe. "A conflict that divides humans and all others would be a catastrophe. How has it come to this? One thing my people have is the sense to play a long game," Isha thought it was probably D'Aerrol who was stirring up unrest among the Rihannsu - there was nothing wrong wiith the strategy to divide and rule, but this was not the time or the place for it. "Will you be my eyes, Yolanthe? I cannot spend much time here, it would appear unusual if I were to do so, but you are part of the promenade, you see what is happening and will know before we in ops are aware."

Yolanthe turned a dirty ochre. "Captain, I'll not be a spy for you. If you want to know whats going on here, come yourself, or send more of your staff. Or talk to the PMA once in a while. God knows that frozen bitch would be happy to rub shoulders with you. Be active. Its the lack of an obvious shown interest that is causing the issue. Everyone thinks they're being hung out to dry in favour of the other side."

Isha tilted her head slightly. Why had she even bothered to have this conversation? The woman was as blind as the stall holder. "When on my first day in weeks beyond my quarters, at the first sign of interest I show, you dash my offer of cooperation aside, I wonder that given your alleged insight on tribal behaviours you have done nothing yourself. Yo ucould have been an asset to this station, with Starfleet in all its diversity to back you up. Good evening, Ms Ibalin, my hand once refused is rarely extended twice."

Yolanthe turned a sharper yellow and grabbed for Isha's arm. "What is needed down here is presence, not informants. If people think one side or another are telling tales things are going to get worse, not better. More paranoia, open hostility. Do you really want more riots on the Promenade?"

In a turn Isha avoided Ibalin's fingers, "I don't advise trying that again," she said, "You cannot expect behaviour not to change with an increased security presence - any unrest will be masked in an instant. Lend me your eyes and I will guarantee our presence. Its a straightforward deal."

Yolanthe turned buttercup. She had a reputation for privacy and she wasn't going to threaten that. "I'm not bargaining for what you should be doing anyway. Booze and dancing boys will only keep a lid on this for so long. Its not my job to maintain security down here."

It was only with the greatest of effort that Isha managed not to roll her eyes - why could this tart not understand that she was asking for a general opinion. Isha had no interest in gossip, but in the wider feel for the mood on the promenade without uniforms involved.

"Have it your way," Isha said with a thin smile, "Nobody asked you to maintain security. We are however now aware of your prioirities despite your protestations otherwise. Good evening."

This time Isha walked away at a steady pace. It seemed that politics were her shadow wherever she went.

::OFF::

A JP between

Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner, The Box of Delights

Captain Isha t'Vaurek
Commanding Officer

 

RSS Feed